The last few weeks, I’ve felt like I’ve been stuck on a hamster wheel, same loop, different day. Wake up, parent, work, perform for the algorithm, try to write, repeat. It’s a never ending cycle that’s become so ingrained I sometimes forget what I actually want from any of it.
I’ve been trying to wear all the hats: mum, full time employee, creative content writer, Etsy seller, emotionally available human and somewhere in the middle of that, I lost the space I need to write. Properly write. Not bullet points in my Notes app. Not fragments of ideas scribbled between meetings and phone calls. I mean the kind of writing where I can get lost in the words, where sentences pour out without self editing or second guessing myself.
That kind of writing has been missing lately. Not because I don’t want to do it, but because the weight of everything else has crowded it out.
Sometimes it feels like I’m stuck in a constant cycle.
I find myself answering the daily prompts on autopilot, just ticking that box so I’ve posted something. But honestly? I don’t always want to write about my favourite food or some historical figure.
Sometimes, I just want to write about life. About feelings. The real stuff. The kind of stuff that just lands, without question.
There are times as writers, we have the vision, the intention is there, but the words just won’t come.
No spark, no rhythm, no sentences that make it past the fog.
Until, of course, they arrive uninvited, spilling through the silence like a river racing to the sea, usually as I’m lying in bed, half asleep, with nowhere to put them.
By morning, they’ve vanished, like they were never there at all.
And of those times during daylight when the words do come, there’s barely time to catch them, because somewhere in between the laundry, the day job, parenting, and trying to remember if I’ve eaten, I’m also meant to be a full time content machine.
Because that’s what it takes now, isn’t it?
Creating, posting, hashtagging, engaging constantly, just so a simple thought, a journal prompt, or a product I poured hours into might be seen by the people who actually chose to follow me.
Apparently, just writing isn’t enough anymore. Now I have to perform it, package it, and hope that the algorithm rewards my efforts before the scroll moves on.
Maybe the real lesson here is that creativity isn’t a switch you can just flip on command, especially when you’re juggling a million other things and chasing algorithms that don’t care if you’re exhausted.
Maybe it’s about learning to find moments of real connection with your own words, whether they’re perfect, messy, or unfinished, and just trusting that’s enough.
In the end, the words that matter most aren’t measured by likes or views, they’re the ones that remind me why I started writing in the first place.
So if you’re feeling lost in the noise, wondering if your words, your art, your work even matter, don’t let the algorithm decide that for you. Keep going. Keep creating. The right people will find you. And when they do, they’ll feel every bit of what you’ve poured into it.
Lottie x
Thirty Something Plus VAT 