Five years ago, I drifted to dreams on the eve of Christmas, my heart so very eager and anxious for the morning to come. Overcome with hope, I woke before the dawn on Christmas morning, gathered all the courage I had within me to set my fear of disappointment aside, crawled from my bed, and waited in the quiet stillness for the gift I had long been praying for. I closed my eyes and breathed my silent prayers into the cold morning air, and within a moments time, I held a confirmation of the greatest gift I had ever hoped for; our first child.

That day held such a tender sweetness. Just us three, together dancing in a perfect euphoria. And in the weeks to follow I floated through each day with the most sincere happiness I had yet to know. We rang in the new year with the utmost joy, the year our baby would join us. We celebrated my 30th birthday, having never been more thrilled for what a new decade of my life would hold. It was, positively the most joyful time I had ever known to date.

And all too soon, on the morning of January 20th, my joy was taken captive by fear, and before the nights end I was crippled by the unspeakable ache of loss.

I fell into a world of darkness, darker than I had ever known. I lost myself inside of it, and I let my pain hurt the people I cared for most. I never took the opportunity to share my joy “publicly”. I was waiting as “they” recommend one should, never imagining I’d have any reason I wouldn’t share just as soon as we crossed the 12 week milestone. But the unimaginable happened, and social media became the most difficult space for me to exist. I felt suspended in time- there in a space where neither my joy nor my sorry had touched, and yet it was all consuming within my own body.

Days passed slowly and painfully, and before I could prepare my heart, the month of march was upon me, the excruciating time when expecting mama’s were sharing the news of their September babies to be. And so I came to see that Instagram was no longer healthy for me. I needed to remove my eyes and heart from a place where so many had inspired my own desire to become a mother. I needed to allow myself permission not to create, not to inspire, and not worry about whether or not I was letting anyone down for my lack of action. I needed room to breathe and most importantly, to heal.

I committed myself to a one year hiatus from social media.

One year became, two, and two became two and half, and in that time I found my light once more. I learned to see and feel differently than I had before. Untethered to a digital world, and an always present audience, I poured my extra time into prayer, healing, and growth. We lived in the present and moved forward hand in hand, at a pace that worked for us, just as we needed to.

In time, we purchased our first little home, a 700 sq. ft. cottage with every last inch touched by dreams of a future within those walls. The day after the inspection we were overjoyed to know that our dreams were already growing within. Five days after receiving the keys, we were elated to learn that our family was not only three, but four.

Existing in this time and space of just us and our community was such a precious gift. It was never lost on me how quiet everything felt without the noise and influence of the digital world. We held each other and our dreams close, and never minded how it would translate from our hearts to our phones.

Our lives shifted quickly and wildly just like the seasons. Change was becoming a constant in our world as we sought to navigate the new waters of parenthood and career changes; which included a rather weighty reduction of our annual income (by more than half).

My return to instagram came with great trail of heart. I had been untethered for so long, and yet I had an earnest desire to share the new world I had found, and to help support my family with financial needs. I came back to use Instagram as a marketing tool, and in the process I began to discover a greater community of kindred hearted mothers. So it was, even after I opted to step back from keeping a shop, I found myself troubled to part ways with a space that offered me a way to connect and establish some very dear friendships.

I shifted my purpose in using Instagram away from marketing for myself, to sharing the works of others (many who have become close friends), with their courage to run businesses that challenge to trending narrative and place the treatment of people and the environment over profits. I’ve sincerely enjoyed the ability to use my voice and photography to stand alongside and support these dear hearts.

But over the past year I haven’t been able to shake the tug at my heart to live untethered once more. A hundred times, I've almost left, but an encouraging message, or a really wonderful opportunity would befall me, and I’d reason my way into staying, but always with a wavering confidence in my decision.

These past few months however, have been terribly polarizing, and altogether more than my sensitive spirit can take. As we inch closer to holding our new baby in our arms, I can't help but recall the sweetness of having that season with my girls all to ourselves.

Even now, I know I want better for my girls. They deserve more of me than I've been giving them. Despite my very best efforts to create intentional boundaries, there is a division of time and space that never ceases to exist when I’m present on the world of social media. I find a great deal of joy in sharing my creativity, be it making something with my hands, images that have come from my camera, or words that string together like a song. But even so, I recognize my own struggle to stay in the present of these creative works when I feel especially excited to share them—all the more so when the very platform itself suggests a need to share instantly—which by and large goes against my nature to steep myself into the slowness of process and reap every last blessing that is to be gained. The rush of social media has always felt like an exhausting game of tug of war, almost always costing me some of the most valuable parts of my creative process to the stronghold of instant fulfillment.

What’s more, there is so much I haven't shared as the use of Instagram often paralyzes me from action. My heart is to pour my words freely into my journal, without worry of edits or word counts or algorithm “rules”. I’ve long desired to offer simple creative tutorials and walk throughs of some of my projects, which hasn’t happened because when I’m using Instagram it’s hard to pour so much into a website and journal that is so rarely seen. But if I let it become my avenue to share, then I do believe I will know joy in the precious few who have come to find themselves sharing in it alongside me. I look forward to the space within my own platform to share more pictures, information, and links to the shops and resources which have become a part of our homes and lives. It excites me to share in a way that is not troubled by numbers and algorithms, quickly lost in a sea of so many others—rather I hope that pouring into my own space will better serve my heart and yours.

And now a few thoughts about leaving Instagram, not from a place of pain, but with a heart of confidence.

Looking back at my two + years away from Instagram, it’s true that many relationships faded naturally. And a strong few became more deeply rooted in intentionality—phone calls, handwritten letters, surprise visits while in the neighborhood and setting aside regular time for togetherness (a lot like life before modern technology). What’s more, I have felt the bitter loss of some these acts as they slip away to the convenience of “being in the know” from social media. I suppose in some ways, it seems almost redundant to repeat news that has been shared publicly, in a tangible form, and still I know comments and likes will never come close to joy of sharing my heart firsthand with my dearest friends. And so I’ve come to this very place, creating an intentional reason to pour from my heart my wholly, once more into those who have filled it—the long-standing relationships, and the new ones alike.

What’s more, I’ve come to determine that I have the capacity to hold closely about five intimate friendships in person, and about five dear friendships from a distance. Beyond that, I feel unable to give as much as I’d hope to, and while I may genuinely care for a great many people, I cannot offer myself equally to all. I’ve learned to acknowledge this, not as a flaw, but as a characteristic of my heart that must be recognized and tended.

So it is, while the space within Instagram is both wonderfully inspiring, and unbearably draining— I have also learned that it is okay to take hold of the gifts which have been given, and reverently carry them forward while leaving the unfavorable weight behind. It is true that good things have come by way of social media; people, inspiration, and opportunities. And just the same, it is true that more may surely come if I were to stay. But when my hands and heart are already so full, it becomes a question of how much goodness can one person hold, and is it still good if your hands become too full to hang on to it all?

I am at a place where both my hands are heart are overflowing, and preparing to become fuller still. I am sincerely grateful for the goodness which has come from being a part of social media, but I know too, that I cannot fully be the person I aspire (or would want to inspire anyone) to be while split between the two worlds. I’ve felt the strain of tug of war for far too long, and I have full confidence in that which is left behind, will open space for that which has long been sought after.

For the past year I’ve held close the vision and ideal of Mrs. March. While Marmee may not be the main character in the world of little women, I’ve been deeply captivated by the way her spirit was woven into the fabric of each of her girls as they grew into their own. I may not have seen it when I first turned the pages as a youth of 15, but when I met her again last year, as a mother, I was humbled by her gentle quietness, giving graciously to her home and community, while allowing space for her girls to be seen, heard, and known. How greatly I want to be like her. I want it to be my own who will know the very dearest parts of me, and any goodness I may hold will be woven into their character by the nature of nurturing with a heart and mind fully present.

I have done well to compose this version of the mother I want my children to know, through poetic words and beautiful images, but the time has come to bring her fully to life. That the satisfaction may not lie in the warm concurrence of kindred hearts around the world, but in the acts themselves and the slow process of weaving minutes into hours, hours into days, days into weeks, weeks into years, and creating a life which resembles that which my heart felt called to live.

And so I will begin the new year, taking my leave from the world of Instagram, and navigating once more a life untethered. The very idea is positively intoxicating, and I move forward in full confidence that I have heard, and finally listened to the needs of my heart.

There is such joy and expectation in the seasons to come. I hope that for anyone who finds themselves walking alongside us, you will know how grateful I am to have you here. Further, I would like to invite anyone who would love to share a deeper correspondence to always feel free to connect over email at candice@ivyandtweed.com, where I will be ever so happy to reply.

Life Untethered: A fond farewell to Instagram