Why Wyrdstead’s Been Still (and That’s Okay)

Wyrdstead’s not had much progress lately—at least from a build it perspective. But here’s the truth: I’ve been more creative than ever.

The ideas are here, scribbled in Notion and living in the back of my mind while I make lunch or lace up my running shoes. I’ve been writing again. Blogging again. Getting thoughts out of my head and onto paper. It’s something I haven’t been able to do in years, and it feels like stretching a new muscle.

But creative energy isn’t always the same as forward momentum. And while the writing has flowed, the building has not.

Even the bunnies have been slow lately. I have photos of so many sitting while I walk close by. Maybe it’s a sign I can learn to take my time.

I haven’t had time to work on the next big piece of Wyrdstead—the traveling animal café that’s been taking shape in the background of everything. I know exactly what I want it to be. I have the vision, the roadmap, the ballpark budget, even a sense of the early logistics. But I haven’t taken a single step toward it.

Not because I don’t want to. But because right now, my life is full.

My day job, the one I genuinely love is busy. The work is interesting, fulfilling, and worth my time. My kids have been out of school and somehow even more energetic than usual. They need attention, snacks, supervision, playtime, walks, snuggles, and more snacks. It’s also racing season. I’ve had a 5K or a 10K nearly every other week, and I’m training for a half marathon. I have dysautonomia, and the summer heat isn’t doing me any favors. But I’m still moving forward, even if my heart sometimes disagrees with the plan.

So, yes—Wyrdstead has been quiet in some ways.

But it’s not a sign of neglect. It’s a sign of rhythm.

I’ve always known this would take time.

I didn’t start Wyrdstead expecting to launch a full suite of projects in a year. I expected it to take five. Maybe ten. Maybe more. I knew it would need to grow alongside my life—not in place of it. This isn’t a startup with a quarterly roadmap. It’s a long-term plan that involves community, creativity, and care. Right now, that plan is still being written. And the ink flows best when I don’t force it.

So if things seem quiet: they are, and they aren’t.

There are no big announcements at the moment. No new spaces opening or projects launching. But beneath the surface, there’s a lot happening. Ideas are composting. Words are collecting. Dreams are resting until they’re ready to move again.

And I’ll meet them there when the time comes. Maybe when my kids are in school next month. Maybe when they’re not so dependent on me 5 years from now.

Until then, I’m happy to keep writing—quietly, patiently, curiously. This whole thing only works because I know there’s time.

And because not all growth makes noise.