With every new phase of my life, I always seem to start a new blog phase as well, because, as life changes, so do the things I want to share—and the way in which I want to share them.

I can pull up archives of thoughts and memories I’ve recorded online since I was sixteen years old, with platform changes and shifts of focus that reflect each particular moment, and despite these archives being hosted in merely a virtual space, there’s something incredibly comforting about their very existence. They’re different than the lined composition books in which I’ve written with pen or pencil for two decades. They’re a visual reflection of my times, sometimes posted on the fly and at others handled with great thought and care; sometimes they share my memories, and sometimes only things I want to remember.

In the past, the many aspects of my life have been compartmentalized online—travel here, books there, the personal usually remaining pretty private. But as my life has gotten fuller (both literally and theoretically), it’s been hard to maintain all these pieces of myself, and as a result, they’ve nearly all been abandoned. By all (online) accounts, I have ceased to exist, which means so has that record of myself, the archive I cherish.

It’s an established fact by now—I need a journal, an outlet, a space I can organize my thoughts and record my experiences. Especially at this moment, as I journey into this new life phase as a parent, I find greater value in honesty and transparency, as I often find humor, comfort, and inspiration in the personal lives of others who share their worlds online. Perhaps my only readers will always just be myself and loved ones, but contributing in some small way to a greater community of women/mothers/readers/writers/creators/educators/adventurers is a new perspective that motivates this tired but inspired soul.