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When I started this blog, it wasn’t for the money.
I mean, there was a hope that someday the blog would be able to at least support itself and sustain enough of an income that maybe I could pursue it full time. But that was always the secondary goal.
The first goal was to write and speak to people.
Because when you peel back the ADHD, the motherhood, the Christian (ok, there’s no peeling back the Christian, so scratch that last one), underneath all of it is just a girl who loves to talk. That’s who I am but even deeper than that I’m a communicator, a writer, a storyteller.
My hope was to be able to do the thing I’ve always enjoyed most, speaking to others, in a way that would allow me to live a life free from a 9-5 work day. An income to sustain but not such an abundance of wealth that I would lose my humility. Just enough to be able to do something for others. I hoped to create programs for single moms to be able to finish school without fear of eviction or losing power. To fund people’s Christmases just because I could, or even give away cars like Mr. Beast. That was my hope, that was my dream.
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To write and in that writing be able to take care of people.
I think somewhere around year 5 I started to lose sight of that. I’ve been writing for the masses. Writing to answer questions people are asking all in the hope that I could somehow get the website back on track and back to “making an income”. But to do that I’ve sacrificed the soul of my work here. Which is why I’ve decided right now, to stop. To instead return to simply creating content because I love to talk to people. And I love for people to know I care. Because I do.
They say if you want virality to maintain a niche. Keep your content around specific topics, answer specific questions. But in 2023 G00gle (the typo has a purpose) threw the majority of us publishers (that’s what media companies and Search Engine Companies call those of us who write online) for a loop. They changed their algorithm in a way that made many of the Content Creators/Full Time Publishers go from making $10-20k per month (and that’s on the low end of the spectrum) to making only hundreds of dollars per month. Not only did the “Big G” as I’ll continue to refer to them from here on out so as to not be hit with a lawsuit- do this, they began pulling our copyrighted content– original content we researched, studied, and edited all on our own- to paraphrase in their “AI” blurbs they offer at the beginning of searches. Not only was doing this illegal- but of course, who could take on the Big G– it was unethical. Then, as if all of that wasn’t enough, they began punishing the content creators who opted to use different AI programs for help in their writing by blacklisting their content or pushing it so far down the search results that no one would ever visit their website. Creator’s whose livelihood was based on their ability to have an audience and readers.
Why do I tell you all of this?
You’re likely not a writer. Maybe you are, or maybe you’re a content creator or hope to be one. Perhaps none of this information is relevant to you in the sense that it was me, but I tell you all of this to share with you my mistake. To share with you how difficult it has been to experience a glimmer of hope that my secondary dream- to be able to have an income with my writing- was just at my fingertips. Then it was torn from me.
Previously, and even now, I tend to be a self blaming individual. Perhaps to my own detriment. But in my humble opinion, if it is my fault, then perhaps I can do something about it. If it’s something I caused, or something I inadvertently had a hand in the cause of, then I can shift my efforts and right it so to speak.
In the time leading up to these changes I was sick. I had severe anemia just after I got married in 2021, so much so that my husband, God Bless him, begged me to see the doctor. Because even though I was falling asleep non-stop I attributed this to my own failings and believed myself to just be lazy. To my surprise, my hemoglobin was five.
When I asked my Nurse Practitioner at the time if that was bad, she looked at me slyly and said “Well, they transfuse at the hospital starting at 7, so yes I’d say 5 is bad.”
I began a long and arduous journey into my health starting with IV infusions of Iron, then a sleep study as well as a laparoscopy only to be told that apart from my legs kicking me awake at night, there wasn’t much ‘wrong’ with me. I would then be prescribed another medication that would “help” by delivering more dopamine to my brain.
Around this time, my illness, recovery, and my then new pregnancy began to take a toll on my work. Not only was my content inconsistent but my service work I was offering to clients became a massive struggle. Again, as I began losing clients to the heightened prices of inflation and to a lack of consistent effort on my part, the self-blame spiral deepened.
I became apathetic to everything but especially to my calling.
What is my calling?
Originally, I thought I was called to be the next Rachel Hollis, only to find out that Rachel is really the last role model I should aspire to be. Albeit a decent writer, there are several points of my faith I disagree with Rachel on. No, being the next Rachel Hollis is not my calling.
Or the next- anyone- other than myself, Lacy Estelle.
But I do believe my calling is to help women who have walked, or are still walking, a similar path as me. And I believe I am called to this through the gift of communication, writing, speaking, that God has bestowed on me. But at this time, as my work and my income began to slip away, I became fearful. Fearful that I’ve made too many mistakes, done too many things wrong, and perhaps because the security of an income wasn’t following me, that I wasn’t meant for what I thought I was meant for.
What changed?
These past few weeks, I have done a not-so-subtle-amount of lamenting to the Lord. I would liken it to the type of arguing you probably experienced as a teenager with your parents, or the type you experience with your teenager as a parent.
The kind where you’re so sure you know what you’re talking about that you’re in a tearful rage and frustration and you criticize the other for even thinking they know how difficult things are for you. I can heartily say I even told God I’d rather he strike me with illness (I know, even typing it here makes me cringe and wince) than to continue this rollercoaster of financial insecurity for the sake that the former would elicit pity from our community and from that pity we might be able to get help with our bills.
Yeah…I said that.
Sound like the tantrum of a selfish teenager to you? Rereading it to me it certainly does.
Anyone I know of with illness or dealing with illness would trade it in a heartbeat for financial insecurity. I know this but I still cried those words because I am a sinner, imperfect and selfish.
To anyone reading this, who has dealt with a major illness for either yourself or someone you love, I am sorry for what I said. While I may have not spoken it directly to you, I know if you’re reading this you’re likely thinking “This girl is clueless and ignorant.”
But I should be clear; I am.
Clueless, ignorant. Naive. Selfish. Angry. Impatient. Imperfect.
I don’t think I ever pretended to be perfect but I do think that I have a tendency to be too hard on myself. Most of my life, being self-reflective has only helped to grow me, but at some point in the last year that self-reflection became a sort of self-destruction.
If it was all my fault, then getting rid of myself would fix the equation. My mind has battled many wild beliefs such as that I am the cause of my husband’s suffering and that before our marriage his life was financially easier and therefore he’s better off without me. Or that maybe I’m not the Mother I hope myself to be and therefore my children’s faults are supremely mine to have caused and responsibility. Or one of my favorites- that I am not meant to use my gifts for any sort of purpose, that I failed at making the blog a success and failed to turn it into anything substantial and therefore I should give up and stop writing and speaking altogether and just go back to what I’m “good” at; that is just working a job. A job that doesn’t challenge me intellectually, or do much other than allow me to be an example to those around me of a Jesus Follower. A Jesus Follower who is not satisfied with her life.
No. No, I now see these all for what they truly are; lies. Lies from the enemy to convince me that giving up is ok. That the measurement I placed on the blog’s success in its monetary gain was righteous. That without it making money and making me “comfortable” that it was a failure.
That’s not the truth.
The truth is, since I began writing I’ve been messaged by women from around the world. Women from Africa, Indonesia, Thailand, Canada and the United States. Even from Australia. Women who read my experiences and experienced the same things and needed to reach out and know someone else understands what they’re dealing with. Whether it was from my ADHD writing or podcast, my shared stories of toxic relationships, my struggle with my Faith and Jesus’ ability to overcome all of it or something else, they’ve shown me so much more than money ever could.
The truth is, sharing and telling you, the reader, everything I can about my health, my life, my children, and my faith, by doing so I’m showing you Christ. I’m showing you how he overcomes. How he triumphs even if the battle seems lost.
Peter and the disciples asked of Jesus before his ascension; “My Lord, are you going to restore the Kingdom to Israel at this time?”
His answer to them was that it’s not for them to know the times and seasons that God the father has predestined.
Often this text is quoted to be about the end times, and I know it is applicable there. But what about the application to our regular lives?
Everyday in our lives is predetermined by God. Every single day.
It is not for me to know my last day on earth as God the father deems it.
Likewise it’s not for me to know the day, if ever, that God will fulfill my financial security bucket but instead to have faith that he can and will.
It’s not for me to know that if I use my calling, my God given gift of gab, to share with everyone I can the wonderful things he has shown me, taught me and how he’s poured out his love on me, that one day he may restore my bank account to a comfortable amount.
Why isn’t it for me to know?
Because that’s not what it’s about.
Following Jesus isn’t about knowing when the end will come. It’s not about not suffering in silence, or not suffering at all. It’s not about him meeting my needs, although he does. It’s not about that. It’s about him, only him. Following Jesus is about just that. Following him. Regardless of the cost. So when he says Go, we go. And when he says “Write” you write. And you don’t stop just because writing stopped paying the bills.
Honestly, I’ll always want to know. Perhaps the apostles felt that way, even after he ascended and after all they saw, maybe some of them fell into the trap that I have. The one that says “maybe if we just do these things for a while, God will then restore the Kingdom.” Not sure. If they did, and we knew that was their desire while serving the Lord and sharing the Gospel, it would put a bad taste in my mouth.
When I read about what the Apostles endured after Jesus’ ascension. The torture and killing. The hunting them down.
When I read about the families and women in parts of the world still experiencing the atrocities of persecution for their Faith. When I do that, I remember that we don’t do this for comfort.
My pastor said this past weekend “I find that the least likely indicator of calling is comfort.” To think that because something makes you uncomfortable, or requires you to go without for some time could mean you aren’t called to it, is a poor measurement of its truth. And he’s right.
If the people who were hunted down and paid for their Faith with their life had based their faith on their comfort level, they would’ve given it up many times before. But instead God strengthened them to withstand the discomfort. The pain. The rejection.
So I will keep writing. Not for the money. Not for the hope of a first page G00gle listing. No, for the Lord because he has called me to write and share and tell everyone I can about how Good he is.
So to my readers and previous listeners, I am sorry. I will do better and I will be here until I can’t anymore.
God sees you, just as he sees me. And while I know you are likely looking for answers, it’s not always for us to know. It’s for us to listen and obey and follow, until he comes back for us. And he will always come back for us.
Your sister in Christ,
Lacy Estelle
