Hey Reader,

It’s been a while since I wrote here, and apparently I’ve decided to make my comeback by deleting half of my social media presence. 😅 Instagram is officially gone. Facebook is next, as soon as it finishes giving me back the digital suitcase containing years of photos, posts and whatever else I left scattered there.

And it feels (soooo) good 😌

Not dramatic-good. Not new-life-new-me-burn-everything-and-move-to-Bali good. More like finally clearing a cupboard you’ve been avoiding for two years. You open it expecting some huge emotional event and instead find three things you forgot you owned, one cable that belongs to absolutely nothing, and a shocking amount of space.

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That’s what I’ve been thinking about lately: S P A C E

We talk constantly about wanting new things. A different life. A new project. More creativity. More peace. Better work. More time. More freedom. But here’s the elephant in the room: we are terrible at ending things. We keep saying we want something new while carefully maintaining everything that belongs to the old chapter.

And then we wonder why nothing fits.

Sometimes we’re not even keeping things because we still want them. We keep them because we invested in them. Because they mattered once. Because we were that person for a long time. Because letting go feels wasteful. Because we tell ourselves that with one more push, one more strategy, one more attempt, we might make it work again.

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I think we’ve romanticised “don’t give up” so much that we’ve forgotten there’s intelligence in knowing when to stop. Not everything needs another strategy. Not everything needs fixing. Not everything needs to become unbearable before you’re allowed to leave. Some things are simply done.

Instagram wasn’t a mistake. Facebook wasn’t a mistake either. They were part of my life for years. I met people there. I built things there. I shared huge pieces of myself there. I’m grateful for all of it. I just don’t want to live there anymore. And closing that door doesn’t erase what happened behind it. I keep the people, the memories, the lessons, the version of myself who lived there.

I just stop paying rent. 😅

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That’s the part I think we forget. Ending something is not betrayal. Outgrowing something is not failure. Changing your mind is not proof that the old version of you was stupid.

It means you moved. And if I want room for books, writing, my children, curiosity, random creative projects, ideas I haven’t had yet, and a little more actual life, then something has to leave, right? 🤷🏻‍♀️

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So that’s where I am right now. Closing a few doors. Packing what belongs to the old chapter. Keeping what still matters. Leaving behind what doesn’t. And, probably the hardest part for me, not demanding a full business plan from whatever comes next. 😂

I want to come back here every week and have these little ♥️-to-♥️ Conversations with you. Nothing overproduced, nothing pretending to have all the answers. Just one honest note a week about whatever I’m thinking through, noticing, questioning, learning, or changing my mind about.

If you feel like writing back, tell me this: What are you still maintaining simply because it once mattered to you? And what would have room to enter if you finally let it go?

I’d really love to hear 🫶🏼

Kindly,

Monica 🤗

P.S. If someone came to mind while reading this, send it their way. We all have at least one metaphorical drawer full of useless cables. 😅