I never wanted to be a blogger who blogs about not blogging. Is there anything more boringly meta?
I will, however, be a writer who falls prey to a lack of words, an overachiever who falls under her own pressures. I will be a blogger who blogs about life, who shares the echoes of her silence.
It was silent here. It was proverbially pitch black or conversely, a flashing “Vacancy” sign. Check your event details because the author is a no show, and there were plenty of reasons.
Writing and styling my cookbook drained me. My relationship drained me (and I, him). I joined a business partnership for the wrong reasons (ego, not my North Star), and that drained me. That failed partnership started to threaten the business partnership that did align with my inner compass. I put my heart into my work only to be told I inherently am not capable of creating the space I want to create. I let that voice knock me way down.
I called this fall, the culmination of these obstacles, “the brick wall.” I needed to stretch myself too thin and hit a hard, unforgiving wall, to recoil and lick my wounds in an effort to realign. My silence here has been the echoes of my realignment.
Realignment looked like beautiful moments of connecting deeper with friends and family, but it also looked a lot like hibernation. I retreated into my home, now just my home. What had been mere inklings of wanting to redesign some aspects of my space became a nesting obsession. A new couch became an investment in myself, an affirmation of a process of self-care.
I don’t mean self-care in the sense of bubble baths and face masks (though I am trying to add more of those because let’s face it, I am hard on this body of mine). I mean self-care in the sense of therapy, of journaling, of making choices based 100% on what I feel and know to be right for me even if that means disappointing people. I mean self-care in the sense of Marie Kondo-ing not just my closets and drawers but my life, my work, and my relationships.
That deeper process didn’t coincide neatly with easy weeknight charred broccoli recipes or seasonal eggplant dishes long after eggplant season had passed. How could I share photos I had edited when the person in them no longer fit neatly into my life? What did I have to share when I felt so uninspired myself?
I’m still shining a light on this dark space, or conversely, trying to find the plug on the “vacancy” sign. After a long period of gently allowing myself not to feel motivated, to live vicariously in Stars Hollow, and to dive deeply into the creative outlet that is my home (more on that to come!), I am ready to share who I am in this moment and who I am becoming.
The photos may not be timely. The recipes may be seasonal in their inception and ridiculously delayed in their release, but I’m not here for SEO and trending keywords. I’m here to record a journey, to celebrate others, to craft words and experiences, to inspire myself and hopefully others in the process. I’m here to share.
About These Florals
The beautiful bouquet with the ranunculus was a gift from Mary at Pisarcik Flower Farm. She crafted floral bundles at my cookbook launch to bring the styling element of my book to life. I love the way florals can shape a gathering, but what I love even more is locally-grown, sustainable florals because the floral industry is typically quite wasteful.
The bouquet of red roses was a gift from Nikole, someone I knew through Instagram. She showed up at the book launch with the lovely red roses, and isn’t that what social media should be about? Online connections becoming real life connections? It warmed my heart.
Thank you for reading!