Building My Table — And Who It's For
There’s a feeling I’ve been carrying around for a while.
It’s hard to name. It’s not sadness exactly — though I’ve lost some foundational people in my life over the last seven years. It’s more like a room that used to be full of people, and now it’s quiet. A safe space I once shared with strangers and friends, and now I’m standing in the doorway wondering what to do with all that space.
For years I ran a photography business — mostly boudoir and body image work. The kind that puts you in a room with someone at their most vulnerable and asks you to help them see themselves the way the people who love them see them. It was sacred work. It was heart work. And then I stopped. Losing my mom and my grandma, then the pandemic — those seasons really shed some light on people I thought shared my values. I expected to feel some of that loss, but what I didn’t expect was the emptiness it left. Grief and depression made it hard to put myself back out there. I am so thankful for my husband, who did whatever needed to be done so I could at least heal enough to bring my head above water.
It wasn’t just a business. Not just a camera. It was the connection, the community, the sense of mattering to people in a way that was real. Even on the days I felt like my work could have been better, I could feel confident in the impact I was making. That meant something.
I kept waiting to feel better — knowing full well that waiting for something to come my way was never the answer. Nothing fills a void. You have to do the work to build something in it.
So I started thinking about what I actually wanted.
Look the current state of the table is rough, it ends up being a dumping stop but its on the list for this week!
The image that kept coming to me was a table. A warm, welcoming table — and yes, side note, there is an actual table my husband and I really want. A gaming table. It’s spendy though, so, a table — good food, real conversation, everyone sharing without any need to perform. Just present. Real.
That became the name for what I’m building here. And for the life I’m designing on purpose.
BUILDING MY TABLE is one of my two core themes. It’s about intentional life design — what does it look like to choose your people, your values, your priorities deliberately instead of by default? How do you build a life you actually want, not just one that happened to you?
The other theme is ROMANTICIZING MY LIFE — finding something beautiful in the ordinary. Slowing down enough to notice that right now, this season, is actually worth savoring. Finding pieces to add to my home and my life that feel special, maybe even a little whimsical.
Both of those things live here, on this blog and youtube channel.
But I want to talk about who this table is actually for.
Because a table means something. It’s an act of invitation. And I want to be clear about mine.
This table has a seat for the people I haven’t seen in a while — the ones life scattered, and I want back. It has a seat for new friends who inspire one another, for people who are building something intentional and want company on the road. And for the family who loves and supports me — they’re always at this table.
And it has an honored seat for people who have been turned away from other tables.
I am a proud LGBTQ+ ally — and I’ll be honest, I’d put myself somewhere in the bi-curious camp, though I’m very happily married, so curious is as far as it goes. I share that not as a footnote or a disclaimer, but as a feature of who I am and what this space is. If you’ve been made to feel like your existence is a debate someone else gets to have, you belong here. This table was built for you too.
Warm at the table means everyone. And fierce in the fight means I’ll defend it — even if finding that voice has been a journey. I was notoriously quiet growing up. I’m still growing into it. But I’m getting there.
I’m not going to pretend I have this all figured out.
I’m building this alongside a full schedule, in North Dakota, with a lot of big ideas and some genuine uncertainty about where it all leads. Maybe it becomes a career. Maybe something else blooms from it entirely. I’m open to finding out — and if that sounds familiar to you, I hope you’ll join me.
What I know is I’m done waiting for the void to fill itself. It’s become draining. It’s starting to feel like it’s taking from my life instead of just sitting quietly in it.
I’m starting anyway. I’ll probably stumble — scratch that, I will definitely stumble. But I’m determined not to drop it too far.
If any of this sounds like something you want to be part of, I’d love for you to pull up a chair.
Warm at the table. Fierce in the fight.
My Dahlias are growing!
– Susie