“I think you should take some time off from sharing your life with the world.” Those are the words my new friend Saima said to me on my final day in London, and they were followed by a question. “What would it look like if you just wrote for yourself, for a little while?” I didn’t have an answer. We were sitting in her living room, relaxing while waiting for the sun to go down, so we could go out and she could break her fast during Ramadan. I couldn’t think of an answer to her question. The only thing I knew was that I was tired.

Earlier that morning, I had sent Saima a few text messages to warn her I wasn’t in my usual good spirits. I had also sent similar messages to my friend Bianca, before we met up with our mutual friend Laura that morning. After confessing to spending the previous night crying in my hotel bed, I told them I wanted to see them, but that I couldn’t promise I would be the best company. What I was really doing was forewarning them there was a good chance I would cry in front of them, and to please prepare now and forgive me for it then.

Both Bianca and Saima took care of me that day in a way I didn’t even know I needed. They picked the restaurants. Bianca got a better table. And then Saima did something I believe she’s skilled at, but which felt like the greatest gift of all: she ordered food for me. Food for us to share. This was something she’d done every time we’d gone out together, but it felt bigger that night. Like she could physically see the weight on my shoulders, and lifted just a little bit of it off by making a decision for me. I was beyond grateful.

The next day, I was stuck at Calgary International Airport for a lengthy six-hour layover. After finishing the second of the two books I’d started reading on my first flight, I popped my Canadian SIM card back into my phone and called a few friends to tell them I was almost home. The first call was to Azalea, who had been staying at my place in Squamish while I was away. I shared a few stories from my trip, then reiterated to her what I had said to Bianca and Saima—and told her about the question Saima had asked me.

What would it look like if you just wrote for yourself, for a little while?

As we talked about it, I realized it wasn’t that I didn’t have an answer to the question. It was that I didn’t like my answer. I have shared the details of my life on this blog for close to eight years. It started as a hobby, but has since become a part of me—and is now part of my job. And the thought of not writing and hitting publish made me feel really uncomfortable, not just because I worried about what people would think if I disappeared (although that was a concern) but because I literally didn’t know what it would look like if I just wrote for myself.

Azalea listened to this and let me ramble about all the different thoughts and ideas that had come up on my trip. Ideas for book #2, ideas for ways to make money (because writing books isn’t a get rich quick scheme), and thoughts about where I could travel to or live next. One of Azalea’s many gifts is making people feel seen and heard, so she listened and made me feel seen and heard. And then she gave me a different challenge. “Try not to make any big decisions for the next two weeks.” This also made me uncomfortable.

The reason those questions/challenges felt difficult was because I knew they would require me to sit with myself. To exercise the muscle I’ve been working on for the past five-and-a-half years: the one that usually twitches, reacts impulsively and wants to solve problems right away. I knew I would essentially have to do nothing, which felt impossible. There was external pressure to do more, more, more and to capitalize on the success of The Year of Less. There was also pressure to keep up with everything else I’d been doing before the book came out. And then there was the pressure I was putting on myself. How could I opt out for two weeks!?

Fortunately, jet lag forced me to slow down and take care of myself. It took a full week for me to properly recover and get a good night of sleep, so the first of those two weeks off was easy. After that, I realized I wasn’t feeling any clearer about what I was supposed to do next. I tried to write but couldn’t finish so much as a paragraph. I talked about things with friends but never found solutions. I needed some real space. So, I combined Saima + Azalea’s challenges and decided not to blog/post to Instagram/make any big decisions for two more weeks.

I committed to that idea on June 18th. As you can see from the date of this post, it’s been almost a month—and I still don’t feel ready to “return”. The same way opting out of buying stuff for two years taught me a lot about myself as a consumer, temporarily opting out of publishing content is giving me time to think about myself as a creator. Having that space has also allowed an incredible number of ideas to surface—some I had never thought of before, others I had pushed off for various reasons. They aren’t all good. But my home + my phone are cluttered with notes, and that feels like a step in the right direction.

So, at the moment, I think this is going to be the only blog post I publish this summer. I wanted to say hi + thanks to those of you who have reached out, as well as share a little bit of what I’ve been up to. :)

First of all, my trip to the UK was even better than I could have imagined. I visited England (it felt like home), Scotland and Ireland (rented a car and did a road trip!). The weather was unbelievable. Honestly, it felt like the sunshine followed me wherever I went. (If you’re not on Instagram, just pop over and see all the blue sky in my pictures. It was unreal.) And the amount of beauty and history I took in was overwhelming. But the best part of my trip—and most trips—was the people. I’m so grateful to everyone who made time for me and helped me have the best experience possible. You all know who you are, and I can’t wait to see you again.

Since coming home, I’ve been soaking up all the beauty in Squamish and thinking about something that’s been on my mind since I was in the UK: what if I didn’t have a home base? How could I take what I know about myself and combine it into an experience where I travel (slowly) full-time? Could I be a citizen of the world? I made one big decision and decided the answer is: it’s worth trying. People keep asking where I’m moving to next or what I’m going to do, and I have been avoiding the questions. I’m not trying to be vague or rude, I just don’t have the answers yet. All I know is that I will be leaving Squamish sometime in 2018 and heading out into the world.

(To go along with this, I have started the process of decluttering/selling my belongings.)

Another thing I don’t have answers about yet is what’s next for me work-wise—at least in terms of big projects. In late-June, I finished an optional proposal for book #2 and there are still a lot of question marks around how my publisher wants to move forward. The Year of Less has sold more than 47,000 copies (print, ebook + audiobook) around the world, which is unbelievable and has truly exceeded even my wildest dreams. But that still doesn’t mean anyone will want your next book idea. As I’ve been waiting to hear, my anxiety has been ultra-high, but I’ve been trying to accept that I can’t control what happens on this front.

So, on the topic of work I can control, I do have some fun news. I’m currently revising Mindful Budgeting and finally creating what so many of you have asked for: an evergreen planner so you can start using it anytime of the year! It feels amazing to be refreshing the content so it represents what I know today (compared to when I first launched it in 2015). If everything goes as planned, it should be available by the end of the summer.

I also started doing a content audit, where I’m going through every single one of the posts on this site and updating them in some way or simply deleting them. I started with more than 550 posts and currently have just 404—and I’ve only gone from 2011 through to mid-2014! I’ve made sure that anyone who is new to the site could still go back, read from the beginning and understand exactly how I got to where I am today. Nothing about my story is missing. I’m just clearing out all the posts that don’t add to it or help people. (This feels good, especially when you think about how much changes from age 25 to age 33!)

And on that note: I quietly celebrated my 33rd birthday on July 7th. :)

There’s so much more I could say and share, but this post is already way longer than I intended—and I really want to honour my original idea for it, which was to talk about the value of living through (and not always publicly sharing) the messiness of life. I still don’t know exactly why I was sad at the end of my trip. I think it probably had something to do with the fact that I’d been living on the edge of my comfort zone all year—mostly with work, but also with some of my travels. But I’m not going to force myself to find the answer. Instead, I’m giving myself some grace and accepting the fact that we simply can’t be happy all the time (even on vacation).

However, in saying that, I’ve also had a number of conversations with friends since I’ve been home, and I can’t help but notice that a similar theme keeps coming up over and over again. Those of us who have been publicly documenting our life/work/progress for many years are feeling like something has to change. Either we need to take more time off for ourselves, change the way/amount/frequency we share, or quit certain projects altogether. Because it’s starting to feel like it’s all becoming a bit too much, and that it would be nice to live a little more—and perhaps share a little less (or just share in a different way).

What does that mean for me? I still don’t know! Hence wanting to take more time off this summer, so I can keep thinking about this. So far, I can tell you that it’s still “scary” to think about disappearing for a few months. But it feels so much better than pressuring myself to stick to my old schedule or write insightful content. As I said in an interview with my friend Fiona, I don’t want to have all the answers right now. I just want to be honest. And if I’m honest, creating space for myself for the past month has felt like such a gift. I’ve cooked a ton of healthy food. Gone for lots of walks. Read a handful of books and listened to countless podcasts. And I’ve been writing for myself—and not sharing it with anyone. This space is where new insight/ideas have started to flourish. It’s costing me money and time to give it to myself, but putting pressure on myself would’ve cost me more.

The one thought I do want to share right now is more of a note for all content creators: we have an immense responsibility. There is so much “noise” online right now (and so much content, in general). The book has made me realize that the things we share can and will have an impact, and we are so lucky to be taking up any amount of time our audience is willing to give us. I want to take that seriously. I took book #1 seriously, in that I knew exactly what my intention was and the message I wanted people to take from it—and based on responses, I feel like I did my job. I want to bring that same intentionality into everything I do. That might mean I share less content for a while, but I’m hoping that will result in sharing better content later.

As for my personal life: I’m going to keep some of that to myself for a while, too. Because even though this year has been filled with some amazing events and milestones so far, it’s also been really mentally taxing. Penny recently wrote a post that took the scrambled thoughts I’ve had about this out of my mind and put them in the right order. She said: “When you are really in the midst of making progress, it is all-consuming. It is stressful, of course, but it is exhilarating. And it is virtually impossible to stop the process long enough to reflect on what is happening, let alone write or even call home about it. We don’t write in the mess. We live it.”

I don’t think I am a mess right now, but I am definitely making progress. Life is changing. Work is changing. Home is changing. Each one of those things is changing in a really big way, so combined it feels absolutely massive—and I’m not ready to share it all yet. I’m going to keep living through it, and talking it out with my closest friends/family, until I get a little clearer and find my way back to myself (or perhaps my new self). What I can tell you right now is that I don’t think I’ve cried since I’ve been home. In fact, for the past week, I’ve been putting headphones in, cranking up music, and dancing around my kitchen a couple times a day.

One of the last things Saima said to me in London was, “I don’t think your pain is a bad thing. I think it’s showing you that something you’re doing isn’t working.” Those two short sentences instantly calmed my anxiety and quite literally felt like they brought me back down to earth. It was like a reminder that I didn’t need to be sad about being sad (aka slip into depression). It was just time to pay attention and make some changes.

It’s a good thing I have lots of experience doing that. :)

It has been exactly 50 days since my last update; 127 days since I left for my adventure in the UK; 232 days since my first book came out. This year has been so different from what I expected, filled with decisions I didn’t know I would make. Yesterday, I woke up and deleted the 2,522-word post I had written for today. In it, I shared all the details that went into making this decision. I talked about the slow steps I took toward it, the mini adventures in opting out, and everything I was feeling about saying “goodbye” to this blog as a whole. Even though it’s all true, the thought of hitting publish on that post didn’t feel right. I woke up this morning knowing that the truest thing I could say is that it just feels like it’s time. I knew it when I shared my last update, and I still know it today, so that’s what I’m here to say. It’s time to let go of this blog. I’m ready to move on and start something new.

The “start something new” part of that sentence is what excites me most—and that’s why I’m moving towards it. It feels exciting. For most of this year, blogging has felt stale—and the internet, as a whole, hasn’t felt like the fun place to hangout with friends it once did. That’s not to say it doesn’t feel safe (though we could discuss that argument, and I have thoughts for both sides). It’s just not as fun anymore. I used to open up new browser tabs and visit people’s blogs like I was walking into their dorm rooms and sitting on their beds. Then we’d share life updates, what little bits of advice we had, and both walk away feeling like we’d had a great conversation with a friend. Now, it feels like every platform (blogs, social, etc.) is a place for people to shout and be heard. We have been told we need to build, grow, make money and have all the answers. We need to be experts.

I don’t want to be an expert. I just want to be a human.

I want to wake up and enjoy my slow mornings, with coffee in one hand and my journal in the other. I want to sit down and work, and not feel like it needs to be a productivity experiment that I should document. I want to go for long walks and spend time in nature, and not take pictures as proof. I want to get a good night of sleep and a bad night of sleep, and not turn it into a discussion on the internet. I want to date and celebrate milestones with the people in my life, and not share it with the world. I want to make big financial decisions and small financial decisions, and not have to justify them or worry what people will think. I want to have regular days and big days and happy days and sad days. I want to go through an experience and not wonder which parts would fit best into a blog post. I want to live and not share every detail anymore. I just want to be a human in this world.

Whether you’re a new reader who signed up after reading The Year of Less, or you’ve been with me since the beginning, you all know it’s taken a long time for me to get to this place. Eight years ago, I was 25 years old, maxed out with nearly $30,000 of debt, felt like a failure and cried myself to sleep at night. I relied on drinking, eating, and spending money to get me through most things. I wasn’t happy. I was lost. Today, I’m 33 years old, have some money in the bank, work for myself and sleep better. I’ve learned how to pay attention to what I’m doing, ask myself how I feel about it, and try new things until it feels like I’m on a better path. I’ve made so many changes and done so much hard work that I now trust myself to do what’s right for me. That comes with a certain level of confidence I didn’t have before. I’m not the same person I was 2,896 days ago. I have changed.

So, it makes sense that a different person would want to work on different things.

At the beginning of the year, I shared an idea that felt crazy at the time with my good friend J$: “I want to burn everything to the ground and start fresh.” We had just wrapped up three years of working together on Rockstar Finance, and he asked what I was going to do next. That was my response. I didn’t know what “everything” included or how I would burn it all down. I just had this feeling that it was time to let things go. Similar to the way you outgrow a job, because you are no longer being challenged or learning, I was ready for a new position. And ever so slowly, I have burned it all down and moved in that direction: my role at Rockstar, the blog’s Facebook page, my involvement with Simple Year, my podcast with Carrie, my Twitter profile. It’s all gone—and so far, none of my fears about letting each one go have actualized.

The blog is the final piece of the puzzle. It’s the biggest piece and the scariest one to remove, because it’s the first one I laid down and eventually built everything else around. When I first started writing anonymously as “blonde on a budget,” I never could’ve imagined my last post would read like this one. Thanks to this blog, and to all of you for reading, I have received opportunities I never could’ve dreamed of: freelance writing gigs, a full-time job, a chance to work for myself; fun collaborations with friends and mentors, ways to make money on the internet, opportunities to speak to people in-person—and a book deal. Every other publisher wanted TYOL to be a how-to book, but Hay House let me write it exactly how I wanted to. And then my old weekly spending reports somehow evolved into a deeply personal memoir that quickly became a bestseller—that still blows my mind.

This blog was an outlet that ultimately changed my career and my entire life. I don’t know if I will ever be able to find words to express my gratitude other than a simple “thank you”. Thank you to everyone who read the blog. Thank you to everyone who took the time to write a comment or email. Thank you to everyone who replied to other people’s comments, started conversations and built this community. Thank you to all my friends who wrote guest posts for me when I needed time off. And thank you to the friends who have collaborated with me during these past eight years. You have all helped me in more ways than I can list here, and I am so grateful for your time, energy, and attention. Now, I believe that the best thing I can do is continue to model what it means to live an intentional life. In this case, that means trusting my gut and letting go of my blog, even if it feels scary.

Because make no mistake: the idea of walking away from this blog does scare me. I’ve “lived here” for 2,896 days. That’s 2,896 days of checking blog stats, working on new posts and replying to comments. And 2,896 days of having at least one task related to maintaining this website. I spent the summer checking in with my fears and realized they weren’t much different than what comes up when we decide to let go of anything. Similar to the way we have to detach ourselves from our belongings in order to declutter, I’ve had to let go of whatever attachment my ego had to being a long-time blogger. I’ve had to remind myself that this blog doesn’t define me. I am not my pageviews or other stats. I am a human first, and a writer second. And it’s ok for the ways in which I share my words to change—that’s what we’ve been working on for the past eight years, right? Change. :)

Letting go isn’t easy. It’s a continual practice. Fortunately, when we intentionally create space in our lives, we can intentionally decide what to fill it with. I haven’t decided what I will fill all of my time with, because I want to remain open. But here’s what you can expect from me in 2018:

• a new newsletter that will not be about my life! I’ll be writing in seasons and taking chunks of time off, to honour myself + also to model what it means to listen to yourself and create boundaries in your life.
• the release of the Mindful Budgeting evergreen planner that will live on the site year-round and be available when you need it most. :)
• and then I’ll finish my proposal for book #2. After all that, I ended up telling my agent I needed time (and pressure) off from that too. Another decision that felt more “right” than scary.

Taking time off this summer created space for a growing list of ideas to enter my mind. Some of them include: a solo podcast, a collab with a group of women, and anything where I can make sure all contributors are paid equally. I don’t know which ideas I’ll work on yet, but I would be excited about any of them! The one thing I do know is that my personal life will no longer be at the centre of what I’m sharing. Now, I want to show up for all of you and help the best way I can. Also, aside from the newsletter, I’ll continue to spend a little time on Instagram. That’s the one online space I’ve really been enjoying in 2018, and I have a few ideas for ways we can connect more and build some community there. If you haven’t already, please say hi. :)

As for this website, it will always be my home base. But consider the blog to be nothing more than a place you can find simple updates, like product releases, book tour info, other events, etc. And with that, I think we’re done here, friends! My final post. Before I sign off, there are two messages I want to leave you with.

The first is a call for mindful creators. I’ve spent most of this year thinking about how we consume information, and believe more of us could stand to take a step back and look at the bigger picture. A shift is coming. If it hasn’t happened already, we are getting close to reaching what feels like a critical mass. There are too many blogs, websites, podcasts, videos, streaming services, etc. to keep up with. We, as consumers, are starting to feel overwhelmed by the amount of options out there. When it gets to be too much, I think we’re going to see people opt out altogether. They’ll unsubscribe, hit delete, and walk away. I say this because I’ve been doing it all year. As a collective, we are beginning to realize how limited our time, energy, and attention are—and creators need to respect that. If you don’t believe me, liken it to how much physical stuff we used to accumulate, and now how big the movement to declutter/simplify is. I truly believe a shift is coming. People want less but better.

What does this mean for creators? I obviously can’t predict the future, but I do think it’s time to start asking big questions and setting intentions for the work we do. For me, that starts with reminding myself that having an audience is both a gift and a responsibility. It’s incredible that people want to read/watch/listen to what you have to say. But don’t let the number of followers or pageviews or comments fool you. Your audience/platform is not your self-worth; it is a gift and a responsibility. Always remember that people are human beings first, and the content you share has the power to shift the way they think/feel. Be helpful. Be hopeful. Create the content you would want to consume. And really think about the messaging you’re putting out into the world. (Also, if you’re a new blogger, I still stand by all the tips I shared about how I slowly grew mine my own way.)

For that last point, I’ve found myself experiencing a growing frustration with some content in the minimalism/simple living space. In short: the solutions we are offering are way too simple. We can’t keep telling people that simplifying is going to solve all of their problems. The real work comes next and it is hard. Let’s have more conversations about that. And finally, the last thing I want to do is challenge creators in this space to see one huge disconnect in the work we do. We encourage people to do things like log off social media, yet we force ourselves to actively maintain profiles on every single platform. It’s like we’re offering “you don’t have to keep up” as good advice for others, but we can’t seem to give it to ourselves. Talk about mixed messaging. If you need someone to write you a permission slip to take a step back, I’ll do it and offer you something to think about: How do you consume content? What would your life/your work look like if you only created content in those spaces, instead?

Finally, a note for all the mindful consumers (which is basically a note to all humans). If you read those last three paragraphs in full, I would love to hear your thoughts on the overload of information out there. But more importantly, I just want to say this: you don’t have to keep up with it all. It is exhausting and anxiety-inducing—and it is physically impossible. You literally cannot read, watch and do everything. And also, remember that what consumes your mind controls your life and finances. So don’t buy into any of the messages that dig at your insecurities and make you feel less than. You are more than a consumer. If you feel overwhelmed but don’t know what to consume less of, start by paying attention to the content you consume, the way you consume it, and how it makes you feel. If something doesn’t feel right, don’t be afraid to make a change. Play around. Experiment. Create boundaries. Do what feels good to you. You have more control over this than you might think.

Ok, that’s it. For real this time—a new 2,500-word post, haha. I love you all. Thank you, forever.

I’ll see you on the next adventure.

xx Cait

Three years ago, almost to this day, I went on my first Adventure Tuesday. I was newly self-employed and realized that, while I had bitten off more than I could chew and was still working too much, I really wanted to make spending time with friends in the outdoors a priority. After years of working full-time for a startup + blogging and freelancing on the side, I was done hustling. I wanted to spend more time with the people I loved doing the things we loved. And since one of the benefits of self-employment is that you’re able to set your own hours, that’s exactly what I did. I made my friends + the outdoors a priority, and pencilled in a standing date to explore a new town or trail with someone every Tuesday.

Approximately 156 Tuesday’s have passed, since then, and I can’t say I’ve gone on an adventure for each one. However, the intention behind Adventure Tuesday has stuck with me. To this day, I make sure there is breathing room in my calendar so I can say yes to walk/hike requests. This summer, I also made a bucket list of things I wanted to do and see in and around Squamish, and crossed most things off. I explored new areas, stepped on new trails, swam in new lakes. I made my friends + the outdoors a priority.

I’m not telling you this so you will lace up your shoes and head out. And this newsletter isn’t going to be filled with hiking tips or recaps of mine. Adventure Tuesday isn’t really about the outdoors at all. It’s about paying attention to your thoughts about how you want to be spending your time, and figuring out how you can turn them into realities. It’s also about setting healthier boundaries in your life, so you can show up for yourself and for others. I’ve made a lot of big changes in my life, over the past eight years. But putting Adventure Tuesday in the calendar felt like the first (tiny) step towards actively creating the life I wanted, rather than passively consuming the one I thought I should have.

That’s what I want to talk about in this season of Adventure Tuesday: the idea of creating vs. consuming. I want to talk about how we, as humans, are consumers. We consume non-stop around the clock, and it impacts our mindsets, our health, our money and our relationships. But we, as humans, are also creators. You might not think you create anything physical (and maybe you don’t really, aside from the meals you eat). However, you are a creative problem-solving human being, and that means you have a little more control over your life than you might currently believe.

This won’t be a how-to kind of newsletter. I’m not an expert, and I don’t have many answers about how or why we do things. What I am is a human with a lot of questions and ideas, and a writer who wants to share what she observes. (That’s what a writer’s job is, by the way: to observe and report back. It’s so simple. I won’t overcomplicate it.) I will do this by sharing stories: some mine, some others, and some things I research. I may also suggest the occasional “mini adventure” or “slow adventure” to dip your toes into the topics we discuss. But overall, the purpose of this newsletter is to share my thoughts, and hopefully have some great conversations with you each week. :)

Here’s what you can expect:

• a weekly email delivered every Tuesday from now until the end of November,
• we’ll take December off, and I’ll think about what the next season could look like,
• and when we reconnect in January, I may switch things up and write less frequently (bi-weekly instead of weekly) or change anything else so it feels like it’s working for all of us.

I meant what I said last week about not only respecting my own boundaries as a creator but also yours as a consumer, which is why I will always be questioning how I can best show up (including giving us all space). But if it ever gets to a point where you find yourself deleting the emails rather than reading them, exercise your ability to hit the unsubscribe button (which is always at the bottom). It is my hope that we will all develop and practice healthier consumption habits together, and I’m not afraid to say that might mean you eventually don’t need my emails. Pay attention to how the things you consume make you think and feel, and let go of anything that isn’t serving you. If I’m one of the things you let go of, that means our work together is done. :)

x Cait

October has shaped up to be a month of consuming content. Not creating much—just a lot of consuming. This seems to be what happens whenever I travel at a fast pace, which is exactly what’s happening right now. I spent 3 days in Washington, DC followed by 5 days in New York City. Tomorrow, I fly to Edmonton for 5 more days. And the week after that, I’m travelling to Richmond, Virginia for another few days. (Then I’m done for 2018.)

With all the travel and slow living experiments I’ve done, I’ve learned there’s a simple equation for how my output is impacted by the rate at which I’m moving through the world. It goes like this:

slow pace of life = create more

fast pace of life = create less

In this instance, “create” doesn’t just apply to content. It means the way I show up altogether. When I’m settled in, I cook more, try more new recipes, spend more time maintaining my relationships and so on. And that makes sense—the same way being busy often results in letting some of those things fall by the wayside. When I move too quickly, I feel like I can only manage what’s at the surface. But when I slow down, I can dive deeper—and that’s how I prefer to live.

The reason I love doing experiments is because they teach me so much about myself. Now, I just know: when I travel a lot, I probably won’t get much deep work done. But that doesn’t mean I’m not being productive. If anything, I’ve found myself reading/listening to more books, audiobooks and podcasts this month—and I’m getting pickier about what I consume. I want to consume content that inspires me, or at least makes me think. Like the interview with Louis, the can of cola.

I was recently introduced to the new podcast Everything Is Alive. Each episode is an interview with an inanimate object. Things you would find around your house or in your neighbourhood. A bar of soap, an elevator, a lamppost. Through a series of thoughtful questions, it shares its life story, and I have never listened to anything like it. It’s a fantastic podcast for hopeful minimalists, because it makes you think about how you would treat your belongings if they were alive.

The episode with Louis has really stuck with me. Without giving much away, I will just tell you that Louis has been sitting on the shelf for a long time. He’s a generic can of cola, so it seems he’s been forgotten—continually shoved to the back of the fridge. Where things took a turn for me was when the host, Ian, began to prompt Louis to talk about what his inevitable future is: to expire and be tossed out, or to be consumed. Louis’ answer to one question hit home.

Ian: When you think about being consumed by a human, do you think about the human you want to be in?

Louis: If and when I’m finally consumed, I hope I’m consumed by someone who enjoys it.

YES! Yes yes yes. So much food for thought (no pun intended). This is what I’m talking about!

He then goes on to say: Truthfully, here’s how I expect to go. Assuming that I am consumed, I’m expecting it’s going to happen in the middle of the night. Someone’s going to open the fridge and pull me out and that’ll be that. It would be nice to be poured into a nice big pint glass, you know? A frosty mug would be a pretty good way to go. That would be pleasant. I doubt that’s going to happen though.

If that doesn’t make you think twice about how you consume things. Wow. Louis isn’t looking so generic, after all.

Since this is a month of consuming for me, I thought I would share some of the things I’ve enjoyed. :)

Books

Company of One by Paul Jarvis – It comes out on January 15th, and if you read just the description you’ll know exactly why I love it so much. I seriously can’t wait for more people to read it, so we can have conversations about it. SOON!

Subliminal by Leonard Mlodinow – A look at how our subliminal brain (or unconscious mind) influences our experiences, how we view ourselves and others, and the meaning we attach to things. The cover alone is wild (you have to see it).

The Attention Merchants by Tim Wu – This is all about how our attention is captured (often by “free” information) and sold. It’s an entire industry. Blogging is part of it. I’m obsessed with this topic + anything Tim does, right now.

The End of Absence by Michael Harris – A look at how technology (like smartphones) has created what he calls a “loss of lack”—basically, we have no opportunities to be alone with our thoughts. He encourages us to take pleasure in those moments when we find them.

To Shake the Sleeping Self by Jedidiah Jenkins – This is a memoir about his 14,000-mile bike ride from Oregon to Patagonia. I’m nearly halfway through the audiobook and never want it to end. Genuinely savouring this one.

Podcasts

Everything Is Alive – Unscripted interviews with inanimate objects. Aside from Louis the can of cola, I think Dennis the pillow and Paul the tooth were the two funniest guests. Enjoy the laughs—and deep thoughts.

How to Fail – Interviews with now successful writers about their careers, including all the mistakes and failures. I resonated with Jessie Burton and Olivia Laing, and am curious how the new episode with James Frey will be.

Hurry Slowly – My favourite podcast! The new season just started! I loved the episode with Priya Parker about the art of gathering. I really want to create some intentional gatherings for us in 2019, so I will read her book. :)

The Ezra Klein Show – I’ve listened to countless episodes of this podcast, and have now found myself digging into the archives. His interview with Tim Wu (Dec 20, 2016) was great. And listen to his chat with my friend Chris Bailey about his new book, Hyperfocus.

Waking Up – I’ve known about this podcast for years, but only started listening recently. Episode 136 on “digital humanism” gave me so much food for thought. Honestly, any interview you find with Jaron Lanier will be interesting. (Actually, Ezra Klein has had him on a few times! Check those out, too.)

TV (Pure Entertainment)

Follow This: Part 2 (Netflix) – There are two episodes that touch on topics we discuss here: (1) Tech Addict and (2) Teen Boss. Teen Boss is about teen “influencers” and it is particularly scary.

Killing Eve – I watched the first 4 episodes on my flight to DC and was hooked!

To end things on a delicious note, here’s a new recipe I tried and loved: magic garlicky tofu! The name says it all.

x Cait

This was originally shared in my newsletter.

Well, friends—you asked many (many, many) times and I finally listened. After three years of creating Mindful Budgeting Planners that ran for full calendar years (January 1 to December 31), I finally made them evergreen! That means you can start whenever you feel ready, not just on January 1st.

If this is your first time hearing about them though, you might be wondering what a Mindful Budgeting Planner is.

For years, I searched for this planner in bookstores. I would stand in front of the shelves, scan the titles and open every single one that looked even remotely look this—but I never found it. The daily financial planner I wanted didn’t seem to exist, so I decided to create it myself; that’s how Mindful Budgeting was born in 2015.

Inside these pages, you’ll find the things you love about a regular daily planner. There are blank calendars you can fill in. There is an area to write down your to-do list each day. There are also spaces to reflect on how you’re feeling about the changes and progress you’re noticing. (It could be a great companion to a shopping ban.)

mindful: attentive, aware, or careful

What makes this planner unique is the personal finance content. My own journey started with tracking my spending, so that’s what this planner was built around. Along with the daily spending sheets, you’ll also find spreadsheets and budget templates to track all your numbers for 12 months.

And the best part: like I said, the planner is now evergreen! That means it’s not dated (though I’ve made it easy for you to write in the dates) so you can start whenever you feel ready to change your financial life. Or pick it back up with no shame, if you’ve fallen off track. (This often happens with planners. It’s not bad. It just is.)

budget: an estimate, often itemized, of expected income and expenses for a given period of time

Unlike some other financial planning tools, you won’t find any pressure to be perfect in this planner; it doesn’t exist and that’s not the goal. But the more you use it, I think you’ll find you naturally begin to put more attention and energy into managing your money, because you’ll want to—not because I told you to.

My hope is that you’ll finish this 12-month period of your life with a new awareness of your personal finances and a vision of what you want for the future. If nothing else, I hope the planner helps you embrace the idea of being a beginner, let go of the past and start where you are. :)

So, What’s Inside?

Note: You can visit this page to see more pictures, or click to order and “preview” the whole thing!

• Daily spending sheets to track both your spending and your to-do’s (31 blank days per month)
• Monthly calendars (12 blank, so you can start whenever you’re ready, not just on Jan 1)
• Monthly budget templates (12)
• Spreadsheets to track your debt repayment, savings, bill payments and net worth
• Two pages of writing prompts to reflect at the end of each month
• Two pages of writing prompts to reflect at the 6-month mark
• Four pages of writing prompts to reflect at the end of the 12 months
• Motivational quotes to inspire you at the start of each month (12)
• Instructions on how to use the planner
• 6×9 inches, hardcover, 310 pages

Two Covers, Pick Your Favourite!

Printing, Shipping + Customer Service Info

Every copy of the Mindful Budgeting Planner is printed on demand (meaning it gets printed and bound when you place your order). You will place your order directly through the Blurb website, which is my print shop of choice. They have printers in the US, the Netherlands and Australia.

Blurb doesn’t offer wire coil binding, but their hardcovers are beautiful. That means the planners don’t lay perfectly flat, which is something I’ve been wanting since I first launched the planners in 2015. However, it does mean they are printed a little closer to home, instead of being made in China like most other planners.

When you place your order through Blurb, they handle the printing, as well as the shipping and customer service. Because they handle everything, I don’t actually receive personal information about any of the orders. If you have any issues, you can fill out this request form.

One thing to note is that some countries collect custom fees/duty on orders. In all the years I’ve sold the planner, I’ve only had two people tell me this was charged (and both were in Toronto)—but that doesn’t mean it couldn’t happen to you. More information about this can be found on the Blurb website.

I’ll leave it there with you, friends! Thank you for challenging me to imagine this planner could take a different shape. This exists because of YOU! And I am grateful. :)

I want to start this week’s newsletter by thanking you for being so supportive of the shift I’ve made in my work this season. Truthfully, I spent a few months’ time worrying about making this change, but your response has been overwhelmingly positive and made me excited about the future. Thank you. :)

When I first started thinking about the kinds of conversations I wanted us to have going forward, I wrote down a combination of two words over and over again in my messy notes, and realized I would have to begin by describing it—it being the term “mindful consumer”. While I don’t always like calling myself a minimalist, I will happily say “I’m a mindful consumer”. As someone who has been a binge consumer of many things, it almost feels like a gift. So, when I got an email expressing some concern that I was calling us all consumers, I knew it was time to explain what it means to me—and it started when I took back the meaning of the c-word.

By most definitions, a consumer = a person who purchases goods and services. Even if that sounds a little gross, it does describe all of us. If you’ve ever bought groceries or paid for someone to help you with anything, you are a consumer. So far, this word feels ok to me.

A consumer also = a person who eats or uses things. Again, that’s all of us! If you’ve eaten food or drank water, or worn clothes or watched/read something, you are a consumer. To that end, it’s safe to say a consumer = a living and breathing human being.

When I look at it that way, the word doesn’t bother me. Where it starts to feel dirty is when you think about how many companies out there use the word “consumer” to describe us, as they come up with strategies to make us consume things we don’t need. They study our behaviours and our insecurities. They implement strategies to see what works. And they write entire books to share their findings with others, so even more people can try to get + alter our attention. Because more than any other statement I’ve made here, that feels the truest: it’s not just that they want our money. They want our attention. They know we, as humans, are consumers, they want to make sure we are consuming them, and it starts by getting our attention.

Starting to feel icky yet? I am—or I was, until I decided to take back the meaning of the word. Instead of worrying about what companies were thinking of me as, I embraced the fact that a consumer = a living and breathing human being. And there’s something kind of beautiful about that.

I am a human with a mind + body that takes in a lot of things every day. Because of that mind + body, I am able to breathe, think, feel, touch, smell, taste, hear, talk and see what is all around me. I am consuming the world, because I am a consumer.

And not just a “conscious consumer”. That is someone who votes with their dollars, and chooses to buy things that are ethically and/or sustainably produced. This is a noble cause, and one I believe in too! But it still focuses on the goods/services aspect of being a consumer and, as you can tell, I like to go deeper. That’s why I’ve embraced the idea of being a mindful consumer. It means I use my mind + body to pay attention to what I’m consuming, why, and how it makes me feel. The key phrase being: I pay attention. I can thank my human capabilities for that. :)

So, if you’ve noticed that I’m calling us all consumers lately, that’s because I am. We are consumers! And there’s nothing dirty or wrong about it. We are consumers because we are humans. And because we are humans, we are equipped with the ability to pay attention, think and make choices.

Choices about what we buy. What we eat and drink. What we read and watch and listen to. What kinds of conversations we have and with whom. We aren’t stupid. And we aren’t just our insecurities or our behaviours. We are human beings who consume things, and those things affect us. You could even say those things can consume us.

“I am a consumer. And I want to respect my attention, energy and time.”

You can start saying this to the people + companies you think need to be reminded that you are a human being.

And then give it to yourself. :)

x Cait

This was originally shared in my newsletter.

Last week, I returned home from a retreat in California. What I thought was going to be a creativity workshop being taught by two of my favourite authors ended up being more like two days of therapy being provided by them. While I know that the work was important for many of the people in the audience, it was work I had already done for myself over the past couple of years. Acknowledging and pushing through my fears? Yep, I’m basically always doing that. Actively pursuing things I want and creating an engaged life? It was fun to write the list of ways I’d done that recently. And trusting my clarity? I’ve been doing that, too (and is what helped me quit all the projects I’d been working on).

As I wrote each of the prescribed letters to myself, and then exchanged the words with strangers, I started to feel like I shouldn’t be there. I wasn’t going to the deep, dark places other people seemed to be venturing into. I wasn’t crying or having any kind of emotional reaction at all. I was just writing facts on paper. When others opened up and shared parts of themselves with me, I felt guilty for only giving them a few facts in return. I also hated that the whole setup reminded me of the documentary I Am Not Your Guru. It felt like a gross waste of money. So, when I realized day two was going to be a repeat of a workshop I’d done in London, I decided to skip it and sit with these thoughts.

Looking back now, I can see that might have been the most important thing I did all weekend: taken a step back. It gave me time to think about why I had signed up in the first place, as well as why I was disappointed in what it had ended up being. Sitting alone with my thoughts also prevented me from bringing other people down with me. Because, yes, I was disappointed and I did feel like I wasted my money. I could have moaned or complained. I also could have taken to social media and told others how annoyed I was. Or worse yet, used the event hashtag so the attendees/organizers could have heard my opinion too. But I knew it wasn’t meant to be shared.

And the reason I knew I shouldn’t share this is because that was my experience—not theirs. And it didn’t feel fair for me to alter someone else’s experience in an attempt to match mine (especially when mine was negative).

This has been, perhaps, one of the hardest things for me to learn—and actually practice—since embracing mindfulness: the art of not complaining. And I won’t pretend I’m good at it. Honestly, I think I’m just getting started. There are stats that say we tell anywhere from 2-10x as many people about a bad experience, compared to a good experience. Why is that? I don’t know, because I truly am just starting to think about this. What I do know is that the art of constant complaining is the main reason I deleted my Facebook profile + page, and finally decided to walk away from Twitter. I used to do it too, so zero judgment from me, but I simply grew tired of being dragged down.

So, instead of dragging anyone down at the workshop, I went for a hike then sat outside by one of the fire pits and wrote in my journal. After listing all the things I was feeling about the experience (including frustration about the non-stop pitches to visit the gift shop, which I did talk about on Instagram in a way that would hopefully open reader’s eyes to how often it happens) I asked myself why I was there. Why had I bought a ticket for this event? The answer had a few layers of influence.

1. I saw one of the author’s share it on Instagram.
2. It felt like a once in a lifetime opportunity.
3. I didn’t think there would be many tickets available.
4. I was in a bad place and wanted something to look forward to.

Now, let’s really break that down:

• Influence #1: my love of the author’s work (which is why I follow her).
• Influence #2: a desire/dream.
• Influence #3: a scarcity mindset (which is behind many impulse purchases).
• Influence #4: my mental health.

Notice that none of those things are anyone else’s fault. They all had to do with me. I had no one to “blame” for wasting money but myself. I made the decision to buy the ticket. As for not enjoying the content of the workshops, I can take some of the blame for that too—and it’s not all bad blame. The reason I didn’t enjoy the workshops was because I didn’t need them. And the reason I didn’t need them was because I’d already done a lot of that work for myself. If I hadn’t gone, I might not have realized just how far I’ve come this year. So, what would I complain about? Why is that anyone else’s problem? Why is it a problem at all?

When we talk about becoming mindful consumers, we are looking at how outside things/experiences affect us on the inside. What we eat affects how we feel, what we read/watch/listen to affects how we think, what we consume affects what we create, and so on. We can talk about how all of those things influence us, and two weeks ago I did suggest you start keeping track of what you consume. But the “mindful” part means being conscious and aware of what’s happening in the present moment, and that includes recognizing your role in influencing each moment as well. We can’t blame everything on everyone else. Who we are today influences us as well.

This is one of the reasons I won’t leave negative book reviews. There are lots of books I read and don’t enjoy, but it’s not the author’s fault. It’s my fault I didn’t enjoy it. Either I already knew the advice (similar to the workshop, this is actually a good thing) or didn’t agree with the content or didn’t relate to the writing style. But it’s not the author’s fault they didn’t write the perfect book for me. They don’t know me. That’s too big of a demand! So, why would I complain about it—especially in a public forum, which could alter other people’s thoughts and stop someone from reading a book that could really help them? Who am I to think I should have any control over that?

My friend David once wrote that mindfulness is the opposite of neediness—and practicing it means “observing something without trying to immediately change it”. It’s noticing and accepting. And in the example of the workshop I attended, it was noticing that I was influencing my negative experience, and accepting ownership of that rather than blaming it on anyone else. Sometimes it seems easier to place blame or to act like a victim of circumstance. In fact, it’s a lot harder to recognize your role and take responsibility for it. But being able to see—and accept—that you are part of the equation makes you a better communicator, problem solver, and member of all your communities.

The original point of this newsletter was to get you to think about what influences you. But now I’m curious: how are you influencing yourself? And who are you influencing?

x Cait

This was originally shared in my newsletter.

Before I officially made the big decision to retire from blogging, I took a bunch of smaller steps toward it; dipped my toes in the water, so to speak. You might remember the first thing I did was decide to take two weeks off. After a month, I decided to take the entire summer off. And then I did a bunch of things behind the scenes that were less visible. After hearing my friend Paul say he removed Google Analytics from his website, it dawned on me that maybe I could do the same. Then I did a huge content audit and deleted 200+ posts from my site. And finally (I think this is the last one!?) I signed out of Twitter.

If you are a blogger or content creator, some of that might shock you. I’ve heard actual gasps come out of people’s mouths, when I mention the Google Analytics step, specifically. It’s a tool that keeps track of how many people visit your site, how many pages/posts they look at on average, which country/city they are located and so on. And if you’re trying to figure out how readers find you, so you can create more content that brings even more readers in, and ultimately build a huge audience who might pay you/earn you ad revenue, it’s a great tool! But that’s not my goal (and never was).

Still, when I first heard Paul say he had deleted Google Analytics, I let out a little gasp too. Because it goes against the narrative of what we are told we “should” do. And so, my first thought was that I couldn’t possibly delete it from my site—could I!? The more I questioned it, the more it became clear that I could. For starters, I couldn’t remember why I had installed it in the first place. I also never used it the way you’re “supposed to”. So if it didn’t have a purpose and I never used it, why did I have it!? (Also a question to ask when decluttering!) There was no good answer, so I let it go. Hit delete and said goodbye.

Taking a bunch of smaller steps toward the idea of retiring from blogging was almost like testing a few theories. If I do X, what will happen? Ok, now what if I do Y? And then Z?Thanks to my wild imagination (and anxiety), I envisioned countless things that could go wrong. But in the end, even after taking the final plunge, nothing bad happened. People understood. It all worked out. If anything, it was actually one of the most exciting times of my “career” (is that what this is? lol). Because making the slow, intentional decision to let go of what I didn’t want to do anymore also gave me the time to figure out what I do want to be doing—and being “good” at the internet is not part of the equation.

Before we dive deeper into this topic, I should clarify that I don’t aspire to be a luddite. I love and use technology every day, including my smartphone, computers and the electric standup desk I built last summer. On my phone, I send texts and make calls, listen to audiobooks and podcasts, take pictures and still spend a little too much time on Instagram. On my computer, I write this newsletter, read/reply to emails, do research, write, record podcasts, create graphics, watch videos and so on. I also store things in the cloud, buy products, sell products and manage all of my money online. It is an incredibly useful tool that powers so many of the good things in my life. I am very pro internet!

What I’m no longer interested in is being “good” at the internet. I’ve known this for a long time. In fact, I remember meeting an online friend at a conference and having her ask me why I wasn’t doing a long list of things to grow my site. “Don’t you want to build a big audience or start your own publishing company? You totally could!” When I said “no,” she looked confused and almost frustrated. And it wasn’t her fault for reacting that way. I was at a conference where people were literally there to talk about how to create content that would build audiences and make them money! I was just there for different reasons (to see friends, not attend sessions).

We had that conversation in September 2016, and it took two more years for me to finally realize that maybe being “good” at the internet wasn’t my career path after all. Of course, over the past two years, a lot of other things have changed the way the internet works and feels. Not just in politics, but in the world of social media in general. Some people even believe the internet is terrible now. I wouldn’t go that far, but I did enjoy this podcast interview with Tim Wu. My personal feeling is simpler: the internet is extremely reactive now. It is fast-paced, stressful and requires a lot of energy to keep up with. And that is the exact opposite of living a slow, mindful and intentional life.

So, I’m opting out—at least of the way many content creators use the internet today. In fact, I think my new career goal is to be bad at the internet. When people ask if I’ve read a certain post, or heard about what someone did or said online, I want to say no. I don’t want to keep up with what “my competitors” (that language is so toxic) are doing or which tools they are using. I just want to read/listen/watch stuff I find and then close tabs when I’m done. And I really don’t want to hear about another tool, plugin, or app that can make the internet “better” or easier to manage. I want to use the internet so little that I can’t even imagine needing them at all. Because I don’t want to be known as just a blogger or someone who lives online. I want to be a human who lives + helps in real life.

All of this is to say that, basically, I want to go back to using the internet the way I did when I was a teenager. I want to read/reply to emails, do research, create content and watch videos. And I will keep the few products I have, and of course log on for any workshops we do together, because the internet is the only way we can connect! But I’m done with all the extra stuff that happens online now. That feels scary to type, because it’s the world I’ve been caught up in for the past 12+ years. But there are a lot of people (including friends my age) who have always used the internet this way. Some have never had Facebook. Many have never read blogs. They only open their computers to do work, check email or perform a quick search. Then it’s back to real life with their humans—and that sounds really nice.

There are only a handful of things I’m excited about these days. Getting back into + improving my writing (this newsletter has been a huge help!). Launching a new podcast (already have the skills for that). Learning new design skills (just for fun). Upcoming travel. And spending more time with my family and friends. Some of those things require the internet to work, but they don’t require me to be “good” at the internet. And, as you’ll soon see with my new podcast, they actually won’t require that I spend more time on the internet at all. Right now, I’m making intentional choices and shifts, so I can work online less in order to live offline more.

x Cait

This was originally shared in my newsletter.

Two December’s ago, I finally took my friend Paul’s lead and spent the month offline. I checked Instagram occasionally, but the blog, Twitter, etc. all went quiet. Not surprisingly, I can still remember moments from that month vividly. Without the distractions of needing to keep up with what was happening on the internet, I made memories with people in real life. Baking days with friends, playing with the dogs, relocating to Squamish, walking through heavy snow, going up the gondola with my mom and brother. That’s not to say it was all simple and peaceful (the holidays rarely are, at least not entirely). But I remember it.

I don’t remember last December. Actually, the one memory that sticks out is breaking down crying and calling Anthony from the floor of my living room. I eventually laughed at how ridiculous the situation would look to an outsider (grown woman laying on her rug sobbing). But that’s what I remember. I was neck-deep in book launch tasks and had no idea what I was doing. Being my first book, it was completely foreign territory. I couldn’t see where the task trail was going to lead me, but I was running down it at an uncomfortable pace. It didn’t feel good, and it wasn’t sustainable. Unfortunately, because that’s the pace I set, I felt like I had to keep it up—and did so for five full months.

You know how the rest of this story goes. After doing more than 100 interviews in the first four months of the year, I took May and June off to travel and spend some time with myself. Then I took the summer off to properly sit still, think, and begin to process what happened in the first half of the year. In that time, I decided to stop blogging altogether, and opted to write a newsletter instead. My original intention was to write this weekly, but I missed a few here and there while travelling, and have no guilt or regrets about that. I wrote what felt good, when it felt good. And right now, I feel more like myself than ever for one simple reason: I changed the rules.

I didn’t change the rules for everyone, but I changed the rules for myself. The rules about what I thought a blogger was supposed to do after writing a book. The rules about what I thought a first-time author was supposed to do before/after its release. The rules about what I thought I was supposed to do next. And currently, I’m changing all kinds of rules about how I’m living my life. It hasn’t been easy (as you know from my stories, but more importantly from your own). It’s hard to change stories you’ve been told, and stories you’ve told yourself, about who/what/when/where/why/how we live this life. But there’s one thing I keep telling myself that makes it a little easier.

This thing we’re doing? Living, working, challenging ourselves, etc. It’s all an adventure. Despite the fact that it feels like we are living in a time where everything is right/wrong, there is actually no right/wrong way to do this stuff. We have to try new things and learn, and take new trails and see where it all goes. More simply put: we have to be open and considerate—of ourselves and others. Sometimes that means starting down one path and realizing it’s the wrong one for you. That’s ok. With every step you take, you’ll find new paths open up. And no matter which path you take next, you’ll never be able to see the outcome. Just stick to a pace that feels good and you’ll find your way.

As you begin to think about what your goals or intentions might be for the rest of 2018 or early 2019, remember that you’re in control. You can change the pace or the rules to meet you or your family’s needs. If you do what feels good for you and those around you, there’s really no way you can go wrong. Again, you may not feel certain of that at the beginning. But eventually, you’ll find you have a personal map of your life and experiences. It’s only after you’ve taken steps forward, though, that you can look back and connect the dots to see where you came from. So don’t be afraid to take that first step. It’s the hardest one to take, but it’s also the closest.

Thank you for joining me for this season of the newsletter. I’ll be taking December off to travel a bit, spend time with friends and family, and think about what I want the future of the newsletter to look like.

Before signing off, I want to share quotes from two of the most meaningful pieces of content I’ve read this year. First, on the topic of consuming . . .

“While choice is infinite, our lives have time spans. We can’t live every life. We can’t watch every film or read every book or visit every single place on this sweet earth. Rather than being blocked by it, we need to edit the choice in front of us. We need to find out what is good for us, and leave the rest. We don’t need another world. Everything we need is here, if we give up thinking we need everything.” – Matt Haig, from my favourite book of 2018: Notes on a Nervous Planet

And on the topics of both consuming and creating . . .

“We are porous, highly susceptible creatures whose words and actions are affecting each other constantly. We’re taking cues from each other in every moment about who and how to be. The consequences of this are pretty massive. Everything is contagious. Every word, every action, every tweet, every Facebook post is a contribution to the collective. Every encounter affects us in subtle and not-so-subtle ways, and then that affects our next encounter, and our next, and so on and so on. We are wildly underestimating the impact we have on those around us. Those of us who are visible—and by that I really mean all of us—have a beautiful and holy opportunity. We can be contagiously good.” – Josh Radnor <3

That’s all for now, friend. Be kind, be safe and have a beautiful month! I’ll see you back here in 2019.

x Cait

PS – I’m signing off from the newsletter, but not Instagram! From now until December 24th, I’m doing a daily post using the hashtag #tistheseasontobemindful. If you’re on there, feel free to say hi and follow along. I’ll be giving away a few bundles of books, too. It should be a fun month. :)

Happy New Year, friends! Popping in to let you know I’m doing an event at Powell’s in Portland, Oregon on January 16th. We’ll be celebrating the release of the paperback version of The Year of Less—as well as the first birthday of the book! I’ll share a bit of my story, but would love to open it up more for Q&A and have some discussions about money, minimalism, being a mindful consumer, and whatever else is on your mind. If you’re local, I would love to see you there! :)

Location: Powell’s City of Books

Address: 1005 W Burnside Street, Portland, OR 97209

Date/Time: January 16, 2019 at 7:30pm

Hello, my friend :)

It’s been just over four months, since I sent my last newsletter. A lot has changed in that time, and there are also a lot of new people who are hearing from me for the first time. So I’m here to say: hello to all! A very belated “happy new year”. And before starting the next season of the newsletter, I thought it would be nice to share some of what I’ve been doing, consuming + thinking about so far this year. Future newsletters may not make sense, without this info.

What I’ve Been Doing

Overall, the first few months of 2019 have generally been pretty quiet. I created a nice routine: writing first thing in the morning, going to the gym/hiking in the afternoon, visiting with friends (and spending many hours/days holding the new identical twin girls born to one of my oldest friends!) and having a night at home. As much as I like to challenge myself, I’ve also accepted that routine really does help me get things done—as well as supports my mental health.

What has made this a little more interesting is that I’ve done all of this in my hometown, Victoria, BC. Last summer, I began to wonder what it would be like to give up my apartment and travel full-time for a year. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it also seemed like a natural extension of how I’ve already been living. And so, after sitting on that question for some time, I ultimately decided to give it a go. I gave up my apartment in Squamish and left there at the end of 2018.

My idea, for this year anyway, is that I’ll spend a few months at my dad’s house in Victoria, and then spend the rest of the year travelling. I want to move fairly slowly, staying in places for at least one month at a time—and that’s both so I can maintain my routine and enjoy the new places I’m in. It’s not something everyone would enjoy, and I certainly won’t sell it as a dream, but it’s feeling quite natural, so far.

So, that’s a fairly big update on my personal life, I suppose! Aside from that, I’ve actually been working a lot. The paperback version of The Year of Less came out in January, and I did two events to support that: one at Powell’s in Portland, the other for a great group of people in Nashville. But most of the work I’ve been doing this year was on my proposal for book #2. And I’m so happy to share that it was acquired by Little, Brown Spark a few weeks ago!

I’ll be able to tell you a lot more about that, as time goes on. For now, I’m excited to share the title: ADVENTURES IN OPTING OUT. It should be ready for you in fall 2020. :)

What I’ve Been Consuming

Whew! Ok, that was a pretty massive update, haha. But oddly, I’m more excited to share what I’ve been consuming + thinking about so far this year. Because that’s the nitty gritty stuff, right? Some of the details that make up our days!

At the start of 2019, I still felt completely tapped out of nearly everything happening online—and in a lot of ways, that hasn’t changed. The general feeling I get when I look at most blogs/social media profiles is that everyone is an expert and they are all prescribing expertise I’ll never have or yet another long list of things I will never achieve, all of which, ultimately, just makes me feel worse about myself. And I can’t read it anymore.

I’ve been craving stories. Journeys to follow. Even just the “boring” (NOT BORING) updates we used to share on blogs. Like what are you thinking about right now? What have you been curious enough to actually learn more about? And where are the BEGINNERS!? Where are the people who are raising their hands and saying “I have no idea what I’m doing, but here’s what I’m attempting and my progress so far”? I miss those days. Blogging was actually fun, back then.

Books

In the absence of reading whatever is on the internet these days, I’ve picked up more books this year. Way more than usual. To date, I’ve read 14 (about 4 per month)! And aside from Company of One and Digital Minimalism (both of which I love), they have been memoirs and works of fiction. Stories. Real-life thoughts and lessons. Characters you are rooting for (or some you’re not). And my gosh, it has felt both indulgent, and like a really positive shift.

A few of my faves so far have been:

• Becoming by Michelle Obama (listened to the audiobook, which she narrated)
• Come Back Frayed by Colin Wright (the first line basically described me to a tee)
• Let My People Go Surfing by Yvon Chouinard (a mix of personal stories and lessons)
• No Happy Endings by Nora McInerny (I appreciate her and love the message of this story)
• ***The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer + Annie Barrows

***THIS BOOK! UGH, so good! I read it after watching the movie (for the second time) and believe it is one I will read again and again. It’s written entirely in letters being sent between people, and has inspired an idea for this newsletter.

Podcasts

You might remember that last year I basically unsubscribed from everything, including most newsletters and podcasts. I also stopped using Twitter. Part of this was to help with the general sense of overwhelm re: how much content exists (reminder: you can’t read, watch and do everything). But I was also curious how my thoughts about them all might change. And change, they have! There were a few newsletters I missed (and a few more I unsubscribed from). And I kept experimenting with Twitter, but don’t think I’ll ever go back there. It’s simply too hostile.

The change with podcasts was a little bigger. First, I not only unsubscribed from them all but also deleted every episode I had downloaded. A little digital declutter, I suppose. Then, whenever I missed a show, I would download the latest episode that sounded interesting. Sometimes I enjoyed them, but I haven’t subscribed to any of them. Instead, I’ve taken recommendations from friends to listen to a specific episode of a podcast, and have found so many new voices and topics that way. I’ve also found a few people I enjoy and listened to many interviews they’ve done, so I can learn more.

This isn’t particularly helpful, I’m sure, but I’m sharing because it’s been yet another act of letting go. Releasing the expectation that you have to follow something entirely from beginning to end, and being ok with the fact that some things only come into your life for a reason or a season.

Anyway, here are the few podcasts I’ve listened to more than one episode of:

• Climate One – candid conversations about energy, the economy and the environment. I started by devouring the episodes with Yvon Chouinard (who I’m fascinated with right now).
• Front Burner – my new fave podcast by the CBC. Every weekday, Jayme Poisson takes one of the big stories in Canada and helps you understand what’s going on, what the impact is, etc.
• Making Sense – Sam Harris changed the name of his podcast, which threw me off. I’ve listened to the eps with Jack Dorsey (Twitter) and Roger McNamee (Facebook). Also have the one on digital capitalism downloaded.
• Real Talk Radio – Nicole has done TWENTY (20) seasons of this show now and I still love it! Have a few episodes from the new season downloaded for upcoming travel days. :)
• The Slow Home Podcast – Brooke and Ben decided to change the format of the podcast and start doing it in seasons, which I am always in favour of (change is healthy). It was also lovely to hear about their journey home.

What I’ve Been Thinking About

The better question might be: what haven’t I been thinking about this year? As you can imagine, with giving up my home, selling another book, travelling full-time, there’s a lot on my mind. For the sake of keeping things simple, I’ll share two topics and some of the thoughts I’ve had around them both. I will preface this by saying there are no answers here. Just thoughts, questions, etc. :)

1. A few months ago, I listened to this podcast called The Dream. It’s about the history of MLMs (multi-level marketing companies) and I devoured all 11 episodes within a week. There were so many interesting points shared throughout it (including people’s experiences with them) but there was one that really stood out for me: the fact that, yes, there are some people who make a lot of money with MLMs. But they are the 1%. The majority of the money they earn comes from the people they have recruited. And while MLMs haven’t disappeared, more and more people now see them for what they are and avoid them at all costs. While I was listening, the only thing I could think about was: wow, this sounds a lot like selling the dream of being a full-time blogger. Yes, some people make a lot of money doing it. But they are the 1%. The majority of the money they earn comes from people clicking on affiliate links, buying products, etc. And people can package up their tips, tricks and expertise, but they can’t sell their unique experiences, character traits, or skills that help them do what they do. A few questions I’ve pondered since: I wonder how long the “make money online” industry will continue to seem appealing? If this hasn’t happened already, I wonder when people will begin to avoid blogs that talk about ways to make money, the same way we avoid friends who join MLMs and try to sell us products we don’t need? And I wonder if/when the whole thing will crumble? Maybe never! Actually, probably never! But anyway, that one podcast series opened my eyes in a way I wasn’t expecting when I first started listening.
2. How can I do more to help the planet? It’s the one question I’ve thought about more than anything else, this year. And it’s scary to start writing and sharing any of the thoughts that have come up for me, because I only know enough to know I don’t know much of anything yet lol. I am not an expert on the environment or climate change or consumption or waste or anything else. I’m also not interested in becoming an expert or trying to be “perfect”. But I’m standing in the place most of my other personal journeys have begun: where I’m starting to notice things and pay more attention, ask questions and figure out what feels right for me, before taking too many steps down a new and unknown path. One thing I have done is committed to donating 1% of my income to environmental causes via 1% For The Planet. I’ve also been looking for more podcasts on these topics, so I can find new people to learn from, books to read, etc. If you have any suggestions, I’m all ears! Please! Anything you want to share. :)

Ok, I’ll leave it there for today, my friend! I’ll be starting up my newsletter again, and have a fun idea for it that I’m excited to share with you. But now I’d love to hear from you. How has 2019 been so far? What’s on your mind? Is there anything you want to learn more about this year?

xx Cait

This was originally shared in my newsletter.

Hello, my friend :)

I’m writing from the kitchen table at a friend’s flat in London. It’s 9am, around 11°C (52°F) and looks like we’re in for yet another classic British forecast: some sun, some cloud, some rain, and a little wind to mix it all up and sprinkle it throughout the day. Note that I’m not complaining! This weather is similar to what I would be experiencing at home. I’m only talking about it because that’s what you do in the UK. ;)

I’ve been in England for a month now, and it’s taken that long for me to feel like I can settle in and get some actual work done now. That’s not good or bad. It’s just something I’m going to have to think more about, as I continue to map out my travels. Because I’ve been here before, I assumed I would be able to quickly settle into a routine of writing, going for long walks, cooking, seeing some friends, etc. Of course, it’s never as simple as we want it to be, is it?

Within 5 days of being here, I reconnected with someone I met last year and our first conversation quickly opened my eyes and shifted one of my priorities. At the same time, it only took one trip to the grocery store for me to be faced with a new truth: that my thoughts and values around the consumption of single-use plastics have changed dramatically over the past year, and I feel really (read: really) uncomfortable shopping here now, where nearly everything is wrapped in it.

Before I left Victoria, I had coffee with an old friend I hadn’t seen in a few years. When we said goodbye, he hugged me and whispered, “you know you’re going to come back changed, right?” It hit me hard, and felt like the most honest thing someone had ever said to me. I said yes and, one month later, I can confirm that he was right. But it’s also true that I changed even before I left. I just didn’t know it, until I returned to somewhere I’d been before and saw it with new eyes.

Anyway, I still haven’t dug deep enough into those thoughts or feelings yet, to make more sense of them or figure out what’s next for me. What I have done is kept a detailed journal of everything I’ve done so far on this trip, along with little notes so I can remember what I was thinking while I was here. In flipping through the pages, I realized that some of my notes might actually be helpful for others. So I’ve compiled a list of 30 thoughts to share from my first 30 days away.

I hope at least one of them feels good for you. :)

1. Sometimes meeting someone one time is good enough, and you should leave the memory at that.
2. Sometimes meeting someone a second and third time proves to be better, and you realize you might have even more in common than you thought the first time.
3. You won’t know who the “one time only” people are, until you see them a second or third time.
4. You can change a lot in a year.
5. Your values can change a lot in a year too.
6. The people you can sit in silence with, or quietly read your own books together with, are special. It’s strange how being silent with someone can actually be more memorable than forcing your way through a conversation.
7. When you’re unexpectedly in the same place as someone at the same time, make plans. The universe wants you to spend time together.
8. It’s not always a good idea to meet your heroes. But sometimes, you meet them and are pleasantly surprised to discover they are exactly who you hoped they would be.
9. If you don’t ask, the answer is always no. (I already knew this lesson, but have been reminded of it a few times.)
10. There are people who understand you and people who never will. Don’t try to force the latter. It’s ok if only a few people really understand you. It’s a gift to have even one.
11. You don’t owe anyone an interaction. Hard stop.
12. Being a beginner sucks most of the time, until you’re no longer a beginner. When you start to see the early signs of your efforts paying off, you’ll be glad you tried something new.
13. Being self-aware is exhausting. But it can also be a gift for you and everyone who comes into your life.
14. You don’t have to always be right. One day, you will overhear a stranger from another country try to explain something silly/inconsequential about yours. And they will get it all wrong, but tell the story with such enthusiasm that you can’t bear to tell them the truth. So, don’t! Let them think they are right. Who is it really hurting?
15. It can feel really good to do regular daily life things in new cities.
16. Move at the pace that feels natural to you.
17. “Treat everyone you meet like an old friend.” (I first read this quote in a book last year, and have thought about it almost every day since—especially when it comes to dating.)
18. Rejection isn’t about you. Even if it seems like it is, it’s really not.
19. A breakup won’t be the worst thing you go through. You’ve survived worse.
20. The kindest thing you can do is let someone go on their own journey, even if it doesn’t include you.
21. Don’t be afraid to tell people what positive impact they’ve had on you. We don’t do this enough, probably because it’s scary. But put yourself in their shoes. Wouldn’t it be nice to hear how you had helped someone?
22. The thought of trying to do anything to help the planet is so overwhelming, because you quickly realize that basically everything you do is bad for the planet. Turn the dial back and remember what ONE thing sparked these spiralling thoughts. Start with that.
23. All you can do is live according to your values.
24. When someone invites you to go on an adventure, don’t ask too many questions. Say yes, pack water/snacks and go.
25. The state of your space is the state of your mind.
26. Decluttering is just a tool. You need to dig up the root(s) cause, so it doesn’t keep spreading and you aren’t clearing out the mess again every 5-10 years.
27. There’s no point in earning more money or being successful if you aren’t sharing it with people/the world.
28. Nothing matters more than the health of you and your loved ones.
29. When it comes to big/tough decisions, take your ego out of the equation and then ask yourself what you should do.
30. When in doubt, rent the pedal boat. You will laugh. A LOT.

xx Cait

PS – I wrote the intro to this newsletter in my journal, and am thinking about writing them all like that while I’m away and, of course, sharing them with you! It feels like I’m writing a letter to a friend (and who doesn’t love snail mail?). The tone will naturally be much more conversational, but I’m curious if my writing will get any better as time goes on and I can’t constantly self-edit? I won’t know, unless I try! Here’s to new experiments and being a beginner again. :)

This was originally shared in my newsletter.

Another thoughtful guest post for slow travel week! This one is from my friend Amanda.

Travel has been part of my life since I was nine years old, when my parents packed us up for a six-month motorhome trip around Europe. Thanks to Australia’s long service leave provisions, my dad could take six months off work and still get paid, so off we went. It was a low-budget trip with lots of simple meals and days spent playing in local parks, following the principles of slow travel long before anyone started to describe it that way.

To say that the travel bug bit me on that trip would be an understatement, and so much of my life—and let’s be honest, my money—has been spent on travel ever since. In my teens and early twenties, I couldn’t really explain my desire to travel more, I just knew I wanted to do it.

I grew up in Perth, Western Australia, which is a gorgeous city but is known to many as the most isolated city in the world. Even the next significant city is close to a two-day drive away. It’s improved a lot thanks to the internet age, but Perth in the past really lagged behind the rest of the world and it felt stifling growing up here; most people from my age group have moved away at least for a few years. Some come back; others never do.

It wasn’t until I finally left Perth, after several failed attempts, and moved to teach English in Japan at the age of 25, that I finally began to understand why I wanted to travel. When I’m travelling, I really and truly feel alive. Leaving behind the humdrum of daily home life and exploring cultural differences, meeting people who speak different languages, and taking in amazing landscapes and enticing cities—all of this gives me so much energy and inspiration.

But even more than making me feel properly alive, travelling has changed me and taught me so much. Most of my core values are thoughts I developed from my experiences living and travelling throughout Asia and Europe. Empathy for others—especially others who have a different background to me—is something I learnt when I had to understand why my Japanese friends were so worried about making a mistake speaking English; acknowledging and accepting different viewpoints was something I understood after chatting many times with friends in Slovakia about how their life had been different under socialism and capitalism.

Travelling also taught me confidence and the quiet ability to know that everything will work out okay, eventually. When I left Australia, I’d been suffering from bouts of severe anxiety since my late teens, and I had phobias of driving on highways, of flying, of being in elevators. But removing myself from the place where it all started, and opening myself up to these new experiences of the world, changed everything. I lived in buildings where I could only reach my apartment in an elevator, and doing that every day dissolved that phobia. I loved so much to see new countries, and flying was often the only way, so I kept doing it until I didn’t have a panic attack on take off. I still don’t love driving on highways, but I pushed myself enough that I managed to pass my German driving licence test, including a stint on the Autobahn.

I could go on, but suffice to say, when I think about what makes up my personality and outlook on the world, I know that all of it has been influenced oh-so-heavily by my travels.

And now I have a seven-year-old son and I’m back in Perth. It’s such a big responsibility, trying to shape the way a small human being thinks, but I’m trying to use what influence I have as effectively as possible. So far, I’ve raised him to love to travel, and to not really see differences but to see the similarities that we all have, because after all, we are all human. When he plays with his Lego, or his cars and trucks and planes, so often his games turn into experiences on a world-wide scale—his Lego car is driving some Lego guys to the airport to fly to Iceland and see the puffins; his trucks are carrying sumo wrestlers and taiko drums and sushi stands for a festival in Japan. It warms my heart.

As a single parent, I don’t have a huge budget, and remember, we live in Perth, the most isolated city on the planet. But travel is important, and I find ways to take my son travelling as often as possible—usually abroad once or twice a year, at least. It changes him every time.

Just before our most recent trip, to Malaysia and Singapore, he’d been getting stressed in school and was emotionally pretty worn down. By the first night of our trip, it was like a huge weight had lifted off him, and he was back being a happy-go-lucky seven-year-old. He brought that feeling back from our trip, and I saw him run so confidently into school, restored by the same inspirational feeling that travel gives me, too.

My son hasn’t even yet reached the age I was when I first travelled, and he’s been to a dozen different countries and experienced so many varied cultures and people. When I look at how much travelling has impacted my life, and to think that at his age, none of that had started, I feel proud that I’m able to give him these amazing lessons that are shaping his personality and thinking. And I look forward to travelling with him to many more places, and watching both of us continue to grow through travel.

Amanda blogs about travel at NotABallerina.com and hosts The Thoughtful Travel Podcast where she chats with fellow travel-lovers about all of the wonderful lessons travel provides.

May was not meant to be a month of silence. I did not intend to disappear. My plan with the slow technology experiment was only to take a break from social media, not the blog. I had planned to write a post about the role television plays in my life, these days. I had also planned to write a post about how I use technology, as a whole. Of course, as I continue to learn again and again, things don’t always go as planned. Life is not always in our control. In fact, I think it was Lauryn Hill who said, “We can’t plan life. All we can do is be available for it.”

And that’s exactly what I did in May. I made myself available to the two creatures who needed me more than anyone or anything else: our family dogs.

The girls, as we call them, have been part of our family since shortly after I graduated from high school. We brought Molly home in 2004, and got Lexie in 2005. There is no doubt we spoiled them, the way many small dog owners do (and sometimes have to). But they loved the same things as every other dog: going on walks (especially at the beach), eating food and hanging out with their pack. And they each came with their own unique personality. Lexie is a brat who plays by her own rules, and Molly quickly became her protector.

In April, Molly started showing signs she was aging. She ate a little slower, took the stairs a little slower, walked a little slower. We had one scare with her in early May, where we had to leave her in the animal hospital overnight. She quickly recovered, though, and came home the next day. Unfortunately, just 2.5 weeks later, we had to bring her back in. Again, I thought we were going to bring her home the next day, but things don’t always go as planned. Her test results showed us we had to let her go. We said goodbye to Molly (age 13) on May 22nd.

Since then, I have spent almost every minute of every day with Lexie. She’s been adjusting to life without Molly fairly well (probably because I rarely leave her side). However, she started showing her own signs of aging a few weeks ago. While Molly was slowing down, Lexie started doing circles; and walking around like she was drunk; and even bumping into things. It was easy to assume she was just going blind—until she had two seizures. With all of that combined, our vet says it’s likely she has a brain tumor. We got this news on May 26th.

It’s fair to say I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster, this past week. The pain comes in waves. Lexie and I will have a great day, then I’ll crawl into bed and be so uncomfortable in the silence that I burst into tears. Sometimes, it’s just the little things: doing a routine that would have normally involved Molly and remembering she’s not here anymore. I’ve even missed hearing her bark at the mailman. To counter this, there have also been a lot of smiles and laughs in our family, as we share our favourite things about her. Molly was truly loved.

If Lexie does have a brain tumor, there’s no way to tell how long she will be here with us. My heart is broken at the thought of having to say goodbye to her too. So far, two things have helped me not have a breakdown about it: 1) knowing she’s not in pain, and 2) knowing she is blissfully unaware of her condition. That second point is something I think about many times each day, and comes with even more lessons of its own.

While I’ve been trying to figure out what slow living looks like, the girls have been exemplifying it their whole lives. And while they have needed me this month, Molly and Lexie have taught me lessons I will carry with me for a lifetime. <3

• Live in the moment. Dogs have no concept of time. They live one day at a time, and enjoy each moment as it comes. Whether they are laying in the sun, playing with a toy or going for a walk, they are simply happy to be alive – and to be spending that moment with someone in their pack.
• It’s ok to cry. That’s not to say they have no emotions. Molly was one of the most emotional dogs I’ve ever met, and wore her heart on her sleeve. But she didn’t sit around worrying all day. She simply had emotional reactions in the moments they were needed (like when something was wrong with Lexie).
• Make sure your basic needs are met. Dogs only have a few basic needs: food and water, a place to sleep and access to a patch of grass. They don’t care what colour their leash is, how cute their toys and beds are, or anything else. They just need food, water, exercise and sleep. And a human. :)
• Be grateful your basic needs are met. One of the best things about living in the moment is that dogs also have no concept of wanting more. They don’t care about getting the newest or best of anything. They are simply grateful to eat their food, lap up their water, soak up the sun and get some attention.
• Give people your full attention. Speaking of attention, dogs are the one animal that give humans all of theirs. They greet you with pure love and joy. When you’re together, they look at you – not at their cell phones. And for as long as you are willing to give them your attention, they will give theirs to you.
• Nature is therapy. I have never met a dog who didn’t jump at the words, “Do you want to go for a walk?” They don’t care about climbing mountains or running personal bests. And they really don’t care about the pictures you can take and share on social media. Dogs are simply excited to get some fresh air and spend more time with their pack. It also helps them release some energy and sleep better at night.
• Don’t take life too seriously. There is always a reason to play. <3

None of this is to say I’ve put it all into practice and am high on life right now. I’ve spent much of the past week in a daze. While I’m present with Lexie, I have ignored my inbox and my client work. I dragged the vacuum out last Monday, but didn’t actually vacuum the house until yesterday. I even forgot about an important interview, and wrote down the wrong date for my nephew’s birthday party. Grief messes with us. It’s human. I’m human. But my four-legged family members are doing their best to bring me down to earth and remind me to be present.

I’ll do an update on the social media detox next week, but for now I will say this: I don’t know what was shared online, but I know it wasn’t important to me. I don’t care what news I missed, which trends became fashionable or who made the top 10 list of whatever. The only thing that mattered was taking care of the girls, starting to grieve the loss of Molly and making sure Lexie was living her best days. There is nothing more important than the people and animals in our lives. Please give yours an extra hug and cuddle today. xo

UPDATE: Lexie lost her fight on May 31st. My heart is broken, but I’m so grateful I got to spend all her final days with her. The girls are together again. <3

There are a lot of posts out there that talk about why it’s important to spend time outdoors. It’s a natural remedy that offers a workout, lifts our spirits and helps us sleep better at night. It gives us the opportunity to disconnect from our constantly-connected world and take some time to be with ourselves and others. And it can come with beautiful views and show us parts of the worlds we might otherwise never see.

All of those are factors in why I love spending time outdoors, but I don’t need—and don’t want—to write a post with that same list. Yes, I’ve found that even a 30-minute mindfulness walk around your neighbourhood can be a meditative experience that provides an immense amount of relief and clarity. That’s exactly why I go for a walk every day. But that’s not why spending time outdoors matters to me.

Growing up, I wasn’t good at much. I learned how to read even before I could ride a bike (and I learned that at age 5). So I read a lot and rode my bike around the different neighbourhoods I grew up in. I also loved to swim. But I wasn’t good at anything else.

I attempted to play basketball for a couple years but was lucky if I could make 15% of my shots. I usually walked away from volleyball games with sprained fingers. I still don’t understand how I was part of a relay team in track and field but that was short-lived. Soccer and softball were laughable. And I hated literally every other sport we had to play in gym class. I wasn’t lazy. I just wasn’t good.

Something I’ve only accepted and started to work through this year is the fact that I am a recovering perfectionist. This has manifested differently in all areas of my life, but when you’re a kid and you’re not immediately good at any sport, it means you basically always feel like a failure. It was like walking around with a sandwich board hanging over me that read, “DON’T PICK ME” on the front and, “I SUCK” on the back.

So, when I was done being forced to play these games I was terrible at in gym class, I would walk away feeling like a failure and run to the worlds of the things I was good at. Reading books, riding my bike and swimming. By age 13, I was also good at partying, and being drunk and high was my favourite world of all.

The irony of being a perfectionist who is “good” at partying is that it will ultimately lead to some kind of failure. If you’re lucky, that failure will lead you back to a sober life. I got sober when I was 27 and, while my self-worth still isn’t exactly where I would like it to be, I know I’m better in this world than in the party world. I know because it’s the first world where I have truly felt like I could be myself—and I have the outdoors to thank for that.

I have always loved* being outside. As soon as I got my driver’s license, I took my little old Hyundai Excel on as many adventures as she could handle. When we needed more space, my girlfriends and I would fill up the back of my dad’s truck with gear and set out to explore Vancouver Island and the Gulf Islands. We would hike, bike, swim, skimboard (and bail). We would camp in places that didn’t have much water, not shower for 4 or 5 days, and come home covered in dirt. And I loved it.

*Note: There are still things I don’t love. Like the heat. I’m as pale as a ghost and burn easily. The hot sun and I are not friends. But you learn how to manage (or avoid) these things!

Still, I never considered myself particularly outdoorsy. Then I spent two years with a guy who hated the outdoors and who I essentially melted into and shaped myself into whoever he wanted me to be. Not long after we broke up, I started going hiking and camping more regularly again, but I did it for some of the wrong reasons: to prove something, to spend time with certain people and to party. (And I’ll never forgot how proud I used to be when I could wake up without a hangover and do a sunrise hike. Pretty cool, Cait.)

I started spending time outdoors for better reasons in 2011, when I was maxed out with nearly $30,000 of debt and was also at my heaviest weight. It was a free workout, and a free activity I could do with friends where we could take in some beautiful views together. Also, the workout + the fresh air helped me sleep better at night, which was a rarity during a time when I was so stressed out by my financial situation. These were all wins.

I was still drinking at the time, but I was also doing these other things to better myself—and it was only a matter of time before the two worlds couldn’t work well together. After taking control of my finances and my health, I decided to take control of my drinking and completely opt out. It was the best decision I’ve ever made.

Living in this world and seeing it through sober eyes is such a gift, but it has also come with its own challenges. I had wrapped up so much of my identity in being “good” at partying and being the girl everyone wanted to party with. Since I let go of that girl, I’ve been left with an odd-shaped hole inside me that I still can’t seem to fill up.

Some days, I genuinely don’t understand why people would want to invite me places. And I don’t usually like to talk about this but a huge reason I don’t date is because of one particular story I tell myself: I won’t find a guy who is comfortable dating a girl who doesn’t drink. (On the surface, I know that’s not true. But there is so much power in the stories we tell ourselves that I’ve let that one stop me from even trying to find him.)

Remember when I said my self-worth still isn’t where I want it to be? That’s one example of what I’m working through—and I am working through it. Being sober means I am finally able to acknowledge and voice these things, rather than numb myself. So, I know I’m better in this world than in the party world, because it’s the first world where I have truly felt like I could be myself—and I also have the outdoors to thank for that.

The outdoors is the one place where I’ve never felt like I had to measure up to anyone else. Let’s look at hiking as an example. I love hiking. I love it because it’s not a race. It doesn’t matter how fast you complete a hike or if you even complete it at all. And it doesn’t demand you have any skills, other than wanting to go, then putting one foot in front of the other, and picking yourself up if you slip or fall.

Hiking also doesn’t demand you look a certain way. You don’t need to keep up with trends or wear name brands or be a certain height or weight. Comfort and sensibility are the only two things to consider (along with how much food and water you want to pack). And you should just start by expecting to get dirty. Use your hands to get up and sit down to rest when you need to. The rocks, trees, stumps, and your friends are happy to help.

Along the way, you can appreciate the scenery and even the work that’s gone into creating and maintaining the trails you’re on. And if you make it to the viewpoint, amazing! Soak it all in. If you’re in a time where things feel hard or the world feels like a bad place, taking in that view has a way of putting things into perspective—the most important perspective being that you didn’t need to be “good” at anything to get there.

You don’t have to be an athlete to spend time outdoors. You just have to be a human who appreciates the world and wants to see more of it.

So yes, I think it’s important to spend time outdoors. It’s a natural remedy that offers a workout, lifts our spirits and helps us sleep better at night. It gives us the opportunity to disconnect from our constantly-connected world and take some time to be with ourselves and others. And it can come with beautiful views and show us parts of the worlds we might otherwise never see. But that’s not why spending time outdoors matters to me.

I love the outdoors because it’s the one place where I can truly be myself. My beautiful, messy, happy, sad, sober, uncoordinated and hilarious self.

PS – This #atwildwoman image has been licensed from Amanda Sandlin. She also created my beautiful logo! To see more of her work, check out her shop and follow her on Instagram.

It’s not hard to find posts/entire websites that can help you launch a blog; and launch a blog that gets a lot of attention and success early on; and then use that success to turn it into a blog that not only helps people see you as an expert but also makes you a lot of money. I can’t write a blog post like that. Some of my friends can! I have friends who are really smart and know everything it takes to build a successful blog with a huge mailing list that proves you are an expert and can make you a lot of money. But I can’t.

Instead, I can write a blog post that tells you I launched an anonymous blog on October 1, 2010 to document my debt repayment journey. I can tell you I deleted the first version of that blog in early 2011, then restarted it when I was completely maxed out. I can tell you I connected with a few people and companies I loved on Twitter, and ultimately got my first two freelance writing jobs from doing so. I can tell you I wrote my blog anonymously for close to two years before I grew tired of lying to my family and friends about my “double life”. And I can tell you that, shortly after that, I got a full-time job offer from a company in Toronto.

Of course, a lot has changed since then. I moved to Toronto in 2012, then moved back to BC in 2013 and continued to work remotely for that same company. I built more relationships and got more freelance writing work, and then I quit my job in 2015 and have been self-employed ever since. Working for myself was never part of the plan. I always thought I was going to climb a corporate ladder, then maybe jump off one ladder and onto another. I never thought I would be my own boss, and I especially never thought that this blog would make being my own boss a possibility. It wasn’t part of the plan.

For the past seven years, I’ve shared all of this + the ups and downs of my life here with you. I didn’t start this blog to get attention from the press or reach any level of success, or to grow a huge audience or make a lot of money. I started it to document my debt repayment journey. The success that has come from it has been a result of consistent writing, plus a lot of careful considerations, and the intentional decision to forego all the usual advice and do things my way. It’s also a result of putting people (YOU) over profit. It’s been slow and steady, but I’ve stuck to my gut and built something that feels GOOD.

That’s the best blogging advice I can give: do what feels good.
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But for those of you who have asked for more of a step-by-step solution for growing a blog, here is the list of rules I’ve created for myself.

1. Reply to Comments

Those of you who have been reading (and commenting) for a while know this to be true. It’s the first blogging rule I made for myself: if someone takes the time to comment, I will take the time to reply. It’s not only a sign of respect, it also helps us have actual conversations (vs. one-sided responses) and has, in turn, created a real community here. As the years have gone on, I’ve changed it slightly so I usually only reply to comments that come in within the first 2-3 days of a post going live. But this same rule applies to email, too. Depending on how flooded my inbox gets, it might take a couple days or even a couple weeks to reply to them all (and it took even longer after the girls died). But I read everything and I do reply.

1b. To go along with the first rule, I’ve also always monitored comments and sent trolls to spam. It’s fine if someone has a different opinion from me or disagrees with something I say, and I’ll publish anything that’s constructive, or challenges me to think or even change my mind. But I won’t let trolls come in and dominate the conversation, and I especially won’t let people be mean to other people. If you don’t like me, save yourself the energy and just don’t read what I write, because I won’t publish your comment. This is a safe space for people to open up and have conversations, and I won’t let anyone come in and take that from us.

1c. I’ve also always been the one who responds to comments and emails personally. I know bloggers and business owners who hire virtual assistants to do this work, but that has always felt disingenuous to me and is something I can’t do. People write to you because they want you to read their words and they think you will be the one who replies. Even if it means there is a delay, it has to come from me.

2. Support Other Bloggers

A couple weeks ago, Stephanie asked if I could recommend ways for writers to “get their blogs out there”. My first response to this question is always the same: support other bloggers. And don’t just visit their sites and write short comments like “this was a great post” or “I do the same thing”. Write a comment because you care about this blogger and you want to see them succeed. Write a comment because you read someone else’s comment and you want to help them succeed. Write a comment because you want to be part of a community. And then share the post with everyone who follows you online, because you want to help this person’s message be heard.

When I first started blogging, I engaged with a lot of bloggers who were also documenting their own debt repayment stories. We cheered each other on, celebrated our successes, and helped each other with any challenges we had. It was not a strategy to get more readers or rack up pageviews. We were a community within the personal finance community, and I don’t know what they thought of me but I needed them. No one in my real life knew what my financial situation was, except for my blogging friends. I was more honest with them than I was with my own family. So, I always treated them like friends because that’s exactly what they were (and are).

When I finished paying off my debt, I gave a huge amount of credit to my fellow bloggers because I truly felt that I couldn’t have done it so quickly without their support—and I’ve always wanted to give that same support back to others. For years, that support took shape in the form of comments I would leave on people’s posts. I would comment because I read a post and thought OMG I NEEDED TO READ THIS and it felt really good to connect with like-minded people. And I would comment to thank someone for sharing their story, or for being honest and vulnerable, or for writing something that made me feel a little less alone in this world.

Again, as the years have gone on, I’ve had less time to comment on posts but I’ve found other ways to support bloggers. For starters, I help curate all the personal finance content you read on Rockstar Finance, which means I skim hundreds of blog posts each week and share my favourites with Jay. I used to share a lot of posts on Twitter, but now I compile a list of the ones I love and put them into my newsletter. And when something really touches me, I email the blogger personally. So no, I don’t comment as much anymore, but I still find ways to say OMG I NEEDED TO READ THIS and THANK YOU and then share it with my readers.

3. Write What Feels Natural (Not What Will “Perform” Well)

One thing I see over and over again in emails from people who are considering starting blogs is that they get overwhelmed by all the steps it will take to build something “the right way”. They think they need to have the perfect name and the perfect look and a bunch of perfect blog posts, before they can go live. Trust me when I say that it doesn’t need to be perfect. For over a year, the majority of my posts were just weekly spending reports!

On top of feeling like things need to be perfect, there are also a lot of formulas out there for what could make a blog post rank high in Google or get more shares or even go viral. Here’s the only personal lesson I can share about that. Whenever I have tried to write a post that was more formulaic, I hated the process and hated what I was writing and usually deleted it. Whenever I write something that’s on my mind, the writing flows naturally and it gets a great response. These posts are honest and personal, and typically only take a couple hours to write. The result: they get more comments and emails, and support from friends around the world. Who the heck cares about ranking high in Google? I could never ask for more than that. <3

Oh, and my advice for anyone who is thinking of starting a blog: write a handful of blog posts first. Write them on your computer or in a Google doc or by hand or whatever you like. Just write the first few posts that come to mind and see if you actually enjoy the process. At the end of the day, if you want to maintain a blog, you just have to enjoy writing stuff and putting it out into the world. If you like those first few posts, come up with some ideas for your next ones and then start getting the technical stuff setup. But always start with the writing. Everything else will come together, after that.

4. Don’t Worry About the Numbers

There are a lot of numbers you could consider, as a blogger: your pageviews, your unique visitors, the number of comments you get on posts, the number of times your posts get shared, the number of people on your mailing list, all the followers you have on social media, and so on. And there are a lot of ways you can boost each of those numbers. But, to go along with the idea that you don’t need to force yourself to write content that will “perform” well, you also don’t need to do other things strictly so it will boost your numbers. You can, if you want to. But you don’t need to—and here’s why I don’t.

I didn’t start my blog with the intention that I would ever make money from it. And, unless you’re trying to make a lot of money from ads or affiliate links on your site, these numbers are just a vanity metric. Nobody cares if you have 1,000 followers on Twitter or 10,000, except for you. It doesn’t mean anything. And for that reason, I won’t play games online that do things to dramatically increase the number of readers or followers I have. Continuing with the example of Twitter and even Instagram, some bloggers follow tons of accounts in the hopes that many of those accounts will follow them back. I’m not kidding. This is a thing. It is a vanity metric, and it is also a false way of determining someone’s potential “reach”. (That’s a note to companies who pay “influencers”.)

Instead of worrying about increasing your numbers, focus on engaging with the readers and followers you have right now. This goes back to my first rule: reply to comments and emails. Also reply to people on social media. There are people right here and now who are interested in what you are saying. Say hi to them! Answer their questions. Help them in any way you can. They are human beings, not numbers. And if you become focused on getting the next 100 or 1,000 or 10,000 followers, you will look past the ones you already have—and those are the ones who matter most. So don’t worry about the numbers, and instead put your energy into fostering relationships with the people who are here and now.

For bloggers who are curious how this rule affects your numbers, I opened up my Google Analytics, mailing list, social media accounts, etc. and looked at how it affects mine. As far as blog traffic goes, I’m on track to have the same number of pageviews I’ve had for the past two years (so now three years in a row). I finished 2016 with about 20,000 followers across Facebook, Twitter and Instagram, and currently have about 25,000 (+5,000 in 9.5 months). And I went from having 6,300 people on my mailing list at the end of 2016 to 9,600 right now (+3,300 in 9.5 months). With so many people out there writing about how you can grow a blog quickly, these aren’t exactly numbers to write home about.

You know what two numbers I find interesting, though? My bounce rate was just 7.09% in 2016, and the open rate on my mailing list is 50.92% so far in 2017. People are engaged. And the community we’ve built together here means more than any number could.

5. Put People Over Profit*

I’m adding an asterisk to this point because I need to start by saying that this all depends on the reason you are launching your blog in the first place. If your goal is to make money, great! You probably don’t need to read this point. But if money isn’t your goal, that’s ok too. That also doesn’t mean you’ll never make a dime from your blog; it just gives you more control over how you want to earn that money one day. Here’s my story.

At some point, every blogger starts receiving emails from random companies all over the world who ask if you accept sponsored content (they will pay you to write a post about their product) or paid links (they will pay you to add links to random words in old blog posts). There is a lot of money to be made in this world. I have friends who make anywhere from $1,000 to $5,000/month in sponsored content alone. Add banner ads or sidebar ads to that and they are laughing—at me. I say “at me” because I have turned every single one of these offers down and earned exactly $0 from advertising on my blog. In fact, I even have a line on my contact form that tells people I don’t reply to these offers. I delete the emails.

There are so many reasons I don’t advertise on my blog, and they all come back to putting myself in the shoes of a reader. I hate going to sites and being bombarded with ads, so I don’t want anyone to have that experience when visiting mine. That’s also the same reason I’ve never added (and will never add) a pop-up to my site. Seeing those on other sites almost always makes me click “X” in my browser and then never visit them again. I don’t care about having a bigger mailing list. I care about my readers and the experience they have on my site—the experience that helps us build and foster a community. And let’s also remember that I am in the space of telling people to STOP BUYING THINGS THEY DON’T NEED. Can you imagine if I placed a banner ad at the top of that message?

At the end of the day, I won’t advertise on my blog because it just doesn’t feel good to me. I know this rule has probably cost me tens of thousands of dollars. My old boss once told me I could earn a minimum of $3,000/month from banner ads alone based on my traffic. But I don’t care and I won’t change my stance on this. It doesn’t feel good to me, and I’ve always told myself I could earn extra money in other ways—ways that do feel good to me. For years, that took shape in the form of freelance writing and even a few public speaking events. Yes, that means I actually had to work for the money (vs. earn passive income from my blog) but those opportunities came from having my blog and they felt good. Looking back, I can see they also helped me get my name out there in ways that posting sponsored content never could.

That’s not to say I’ve never made money from my blog. Going back to the first paragraph in this point, it just gave me more control over how I wanted to earn the money. In 2015, I decided the one way I would be comfortable making money from my blog would be by creating a useful tool and selling it. Since April 2015, I have profited exactly $26,807.34 from something I made for you: Mindful Budgeting. The print templates that I originally charged $20 for but are now free, and the physical 2016 and 2017 planners. I made those for you, and built a community around it for you, and have earned an average of $893.58/month for doing so (minus the 5% of sales I give to charity). It’s a tool that I know has helped people, and I made it myself vs. had a company pay me to tell you about it. That feels good to me. It’s not a product everyone needs and I’ll likely never earn a full-time income from it, but that’s ok. It feels good to me.

6. Always Be Gracious + Grateful

This last rule is one that is mixed into all the others. The kind way of saying it is: you should always be gracious with people + grateful for the opportunities that come your way. The simple but more brash way of saying it is: don’t be a jerk. One of the most interesting things I have observed as some blogs have grown is that egos grow right alongside them. I will never understand this. Of course, I think we are allowed to be proud of our work, and be proud of the blogs and businesses we’ve built. But at the end of the day, we aren’t saving lives. We are just people—humans who are trying to make it in this world, just like everyone else. And if we aren’t kind to the people around us, why would anyone want to read what we have to say or even work with us?

It starts by being gracious with your readers. If no one read your blog, you wouldn’t be where you are. Then, be grateful for every opportunity that comes your way—even the ones you don’t take. Whenever someone in the media contacts me for an interview, I genuinely still think to myself: really? Me? That’s so cool!!! The same goes for freelance writing and public speaking opportunities. And you can’t even imagine how literally every step of the book publishing process has made me feel. I’m constantly pinching myself asking if this is real life.

This all goes back to the golden rule you’re taught as a kid: treat others how you want to be treated. I don’t think the world owes me anything. And I don’t do things because I’m looking for something in return. In fact, I think blogging with zero expectations of what kind of response you’ll get from others is what helps you stay humble and so appreciative of whatever does come your way. As for me, I’m just over here documenting my life and all the experiments I’ve done in the past seven years, and feeling extremely grateful for everyone who has been interested enough to read, say hi and share it with others.

Before I wrap up this post, I want to add that I didn’t write this list of rules before I started my blog. It is something that has slowly developed over time, as every new interaction, opportunity and period of growth has occurred. And it took this shape because I always had my readers in mind. Some of these rules were made only after playing around with certain things the “experts” say we should do and quickly realizing it didn’t feel good to me. So yes, I have experimented with their ideas, and I think it’s perfectly ok for people to follow all of the advice and/or do things in whatever way feels good to them. It just doesn’t feel good to me.

I always knew there had to be another way, and there is—it’s called “your way” and you make all the rules. Mine will result in slower growth and will probably make you less money. But it puts people first and helps you stay humble and grateful for whatever comes from it. And in my experience, looking back now, I know that some really amazing things can come from it.

Do you have any other questions about blogging that I didn’t answer here? I’m happy to answer them (or share links to sites that can)!

My first trip to New York City was a blur. It was December 2012 and I had recently decided to give up on the idea that sobriety was right for me. Sobriety was not right for me. I wanted to drink. We spent our nights bar hopping and, I, getting blackout drunk, and we spent our days rushing all over the city with a hangover. Repeat, repeat, repeat, for three days. We saw a lot of sights (you can see the pictures: Day 1, Day 2, Day 3 Part 1 and Part 2) and did a lot of drinking. But without those pictures and the few drunk moments that still make me feel icky, I would tell you the one memory that stands out the most from that trip is how much my feet hurt.

It might seem like I travel a lot, but the truth is I feel like a bit of a late bloomer. While many of my friends went to Europe and Southeast Asia after high school and college, I didn’t go anywhere except for a trip to Vegas in my mid-20s and that trip to NYC when I was 27. I suppose there was also one trip to Toronto in my mid-20s, and partway through we took the train to Montreal and then visited friends at the Royal Military College in Kingston. But again, I was blackout drunk for most of that trip. (I don’t even remember what RMC looked like.) And again, one of the memories that stands out from all of those trips is how much my feet hurt.

I used to do the same thing Holly did in many of her early trips: tried to see as much as I could. The first trip to NYC is a perfect example. I listed all of the things I wanted to do and see, figured out which neighbourhoods they were in, and then mapped out our days in a way that we might actually be able to cross most things off the list. And we did! The pictures prove we did and saw all of the things. But the pictures don’t show how much my feet hurt at night, how I had to soak them in hot water before going to bed, and how much I cringed at the thought of having to put my shoes back on the next day. I didn’t want to walk another step.

That wasn’t what I wanted to remember from my trips. I wanted to remember the conversations we shared over coffee and meals; the taste of those coffee and meals; and the names of the cafes and restaurants I loved so much that I would hope to visit again. I wanted to remember how good it felt to get to know a city so well in just a few days that I could find my way around without directions; and how cool it felt to be able to give someone else directions, when they asked. I wanted to remember what the sky looked like when the sun went down over each landscape. I wanted to remember being there—really being there.

Fortunately, it only took a few trips for me to learn this lesson—and to learn how nice it could be to travel at a slower pace. I have the memories of my sore feet to thank for that, but I can also thank my blogging friends. It wasn’t until I started travelling to their hometowns to visit them that I realized I didn’t have to rush around to see everything each city had to offer. All I wanted to do was spend time with them. That’s why I was there. And whenever I travel somewhere now, I ask myself that same question: why am I going here? The answer helps me set an intention for the trip, rather than make a strict plan.

When I used to make travel plans, I felt busy and anxious. I also never felt like I got enough time anywhere I went—probably because I didn’t. I was so focused on getting from Point A to Point B that I didn’t soak in the journey it took to get there. I couldn’t remember the streets I had walked or neighbourhoods I was in, and I definitely didn’t remember the conversations we had. I just knew I had a couple hours to spend in every point I’d marked on the map, so I squeezed in as much as I could at each stop and then moved onto the next one. This always ended with me going home (to my hotel or a friend’s place) feeling like I’d run a marathon. (And did I mention the sore feet?)

The first time I decided to set an intention vs. make any formal plans for a trip was when I went to Denver in October 2014. My intention was to finally meet my internet BFF Clare, and to soak up any time I could spend with her. You’ll read a bit more about that in the book, but that was my only goal for the trip—which made everything else that happened feel like huge bonuses. Would I like to go to Red Rocks with another friend? Yes! Go on a spontaneous hike? Yes, please! Have lunch in a part of the city I’d never thought of going to? Yes, again! Because I didn’t have a calendar full of events, I was able to say yes to whatever came my way, and it felt good.

Not only did it feel good to be spontaneous, it feel good to let go of any expectations I had about what that trip might look like. And if I were to give anyone travel advice now, it would always be that: don’t expect anything. Just be open and be happy with whatever happens. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t plan ANYTHING. I actually love the questions Holly included at the bottom of her post, and think of many of those myself. There’s usually 1-2 attractions I’d like to see, some friends I want to spend time with, etc. So I make sure I do those things. But I also leave a lot of room open in my calendar, so I’m not rushing from one to the other.

The result is always a trip I actually remember every detail of. I remember the conversations we shared over coffee and meals; the taste of those coffee and meals; and the names of the cafes and restaurants I loved so much that I hope to visit again. I remember how good it felt to get to know a city so well in just a few days that I could find my way around without directions; and how cool it felt to be able to give someone else directions, when they asked. I remember what the sky looked like when the sun went down over the landscape. I remember being there—really being there.

And that’s true of every trip I’ve been on since October 2014. I set an intention, leave my calendar fairly open, and am open to every opportunity that comes my way. And I come home remembering every detail and feeling totally content with how it went. Nothing is a blur. In fact, I can probably describe how I experienced a city through all five senses: what it looked like, how it smelled, what the food/drinks tasted like, what the sounds were and how it felt to be there. I might not “do it all” or “see everything” but that’s ok. I remember what I did do. Nothing is a blur. And the bonus: my feet never hurt.

The reason I’m sharing this story now is because I am in the middle of a month full of travel—and even though I’m moving at somewhat of a quick pace (four cities in one month), I’m trying to take it slow, set an intention for each trip and enjoy my time in each place. Here’s what it looks like:

Experiment #9: Slow Travel

• spend a week in NYC (Nov 3-10)
• spend a week in Toronto (Nov 11-18)
• spend a week at home (Nov 1-2, 19-23)
• spend a week or so in Victoria (Nov 24-Dec 3?)
• enjoy downtime in every city :)

I’m happy to report there was a lot of downtime in NYC. I didn’t see many sights, other than what anyone sees when they walk around the East Village and Midtown and Central Park. But I went to one play (Tiny Beautiful Things – if you’re in NYC, please check it out). I also spent quality time with my friend Shannon, shared a few delicious coffees and meals with friends, and even met up with a friend from Vancouver who also happened to be there at the same time. And I narrated my audiobook. (!!!) That’s why I was there, and it was an incredible experience I’m so grateful to have had. Everything else was a bonus.

Looking ahead to next year, people keep asking why I want to go to the UK and what I plan on doing when I get there. Truthfully, I have no plans. I just want to go. I want to book a one-way ticket and have enough money that I can afford to stay for as many weeks or months as I want to. I just want to go. That is the intention. And by going with no expectations or plans, there is no real chance of being disappointed. Everything will be a bonus. :)

Hi friends! It’s been almost a full year since I stopped blogging. In that time, I’ve thought a lot about what I want to do with the archives—and, ultimately (after asking myself what 34-year-old Cait wants), I’ve decided to delete them.

Last week, I went through 350+ posts, copied the content, and started hitting delete. (Fun fact: I published more than 260,000 words on this blog! And wrote tens of thousands more that I never shared. It’s safe to say I found my voice here.) Throughout the process, I noticed there were a few I wasn’t ready to let go of: the posts that were the most enjoyable to write, or the most honest to share, or that show who I am today. In old school-Rockstar Finance style, I picked out my favourite quote from each one and will leave them here for now. Enjoy <3

First, Let’s Talk About Money

Choose Your Own Financial Adventure – “Whatever you do, don’t do nothing. Be an active participant in your life—financial or otherwise—and choose the adventure you’d want to write home about.”

You Weren’t Born to Pay Off Debt and Die – “You might get 85 years on this planet. Don’t spend 65 paying off a lifestyle you can’t afford.”

On Being a Mindful Consumer

What Consumes Your Mind Controls Your Life (and Finances) – “The social media accounts you follow can take a serious toll on your finances.”

What It’s Like to Shop After Not Shopping for Two Years – “If I could sum up what the shopping ban did for my actual shopping habits, I would say that’s it: it taught me how to take the emotion out of it, so shopping is strictly a transaction now (as it should be).”

The Personal Stuff

I Got Sober at 27 (and I Didn’t Quit to Save Money) – “My Internet BFF Clare said it best: Not drinking is serious business. … But I can confidently say that I know I’ll be sober forever—because I need to be, in order to live my happiest, healthiest life.”

The Best Gift My Emergency Fund Has Ever Given Me – “My emergency fund gave me the best gift of all: the ability to invest in my mental health. It gave me the freedom to scale back on work. It gave me more time and energy to focus on myself. And it put my life back into my own hands.”

Why Spending Time Outdoors Matters to Me – “I love the outdoors because it’s the one place where I can truly be myself. My beautiful, messy, happy, sad, sober, uncoordinated and hilarious self.” (Featuring an #atwildwoman by my friend Amanda!)

What My Dogs Taught Me About Slow Living – “While I’ve been trying to figure out what slow living looks like, the girls have been exemplifying it their whole lives. And while they have needed me this month, Molly and Lexie have taught me lessons I will carry with me for a lifetime.”

And Finally, the Work :)

How I Slowly Grew My Blog My Own Way – “I always knew there had to be another way, and there is—it’s called “your way” and you make all the rules. Mine will result in slower growth and will probably make you less money. But it puts people first and helps you stay humble and grateful for whatever comes from it. And in my experience, looking back now, I know that some really amazing things can come from it.”

Why I’m Retiring from Personal Blogging – “I don’t want to be an expert. I just want to be a human.”

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