✨ June Notes: The Art of Quiet Reinvention
Lately I’ve been thinking about that moment between chapters. You know the one — when you’ve closed the door on something that doesn’t fit anymore, but haven’t quite opened the next one. It’s quieter than you expect. Not dramatic. Just… different. That’s where I am right now. In the pause.
This June, I shut the door on my old website — and everything it stood for. I didn’t expect to feel much. Shopify was functional, not sacred. But when I pressed the final button, something shifted. Not in a confetti and cocktails way. More like a deep exhale. A secret letting go. A subtle rebellion.
For years, I built everything — my career, my wardrobe, my persona — around the idea of success that looked good from the outside. Corporate ladder? Climbed it in heels. Consultancy? Done. Designer bag? Naturally.
And don’t get me wrong — I loved those moments. I’ve always had a thing for beautiful things and ambitious goals. But somewhere along the way, I started to notice the gap. The gap between looking like I’d “arrived”… and actually feelinglike I had.
Present. Free. Here.
So I started listening to the small voice. You know the one — the one that speaks when the world finally goes quiet. Mine kept whispering: Write. Not a strategy. Not a plan. Not a proposal. Just… write.
The real kind. The terrifying kind. The kind where you say what you actually think about reinvention and womanhood and worth. About ambition and softness and rage and beauty and what it’s like to want more without knowing exactly what that more is.
And of course, I resisted it. Because really writing felt indulgent. Like wearing silk underwear on a Wednesday. Like calling yourself an artist when nobody’s paying you to be one. Like being Isadora Duncan with her wild scarves and even wilder declarations. Who was I to do that?
I wasn’t that kind of woman. I was practical. Professional. I had invoices to send and people to impress. So I wrote… in the margins. On my Notes app at 2am. Quietly. Secretly. Until recently. Something cracked. Or maybe I just got tired of pretending.
So I made a decision: no more sneaking writer into my bio like an afterthought. I’m a writer. Because I write. Because it’s how I make sense of this strange, beautiful mess of a life. Because it’s the only way I’ve ever truly felt free.
☕ Life, Lately
Outside the writing world, things have been… equal parts magical and ridiculous.
I’ve been moving house (again). I’ve been moving websites (again). I swear I’ve taken instructions from ChatGPT like I’m a five-year-old — not metaphorically, I mean, literally at five-year-old level. (“Now press the green button. No, the other green button…”) A human assistant would’ve given up and gone for a drink by now. But I got there. Goodbye Shopify. Hello Payhip. Hello me ( I know the controversy about using ChatGPT but, frankly, it has its uses).
I’ve been nesting and deleting in equal measure. Closing accounts. Moving digital furniture. Rebuilding my online home so it feels like me — not the brochure version of me. And you know what I realised?
Reinvention doesn’t need a dramatic announcement or a breakdown. Sometimes it’s a quiet choice. A new morning ritual. Cancelling a subscription. Whispering the truth to yourself in the bath.
🔥 What I’m Loving Right Now
Letting things be incomplete. Unfinished ≠ unworthy.
Long walks without a podcast. Silence is so underrated.
The moment you say “no” and mean it — terrifying and addictive.
My new Substack home. Scary to start. Beautiful to build.
That strange confidence that comes from giving fewer f***s. You know the one.
✍🏼 What’s Coming (Sort Of)
To be honest? I’m giving myself permission not to promise exactly what’s next.
I’m done trying to plan every post like a content strategist on caffeine. This season is about writing freely. Showing up unfiltered. Sharing what’s real, when it’s real — the questions I’m living through, the stories I’m remembering, the truths I’m (sometimes reluctantly) uncovering.
Sometimes it’ll be a love letter to change. Sometimes a confessional about ambition, identity, or rage. Sometimes a quiet musing I write in the Notes app at midnight with one eye closed.
I’ll still be here. You’ll still hear from me. But not because a schedule said so. Because I have something I need to say.
For paid subscribers, that means deeper essays — honest, unedited, and unapologetically personal. When they land, you’ll know it was time.
💬 Before You Go...
Here’s a question for you — reply in the comments or journal it for yourself:
👉 Who are you when no one’s watching? And who do you secretly long to be?
That’s the work. That’s the joy. That’s the truth I’m chasing this year. Thanks for being here, for reading, for staying curious with me.
Laura x