Too Big for My Britches? Blogging, Burnout & What Comes Next

I woke up early this morning and knew a rare Sunday post was brewing. This one might bounce around a bit — the way thoughts do when they’ve been rattling in my brain for a while — but it’s coming from the heart.

First things first.

I love blogging.
I love this community.
I love the flow I feel when I write.
I love having a place to express myself and connect with others.

But lately I’ve been thinking about how I spend my time online, especially in the blogging world.

There’s a quote I’ve carried with me for decades — something Bilbo Baggins says at the beginning of The Lord of the Rings:

I feel thin, sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread.

– J.R.R. Tolkien

Well, I’ve been feeling a bit like Bilbo. (Minus the hairy feet.)

The Shift

A lot has changed.

When I first started blogging, no one was reading. I’d write and hit Publish without expectations. I followed a handful of blogs, but rarely commented. It was quiet, low-key…and lonely. But then — beautifully and unexpectedly — things changed. People found me and many have become dear friends. I discovered lots of great blogs, and started leaving thoughtful comments where I could.

That was the beginning of something special — a community. One I care about deeply.

But here’s the thing: I’m struggling to keep up. I know how meaningful it is when someone engages with my writing, but I’m finding it harder to reciprocate with the same attention and energy. As Matthew says, “The spirit is willing, but the flesh [and schedule, and brain] is weak.“

How can I nurture this community while juggling paid work, unpaid work, and everything in between?

I want to give everyone equal and full attention, but I have to be honest about my limitations. I only have so much time, energy, and emotional bandwidth to go around.

What’s Sustainable?

Here’s where I’m landing: I still want to be the kind of blogger who encourages and supports others — but I’m realizing I can’t do that everywhere, for everyone, all the time. And I’m trying to make peace with that.

It feels strange (maybe even silly?) to talk about burning out (not quite the right term, but it will do for now) on something I enjoy so much. But is it silly? I’m not burning out despite loving it — I’m burning out because I love it, and I’ve poured so much into it.

And because I pour so much into it, I’ve started to wonder: Do I want to be paid for this?

Even typing that feels taboo. Like I’m selling out and have crossed some invisible line between genuine creative passion and something cold and transactional.

Some days, I feel excited by the idea. Other days, I feel like a fraud. I’m not a trained writer. I’ve never taken a creative writing course. My background is in biology, not literature. But I try to write with care, intention, and honesty.

So is this about money?

Validation? Recognition?

Am I wrestling with imposter syndrome?

Maybe it’s a little bit of everything. Or maybe I’m just standing at a fork in the road.

Maybe I’m overthinking things (I’m good at that!) and I should keep seeing this blog for what it has always been — a meaningful, creative outlet, and a connection point to an incredible global community. Can I have both things? (That’s a rhetorical question and I’m still considering the answer; if I can only have one, I pick meaning over money.)

What’s Next?

Right now, I’m most interested in making this online space more sustainable. Some options I’ve been mulling over:

• Writing fewer posts
• Responding to fewer comments
• Reading fewer blogs
• Leaving fewer comments

My gut tells me it’s the last two that need to shift — and that makes me sad. I don’t want to disappear. I don’t want to stop cheering people on. But something has to give. It’s a hard, but necessary, recalibration.

The good news? I’m not burned out on writing. I still love writing. I want to keep posting regularly — not out of obligation, but because I’m happier when I write.

But sometimes, writing feels like the part I have to squeeze in around all the other blogging things.

So here’s where my bloggy priorities are going to land for the next little bit:

• Continue creating (hopefully engaging and meaningful) content.
• Engage — not universally or constantly, but intentionally.
• Be honest about what I can and can’t sustain.
• Tentatively explore ways to earn from writing — without guilt and without losing the fun of it.

This post might feel a little disjointed — and maybe it didn’t all come out just right — but it’s real. It was written from the heart, sitting in the corner of my living room in Nova Scotia on a rainy Sunday morning.

Hugs <3

To those reading quietly: thank you.
To those who comment: thank you.
To anyone else who’s wrestled with creative limits — I’d love to hear how you navigate it all.

I’ll be here tomorrow to talk lighthouses! Feel free to simply look at the pictures. Comment if you like, no pressure. And if you’re feeling stretched in any area of life, I hope you’ll give yourself permission to step back, too.