Nice to meet you — or maybe, welcome back.
If you’ve been here before, thank you for sticking around through the silence. If you’re new, here’s a little backstory: I used to have another life, with a different identity — one rooted in creativity, culture, and connection. From 2009 to 2015, I lived in Turkey. This space was my outlet, my community, and the place where I made sense of life abroad. But when we began planning our move back to the U.S., and then actually made it happen, life took over — fast.
At first, it was my job. I was teaching at a charter school with 300 students, working from 7 a.m. to 5 p.m., plus an hour-long commute each way. It was all-consuming.
Then came a career transition. I left the classroom and threw myself into nonprofit work, expanding programs, building partnerships, working to create change and impact. I believed deeply in our mission, and I was desperate to avoid going back to a classroom and system I had burned out in. It was thrilling and meaningful, but it left little room for anything else.
In 2017, I became a parent. If you know, you know. Motherhood consumed what was left of me, the hours, the brain cells, the energy, the sleep. I was still working full time, and my son, who I didn’t realize was colicky at the time, cried for three to four hours a day. I thought that was just how babies were. (They’re not.)
Then came the pandemic. Like so many others, our family was suddenly without childcare, without support — but with even more work. I was on the team responsible for transitioning all of NYC teachers and classrooms online. We made it work. We survived. But that period was… intense.
Now, somehow, my baby is eight years old. That clingy, colicky baby with a fear of strangers, who needed contact naps and breastfeeding to sleep is now a confident, curious kid, beginning to explore the world on his own terms. And me? I’ve transitioned careers again. My work is still fulfilling, but now it’s also flexible. For the first time in years, the pieces feel like they’re falling into place.
And I’ve felt it, so many times, that little tug. The nudge to write again. The drafts in my head andth desire to reconnect with the part of myself that used to find joy in reflection and expression.
So here I am. A little older, a lot wiser, and finally ready to flex the creative muscles that have been dormant for too long.
Let’s see where this goes.
