I was thinking the other day about this little blog of mine—how I used to love putting together my musings and why I started it in the first place. It all began in the summer of 2020, during the Covid-19 lockdown. I had wanted to do something like this for a long time but never felt I had the knowledge or confidence to start. At the time, I had no idea if anyone would read my posts. Honestly, I think it was just a way to get my thoughts out of my very busy head.
I already had so much going on, so why did I add more pressure to myself? I’m not sure, but I did, and I was so happy when my friends and family started following along, telling me how relatable my posts were. That gave me a huge buzz. I wasn’t initially worried about reach or numbers—I just wanted to share my experiences in the hope that someone, somewhere, might resonate with them. Maybe, just maybe, my words would give them a little ‘you got this’ moment.
I never set out to blog for SEO, likes, or numbers. It was about connection. But over time, I found myself craving a bigger audience and more interaction. I started tailoring posts for SEO, sticking to a formula rather than writing with my usual chatty, personal style. And did those SEO-driven posts gain more traction? A little. But they cost me something more important—originality and authenticity.
Life got busier, and I stopped posting regularly. We all know that audiences expect short, sharp, frequent updates—quick dopamine hits in the form of reels, stories, and snappy content. I just can’t keep up with that. My little slice of the internet has always been something I carved out in the gaps—between being a mum, a wife, a teacher, a school governor, and a trustee for a local scout group. Not to mention all the daily household tasks! I don’t make money from my blog; it was just something I enjoyed. People followed along because we were all muddling through the same struggles together.
Then life returned to some form of normality post-pandemic, and my free time dwindled. The posts became fewer, and the guilt crept in. Am I failing my readers by not giving them more of my time? I’m not sure.
Now that I’ve laid all this out, I find myself asking—what’s next? How do I move forward with my blog in a way that feels true to me?
I think the first step is rediscovering what made me love blogging in the first place. Back in 2020, I wrote without overthinking, without worrying about algorithms or reach. I just shared my thoughts, and that felt freeing. Maybe that’s what I need to get back to—writing because I love it, not because I feel I should.
At the same time, I know life is busy. I can’t post every day or churn out content just for the sake of it. And maybe that’s okay. Maybe my blog isn’t meant to be part of the fast-paced, always-on digital world. Maybe it’s a space for something slower, more thoughtful—something that doesn’t demand constant updates but instead offers something real when the words feel right.
But then I ask myself—am I just trying to people-please? Maybe I see more readers as validation, a sign that I’m doing well at something. And if that’s the case, is this all just me making myself more stressed than I need to be? I don’t have the answer yet, but it’s something I need to reflect on.
I also wonder—what do my readers want? Do they miss my more personal posts? Do they want to hear about the little things in life, the struggles, the funny mishaps? I think I need to stop worrying so much about ‘audience engagement’ in a numbers sense and instead focus on connection. After all, that’s why I started this in the first place.
So, where does this leave me? I’m not entirely sure yet, but I know I want to keep writing. I want to do it on my own terms. And maybe, just maybe, that’s exactly what I need to make my blog feel like home again.
Thanks for helping me get to here, now let’s get back to the beginning.
Take care, stay safe.
Becks xo
My life and style over 40 