Learning to Breathe Again After a Season of Survival
I’ve been in what I can only describe as a survival season lately. Not bad, not dramatic… just full. Full of real estate, homeschooling, being a mom, wedding duties, and trying to keep the laundry from taking over my house. It hasn’t been a failure or a fall-off-the-wagon kind of thing — it’s just been life happening at full speed.
And honestly? I’m not apologizing for it. I’m just inviting you into it.
Why Survival Seasons Aren’t Failure
I’ve felt like I totally dropped the ball on the blog. Most days I was just going step by step, doing the next thing that needed to be done. But when I zoom out, I realize the last few months have been full of really good things.
I got to celebrate my oldest turning a year older.
I stood next to my sister as her Matron of Honor and celebrated her new family.
I represented buyers and sellers and gave them my all.
I fed my girls all their meals, taught them from the comfort of our home, and watched them grow in real time.
It wasn’t a lesser season — just a different one.
Summer always feels like long hours, long days, and big checks meant for chipping away debt and filling our savings. But fall and winter? They’re quieter. Rainy. Slower. They bring Justyn home more. They give us family time we don’t take for granted. It’s like my soul goes into a gentle hibernation, and this year, I welcomed that shift.
How Creativity Found Its Way Back to Me
I know I shared little bits of drawing and painting this summer, but somewhere in all of it, the spark got a whole lot bigger.
My sister has always been one of my biggest cheerleaders when it comes to my art. So when she gave me birthday money and told me to “go buy art stuff and paint,” I took it seriously. I bought a huge 4ft x 3ft canvas and black-and-white artist-grade paint and decided to turn one of her engagement photos into a painting.
It ended up being one of the most grounding, life-giving things I’ve done in years. It was like the weight I’d been carrying slowly melted off with every brush stroke. Something in me woke up — something that had been gently stirring for months.
After I finished it, Justyn convinced me to turn our extra storage/toy room upstairs into a little art studio for myself. It took SO much decluttering and cleaning (like… so much), but I finally did it. And now I’ve already started a new piece — smaller, colorful, and just as soul-settling.
And then, of course… Christmas.
If you know me, you know I come fully alive this time of year. I’m basically the Christmas Freak of my hometown, and people send me every Christmas reel and TikTok they come across (please don’t stop — I love it). This season feels like creativity, peace, Jesus, warmth, and joy all wrapped together. It settles me in a way nothing else does.
What Creative Seasons Can Look Like
Creativity isn’t always writing. Sometimes it’s paint. Sometimes it’s decorating. Sometimes it’s homemaking. And I’ve noticed that every season, I grab onto a different form of it.
For so long, I’d beat myself up for “dropping the ball” when I shifted into something new. But I’m learning to stop forcing things and just follow the spark instead. Nothing is wasted. Nothing is failure. It’s just seasons changing — and I’m learning to let that be okay.
Letting My Blog Shift With Me This Season
So instead of forcing myself back into a budgeting-heavy season, I’m letting this blog breathe with me.
I’ll still share money content when it feels right — I haven’t abandoned that part of my life. But for now, expect more:
- cozy home moments
- Christmas décor
- creative projects
- art
- and the slower, simpler side of life I’m learning to embrace
I’m in a creative, heart-full season, and I’m letting myself be a human being instead of a spreadsheet.
If You’re in a Survival Season Too…
I hope this post feels like a warm mug of something comforting. (I’m personally a peppermint hot cocoa or spiced tea type of gal around this time of year)
And if you’re in a creative one?
Well… that’s where I am right now, and I’m so excited to bring you with me.
