I thought about stopping blogging. But I don’t think I need to stop. I just need to take it off my to-do list and do it because I want to. That’s how I started blogging in the first place. It was just a place to write when I felt like. And whenever I try to do it more purposefully, I hate it.

Since there are only two or three people listening anyway, in a way it doesn’t really matter what I put here.


I feel older. Not old. But not young anymore. I see adults who are younger than me, people who are establishing families and careers. I see people my same age getting settled. And I’m not establishing anymore. I’m getting settled.

It’s weird. I’m still not really stable. I’m going to move again. But maybe stability isn’t so far away. I’m not sure if I want it. It’s nice having a future and having potential and having dreams.

But it’s not so much about potential anymore. It’s more about giving. Giving to my family, mostly. I am still learning and growing, but I also have done so much learning and growing in my life, and it just feels all different now.

I am surprised sometimes when someone is younger than me or when someone is my own age. I feel happy with where I am, very happy. But I also am not quite sure how I got here.

I’m a mother of four children. Right now, I homeschool and I’m working on renovating a house. I study economics as a hobby. I love reading and sometimes I write poetry and improvise on the piano.

But I’m so flawed and imperfect and I’m going to keep trying anyway, even when those same weaknesses keep coming up over and over again.

I am in a mostly happy marriage and we have a mostly happy home, which means we are happy most of the time and then there are difficult days. I’m working on it.

I’ve made so many good friends in my life. And I will make more.

It’s weird being older. It’s weird and it’s so good.

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