When My Superpower Stopped Working
NAPERVILLE - WHEATON - GLEN ELLYN - ELMHURST - GENEVA - ST. CHARLES - BARRINGTON - BARTLETT PHOTOGRAPHER
Bloom Collection: Floral Opulence - Alicia Staley Johnson
Hello, friends,
This week arrived quickly.
After a slower, quieter start to the year, it felt a little like being dropped back into the middle of things—suddenly in motion again. The days filled fast with a cake smash session, a newborn, a maternity session, headshots for a local author, a scientist, and a literary archivist, and ended on the sweetest note with a beautiful breastfeeding mini and a studio showing for a baby shower rental.
It was full in the best way—but full all the same.
In between sessions, there was the quieter kind of busyness that no one really sees. Catching up on social media, tending to emails, shaping ideas, and beginning something new that’s been gently tugging at me for a while now. More on that soon.
I also took a small leap and started a Substack. I’m looking forward to writing more often, more freely, and sharing things that don’t always fit neatly inside a newsletter. If you feel like following along, I’d love to see you there—just know I’m very much at the beginning, learning my way around a new platform, and finding my rhythm as I go.
It feels good to be creating again in this way. And even better to be here with you.
Soft Focus: When My Superpower Stopped Working
There is a moment in life when the body asks for a different kind of care.
Not loudly.
Not in crisis.
Just quietly—persistent enough that it eventually asks to be noticed.
I didn’t catch it right away. At first, it was easy to explain away. A busy season. A full calendar. The kind of tired you assume will pass if you just keep moving. I told myself I’d slow down when things settled.
They didn’t.
Instead, it showed up in small ways. Mornings that took longer. Energy that didn’t arrive on command. A low hum of anxiety that felt unfamiliar—and, honestly, unsettling.
Somewhere along the way, menopause entered the picture. And with it came a version of anxiety I wasn’t prepared for. Not panic, exactly (but trust me, there was some of that). More like a constant buzz. A feeling of being slightly overwhelmed even when nothing was technically wrong.
For years, I used to say multitasking was my superpower. I wore it proudly. I could juggle schedules, businesses, ideas, people—often all at once. And for a long time, that worked.
Now?
It just feels like noise.
What once felt energizing now feels extremely loud. Too many tabs open. Too many voices competing for attention. Too much happening at the same time—inside my head and out in the world.
I remember one quiet morning in the studio. Coffee cooling on the table. Soft light stretching across the floor. Dust floating in the sun like glitter. I stood there longer than I meant to and thought, I don’t want to rush this.
Not the light.
Not the morning.
Not myself.
That thought surprised me.
I decided, in that moment, that I needed more of these pauses. More time to notice the beauty of life as it’s happening.
This doesn’t feel like failure. And it doesn’t feel like weakness. It feels like my body telling the truth—like a gentle recalibration. A reminder that care can’t look the way it used to, and that rest isn’t something I need to earn anymore.
Because if I’m being honest, I’ve always worked that way. I didn’t let myself rest until the to-do list was finished. And the truth is, it’s an exhausting way to live and how so many beautiful moments get missed.
This season isn’t about becoming better at doing more. It’s about allowing less to take up my attention. Letting one thing at a time be enough. Letting quiet moments count. Letting my nervous system settle without needing to justify it.
In this season, my body feels less like something to manage and more like something to trust. A quiet guide reminding me that life doesn’t have to be measured by productivity alone, but by presence. By what feels steady. By what feels kind.
And maybe that’s the real invitation of this season—to pause long enough to notice what your own body has been asking for.
Not to fix it.
Not to rush past it.
Just to listen—before the whisper becomes a roar.
“I remember one quiet morning in the studio. Dust floating in the sun like glitter. I stood there longer than I meant to and thought, I don’t want to rush this.”
WHAT I’M LOVING THIS WEEK
Inspiring Follow: @yomargey
Lately, I’ve been craving quiet inspiration—the kind you don’t have to work to take in. That’s exactly how Harriet’s account, @yomargey, feels.
From her garden in Herefordshire, England, Harriet shares the most calming, beautiful glimpses of life throughout the seasons. Her garden feels unhurried and deeply lived in, with paths that invite wandering and a greenhouse at the center of it all that somehow feels inspiring in every single season. It’s the kind of place you imagine time slowing down the moment you step inside.
Her feed is meditative in the truest sense. The kind you can scroll through for far longer than you intended—no noise, no urgency, just light, growth, and small, thoughtful moments. As I’ve started planning my own garden for the year ahead, I keep finding myself returning to her page for inspiration. Not just for what to plant, but for how a garden can feel.
If you love snippets of life from an English garden, quiet beauty, and the gentle rhythm of the seasons, this is one to save.
What I’m Loving: Anthropologie’s Floral Garden Arm Saver Gloves
Since my entire Christmas list revolved around gardening this year, it will surprise no one that I was beyondthrilled when Delaney handed me these gloves. Truly—nothing makes my heart happier than thoughtful tools for a season I’m already dreaming about.
As I’ve been mapping out garden beds, dreaming up color palettes, and planning what goes where, I keep picturing myself slipping these on and getting to work. They feel equal parts practical and beautiful—the kind of thing that makes even the messiest tasks feel a little more intentional.
My only hesitation? Getting them dirty.
Which, of course, is the whole point. 😂
But for now, they’re sitting nearby, waiting for spring, reminding me that the best seasons are the ones you prepare for slowly—and with a bit of joy stitched into the details.
Local-ish Love: kō-zē Wine Room
This is one of those places that immediately makes you exhale when you walk in.
kō-zē Wine Room is tucked into the heart of downtown Glen Ellyn, and it somehow manages to feel both special and completely approachable. It’s the kind of spot you go for one glass of wine and end up staying longer than you planned—because it feels good to be there.
They offer a beautifully curated selection of wines, along with cocktails, craft beer, seltzers, and small plates—perfect for lingering and catching up. But honestly, the space itself is what really draws me in. After a thoughtful historical renovation, the 1920s building has been brought back to life in a way that feels warm and intentional, not precious.
The room is layered with locally sourced antiques, artwork, and florals, and it all comes together to create the coziest atmosphere—true to its name in every sense. It feels collected, relaxed, and full of quiet stories.
If you love places with soul, history, and a little magic in the details, this one is worth adding to your list.
484 N. Main Street, Glen Ellyn
From My Kitchen: Rosemary Split Pea Soup
February is the month that asks for food that holds you. Nothing complicated. Nothing flashy. Just something warm, hearty, and deeply comforting.
This rosemary split pea soup has been on repeat around here lately. It’s simple, filling, and exactly what I want on cold evenings when the day has been full and all I crave is something steady and familiar. The rosemary adds a quiet depth, and the sausage and potatoes turn it into a true one-pot dinner—the kind that simmers slowly while the house softens around it.
It’s the kind of meal that doesn’t rush you. Best enjoyed with crusty bread, a second bowl if needed, and the understanding that winter dinners don’t need to be elaborate to be good. Sometimes the simplest things are the ones we return to most.
Perfect for these cold February nights—warm, nourishing, and meant to be shared.
with love and light,
Alicia Staley Johnson
of Alicia’s Photography
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