I took a month off from blogging (here’s what I learned)
When the calendar flipped and the year became 2025, I made a plan to put more of my work and words out into the world. Partly because I feel I’m always creating and not always sharing, and because I wanted to believe my own words matter. Most of these posts went un-promoted, and blogging became a practice I engaged in solely for building up the muscle.
I started the year with good intentions, as most of us do, and made a whole notion template outlining blog posts I would release each week. These posts ranged from draft section archives to promotional posts highlighting some of my upcoming projects. Not long into writing these posts, I realized my social output brain works better one week of the month, and I began to draft and schedule posts. Which worked for a while. And then the draft section ran dry, or rather was filled with a number of unedited posts I had no desire to review, and my publishing schedule came to a halt.
So I, rather unintentionally, took a month off blogging. (do people still talk about blogging anymore? Is that still cool?)
In my time away, here’s what I learned:
Not blogging doesn’t mean not writing. In fact I wrote more than I have when I made writing a consistent practice to which I dedicated myself. I began editing the (very large, very daunting) second draft of my work in progress. I read over things I’d written a year ago, 3 years ago, 5 years ago, 10 years ago. It’s interesting to look back and see how my writing style has changed, to see what I viewed as word worthy all those years ago, and the ways I wrote to set myself free.
I spent more time connecting in person. Over the past month, I co-facilitated two separate workshops, took on new coaching clients and taught a number of yoga classes at different studios. As someone who has always felt more comfortable behind a screen, sharing words with the luxury of an edit button and a second draft, in person relations have always felt a bit more daunting. Part of learning to trust my intuition has meant sharing in person, without the ability to take it back, and learning I can still say some really wise and prolific stuff.
I learned to follow the flow of my body. I remembered we’re human beings, not human doings, and that resting is just as much a part of this work as the output is. In order to do this work well, whether that work is writing or teaching or coaching, I need to also live, and be inspired, and take time to slow down and rest.
As I’m writing this, I’m again seeing the numbers 222. I’ve seen them a lot lately. I don’t know how much I believe in the meaning behind these numbers, but a friend told me recently 222 is indicative of transformation and with the way things are unfolding in my life this feels true. Sometimes we need to take a step back for the next thing to unfold. I don’t know entirely what that looks like for me yet, but whenever it happens you can probably find me writing about it.
I read a substack piece recently talking about consistency in social media, and this idea that if you want to grow you need to be consistent. And that consistency doesn’t mean quantity but quality. I think I fell into the line of thinking that I had to say something, even if it didn’t really mean anything, or I fell into the classic Ali habit of oversharing on the internet and then dealing with a wicked vulnerability hangover. I think the thing about social media is algorithm culture, and this feeling that we always have to be doing something, and it translated over into my writing beyond those instagram captions, and the truth is I want to be the most honest, authentic version of myself, even if that version isn’t always trending and easily digestible.
So maybe my goal for the last half of 2025 isn’t to write more but to write more stuff that means something. Even if that isn’t always algorithm friendly, it might just be more authentic.
