Shifting Spaces: Why I’m Moving My Writing to Substack

I can’t sleep. That doesn’t happen to me often anymore, but tonight, my heart and mind are racing. I don’t even know why. Maybe it’s because I ate too much—again. But that’s nothing new. I’ve been doing that pretty consistently since I asked my husband to move out in May. It’s a way to soothe myself, an adult pacifier per say, a way to find comfort in life when everything feels so uncertain. Life is uncomfortable right now, and food—whether it’s pasta, chocolate, bread (yes all carbs…)—offers a momentary relief.  

There’s just so much fear I’m trying to manage. How will I pay the mortgage? How do I start a career after being a stay-at-home mom for 13 years? How do I get my book out into the world without a big publishing company backing me? I’ve never done this before. It feels like I’m lost at sea, no compass, no map—just waves crashing over me, again and again. And in the overwhelm, I forget to stop and breathe.  

A friend recently asked me, “What do you want to do for you?” I paused, and with tears welling up, I said, “I’d like to sit in the sun for five minutes.” Just five minutes. And yet, that felt impossible—because I had managed to fill every second of my day, from the moment I woke up to the moment I stumbled into bed. My next free day isn’t until March. That’s a month and a half away. That’s not okay.  

So, no wonder I’m up at 2 AM, trying to solve my entire life in one sleepless night. It’s too much. I went from believing in the Disney fantasy that someone would come and save me to realizing, “Oh, shit, I have to do this all myself”—and I made that jump in a split second. That doesn’t work. There has to be a middle ground. And yes, I do get to sit in the sun for five minutes.  

It’s funny—I used to be a smoker, and one of the reasons I kept smoking for so long was that it gave me a “valid” excuse to take a break. To step outside, breathe, and just be for ten minutes every hour or so. Sure, the toxic fumes weren’t great, but the pause? The pause was something I needed. And I get to invite those pauses into my life now, too—minus the toxins.  

As I write in my upcoming book “The Unconventional Addict”, having an addictive personality can actually be an asset. (Yes, really!) When we’re passionate about something, we’re unstoppable. Nothing can stand in our way. Back in the day, that meant hunting down that last open bar when everyone else wanted to go home or insisting on “just one more” long after the party had ended. But in sobriety? That same energy shows up in different ways—like working on my book from sunrise until midnight, forgetting to eat, pushing my body to the limit, convinced I have to finish everything today. No breaks. No slowing down. Full steam ahead.  

But that’s not sustainable. Our bodies won’t let us get away with it for long. The key is balance. Finding self-care tools. Taking those five minutes to sit in the sun. Going for a walk. Journaling. Drinking water. Connecting with friends.  

For me, writing is self-care. Getting my worries, thoughts, and fears out of my head and onto the page brings me so much relief. It reminds me that I don’t have to solve everything today. That I’m safe. That the Universe is guiding me, and I don’t have to control it all. Writing helps me breathe again. It helps me see the beauty in the everyday.  

But right now, my creative light feels like a flickering candle in the wind. It’s so new, raw and vulnerable. And because of that, I need to be intentional about who I share my words with. So, I’ve decided to move my blog over to Substack. It feels like the right space to keep creating while also protecting my energy. Maybe one day, when my creative fire is burning big and bright, I’ll start sharing more openly again. But for now, I’m pulling up the drawbridge, guarding the gate, and creating a space for those who truly resonate with my words.  

If you’re an open-hearted, kind, and curious soul—someone who sees life’s twists and turns and does their best with whatever comes their way—I’d love to have you join me there. Kindness, love, empathy, and understanding are always welcome.  

 Sending you all my love, as always,

Kristine