When I started But First, a Nap, I thought I knew exactly what I was creating.
I pictured a place to share my quirky sense of humor, tell stories from everyday life, and hopefully make someone smile.
And to be fair… I still love making people laugh.
Sometimes I even do it on purpose.
But somewhere along the way, something unexpected happened.
The blog started changing.
Every Sunday I sit down thinking I need to come up with something clever to write about. More often than not, I discover that what I really needed to write about was something I didn’t even know I was carrying.
A sewing machine became a lesson in persistence.
A church garden in London became a reminder that broken things can still be sacred.
An opera became something else entirely.
I’m beginning to realize that I don’t write because I have answers.
I write because I’m curious.
Curious about why certain moments won’t let go of me.
Curious about why some conversations stay with me long after they’ve ended.
Curious about what it means to become a little more fully human.
The funny thing is, I thought this blog was about sharing stories.
Instead, it has become a place where I discover them.
That has been both exciting…
…and terrifying.
Humor is a wonderful place to hide.
Vulnerability isn’t.
When I stop trying to impress people and start writing about what truly matters to me, it feels like handing someone a piece of my heart.
The scary part isn’t sharing my heart.
It’s wondering whether anyone will recognize a piece of their own in it.
Because if just one person closes their laptop and thinks, I thought I was the only one, then sharing my heart was worth it.
For a long time, I think I wrote with the voices of doubt looking over my shoulder. Every sentence had to defend itself. Every story had to prove it deserved to be told.
Lately, I’ve realized something.
I’m not writing for those voices anymore.
I’m writing for the person who quietly wonders if they’re the only one.
If they finish reading and feel just a little less alone…
Then every vulnerable word was worth writing.
The humor is still here.
It’s just making room for something more.
I’m becoming more willing to share my heart.
That has been both freeing…
…and a little terrifying.
The construction isn’t happening on the website.
It’s happening in me.
And if you’re willing to stick around while I keep figuring it out…
I’d love the company.
Thanks for sitting with me for a minute.
If you know someone who might enjoy sitting with us too, I’d love for you to share this post.
But first a nap 