October is tomorrow… which means we are officially a few months away from the new year and my return to work countdown has quietly started ticking in the back of my mind.

If you have ever been on maternity leave, you know that weird psychological shift that happens around this time. At first, going back feels so far away that it does not even feel real. You are entirely consumed by feedings, daily routines, and trying to keep tiny humans alive while figuring out who you are now.

Then one day you look at the calendar and realize, holy sh*t, where has the time gone?!

Suddenly, you are staring at your laptop wondering how on earth you are going to fit meetings, Slack messages, and deadlines back into your life without dropping everything you built this year.

The grief nobody talks about

There is a very specific kind of grief that comes with the end of mat leave, and I think we do a disservice to women when we pretend it is only about missing your babies.

Of course I am going to miss them. That goes without saying.

The part people talk about less is grieving the version of yourself you found while taking a step back to raise your kids.

This year, between holding my baby, juggling things with a toddler and running around the house, I built a creative business from my desk. I launched products, connected with an incredible community, and learned what it feels like to create entirely on my own terms.

I love having total ownership over my days. I love that if I had thirty quiet minutes in the afternoon, I could spend them designing a new greeting card or writing a piece like this, without checking with a manager or looking at a shared team calendar.

Going back means giving up that autonomy. It means putting on real clothes (waist up because WFH life), opening a work laptop, and realizing that your time is no longer entirely yours.

The weird part: I am actually excited too

Here is the honest confession that feels a little taboo to say out loud.

A small part of me is also looking forward to it…? Is that weird to say?

I have spent over ten years in marketing. I genuinely love strategy, running campaigns, and solving complex problems with a team of smart people.

There is something deeply grounding about adult conversation that does not revolve around snacks or family schedules. There is a specific kind of confidence that comes from entering a meeting, knowing your stuff, and executing at a high level.

Wanting your career back does not make you a bad mom. Just like wanting to stay home in your cozy bubble does not make you unmotivated.

We are allowed to hold both.

What I am protecting in the transition

As the date gets closer, I am setting some very firm ground rules for myself.

I am not burning down my small business. My stationery shop is not going anywhere, and neither is this newsletter.

I am not going to pretend I can do everything at one hundred percent capacity all the time. Going back to work means my creative pockets will get smaller. It means my expectations for daily output have to shift from sprint mode to maintenance mode.

Consistency when you have a 9 to 5 and two kids does not mean creating five hours a day. It means protecting whatever time I can get in the morning, during lunch, and after bedtime to touch the things that light you up.

If you are standing on the edge of a big life transition right now, wondering how you are going to hold onto yourself, you are not alone. We will figure out the rhythm together.

With love,

Sally

If you have ever felt that quiet itch to create something of your own outside your day job, you know that exact feeling of staring at a blank screen and wondering if anyone out there would ever care.

Back in 2020, during the height of pandemic lockdowns, my husband and I were living in our one-bedroom condo. I had my 9-5 marketing job, but with nowhere to go and suddenly a lot of extra hours at home, that creative itch was getting way too loud to ignore.

The fridge box castle era

To be fair, this was not random. I have always been obsessed with stationery, drawing, and greeting cards.

Growing up, I was that kid who spent every lunch period volunteering in the art room, joined art club without hesitation, and turned every school project into an elaborate craft experiment.

Fun fact: in elementary school, my parents bought a new refrigerator, and I dragged the massive cardboard box into the living room to paint an entire castle for our school play. I wish I had a photo to prove it, but smartphones were definitely not a thing back then. Wait, did I just age myself?

So in 2020, I did what felt natural. I pulled out my base-model iPad (the one I used to binge Netflix and do follow-along workouts with), downloaded the Procreate app, and started sketching greeting card designs. I threw up a few listings on Etsy with zero expectations and went right back to my regular routine.

The literal panic of my first sale

Then one random afternoon, my phone went off with a notification: I made a sale.

I kid you not, I practically fell off my chair. Complete disbelief. A total stranger on the internet had just handed over their hard-earned money for something I drew sitting on my couch.

Once the initial adrenaline rush wore off, pure panic set in. Because while I had an idea of how to make greeting cards in theory, in reality I had zero clue about actual logistics.

I had not printed a single card. I had no packaging ready. Nothing. I guess you could say I was a bit of a risk-taker back then, or maybe I didn’t think I’d be able to sell anything.

Soooo I exported my file to a PDF, loaded it onto a USB thumb drive, and ran straight to Staples. I had them print the sheet, rushed home, grabbed an exacto knife and a ruler, carefully trimmed the edges, scored the fold by hand, slipped it into an envelope, and dropped it in the mail.

Looking back, it was messy, chaotic, and completely unpolished. But that one clumsy order was the spark.

Since then, that little experiment has grown into a five-figure business with almost 8,000 orders, all while working a full-time job and raising two young kids.

How it actually scaled without taking over my life

Building a physical product shop on the side can easily eat up every spare second if you let it. Once I proved people wanted what I was making, I had to get smart about how I worked.

Here are the three practical rules that made it sustainable:

1. I stopped reinventing the wheel and built a real fulfillment system

Running to Staples with a USB drive was fine for order number one, but it was not going to work for order fifty.

I set up templates for print-ready files, opened a proper business account at Staples so I could submit print jobs digitally, and created designated inventory days.

I started batch-prepping mailers and packaging supplies in advance so that when orders rolled in, packing took minutes instead of an entire evening.

Oh, and I eventually had to ditch the ruler and exacto knife method cause it was taking way too long cutting every single card. I did it for almost 5 years and it was always stressful lol.

Now I use a guillotine cutter and/or work with local print shops.

2. I put all my energy into search instead of dancing on social media

When you have limited hours outside a 9-5 and family life, you cannot spend three hours a day making trending videos hoping an algorithm blesses you.

I focused on Etsy search intent and SEO. I learned what buyers were actually typing into search bars, used direct descriptive keywords, and let search traffic bring in customers who were already looking to buy.

Search did the heavy lifting in the background while I lived my life.

3. I treated card ideas like inventory and captured them instantly

Almost all of my bestselling cards are inspired by tiny, relatable moments from everyday life, inside jokes, and personal conversations.

The problem is, inspiration hits while you are commuting, folding laundry, or on a work call. The second an idea popped into my head, I jotted it down in my notes app immediately. That way, when I sat down at my desk on an evening or weekend, I never stared at a blank canvas wondering what to draw.

The concepts were already waiting for me.

Teasing what is next

This is just the surface of what goes into building an e-commerce brand alongside a full-time career and motherhood.

In future articles, I will break down the more of the behind the scenes of running it all: how to price physical products so your margins survive, how to source packaging that looks elevated without costing a fortune, how to find high-intent search keywords before you ever design a product, etc.

If you are currently sitting in your living room with a creative itch of your own, take this as your sign: you do not need the perfect setup, a massive audience, or complicated logistics to start. You just need to put your work out there and figure out the rest as you go.

With love,

Sally

If you have spent any amount of time trying to build an audience online, you have probably felt the paralyzing pressure of "picking a niche."

Everyone tells you that you need to niche down immediately. Pick one narrow topic, stick to it, and box your entire online existence into a neat little label.

BUT the problem is, when you force yourself into a niche just because it is trending or seems “easy” to grow in, you almost always run straight into a wall. You end up building an audience around content you secretly dread making.

I have spent the past few months testing, pivoting, and figuring out what I want my own personal brand to stand for. Along the way, I had to make some decisions about what to leave behind, what boundaries to set, and what I actually want to build for the long haul.

Fun fact, but I started out sharing desk setups and cozy hobbies! Let’s go over why I walked away from that, how I navigated family boundaries, and the four questions that will help you find a niche you can sustain for years.

Quick views vs. long-term longevity

When I started creating content again, desk setups and workspace aesthetics felt like an easy, natural starting point.

The content was aesthetic, fun to film, and people on Instagram love workspace inspiration. But as I started looking at the bigger picture, I had to ask myself an honest question:

Where does this actually lead?

If your goal is simply to get views, aesthetic setup videos work great. But if your goal is to build a real brand, create digital products, offer marketing services, or build a business that can be monetized sustainably, you have to think about what happens after someone follows you.

Do I want to talk about monitor risers, desk mats, and cable management for the next three years? No. That is not what I do for a living, and it is not what keeps me up at night excited to create.

Building an audience around a topic you do not want to monetize or build a business around is a trap. You get the followers, but you end up stuck in a box you built yourself.

Why motherhood isn’t my content niche

Another big question I wrestled with was how much of my personal life and motherhood I wanted to share.

As a mom of two, motherhood shapes everything about how I navigate my days. It dictates my schedule, my energy, and the pockets of time I have to build my business. It is a huge part of who I am.

At the same time, protecting my family's privacy is a non-negotiable for me.

I never wanted my kids or my private family moments to become content pillars. I realized that motherhood does not need to be the product I am selling. Motherhood is the real-world context I operate in.

I am not hiding that I am a mom. It is what makes my workflows, time constraints, and building-in-public journey relatable. But the actual value I share is grounded in business, marketing strategy, and content creation.

Owning what you actually do and love

Once I stripped away the surface-level aesthetics and set my personal boundaries, the answer was sitting right in front of me.

I have spent over 10 years in marketing, scaling startups, running paid advertising campaigns and scrappy experiments. I run an Etsy shop that has quietly crossed five figures. I love storytelling, breaking down algorithms, and helping people grow their income without burning out.

That is what I do for a living, and that is what I genuinely love talking about.

When you align your content with your real skills and genuine interests, the pressure to constantly invent new ideas disappears. You are not putting on a performance. You are just sharing what you already know and practice every single day.

Though (and this part I’m still figuring out) I want some kind of lifestyle aspect to it, if that’s even possible. I don’t want to look like a guru, but I want to also be able to share bits and pieces of who I am. Whether that’s my cozy hobbies sprinkled in here and there, or what not. I don’t know. TBD.

The 4 questions to help find your niche

If you are currently feeling lost, pivoting, or trying to define your direction, sit down with a notebook and ask yourself these four questions:

1. What do I genuinely enjoy, and what am I actually good at?

Do not pick a topic just because it is popular right now or trendy. Look at your real-world experience, your career, your hobbies, and the topics your friends ask you for advice on.

2. What could I create 100+ posts about without getting bored or burnt out?

If the thought of making 50 articles or videos about your topic makes you want to close the app and deactivate your account(s) forever, it is not your niche. You need a topic with enough depth and personal excitement that you will not run out of steam in six months.

3. What do I actually want to be known for?

When someone mentions your name or handle to a friend, what is the one sentence you want them to say? If you want to be known as a marketing strategist, stop hiding behind random lifestyle trends.

4. What kinds of brands and clients do I want to work with?

Your content acts as a billboard for the opportunities you attract. If you want to work with creator tech, software tools, or small business platforms, your content needs to speak to that world.

You don’t have to have it all figured out on day one

Finding your lane is an active process. You do not discover your niche by sitting on the couch overthinking it for six months. You discover it by testing ideas in public, noticing what gives you energy, noticing what drains you, and adjusting as you go.

Give yourself permission to test, pivot, and refine until it feels right.

I would love to know: what is a topic or niche you have been considering, but have felt hesitant to jump into? Drop a comment below and let’s talk through it!

With love,

Sally

I need to tell you something funny.

Four posts in, I decided to completely rebrand this newsletter.

When I first launched here, I called it “The Beautiful, Messy In-Between”. At the time, that name felt so accurate to where I was at. I was navigating mat leave, figuring out my next steps in my career, juggling family life, and trying to find my footing again. It felt honest, cozy, and relatable.

And then, four articles later, I paused and realized something important.

I am not always going to be in this in-between stage.

Seasons change, and brands should grow with you

Life moves in seasons. The season of feeling completely in transition, figuring out the basics, and standing between chapters is real, but it is also temporary. As I learn new skills, test new ideas, scale my projects, and step into new opportunities, my life and my work are going to evolve.

I realized that if I named this entire space after a transitional phase, I was locking myself into a box I was already starting to outgrow.

I did not want a brand that only made sense when things felt uncertain. I wanted a home base that could grow right alongside me for the next five, ten, or fifteen years.

So instead of waiting until I had fifty articles published to make a pivot, I decided to rip off the bandaid now.

What this space actually Is

I want this Substack to be a true extension of what I’m are building over on Instagram.

If you follow me on Instagram (@bysally.co), you know I love sharing the practical, behind-the-scenes side of content creation, marketing psychology, and building a small business. I love breaking down the experiments, the analytics, and the exact strategies that help you grow without losing the fun.

Here on Substack, we get to go deeper. We can look at the long-form breakdowns, the full case studies, the workflows, and the honest building-in-public notes that just do not fit inside a 60-second video.

Where motherhood fits in

Here is another thing I wanted to get clear on: motherhood is not going to be a separate, standalone content pillar here.

I am not a parenting coach, and I am not here to give parenting advice. But at the same time, I am never going to hide the fact that I am a mom.

Being a mom is such a huge part of my daily reality. And honestly, I think that is what makes this whole journey so fun and unique.

As moms, we simply do not have the same 24 hours in a day as someone without kids, and that is completely okay. We are not sitting at a desk for uninterrupted 12-hour hustle sessions. Our work happens in focused windows, early mornings, and carefully planned blocks of time.

Because our time looks different, our systems have to look different too.

You need workflows that are realistic, sustainable, and built for real life. You need systems that let you grow your income and build something you are proud of without feeling like you are constantly dropping the ball at home.

That is the perspective I bring to everything I write. Practical marketing strategies and smart business workflows, built for people with real lives, real families, and real time constraints.

The next chapter

If you subscribed when this was “The Beautiful, Messy In-Between”, thank you so much for being here from the very beginning.

We are still going to have open, honest conversations. We are still going to talk about the messy parts of building. But now, we have a space that is built to expand as we grow together.

I would love to know: have you ever started a project or idea and realized early on that you needed to pivot? How did you handle it?

Drop a comment below and let’s chat!

With love,

Sally

I hinted at this in my last post, the one about the thrisis. What happens when you've spent your entire 20s becoming someone, and then life shifts and you don't recognize yourself anymore.

So here we are.

I want to start by going back, because I think context matters

My 20s were loud.

Not in a party way (okay, sometimes in a party way because we have nothing to hide here), but in a volume-of-effort way.

I was always doing something. Always working toward something. I had this hunger that I couldn't turn off, and honestly, I didn't want to.

I worked multiple jobs at the same time for years. I took unpaid internships because I thought that's what you did to get your foot in the door.

I freelanced as a content writer (getting paid $50 per blog post lol) while juggling being a full-time student because the idea of only doing one thing felt like standing still.

I was tired constantly, but I wore it like a badge. I think a lot of us did.

In 2015, I started a lifestyle/beauty blog. Partly because I loved writing, partly because I needed a portfolio that proved I could actually do the thing I was trying to get hired to do. That blog became the foundation for everything. It led to freelance clients, which led to marketing roles, which led to over a decade of climbing a ladder I genuinely wanted to climb.

I knew who I was. I was the girl who was building something. The one who would figure it out, whatever "it" was that week. I had direction. I had momentum. I had a very clear answer to the question "so, what do you do?" and I liked having that answer.

I want to be careful here because I don't want to romanticize burnout. A lot of that decade was hard in ways I didn't fully process at the time. But I also don't want to downplay how much of my identity was wrapped up in the work. Because it was. Almost all of it.

And then I had kids

I need to say something before I go any further, because I know how this reads. This is not a "motherhood ruined my ambition" essay. I love my kids. They are the best thing. I would make the same choice a hundred times over, and I'm not writing this from a place of regret.

I'm writing this from a place of disorientation.

Because here's what nobody really talks about: you can love your life and still not know who you are inside of it.

When my first was born, I remember thinking, okay, everything is different now, but I'll find my rhythm. And I did, eventually. I went back to work. I kept building. I kept my Etsy greeting card shop running (six years and counting, five figures, I'm proud of that). I kept moving.

But with my second, something cracked open. Not in a dramatic, crying-on-the-bathroom-floor way (although sure, that happened too). More in a slow, creeping, wait-who-am-I-actually way.

I'd spent over a decade becoming someone. A marketer. A writer. A builder. A person who always had a next step. And suddenly I was home on mat leave, covered in spit-up at 2pm on a Tuesday, and the question "what do you do?" made me want to leave the room.

Not because being a mom isn't enough. But because I didn't know how to be a person without the forward motion. Without the job title as my anchor. Without the hustle as my identity.

I didn't lose my ambition. I lost my sense of self.

The thing about building your identity around what you do is that it works really well. Until it doesn't.

For ten years, I had a clean story. I'm the one who started from nothing, worked three jobs, freelanced on the side, climbed the ladder, built the career. That story carried me. It gave me confidence. It gave me something to say at family dinners and something to hold onto when things got hard.

But stories like that have an expiration date, and nobody tells you when it's coming.

Because at some point, the chapter changes. And you're standing there with all this momentum and nowhere familiar to point it.

I think what surprised me most was how physical it felt. It wasn't just an abstract existential thing. It was waking up and feeling untethered. It was scrolling LinkedIn and feeling like a stranger looking in. It was someone asking me about my career goals and my brain going completely blank.

I spent my 20s knowing exactly who I was. And now, in my 30s, I'm not sure anymore. That's a strange sentence to write, but it's true.

The reality of things

Here's where I want to be honest about something, because I think there's a version of this essay that ends with "so I quit my job and followed my passion and everything is beautiful now." That's not this essay.

I'm going back to my 9 to 5 in the new year. That's the plan, and I'm at peace with it. I like my career. I've spent over a decade building skills I'm genuinely good at, and I'm not walking away from that. This isn't a "burn it all down" moment.

But I'd be lying if I said this mat leave hasn't changed me.

Because while I've been home, I've also been building. Differently than before, but building. I grew my Instagram from 80 followers to over 4,000 the past 2 months. I started this newsletter. I've been running my Etsy shop, creating content, learning to shoot on my Sony FX30 (just got it and I LOVE IT), and trying to figure out what my voice sounds like when it's not filtered through a corporate brand.

And I think that's the part that's both exciting and terrifying. I'm discovering that there are parts of me I never made room for. Not because they didn't exist, but because I was too busy being the other version of myself to notice them.

The girl who spent her 20s grinding didn't have time for this. She was too focused. Too hungry. Too convinced that the only way to matter was to keep climbing.

I'm grateful for her. She got me here. But I can't be only her anymore.

I don't have a clean ending for this. I don't have five steps to "rediscovering yourself after kids" or a tidy framework for navigating an identity crisis in your 30s. I'm writing this from the middle of it, which is uncomfortable and also kind of the whole point of this newsletter. At least for now because I do want to talk more about marketing and small business stuff.

I'm a mom, marketer, creator and writer. I’m also someone who sells greeting cards on the internet… and I’m still figuring out how all of those things fit together. Or if they even need to.

What I do know is that the version of yourself you spent your 20s building doesn't have to be the final version. And letting go of her doesn't mean she was wasted. It means you're growing, even when growing feels a lot like losing your footing.

I think there's something on the other side of this. I don't know what it looks like yet. But I'm going to keep writing about it while I figure it out.

Next time, I want to talk about what it actually looks like to build something on the side while you still have a full time career. The logistics, the energy management, the guilt, the math. Because I think a lot of us are doing it, and nobody's really talking about how messy it is.

Until then, thank you for being here. It means more than you know.

With love,

Sally

There's a name for what happens in your early 20s when you graduate university/college and suddenly realize that you have no idea what you're doing.

Quarter-life crisis. People talk about it, joke about it, and make TikToks about it.

And then there's the midlife crisis. Everyone knows that one. I don’t even have to explain it.

But what about the thing that happens in between?

Welcome to the third life crisis. The thrisis.

Maybe it was always a thing, but I just didn’t know about it until I started experiencing it myself.

I never really hear anyone talk about it because it doesn't come with a fun stereotype or a clear trigger. It just kind of... shows up. Quietly. While you're doing dishes, scrolling your phone at 11pm or sitting in your car in the driveway for an extra five minutes before walking into the house to work after work.

It's the crisis of being in your late 20s or early 30s and realizing that the life you built, the one you worked REALLY hard for and looks good on paper, doesn't feel the way you thought it would.

I want to be careful here because I'm not writing this from some place of resolution. I don't have it figured out. I'm writing this from the middle of it, which is kind of the whole point of this newsletter.

Here’s where I’m at

I'm 30-something. I'm on mat leave with my second kid. I've been a marketer for over ten years. I have a career that, by most measures, I should be proud of. And I am. But there's this other thing sitting underneath the pride that I can't quite shake.

It's this feeling of... is this it?

Not in a dramatic way. Not in a "burn it all down" way. More like a slow, quiet wondering. Like, I did the thing. I got the degree (and a diploma, yay), I built the career, I got the house, I had the kids. I checked the boxes.

So why do I feel like something is missing?

Don’t get me wrong though. I’m extremely appreciative and grateful of everything that I’ve worked for and have in my life. There’s nothing I’d change because I genuinely love life, but there’s something I can’t exactly explain? I just can’t really put my finger on it.

Ok so our 20s are a blur of building. At least mine were.

I was hustling constantly. I started a blog back in 2015 because I loved writing and I wanted to build my portfolio. I freelanced. I climbed. I said yes to everything. I was hungry in that way you can only be when you're young and don't have anyone depending on you yet. Every opportunity felt like it could be the one that changed everything, and honestly, some of them were.

There's an energy to your 20s that I don't think you can replicate. You're building from nothing and it's terrifying, but also kind of thrilling. You don't know what you don't know, which is a superpower when you're starting out. You just go.

And then at some point, you arrive. Or you think you do.

You get the job, the promotion, the salary, or whatever marker you were chasing. And there's this moment where you expect to feel... done? Settled? Like you can finally exhale.

But the exhale doesn't come. Or it does, and then a week later you're restless again.

Motherhood <> thrisis

I think motherhood accelerates the thrisis in a way that catches you completely off guard.

Because here's the thing about having kids… Having kids doesn't just change your schedule, your body or your sleep. But it completely changes your relationship with yourself.

Before kids, my identity was pretty straightforward. I was a marketer, a writer, and someone who was building a career. I knew who I was in a room and I knew what I was working toward.

After kids? I genuinely didn't know how to answer the question "what do you do?" anymore.

Because technically I’m on mat leave, but I also run an Etsy shop, and I'm building a personal brand online, and I'm still a marketer, but I'm also just... a mom standing in her kitchen at 2pm wondering when she last had a thought that wasn't about someone else's needs.

Motherhood cracks you open. And all the questions you were too busy to ask in your 20s come flooding in. What do I actually want? Not what was I supposed to want. Not what looks good.

I didn't expect mat leave to be the thing that forced me to confront that question. I thought it would be a pause. A “rest”. Well, not really because when do mothers actually rest? When can we actually sleep when the baby sleeps?

Instead it became this strange, disorienting space where I had just enough time to think and just enough distance from my career to realize I'd been running on autopilot for longer than I wanted to admit.

There’s no urgency though

The thrisis is tricky because it doesn't feel urgent enough to act on. It's not a breakdown. It's not rock bottom. It's more like a persistent hum in the background of your days.

You can ignore it. Most people do, for a while. You stay busy, you keep going, you tell yourself this is just what adulthood feels like.

But it's not just adulthood. It's a specific kind of reckoning that happens when you've been building long enough to step back and ask whether you're even building the right thing.

And I think a lot of women in particular experience this quietly. Because we've been told that wanting more is greedy, or that questioning a good life is ungrateful, or that being a mom should be enough. So we swallow the restlessness and keep going.

I don't think the answer is to quit your job or blow up your life. I also don't think the answer is to just be grateful and push through. I think the answer is somewhere in the messy middle, which, again, is kind of the whole premise of this newsletter.

What am I building?

I started building all of this, whatever this is, during mat leave because I need something that is mine. Not my employer's. Not my family's. Mine.

A corner of the internet where I could write, create and think out loud about the things I’m going through that I’m sure many of you can relate with.

That's what the thrisis does. It makes you reach for something, even when you don't know what you're reaching for yet.

I'm still in it. I want to be honest about that. I don't have a tidy ending for this essay because I don't have a tidy ending for this season of my life.

I'm going back to work in the new year. I'm raising two small humans. I'm running a greeting card shop, building a personal brand, writing this newsletter and just trying to figure out what actually want my life to look like on the other side of all this.

Some days that feels exciting. Some days it feels overwhelming. Most days it feels like both at the same time.

If you're reading this and something in it sounds familiar, I want you to know that you're not being dramatic. You're not ungrateful. You're not having a crisis in the way anyone else needs to understand or validate.

You're just in the in-between. And the in-between is uncomfortable, but it's also where all the good stuff gets built.

You're not alone in it.

With love,

Sally

I need to talk about something that's been living rent-free in my head for weeks.

You've seen the videos of people announcing that they quit their 9-5 jobs with no backup plan in pursuit of trying to make something out of content creation.

And the comments are always the same: "SO inspiring", “This is the sign I needed!", "Manifesting this energy!"

And no, I'm not here to hate on anyone's journey. If you quit your job and end up making 5-figure months, that is honestly amazing for you! Seriously. I applaud you!

BUT can we take a step back and have an honest conversation about how that narrative leaves out... a lot?

Because every time I see one of those videos, I think about the mom watching it at 11pm while her baby sleeps on her chest. The one who's been dreaming about building something of her own but also has a mortgage, daycare costs that rival a second mortgage, and a partner who'd have a very reasonable panic attack if she came home and said "I quit today, babe. We're just going to trust the universe on this one."

That mom deserves a different conversation.

So here it is.

And before I go any further, let me be clear about something: This isn't a "follow your passion and leave it all behind" story. This is a "build something meaningful alongside the life you already have" story. Because that's the version most of us are actually living.

The romanticized version vs. the reality

Social media has created this very specific narrative around entrepreneurship and content creation: that the brave thing, the only brave thing, is to burn the boats. Leap and the net will appear. Quit the soul-sucking job. Bet on yourself.

And it makes a great 30-second video. It really does.

But you know what I want to see? The woman who kept her full-time job while waking up at 5am to work on her side business for two years before she had enough revenue to leave. The mom who used her mat leave… not to "rest" (lol, what rest?)… but to quietly test a business idea between feeds and naps and trying to remember the last time she showered. I may or may not be speaking from experience.

That version isn't cinematic. But it's the version most of us are actually living.

Here's what I think gets lost in the "just quit" narrative:

The financial reality

Most families can't absorb the loss of an income while someone "figures it out." We got kids to feed, y'all. Groceries are genuinely unhinged right now. The math has to math before the dream can dream.

The mental load

Moms are already running operations for an entire household. Adding "build a business from scratch with zero income" to that mental load isn't brave. It’s probably a recipe for burnout. And I say that with love, not judgment.

The privilege gap

A lot of the "I quit with no plan" stories come from people who have a safety net they're not showing you. A partner with a high income. Family money. Savings from a decade in tech. That's not a moral failing, but pretending it doesn't exist is dishonest.

The timeline lie

Content creation and online business take time to monetize. We're talking months, usually years, before it replaces a salary. The posts that make it look instant are showing you the highlight reel of a very long, very unsexy process.

None of this means you shouldn't want it. It just means the path there might look different than a trending audio would have you believe.

So what can you actually do?

Okay. Here's where I refuse to leave you feeling deflated. Because I didn't write this to crush anyone's dream. I wrote it because I think moms deserve a roadmap that actually works for our lives, not a fantasy that only works in a content house in LA with no dependents and a ring light budget.

If you're a mom who wants to build something, whether through content, a business, a creative project, or a whole new career, here's what I'd tell you if we were sitting across from each other with coffees that are definitely getting cold because one of our kids just threw a shoe.

1. Start before you're ready, but don't start by quitting

The best time to build something new is while you still have the safety net of your current income. I know it's exhausting. I know you're already stretched thin. But even one hour a week on your thing is more than zero hours. And those hours compound.

I started my Etsy shop six years ago while working full-time in marketing. Six years. I didn't quit anything to do it. I just... started. Messily. Slowly. Between everything else. And it became a five-figure business that I often run from my dining room table.

That's not a flex. That's proof that the "build on the side" approach actually works and it's just not as quotable as "I burned it all down and rose from the ashes."

2. Use the season you're in

Mat leave, if you're on it, is a weird and wild window. You're sleep-deprived, hormonal and healing… and somehow also supposed to be soaking in every moment. I get it. I'm literally here right now, sitting on my donut pillow for the second time around.

But mat leave is also a pause from your regular work identity. And in that pause, there's space to ask: what do I actually want to go back to?

You don't have to launch a business on mat leave. But you can research. You can learn. You can start an Instagram account and post when the baby naps. You can test an idea with zero pressure because there's no deadline except the one you set.

I used this mat leave to finally build the personal brand I'd been thinking about for years. And yeah, some of those posts were written one-handed while nursing. The bar for "productive" is different right now, and that's fine.

3. Monetize skills you already have

Here's what I see a lot of moms do: they decide they want to build something online, so they try to become someone entirely new. New niche, new skills, new everything.

But you probably already have marketable skills. You just haven't packaged them yet.

Were you a project manager? You can freelance.

Were you in marketing? Businesses are literally always looking for help with content.

Are you organized to a terrifying degree? Virtual assisting is a real thing that pays real money.

You don't need to reinvent yourself. You need to repackage yourself.

I spent 10+ years in marketing, growing startups and writing content. When I started freelancing on the side, I didn't learn a new trade. I just started offering the skills I already had to people who needed them. The barrier to entry was basically: throw up a scrappy portfolio site, email five people, and see what happened.

It wasn't glamourous. But it was income. And income buys you options.

4. Build proof, not plans

I see so many aspiring creators and entrepreneurs get stuck in the planning phase. The perfect brand name. The perfect website. The perfect launch strategy. Honestly, I’ve done this way too many times too.

Meanwhile, someone else just posted a slightly unhinged Instagram reel from their car and got 50 new followers.

You don't need a business plan. You need proof of concept. Post the content. Sell the thing. Offer the service. See if anyone bites. You can refine later, but you can't refine something that doesn't exist yet.

When I started posting on Instagram, I didn't have a content strategy mapped out in a Notion board. I had a phone, some opinions about marketing and growing an Etsy shop, and the audacity to think someone might care. Grew from 80 to 3,000+ followers in under a month. Not because I had a perfect plan, but because I just started showing up.

5. Protect your runway

This is the unglamourous one. The one nobody makes a reel about… Though I am seeing more creators show up transparently about how they’re affording to make the leap so kudos to that!

Before you even think about leaving a stable income, you need a financial cushion. I'm not talking about "manifesting abundance". I'm talking about actual money in an actual savings account in case shit hits the fan because we have to be responsible, right?

The general wisdom is 3-6 months of expenses. For moms, I'd honestly say aim for more, because kids are expensive human beings who will need new shoes the exact week your biggest client ghosts you.

Build the side income. Save aggressively. Get to a point where leaving your job feels like a calculated decision, not a desperate leap. The leap is so much less scary when you've already built the bridge halfway across.

6. Stop comparing your chapter one to someone else's chapter twenty

That creator with 500K followers who's living the dream? She's been doing this for seven years. That mom who built a six-figure business? She started with a $50 product and her mom as her first customer.

You don't see the years of work, the failed attempts, the posts that got 3 likes, the launches that flopped. You almost always only see the “after”/ And comparing your before to someone else's after is the fastest way to quit before you've even started.

Your timeline is yours. It's supposed to look different.

You don't have to burn it down to build something new

Here's what I really want you to take away from this:

The fact that you can't quit your job tomorrow doesn't mean you're not brave. It doesn't mean you don't want it enough. It doesn't mean you're settling.

It means you're a grown woman with responsibilities, and you're choosing to build something sustainable instead of something reckless. That's not the consolation prize. That's the smart play.

I am living proof that you can build things on the side, in the margins, in the messy in-between of motherhood (hence the publication name, heh) and full-time work, along with all the chaos that comes with it. My Etsy shop. My freelance work. This newsletter. My Instagram. None of it required me to dramatically quit anything. It just required me to keep showing up, even when showing up looked like 30 minutes at my laptop after bedtime.

And when my mat leave ends and I go back to work in the new year? I'll still be building. Because that's the whole point. You don't need to choose between a career and a creative life. You just need to stop waiting for one to end before the other can start.

You can want more and also be grateful for what you have. You can build slowly and still build something real. You can be a mom, a creator, an entrepreneur and a whole human who sometimes just wants to watch Netflix and eat cereal for dinner.

Those things can all be true at the same time.

So if you're the mom watching those "I quit" videos and feeling like you're already behind, you're not. You're just on a different path. And honestly? It might be the better one.

You got this.

With love,

Sally

You've got maybe 40 minutes. The house is quiet. You open your phone, scroll past the reels you saved, and sit there thinking about everything you actually want to say out loud but can't figure out how to fit into 60 seconds of trending audio.

The caption you trimmed. The story behind the story. The real version that didn’t make the final edits before hitting publish.

If that sounds familiar, this newsletter is the place I'm building for exactly that.

Why I'm here (the short version)

I've been a writer way longer than I've been a content creator. I started a blog back in 2015, still in school studying marketing and digital communications, and that turned into years of freelance content writing, putting other people's ideas into words for a living.

Writing has always been the thing I come back to.

Right now I'm on mat leave with my second, running an Etsy greeting card shop I've had for six years, posting on Instagram, and quietly building things in the background.

And the more I build, the more I realize I have things to say that don't fit in a reel or a 2,200 character caption.

So this isn't me jumping on a newsletter trend. This is me coming back to the thing I've always loved.

What you'll actually get here

I'm calling this The Beautiful, Messy In-Between, because that's exactly where I am, and I think a lot of you are too.

Not at the beginning. Not at some big arrival. Somewhere in the middle, building something while also living a full life that doesn't pause so you can figure it out.

Here's what I'll be writing about:

Building a creative life

What it actually looks like to make things when your longest uninterrupted window is 45 minutes, at best because there always seems to be a new sleep regression or leap happening.

I’ll be sharing the experiments, the tools, and the creative energy that comes and goes. Think personal branding, growing online, exploring old and new creative passions, and all the fun stuff.

Making money because life is expensive and we all want to be wealthy

I have multiple streams of income that aren’t huge, but they’re something. I’ll be sharing how I make income outside of my 9-5 so you can learn from my experiences and grow something of your own.

We’re talking about… What it costs to run an Etsy shop and what I'm learning about building income streams that don't require me to be online 24/7. The honest numbers, not just the wins.

And fyi, I’m not going to be sharing ways for you to get rich overnight or “ask ChatGPT for a list of ideas that I can pop into an AI generator tool to start making today”.

We’re all about sustainable, realistic growth here. We got kids to feed, y’all.

Marketing without the fluff

I'm a marketer by trade. I'll share what I'd actually tell a friend over coffee about growing online, not the recycled "post consistently and add value" advice you've already heard.

And it’ll be digestible and easy to understand because we’re 3 coffees in and our brains can only handle so much more.

Motherhood and ambition

For anyone who's tired of choosing between being a good mom and being ambitious. Both exist at the same time.

Yes, it's messy but it’s worth talking about. That’s the whole point of this, right?

The in-between diaries for anyone who cares

The personal stuff. The weeks that don't have a tidy lesson. The things I'm figuring out in real time.

I’m not a well-known content creator or influencer. Heck, I don’t even think my next door neighbours know my name. But that’s what will make this honest and real. I’m not here to sugar coat things because I literally have no one I’m trying to impress.

Who this is for

This is for the women who want to make money, make things, try new ideas, and build something of their own without waiting for the "perfect" season to start.

Those who don't have a five year plan but do have a notes app full of half-formed ideas and a lot of energy.

If Instagram is the storefront, this is the living room.

So pull up a chair (maybe with your donut pillow sitting on top if you’re freshly postpartum, iykyk) because we’re about to get comfy and situated.

I don't have a content calendar for this, but I do have a long list of things I've been wanting to say.

So let's start there.

With love,

Sally