What a wild realization—six years of writing embarrassingly honest rambles on the internet. Am I an adult yet?
It’s true. Today marks six full years of blogging—about 2,100 days since I made the best decision: to start spilling my thoughts to a group of strangers who would become my invisible internet friends.
Honestly, how are we still friends when I posted things like this and expected you to read them? Let’s take a moment and say, WHAT.
Seriously.
Although I’ve had a “crumbs” section on the blog for all six years and shared plenty of personal updates, this is the first anniversary where I’m including a few non-food photos in the roundup.
Because it was a big year.
The blog was my first baby, and then I had a real baby. I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about the site afterward. There were definitely days I wanted nothing to do with it, but aside from those winter days when I hibernated with Max, I’ve never fallen out of love with this space or with what I do.
Beyoncé-style.
(So that’s obviously huge.)
You gave me a place to go this year—a place we built together—which brought a sense of normalcy when everything in my life had been wonderfully turned upside down. There was so much new, and I’m still working through it, but I’m so glad you’re here. You are truly the chocolate chips to my peanut butter spoon.
I hope you know how insanely grateful I am for you. Not a second goes by that I’m not aware of how lucky I am to write here daily and call it my job (I’m still explaining that to my mom). I’m thankful for the opportunities you’ve made possible and, most of all, for having a career that let me spend the past nine months cuddled up to this chubbanugget.
If you’re on the other side of the screen feeling stuck or unhappy with your career, know I sat there too—miserable, unfulfilled, and bored. There is light at the end of the tunnel if you’re willing to work for it and follow something you’re passionate about. People ask if I was nervous it wouldn’t work out. I didn’t overthink it; I followed my heart. If you pour everything into something you love, how can it really fail?
P.S. I still worry the internet will implode tomorrow and this will all vanish. There’s that fear, too.
Thank you so much for sticking with me, especially over the last year when I don’t even remember where I put—well—everything. I’ve always been an avid blog reader, and I know that interest can ebb and flow. A writer can only offer their true self, and after a while that can feel repetitive. I hope I give you enough—so even when you’re tired of my rambles or my millennial habits, you can still find something delicious to try.
Here’s to many exclamation points and apologies for the giant blocks of text.
[previously: year five, year four, year three, year two, year one]