I’ve been thinking a lot about what “starting over” actually means.

I think sometimes we imagine starting over as this beautiful, freeing moment where you close one chapter, walk into a new place, take a deep breath, and everything suddenly feels lighter.

BUT SOMETIMES STARTING OVER IS ACTUALLY THE HARDEST THING YOU’VE EVER DONE.


Sometimes it feels like trying to climb out of a hole while someone is still pouring dirt on top of you. That’s honestly what this season has felt like for me.

We had the opportunity to start fresh in a hometown, in the school district that works so well for my kids. We found this little studio apartment on Main Street, and in so many ways, it really is the cutest little place. We can walk to coffee shops, restaurants, the river, parks, stores, and their school. My kids can ride their bikes to school, and it works really well for them.

I wanted this to be our fresh start.

And it still is.

It just hasn't been an easy one.

One of the hardest things I’ve been dealing with is how much my past still follows me. A past eviction has made finding stability so much harder, and some days it feels like I’m constantly trying to overcome something that happened before this chapter even began.

I’m slowly catching up on bills. I’m working. I’m trying to get completely back on my feet. And when I’m stable enough, I hope to settle the balance from my past apartment and continue cleaning up the things that have followed me into this new chapter.

BUT REBUILDING TAKES TIME.


Especially when you’re doing it as a single mom without much help.

I’m not saying I want to forget the past.

I don’t.

There are things that happened that I can’t change, and there are people and circumstances I wish had been different. But I’m learning that acknowledging the past and allowing it to define your future are two completely different things.

I’m allowed to say, “That hurt me.”

And I’m also allowed to say, “I’m still going.”

That’s what I’m doing.

I’M REBUILDING.


I’m paying things off. I’m trying to work. I’m trying to create stability. I’m trying to make this little home work. And at the same time, I’m trying to hold onto the pieces of myself that make me happy.

Photography is one of those pieces.


I’ve been taking pictures since my kids were babies. I’ve taken breaks from it over the years, especially when life became overwhelming, but I always find myself coming back to it.

Because when I’m behind a camera, something in me feels lighter.

It reminds me of a part of myself that I forgot was still there.

And lately I’ve been realizing that I don’t want to feel guilty for doing things that make me happy anymore.

So I’m taking pictures again.

I’m blogging again.

I’m decorating again.

I’m baking cookies.

I’m making yummy dinners.

I’m lighting warm candles at night.

I’m taking everything showers and putting on cozy pajamas.

I’m making this little studio apartment feel like home.

IT’S SIMPLE. IT’S WARM. IT’S LOW EXPOSURE. IT’S PEACEFUL.


And that’s the kind of childhood atmosphere I want to give my kids.

They pack their own lunches. They wake themselves up for school. They ride their bikes. They’re learning independence.

And honestly, I am SO proud of them.

They’ve been through things that children shouldn’t have to understand, and somehow they continue to grow, laugh, play, and keep going.

That means everything to me.


I want them to remember the little things.

Cute little parties.

Spontaneous trips.

Warm, loving holidays.

Baking cookies together.

Movie nights.

Decorating our home.

Laughing until we’re tired.

Going to the river.

Walking for smoothies.

Taking pictures just because.

The ordinary little moments that somehow become the memories you carry forever.

Sometimes I think we lose ourselves in the things we can’t control.

We spend so much time trying to fix what happened, wondering why things happened, wishing people had made different choices, or worrying about what comes next.

And sometimes the people who bring us back to ourselves are the little people right in front of us.

I’m so thankful for my kids because they remind me of who I truly am.


I’m their mom.

I’m the person who wants to make a home feel safe and warm.

I’m the person who wants to document the little things.

I’m the person who wants to bake cookies and decorate for holidays and make memories.

I’m the person who loves photography.

And maybe starting over isn't supposed to feel completely free and easy right away.

Maybe starting over is choosing to build something beautiful even when you’re still carrying pieces of what happened before.

Maybe it’s taking one bill at a time.

One job at a time.

One room at a time.

One photograph at a time.

One day at a time.

So this is our little Main Street studio apartment.

It may not be the forever home I imagined, but it’s ours right now.

I’m going to keep trying.

And I’m hoping that over the next few months, this whole “starting over” thing begins to feel a little less like climbing out of a hole…

…and a little more like finally being able to see the light.