This Might Be Boring, But It’s Mine

Why I’m Starting Over (Again)

I used to write. A lot.

Back when I believed that my voice mattered. Back when I didn’t overthink the value of a thought, or question if the ordinary was worthy of being seen.

But somewhere along the way — maybe as life got louder, heavier — I stopped.

Not because I had nothing to say, but because I convinced myself it didn’t matter. That no one needed another story about routines, or quiet joys, or the kind of struggles you carry in silence.

But lately, something inside me has been stirring.

Not a demand. Not a need to prove anything.

Just… a gentle pull to return. To myself. To my words.

To the act of simply sharing again.

Not to impress. Not to perform.

But to be present with the parts of my life that are tender and true.

The things I’ve been holding — my work, my rest, my healing, the joy I find in movement, in yoga, in little obsessions (like pandas and my frenchies), in the conversations I have with myself when no one’s watching.

This blog isn’t here to go viral.

It’s here to be honest. To be human.

To remind me — and maybe you — that we don’t have to be extraordinary to be worth listening to.

So here I am.

Starting over.

Again.

I don’t know who’s reading.

I don’t know what this will become.

But this is mine. And that feels like enough for now.

Maybe your story feels boring too.

Maybe you’ve been holding it in, waiting for it to become something more impressive.

But what if it’s already enough — because it’s yours?

Welcome to Lavender Hours.

Let’s write the soft, true things together.

With warmth,

Rem💜✨