In 2019, I bought my first domain. It wasn’t for my business, a brand, or even a blog that was ready for the world. I just knew I needed a space that was mine. I needed a blank slate that I could shape entirely on my own terms.
I already had a marketing portfolio. But this was different. It was a place to process, to reflect, to write what I wanted without worrying about SEO or structure—a place to yell into the void. Once upon a time, over 1,000 people followed my Tumblr for the same reason. Not a lot, but enough to feel like someone was listening. Maybe even helped by something I wrote, and I wouldn’t have known.
At the time, I was juggling freelance gigs, grad school, and the sense that I wasn’t doing enough. Not successful enough. Not published enough. Contracts were ending, my confidence was shot, and I felt like I was treading scalding hot water. But I could still build this tiny digital corner where I could show up without needing permission. Just me, my writing, and whatever I was working through.
That website has quietly housed a vast collection of writing samples, portfolio pages, late-night freewrites, and a substantial number of drafts that never saw the light of day. I was able to write through a divorce that almost derailed my career. I ultimately completed my master’s degree in Journalism Innovation during one of the most challenging periods of my life.
Sometimes, I feel like you can hear my heart beating through the words I’ve written there. I don’t know how to do anything else but write, which, honestly, weirds people out that I feel that way. I’m not a math person. What can I say?
Sometimes my mom asks why I still pay to keep my website up. And the answer never changes: because it matters to me. Because even when I’ve felt lost, that site has been a quiet promise to keep going. A digital piece of myself, reminding me I’m still here, still writing, and still building.
And lately, the views have started stacking up again. In the past week alone, I’ve seen a 125% increase in traffic and a 179% jump in visitors.
Maybe that’s not much in the grand scheme of things.
But it’s something.
It’s mine.