Vegan Corn Cakes & Too Many Holes

Vegan Corn Cakes

(Please hit the jump to recipe button above to head straight for the Vegan Corn Cakes!)

I realize that not everyone sees COVID-19 as a giant opportunity for growth. I also realize that there are a lot of humans out there who just want to get through it–survive it–as quickly as they can. And while I’ll certainly be grateful just to get through the whole mess, too, I see this crisis from a much different perspective. Let’s get through it, sure, but let’s also come out better on the other side.

And after twenty-six days of lockdown here in Connecticut, I’m wondering if we (as a society) are either doing okay enough spiritually/emotionally to endure further lessons, or…just the opposite. It’s possible that we’re even failing, or at the very least not living up to our potential. And to prod us along (in her not-so-subtle way), maybe Mother Nature figured that we needed some additional troubles tossed in our path. You know, just one or two more obstacles to navigate–say, a whirling funnel of meteorological destruction–in case we weren’t already occupied enough.

Of course, I prefer to imagine the first option. The one that says we’re doing so fabulously that we’re reaching new tiers, and consequently, new lessons. Moving forward. Learning from our mistakes. Growing and breaking old habits that were in dire need of breaking. That’s the positive part of me, taking the reins as it so gallantly likes to do.

But then that part is quickly usurped by the reality of my current news fast, taken to preserve my sanity (and optimism). A fast made necessary after being continually bombarded by bold headlines that seem to delight in the fact that some individuals appear to be doing anything but reaching new tiers of understanding or making any discernible forward progress. Who, on most days, seem to excel at directing us (or at least our gaze) backwards. And in those moments, when the frustration increases exponentially, the hope that we’ve already learned from this starts to quickly ebb.

The Hard Way

Consequently (and for only a minute), I’m forced to take off my rose-colored glasses and look at the human race more objectively. Are we so obtuse that we can only learn through pain and suffering? And does it have to be this way? Must we be violently and repeatedly knocked down before changes are willingly made?

Looking back over my own life, I hate to admit it, but this has often been the case for me. And it makes me wonder if far too many of us have inherited some kind of genetic defect passed down through the eons. A mutation that signals to our brains (or our hearts?): Let’s not waste time with a gentle approach; we can only learn the hard(est) way. If this is evolution, it makes me wonder if maybe we’re heading in the wrong direction. And if that’s the case, then what’s the fastest way to turn things around?

Because it just seems like a pandemic should be enough. Enough of an incentive for growth without having to throw in tornadoes, severe weather, demolished homes, and more deaths on top of everything else. I mean, people in the south (on Easter Sunday, for crying out loud) were forced to retreat from cyclones–together, while at the same time, apart–making a valiant attempt to adhere to the rules of social distancing in a situation that demanded otherwise. Seems a little bit like adding insult to injury, you know?

She Was a Lovely Tree

And sadly, even with all of my non-stop thinking and doing and talking of change, I wasn’t above needing an extra push on top of the corona punch, either. Sure, it was a much less violent push than a cyclone, but it still had to happen before I could commit to a decision that I’ve been dragging my feet on for months. I was content (enough) to keep on diligently ignoring it for as long as I could, even though I knew it was hurting me. Even though I knew the change would be good for me.

Gratefully, I was spared the tornadoes, but the wind still made an awesome show of things here. First, by toppling a tree in our backyard before then tearing up the road to split another neatly in half. The first caused no damage (except that she was a lovely tree), whereas the second made more of an impact as it crashed down on our power lines, effectively leaving us without electricity for the next fifteen hours.

And as I let myself be hypnotized by the pouring rains and the howling winds, I couldn’t help but wonder…what’s coming next?

Why Are We Surprised?

I don’t believe in accidents or coincidence. And I definitely don’t believe in luck or chance. But what I do believe in is karma; not only on an individual level, but also on a collective one. What this whole crisis means to me is that some degree of debt is due. And I think it’s crazy to blame God for the happenings in our world when I feel like all we have to do is take a quick (and honest) look around to find the real culprits.

As a general rule, humans live with no thought to tomorrow, and yet we’re surprised when the consequences of our actions finally catch up with us. Who can we point the finger at? Who can we we punish? Because somehow it never seems to be our fault. Pretty weird, actually, how there’s consistently someone else to blame.

While on the one hand this pandemic is shocking, on the other, it doesn’t surprise me at all; in fact, I think that something large scale was inevitable. We do a lot of bad things. All the time. Do we think that there will never be a price to pay? Or are we just hoping that future generations will be the ones to bear the brunt of our greed and utter disregard?

Until What?

And the other day, listening to the winds roar, I marveled at how big this all had to get before it was big enough to get (and hold) our attention. As if rampant death and disease aren’t hard enough, let’s throw in complete social isolation to make things a little bit more overwhelming. And then on top of that, how about we reduce, or even eliminate, your income. Indefinitely. Still feeling okay? What if we toss in 60+ tornadoes? Maybe a flash flood or two? Are you listening yet? And slowly, one by one, our safety nets are disappearing.

Until we’re left with what?

Holding On

As another month of lockdown stretches before us, what more will I–will we all–be given the opportunity to understand? How many more times do we need to be shown that we’re not running the show here? How many more disasters before we learn to play nice, cooperate, and compromise? Can we un-create some of our bad choices? Can we stop stomping around like bullies and walk more gently? More kindly? More humbly? Do we really need continued lessons before we learn to respect Mother Nature and live in harmony with her?

(Sorry, that was a lot of questions. Let me just slip my rosy glasses back on before I continue…)

But truthfully, I’m tired of being obtuse and learning the hard way; I’m even more tired of repeating the same lessons over and over again. I’ve decided I don’t need to find out the “until what” part; I’m ready to make changes now. So when that pine tree snapped the other day and plunged us into darkness, I figured more of those nifty little growing opportunities were headed my way. I was right, but this change is surprisingly hard, and I’m going to second-guess myself right up until this is published. It’s why I needed those hurricane force winds; sometimes a push is a much-needed blessing when it comes to making a difficult change.

So Many Holes

But before I launch into that most recent change of mine, I’m going to spin you an analogy. Initially, this metaphor started off with how I was a leaky bucket, but not only did that not quite fit, it didn’t make a whole lot of sense, either. I mean, who wants to be a useless leaky bucket? It was kind of dumb, so I searched around until I came up with something better. (Bear with me, because this one probably sounds kind of dumb, too.) Which I did: I’m a watering can. Which is way more useful than a broken bucket. (I hope.)

So I’m a watering can, right? And each night as I sleep, I’m slowly filled with water (which translates to: my energy reserves are restored), and by the time I wake up each morning, I’m recharged and ready to tackle the day. I immediately get to the business of watering, but there are a lot of little plants that need me, and I’m generally occupied right up until I climb back into bed again that night. If I’m careful about what I choose to water, I’ll have enough to get me through the day. Easily. But sometimes I lose track, and waste precious droplets without really meaning to. Let’s face it, there are a lot of distractions in the world, and the water flows easily (sometimes too easily) through each of those little holes.

Flowers or Weeds?

One hole releases energy to my husband, another to each of my girls. There’s the hole that dumps incredible amounts of energy into this blog. One hole gives directly to God. Another to Guru. Another to Jesus. One flows to family and another to friends. One hole manages this house. A hole (or two) flows to cooking. Lately, one little hole has been devoting excessive amounts of water to perfecting a dang mascara recipe. Another hole (which appears to be nearly clogged) dribbles out into this business of mine. One hole leaks out into Instagram. So much energy, so many holes.

You get what I’m saying, right? Because everyone has holes–we’re all like little watering cans. And however your life is arranged, your energy is pouring out into multiple outlets and watering a variety of plants. Some look like flowers, others are just seeds or tiny sprouts; a few suspiciously resemble weeds, while others are towering trees. Some of these seeds we willingly plant and tend, but sometimes they’re more of an invasive species. Like a bittersweet vine that just steadily, sometimes unknowingly, takes over and drains our water supply.

And with all of these little holes leaking energy everywhere, by the end of the day my can is pretty empty. Too empty, I realized, to allow anything to really flourish. I mean, sure, I (usually) get all of the watering done, but it seems to be only enough to keep most things alive. My water is spread so thin that a lot of things aren’t really thriving.

Which leads me to the awareness that something must have gone wrong. Have I sprung a leak? Is my water bad? Am I a defective watering can? Or just a really bad gardener? What was the wind trying to tell me?

You’ve got too many holes. (She literally screamed this. Because I’m obtuse.)

Never Been my Forte

If you follow me on Instagram, then you’re well aware that social media has never been my forte. The fact that I’ve managed to stay there for over two years now is really nothing short of a miracle. And while it seems that a lot of people appear to enjoy the constant movement, I’m not one of them. Instead of finding it exhilarating or exciting, I find it relentless. And exhausting. The energy suck is so strong that there are some days that it leaves me feeling like my watering can is virtually empty–and it’s only 10:00 in the morning. No wonder my other plants can’t grow; I’ve only got dregs left to give them. And they don’t want dregs. They want water.

Understanding how it so thoroughly drains me, I’ve tried on several occasions to take my leave. Around this time last year I said my goodbyes (for the first time); I even wrote about it here. But then things didn’t go quite the way that I thought they would and my fond(ish) farewell didn’t really end up as much more than a temporary goodbye. More of a see you later. In like, an hour.

But for the love of my Instagram family, I tried to make it work, I really did. Until I burnt out (again) and tried to leave (again). And unexpectedly found myself stuck in the same pattern on repeat: Try, fail, be convinced to stay. Try, fail, be convinced to stay. I think this happened at least three times, if I remember correctly (they all kind of blur together), but it may have been more. The real question is: Why isn’t everyone sick of me yet? Why aren’t they begging me to leave already? I sound like a broken record, for crying out loud, and I’m even tired of listening to myself.

Tiny Sips

I know that to a lot of people Instagram probably seems like a small and insignificant hole. But personally, I’ve found that it demands excessive amounts of my energy because there is always, always something happening. A story reaction, a like, a comment, a message. There is always something to respond to or acknowledge, and each time I do that, it takes water away from the plant I was already trying to tend (often this blog; sometimes my husband; once in a while my lunch). So instead of a nice long drink, all that my pretty little flowers get are tiny sips. As evidenced by all of the “mostly finished” projects languishing in my life, it’s enough of a sip to sustain, but not enough to grow. Or really bloom.

And maybe that’s good enough for some, but not for me. I prefer to walk away from projects, relationships, or even meals knowing that even if it wasn’t done to perfection (and maybe even miserably “failed”), at least I know I did the best I could. And doing the best I could leaves no room for regret, which I try and reserve absolutely no water for.

In many ways, this Instagram journey has been great for me. These past two years have taught me a lot, toughened me considerably, and helped me to identify and overcome parts of my personality that I don’t like. Some of them were parts that I didn’t even know were there. I could go on about this forever, actually, but as I said, broken record. I’ve done this farewell thing too many times. And mainly I wrote this all down here for one very special person that I assume reads each and every post I write. (I’m talking to you, JG. I love you.)

Under the Cover of Night

But I’ve learned my lesson, there is no “saying goodbye” on Instagram. The only way to leave is silently, under the cover of night. Preferably during a power outage when the stars shine brighter and the silence is more profound. I keep treating my Instagram problems like they’re something I need to overcome, but maybe I’ve been looking at things all wrong. Maybe it’s not so much about winning as it is about releasing. I think maybe I’ve been holding on, resisting change, when it’s really just time to let it go and move on.

So in order to utilize my water more effectively, I’m deactivating my Instagram account. While on the one hand, this is incredibly easy, on the other hand, it’s not. Because there are people involved. People who I love and who have shown me endless support. And there’s this twinge, this apprehension of whether or not I’m even doing the right thing. To honor that, I’ve decided not to completely delete the account, simply allow it to sleep. And if somewhere down the line my water supply miraculously multiplies, then I can slip back in. Unnoticed. And we can all just pretend like I never left at all.


The power came back on around 5:00 the next morning, only about fifteen hours after we’d lost it–truly, it was an obstacle so small as to be almost nonexistent. And yet, it was still somehow big enough to get my attention. (Does this maybe mean I’m learning? One can only hope…) The night had been restless; the damp humidity made it uncomfortable and hard to sleep. The snoring of my husband made it even harder. But as the birds sang, and the now cool and dry breeze blew in from the cracked window, I felt an unexpected burst of joy. Simplify. Simplify.

And then simplify some more.

That Ever Was

Maybe all I really want is to be a superb watering can, you know? I’d much rather have just a handful of beautiful, healthy, and thriving flowers instead of a whole garden full of leggy weeds. I want to do the things that I chose to do really, really well. So maybe I don’t accomplish “great” things in my life, but what I do accomplish will be done with a whole heart and with full attention. And no regrets. And perhaps on my tombstone it will read: Here lies the most efficient watering can that ever was.

So right now I’m figuring out which plants need tending and where my water will flow. I knew stepping into 2020 that this year was going to be an important one for me, and despite the chaos in the world right now, I still feel the same. Even more the same, actually. It feels like a pivotal time, maybe even a critical one, because I know I can live this life better and more fully; I’m sure of it. And 2020 is graciously showing me how.

Are you listening yet?

You bet I am (says the watering can who wanted to be a bucket). And now if you’d only be a dear and hit the Publish button for me, that would be really, really great. Because I’m not sure I can; I’m having trouble seeing it through these lovely rose-tinted glasses…

Have a beautiful weekend, my friends. Love & many blessings ~ Melinda

Vegan Corn Cakes

Vegan Corn Cakes

Vegan Corn Cakes
Prep Time
20 mins
Cook Time
10 mins
Total Time
30 mins
Course: Side Dish
Cuisine: Vegan
Keyword: Vegan Corn Cakes
Servings: 6 cakes
Calories: 299 kcal
Author: Melinda
  • cups oat flour
  • 1 teaspoon baking powder
  • ½ teaspoon ground coriander
  • ½ teaspoon ground cumin
  • ½ teaspoon sea salt
  • 1 cup creamed corn (see below)
  • ½ cup chia egg (or flax egg. See below)
Creamed Corn
  • 1 cup corn kernels
  • ½ cup plant-based milk
  • 1 teaspoon brown rice flour
  • 1 teaspoon coconut oil (melted)
  • 1 teaspoon maple syrup (or a dash of stevia)
To Make Creamed Corn
  1. 1. Add the corn kernels and milk to a saucepan; bring to a boil. Reduce the heat, add the sweetener, cover, and simmer for 5 minutes.

  2. 2. Add the flour and oil to a small skillet; stir continually over medium heat until the mixture starts to bubble and slightly thicken.

  3. 3. Pour the flour/oil mixture into the corn kernels and milk. Cook for an additional 1-2 minutes or until thickened and creamy. (This will thicken even more if left to sit for an additional several minutes. Keep covered but removed from the heat.)

To Make Corn Cakes
  1. 1. Add the flour, baking powder, coriander, cumin, and salt to a mixing bowl; stir well.

  2. 2. Add the creamed corn, chia egg, and water to the dry ingredients; mix thoroughly.

  3. 3. Heat 1-2 tablespoons of oil in a large skillet, and using a ¼ cup, pour the batter into the hot oil. Cook for about 2 minutes or until the underside is golden. Turn over, flatten with a spatula, and cook until the other side is golden, and the cake is cooked through. Serve hot and crispy.

To Make A Chia Egg
  1. Grind 2 tablespoons of chia seed in a small coffee grinder. Add the ground seeds to a small bowl and pour in 1 cup of water; whisk immediately. Let the mixture sit for about 5 minutes or until the seeds have thickened nicely into a gel. ¼ cup of chia egg is equal to 1 egg. Store all leftovers in covered container in the refrigerator for up to 1 week.

Recipe Notes

Grinding 1¼ cups of rolled oats will equal the same amount of oat flour. A small coffee grinder does the trick beautifully!

For more vegan deliciousness, please visit my Recipes page, or check out my vegan cookbook, Compassion Tastes Better!

8 thoughts on “Vegan Corn Cakes & Too Many Holes

  1. Beautiful blog post! I loved reading this and can relate on so many levels. I’m a repeated social media de-activator myself. There’s nothing wrong with taking the time out to fill yourself up more. Much love, Jilly

    1. Thanks, Jilly. I’m not surprised you can relate, lol. The most unfortunate thing is that I got off just as you got back on! 😣 Disappointing, but I’ll steal Riley Mae’s phone occasionally and catch up on you! 😘 When I left Facebook (so, so long ago), I never had the slightest desire to return. I disliked the energy so much it was never even an option. But even though I’ve never felt the same distaste for Instagram, today feels like a huge load has been lifted. We’ll see what the future brings, because it always takes me by surprise 😉 Love you. “See you” on Sunday 💕

  2. Social media has always been draining for me, as well. I’ve done the whole back and forth thing over the years- too many times to count- but, I always feel better when I release the “need” to be on there- “seen” and heard by so few who actually understand. My thought is, if the reality of the necessity of release keeps continuously biting me in the butt to get me to listen, maybe I should listen? Until next time, anyway.

    My biggest hurdle right now is more in line with the beginning of your beautiful post. So. Many. Lessons/Opportunities. So many people suffering- the media plays it off as needlessly, but maybe it IS necessary to open more eyes, minds and hearts?

    Prior to the pandemic, I was perfectly content with my “love and light” attitude which took me a decade of suffering to finally experience and embrace. Maya was always looming in the background, trying to draw me in. But not even the death of a close family member kept me back in it for long. I found my way out. All the world is a stage, and all that jazz. The light found me again, and despite deep pain and mourning of the loss of someone so significant, I was okay. More than okay. I felt free.

    Enter COVID-19. That love and light attitude shone brightly the first month of lockdown! (I live in the first community in the US to actually take action before any others- and our numbers reflect that.) I wasn’t too far out of my element, not having many friends to hang out with, my social interaction included mainly my husband and children, a single friend and the sweet cashiers I’ve grown to love at my local grocer. So bedsides the masks we all now wear, tape on the floors to enforce social distancing at the store, limited numbers allowed in stores at a time…. my life really hadn’t changed much. My husband’s company is actually benefiting from this economic crisis, and I have a lot to be grateful for. And I am. (I fear this comment will be as long as your post. I do have a point.)

    So when my surrounding neighbors (yes, plural) throw parties in the midst of a shelter in place order, and I see my children’s neighborhood friends outside playing together… multiple families, or I walk through my neighborhood and see people gathering in camp chairs in the driveway- NOT 6 feet apart or wearing masks- but drinking out of SOLO cups and ignoring all sound scientific advice and requirements- Maya throws her dark cloak over me once again. Fear creeps in. Not to mention- moral OUTRAGE. It’s one thing to have a president who doesn’t even know that antibiotics aren’t for viruses. But to live in a (safe, seemingly intelligent and well-off) community and see its members display such ignorance, arrogance and selfishness amidst all this… I forget that we are merely in a dream. I forget that nothing is by accident. I forget that there is a greater plan we simply can’t be aware of. Intellectually, I get it- but I don’t feel it like I did in times of less turmoil. How do we get there? How do I not lose more sleep because I am surrounded by people who don’t take this seriously? Am I taking this TOO seriously?

    Hoping this novella doesn’t take too much water from your beautiful plants that need you.


    1. Wow. This comment is just 😍 (and the longer the better, in my opinion ❤) I mean, it might mostly be because it sounds like I wrote it, lol, but I agreed with you on the entire thing. I was actually reading parts of it aloud to my girls (as they’re trying to eat breakfast past my chatter 😂) because it really reflects so many of my struggles lately. Even down to the neighbors. How they flit in and out nearly every hour, and it is a MIGHTY struggle not to launch into my old habits of judging. SO hard, and far too lately I find myself failing. The protests that are cropping up are especially hard for me to swallow (our president prompted the news fast, and the protests just sealed it) because selfishness is my biggest obstacle to overcome in the journey towards inner peace. It’s where Maya consistently trips me up. If people can’t put aside their own wants for “five” minutes so that others can LIVE…well, it tends to dash my hope in humankind. For a while, anyway.

      And I do really believe this pandemic is necessary, likely on levels we can’t understand. Recently, someone that I trust deeply said that this crisis was furthering our spiritual evolution. Not a “maybe” kind of thing, but it will. It IS. And I believe him. Maybe (obviously) not for all humans, but for some. Perhaps even many. I’ve seen a lot of growth from this, on a small scale. And may be that’s what we’re ready for. Individual growth that will one day grow big enough to influence the masses. (I’m happy to see that my rose-colored glasses are still in working order 😉)

      As for whether or not I believe you’re taking things TOO seriously? No, I personally, do not. What I feel is that , as with so many things, it boils down to simple kindness. And love for others. I’m not afraid of this virus for MYSELF. We take really good care of ourselves in this house; our immune systems are strong, our lungs are healthy. It doesn’t mean that I can’t catch it, but it doesn’t worry me, either. But there are a lot of people that do worry me. Like my elderly grandfather. Or my stepmother who has smoked for pretty much her entire life. And by staying home, I protect THEM. And all of the countless other grandfathers out there. ❤

      It sounds like your light is strong, beautifully strong. But it will still waver sometimes, right? Especially in the face of such fierce winds. And when I feel like I’m losing my footing, I know that as long as I keep trying, keep reminding myself of the dream, and keep reaching for the good (and often write a super long blog post), then I always find my way back to that love and light again. Always. And maybe it’ll just help you to know you’re not alone in your frustrations; I’m right there with you (as is my entire family, lol).

      So in reply to your lovely novella, here is one of my own. (By the way, the last comment of yours that inspired a post is just waiting for some of this corona madness to pass before I share it 😉) Just know that I’m in this with you and operating on the same wavelength. And the love and light is bound to win the upper hand again; it’s so much stronger than these temporary (yet blustery) winds 💕

      (And on an interesting side note, my morning would normally have been spent on Instagram. Today, however, I watered this conversation instead. Thanks for that 🙏)

  3. Well, some of that water may have trickled out of my eyes, a bit. Thank you, Melinda. Your light is so desperately needed in this world. Even if you reach only a few of us… it’s impact will go beyond. Much love to you and yours.

  4. Oh boy! Great minds think alike. I literally just deactivated social media yesterday and wrote a long blog post about it today. I think I feel slightly different than you do, mostly because I see social media as a necessary extension of my business. BUT it is draining. It’s draining to the point that I spend more time worrying about social media sometimes than I do my homestead or my business. BUT I also deactivated because I feel very frustrated right now with the state of affairs with my business. What’s that you say? You didn’t know I had a business. Well. I think you’re with the majority of other people who don’t realize it either and think I do all this stuff for free. Classes for free. Make stuff for free. So I’m a little in the ‘frustrated’ category and will be taking time away from everything until the pandemic works itself out. I’ll just be over here making and doing. And taking pictures to show everyone what I’ve been up to once things shake out. I think you said things much more eloquently than I did on my blog. I basically just called a bunch of people out without naming names. But they’ll definitely know who they are. Thanks for sharing your experience. I hope to learn too!!

    1. Lol, why am I not at ALL surprised? 😂 We seem to find ourselves doing similar things on a regular basis 😉

      And I did feel the same way about social media, when it came to this blog, anyway (and generating views here). And views always jumped after I’d post about it on IG, but I figure by now that anyone who REALLY wants to read is already signed up. Or at least checks in on occasion. Although, let’s be honest, almost all of my own family (beyond this house) hasn’t even bothered to sign up. Maybe they’re trying to tell me something…😯 (Too bad I won’t listen 😉) Anyway, to stay and make myself miserable for those selected views just seemed kind of ridiculous. And I can’t even TELL you the weight that’s been lifted since making that decision. It’s even given me the time to reply to this comment in a timely manner. Small miracles 😌

      Plus, I also know this: Back in 2009 when I started my Etsy shop, I started blogging to promote the shop. I didn’t have Instagram (didn’t even know about it, if it even existed yet…) and that business did really well–with ONLY the blog promoting it. Maybe times have changed, but I’m willing to gamble that if I could make it work then, then I can make it work now. So I’m focusing mainly on sharing “worthy” content (which you also do) and focusing on SEO. (While exercising great patience 😏) And my search views ARE increasing. And I often have Pinterest views. Slow and steady, steady and slow. I’d like to prove it CAN be done without social media. I just have to accomplish it first…

      And while my business is not thriving at this point, I’m also not giving it the energy it needs to grow. I would very (VERY) much like it to make at least enough to support this blog, but I figure I’ll get there eventually (with more of that dang patience). And considering how much time you already DO invest in your business, I imagine the focus is energizing it in ways you maybe can’t see just yet. But this unexpected pandemic might just give you the time and space to recharge and come back stronger than ever. I have complete faith in you. Sometimes we just need to rest. And make stuff while we do 😘

      So I just want t you to know that I completely understand the frustration, and definitely sympathize with you. I also think it’s extremely wise of you to use this quiet time right now to focus on what brings you joy. And maybe while you’re over there busily creating, a new plan will form. One that doesn’t require the drain of social media, lol.

      Anyway, now I MUST make time to read your blog this afternoon, lol. I’m curious about what you had to share and am just glad that I’m not one of those being called out. I don’t think… 😉

      Good luck with everything, and for myself, I’m just glad we can stay in touch here. Keep me posted. As usual, I’m rooting for you! Much love 💕

      1. Ah! Well, my deactivation didn’t last long! HAHA! I do see social media as needed to promote my business. I have been really struggling since the shutdowns. I was so very angry and frustrated on April 22nd. But then on April 23rd I took a deep breath and went back to Insta. I put out a message asking for help. I asked for my friends to share my stuff and boy did they! Then I started getting orders. And then I really realized that first, all I had to do was ask. And second, that I don’t really promote myself or my products. So that’s where I am right now. I own a small business and the only way it is going to survive, much less thrive, is by my promoting it. I’m not sure why I’ve been so hesitant to do that. I see Jordan does really well with her small business. She doesn’t overly promote but she is good at it. So I’ve been keeping an eye on the people who I think do a really good job of promoting without being all in your face about it. I’m learning.

        It also just hit me when you said “giving it the energy to grow”. I certainly haven’t been doing that, but I am now. So…thank you kind friend. And no, you were not one of the ones I called out. I did repost the original post because I took it down. But I just realized after reading your comment, that the post is part of my journey. And I want to be able to look back and see where I was on April 22, 2020.

        Anyway…thank you. xoxo

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