Living in Clips

Lately, I’ve been trying to gather my thoughts and put them into words, which is no easy feat for me. I can be most inspired and creative when I should be asleep at night but too tired to act on it, and by day, exhausted and drained from staying awake with my thoughts, it can feel almost impossible to collect them and edit down my words “on paper”.

It’s been exactly six weeks since I became a work-from-home mum after 5½ years of full-time stay-at-home motherhood. Creatively speaking, the mountains I have to climb are steep, and the work ahead feels immense but the transition has been energising. Even as I emerge from what feels like the tail end of the longest burnout, this new chapter is somehow exactly what I knew I needed to begin recovering from that.

I’m currently pouring my heart into relaunching my beloved knitwear brand www.riachistudio.com (the humble brag) before Christmas this year, it is an incredibly exciting project and one I feel truly privileged to be working on.

Alongside that, I have been revisiting my blog archives, sharing old journals and travel imagery: little clips of life between France and Scotland that still feel very much alive to me, and definitely worth sharing in my favourite digital space www.livinginclips.com

In the last few years I have fantasized about writing openly about my life experiences, challenges, and significant revelations of the years since becoming a mother; it always felt like it could translate into a form of self-therapy and a way of finding my voice again. I have even penned myself a book in this fantasy.

Which is why when I discovered Substack and had friends encourage me to use the space to do so – I felt it the right time and transitional phase to bring that into my story as well. But something about it just isn’t sitting right, and I’ve been trying to understand why and where to go from here.

Perhaps I just need to admit defeat, that this kind of personal sharing simply isn’t for me. I’ve realised I do so much better when I keep the book closed and the wall up. Maybe it’s self-preservation, or maybe it’s just how I’m wired. There’s a deep comfort in holding parts of my life close, and making sure they belong only to me.

Natalie Riachi is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

But our world today isn’t built like that. Social media encourages us to overshare even the most intimate parts of our lives, and it often seems that, to be considered successful, people want to hear your story.

Lately, my experiences (and fantasies) have been pushing me to do so, to share these stories and intuitions from my years of motherhood. I think there’s value in the process, in the trying, even if it leads me back to shutting back down again.

Which seems to be how I find myself after I write each article I share. Though, every attempt to open up, even slightly, helps me understand a little more about who I am now, and where I want to go next – I think !?

I’ve learnt things about my character as an adult — the ways I still fall back on familiar comforts rather than daring to make a change or try something new. I enjoy solitude, yet I still crave social connection. But when I do find myself in those settings, I’ve realised how naturally I deflect — how I turn the focus toward others instead of offering pieces of myself. It feels safer that way, though maybe it also keeps me at a distance from the kind of connection I think I truly long for. I wonder to if it is because I don’t care for peoples opinions and judgments – since I have so many of my own already.

Even as I write this paragraph, I catch myself thinking: this is too much oversharing. I should pare it back a bit. Delete, delete, delete.

Isn’t it ironic, I started a Substack with the intention to share the deepest parts of my life through writing without really knowing how to do it, or even feeling entirely comfortable trying. Don’t you think?

I’m trying to accept that maybe sharing doesn’t have to be all or nothing. Though I am stubborn and it’s in my character. I am trying to come to terms with the concept that it can be slow and on my own terms. This is my space and I have full control over it after-all. Some stories will stay private, held close, while I would still like for others to find a way out when and if the time feels right.

I read recently that for the most part people give up just as the going gets tough and it’s usually the point in time where if you want to succeed you actually have to continue through those challenges. It’s often called “the dip” in personal growth or success: the moment when progress feels slow, challenges pile up, and motivation dips. Most people give up here because the effort seems greater than the reward—but if you push through, that’s usually when breakthrough happens.

It’s like climbing a hill: the view is blocked at first, and you might feel exhausted halfway up—but the peak, with the expansive view, is only reached if you keep going. Success often comes to those who are willing to embrace discomfort, uncertainty, and the grind when everyone else has stopped. I am trying to live by this even if it’s tough!

And perhaps that is the point — that the act of writing, even when it feels uncomfortable or imperfect, is less about vulnerability and more about understanding myself, reclaiming my voice, and giving space for the life I’m building now, both as a mother and a creator.

Either that, or I will be issuing refunds in the next few weeks for all your subscriptions. I need to sit with these ideas a bit longer and figure out how to navigate both my thoughts and reality. With the October holidays giving me two weeks as a full-time stay-at-home mum again, I can take the time to reflect (ha!) before diving back into my work and passions.