Having a website, the kind that has your personal domain and looks fancy, is nice. It's attractive and streamline. It's got cool layouts and really neat bells and whistles. It requires some maintenance, regular posting (to justify #3), and money. The reality is, I love what I love: the Enneagram, dabbling in current events, reading, listening to podcasts, and checking in with what's happening in the exvangelical world. I also enjoy talking and writing about them but once I think about posting to the website something shifts in my brain. It becomes complicated. It's no longer enjoyable. Why? Well, various reasons, but I'll share a couple. For one, I see it as opening myself up to criticism and judgement. There's a two-fold answer to this: 1) Duh Vanessa. That's part of posting publicly. 2) True, but also worth it to share your ideas and view of the world. Both are valid. Both are true. Both make me anxious. And secondly, I put way too much pressure on myself to meet some non-existent expectation. I start to think about what it should look like, what the reader might want/think/feel when they get to my page. I worry that it looks dinky or cheesy. I worry about stupid shit. Back to simplicity. Concerning myself with the aesthetics, pages, widgets and what-not of the fancy website is a hinderance to me. Every time I post (well, whenever I finally get around to it) I get distracted with all the above and overwhelm myself. I rob myself of the joy of sharing. Clearly, that's my own issue. But that is what's this is about. My own issue. And my own issue is that I need to remove the things that deter me from writing, posting, and sharing. Removing those things are helping me see more clearly, they are helping me transition to simplicity. During this time in my life, I need simplicity. I need to free up mental and emotional clutter... And it's in little things like this, the tiny steps of transitioning to simplicity, that will help me take giant strides towards cultivating the discipline and discernment that I want to be the hallmarks of my year. I hope this transition helps not only me but encourages you to take stock of places, no matter how teensy, that you might make life simpler for your own wellbeing.