The income was missed but the freedom to enjoy life without needing to think about content was wonderful. Social media skews our perception of life in a way. So much of what we think needs to be shared, simply doesn’t. So much precious life lived through a screen.

When Mateo was a baby, even after I took a break, I still felt the need to keep up, to perform, to be relevant online. I didn’t want people to forget about me, or stop thinking I was important just because I was in the throws of new motherhood. I shared about my days — overshared. But there’s a sense of loneliness in those early weeks after baby that most mothers would understand, and I was trying to soothe that. It came with a price though. Time away from my brand new son.

Don’t get me wrong, social media is not all bad. And mothers definitely deserve time to doom scroll. But I look back and think, he was so little, and I still felt the need to show up online and be somebody, when all I wish I had done instead was focus on being his mom. Eventually I found my footing, and I still had to be on social media for my art business, promoting that. Working for yourself and doing your own promotion makes it hard to strike a healthy balance. You can easily be “working” all the time by constantly sharing about your work, in order to market yourself and sell your art. I focused more on that than just social media posting for the hell of it. It felt good to still have something outside of motherhood, my art. I was creating when I could, and sharing my life still, but the need to actually promote brands and link products definitely became less of a priority.

The inability to share my son helped with that. We have been conditioned to want to share everything online. At first, it was hard for me to imagine a way to show up on my various pages without sharing him, at least a little bit. I had a private Instagram we thought I’d use more, and a personal Facebook account. But the internet is forever and we didn’t want to risk it by posting anything about Mateo. Jacob had made it very clear he didn’t want us to post his face, and I agreed to that when I was newly pregnant. But other parts of our life with him felt hard not to share — like posting the back of his head for his first time at the beach, or any number of things that I was proud to share that he did. After all, I am a human who grew up along with the rise of social media. Over time, following Jacob’s lead, we posted small snippets of our life with Mateo. I never asked Jacob if we could, I allowed him to find what he was comfortable with around it, and go from there.

Our decision to not post our son helped to change my relationship with social media. It taught me that I didn’t need to share everything and in fact, so much can be kept sacred, as it should be. I shared Mateo’s birth story — and even though I shared that in great detail, I left some things out. Some things only those closest to me can ever hear. It feels better that way. As the years have gone on, not being able to share Mateo has been the biggest blessing for me personally, because I now know that it’s fine this way. A life should be lived and it doesn’t need to be posted to matter. Our lives are not for strangers. Our lives are for us. How we live them, for us, is all that matters.

That first year was tough for me with figuring out what to share because I felt like I was being left behind. My sisters in law tend to share much more than me on social media, including their kids. It felt like I was living this life that I couldn’t be fully honest about. I didn’t want to jeopardize the privacy we wanted to maintain by Mateo, but I wanted to connect with other moms who had maybe gone through these things, too. I talked to my sisters in law sometimes about things, or my other mom friends, but it was nice to talk to others about the same things and get different perspectives. I was constantly tiptoeing around what I actually felt comfortable sharing.

There was also a lot going on in my personal life that I couldn’t share publicly, and I will eventually, but it felt weird to be posting seemingly happy photos, when my world was falling apart. How was it falling apart exactly? Well, let me tell you.

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And maybe they’ll even move you, too.

That’s all for now, love you bye!

x

Isabel

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Hope we can hang over there,

Isabel

2026 is… a lot so far. Right? However, I still think we are very much in the “shedding” phase from the previous year, which was the wood snake. We are about to enter the year of the fire horse, which begins on February 17th. Then, just two days later, my 30th birthday. The past few weeks have been about letting go of anything that will no longer serve the person I am about to step into. Whether that be beliefs, patterns, or people.

I have been someone who abandons myself in every way to please others, to keep the peace, to make sure I stay on “good terms” with everyone, my entire life. But lately, these days? I want to say fuck that.

I like to call myself a “recovering” people pleaser, but I do it every single day so I am not exactly recovering yet. I know I do it and I don’t want to do it, but it is inherent to who I am. That is hard to unlearn. Becoming the best version of myself means letting go of these old patterns that do not serve me or my highest good. But no one ever told me it would be SO HARD.

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The longest night of the year is often the time I find myself going inward the most. A time where the darkest parts of me make their way to the surface. There are so many parts of myself I wish I could change — parts I am learning in therapy that simply developed because as a young person, I was trying to protect myself. Loving all “parts” of ourselves is the most courageous thing we can do. We often feel most unlovable in the dark. So this is my love letter to the light.

I have been depressed my entire life. Well, for as long as I can remember. There was a brief childhood drenched in golden light and ignorance that was bliss. The problems of the world were high above me, somewhere else, and I spent my early years drifting around my two acre property with a carefree naivety that served me well. Then, my life quickly flipped upside down when my parents separated and we moved to the city. At only eight years old, the fears and anxieties I had once not known rushed to the forefront and became my main focus. The doctors called it clinical depression and an anxiety disorder. To add, I was also diagnosed with ADHD. The whimsical version of me, gallivanting through open fields with my dog, making mud pies, tending to the few farm animals I was allowed to have, making up stories and dancing in my room to Shania Twain — well, she was replaced by a young girl plagued by overwhelm who sought solace in the computer, tapping into the online world far too early, and learning ways to escape her own reality.

This paired with an ugly divorce between my parents, and a few years later my mother’s breast cancer diagnosis; well, you could say I was doomed. My mental health was doomed, that is. Not to mention, all the other natural hormonal shifts and changes that take place as you grow older. To add insult to injury, I developed a pretty severe eating disorder that ruled a lot of my teen years.

Fast forward to some hefty trauma — the two deaths of my close loved ones, my depression has stayed. I have tried to stay afloat so many times, only to be dragged down again and again. I realized a few years ago now that depression was not something I would ever conquer. It would be there, indefinitely. Because it’s a chemical imbalance in the brain, often triggered and brought out by life’s circumstances.

Depression is like a dark cloud. It lingers and looms and makes itself a home in your bones. I do remember the days before it. I can taste them on my tongue. A little girl full of delight and wonder. She was alive once. And I do believe she is still alive somewhere in me, deep inside. And I think over time, I have started to crack the code and find her again, little by little.

What has worked for me?

Gratitude.

Let me explain…

Gratitude is an anchor. To the present moment, to your breath, your surroundings. I have found myself completely overwhelmed by the beauty of life so many times just by finding gratitude in the moment. I know I am protected and held when I remember I am. It’s so easy to forget.

Especially in the winter, when seasonal depression creeps in, looming and lurking in the shadows, finding you in the darkness and waiting for a weak moment. But you must remember that it doesn’t last. It never does. You’ve made it through countless winters. As for me, I have made it through nearly thirty. And I’m getting better at it. Each year it hits me hard in the beginning and then I remember.

I lean into gratitude. I sink into that familiar feeling. I look around me.

Sunlight, animals, children’s foot steps in a warm house, a fridge filled with food, cupboards filled with food, clean clothes, a Christmas tree lit with lights and memories from the past, green plants adorning my space, decor I have collected over time to reflect me, a loving person beside me, legs to walk me out the front door into the said sunlight where an array of abundance cascades before me.

It is endless. We could sit here for hours and find things we are grateful for. Gratitude knows no limits. Because we are infinite. And so are the possibilities. Especially when you learn to be grateful for what you do have. It is an energetic loop that tethers you to not only the past but the present.

As a person with said anxiety and depression, I oscillate easily between everything is horrible to everything is amazing. And I am telling you that the latter is more true.

I can’t promise you that, I guess. But just try to trust me.

Because tonight is the winter solstice, and we linger together in this liminal space that feels between worlds. And even on the darkest of nights, we must not forget to look for the magic that surrounds us, the hope in a flickering flame we’ve lit for the mere purpose of being alive, the hands we use to write our wishes on tiny pieces of paper, the messages from the wind, the signs from our ancestors and the embrace of our living loved ones.

If we keep hope alive, we have everything.

Gratitude paves the way for hope. It tells us, “take stock of what you have now, and remember that you once wished for these things”. Suddenly your cells will start to notice that there was a time you wished for what you see all around you. Even if it doesn’t feel like it sometimes.

Sometimes you don’t actually want your life to end…you just want it to change.

Not even want to, it’s more like you need it to. A deep desire that something is wrong. A feeling that things aren't right or aligned. As if your soul knows you were meant for more, and it’s simply waiting for you to remember.

I believe our souls know what it is we are truly after. We get so caught up in what we think we need to be doing, we miss so many cues from the universe as to what we are meant to be doing.

Try gratitude before you take the leap. Standing out at the edge of a cliff, wondering if it’s all worth it… Don’t jump. Walk back to your car and write a long list of all the people who love you. Like I did.

Start there.

Then look around you. Holy shit, you’re here. I’m grateful you’re here.

I believe in you.

And so does the universe.

Soon, the light returns.

The light returns.

Gratitude is an understatement.

Isabel

Hi friends!

It has been a minute since I have updated you all in this space. My hope is that by returning to writing here, I will be able to process the chaos that is my life. Good chaos, but still chaotic nevertheless.

So let me just jump right into it…

As most of you know already by following my social media, I was a flower farmer all summer. I grew cosmos, dahlias and sunflowers in great quantities, bigger than last year. It was incredibly fulfilling to make bouquets for people and deliver them locally. I also sold them wholesale to a nearby market. Then, I used the money I made to buy myself a new guitar. Her name is Joni and we have already written three songs together.

Music was a big focus this summer for me, aside from flowers. I like to juggle multiple things at once (it’s the ADHD in me, or the creative, who knows!). While I wish I could say I have made progress with actually releasing music — not yet! There were too many things that needed my attention to fully devote to music, as we geared up for our pumpkin season. I won’t give up though; I know those songs wanted to be written, and when they’re ready, will be released.

Towards the end of September, I traveled to Iowa for a cousin’s memorial service. She was only 30, so it was incredibly sad, but good to see family while there. Nearly all my family on my mom’s side still lives in Iowa, so I have a lot of people to see when I visit.

While visiting, my other cousin brought over a puppy, and I instantly fell in love.

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Community,

You have been a safe space for me to be open about who I am in so many faucets, and I feel like I have alluded to this in small ways over the years, but I am finally ready to say it with my chest.

@jujiroloffHappy pride!!!

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After years of being in denial, thinking “everyone felt this way”, working through religious trauma, and my own shame story…

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There are quite a few new faces around here (over 1,000 to be exact!) and it’s a pleasure to have you join this space. While I love Instagram, and lately I’ve been having fun exploring TikTok, Substack is still by far my favorite social platform. I enjoy writing so much; always have, and this gives me an outlet to do that more (aside from my daily journaling practice I have had for over a decade). A lot of the pieces here are so near and dear to my heart — snippets of my life story that I haven’t shared in such detail anywhere else. This is my safe space to do that.

You will find some stories live behind a paywall. Please understand that this is for a few reasons. To protect my privacy from people who watch my every move and pick it apart or turn it into a news article (so if they wanted to read it badly enough, they’d have to pay for it, which is poetic!) Another reason is that writers and creators give so much away so often; parts of themselves and their hearts for nothing in exchange. Having a paid subscriber option on Substack encourages writers that their writing is worth paying for. And it means a lot to us.

If you are interested, I would love for you to read them as they give some insight into who I am.

So, without further ado, here are my most-read Substack pieces that I’ve published since 2023:

Each piece is written with raw honesty and it would be my honor to have you read them and to even become a paid subscriber.

Happy May!

Isabel

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I thought I’d write this on Easter Sunday but I wasn’t exceptionally inspired then. To be honest, it’s been a busy couple of weeks over here for us so I haven't had time to sit down and write in quite awhile. This season of motherhood demands a lot as Mateo wants to be learning all the time, which I love, and we are doing some early preschool lessons together. Not only that, but he is obsessed with reading and we try our best to nurture that by reading to him as much as he asks (which is all the time, we’re grateful!) Keep reading for some special photos I have included of our busy last few weeks…

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Or get it on my website

All my love,

Isabel

Click here to get the guide: For The Love Of Flowers

A 45 page guide with my personal tips, tricks and secrets to getting the most gorgeous pressed flower results. As well as insight into how I create my pressed flower art. Full of beautiful imagery for inspiration and precious knowledge; my ultimate goal in sharing is to make the practice of pressing flowers feel accessible for anyone who wants to try it.

Become a paid subscriber and get it for $2 less:

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Happy spring, my loves!

Isabel

The thing about living on a famous farm is that people recognize it. After all, most of it has been seen on TV over the years. So when I started posting stories from the kitchen I live in (which I pay rent for), all people ever saw were my father in law’s famous red kitchen cabinets. Which is totally fine, they were memorable and easy to spot. It should go without saying that I am very grateful to him for renting us his old house — it’s perfect for us. Little by little, we have started to make it feel more and more like ours. We don’t own it, so it may never feel fully ours. But there is obviously something to be said about making your living space feel like you. It turns a house into a home. And the red cabinets just never really felt like home to me. They were signatures to Matt. Matt Roloff Red, if you will.

Last week, we finally painted them sage green, something I have wanted to do since we moved in more than a year ago. I have actually had the gallon of paint sitting in a closet waiting for its debut, having bought it perhaps a little prematurely. We just hadn’t gotten around to it all this time — life got in the way, and there was no hurry anyway. Honestly, the red color was quite cozy in the evening. But during the day, I kept daydreaming of the sun casting its rays on sage. The thing is, we needed to use a pretty hefty primer to cut the color. It was a lot of work to hide the red. But I am so happy with the final result. It definitely feels more like our very own kitchen like this.

We considered changing the hardware but it actually matches. We also got a new oven! That means a lot more time will be spent in the kitchen for me and I am truly looking forward to it.

Doing the entire thing ourselves was a true labor of love but I enjoyed the process of painting and actually realized how much I miss doing it for fun. If you look closely, you might detect that it wasn’t done by professionals. But that’s what makes it more us, anyway, right?

Here are some more photos of it I snapped yesterday…

We will be adding a shelf to this open shelf in the last photo, but right now we are enjoying what we have done so far! I am happy we finally decided to make our home feel more like ours. I am someone who really loves my home and the comfort it brings me. I love to thrift unique pieces that feel like me and add special things to places around it. I had so much decor that just didn’t mesh with the red. In my defense, red is hard to match! Now it feels like everything is coming together. There are a few other projects in the house that I have in mind (for example, our bathroom is mustard yellow hah) but I will wait on those and just soak up the new kitchen for now.

Now a lot of people know by now that we live on Roloff Farm. But the red won’t be there to give it away as easily. Most people who saw my reel said that it is now the most “Isabel kitchen ever” and that’s pretty true. I’d say sage green cabinets have always been my dream. So now people might recognize it as “Izzy Roloff Green” ;)

The color is Clary Sage by Sherwin Williams for those wondering.

It brings me a lot of joy!

Take care,

Isabel

Here’s a recent song I liked:

Speaking of songs, I wrote a new one. This means I have about four songs written. Some people don’t know this about me, but I write music, just like I write poetry. Writing songs is a different art form, though. It takes more grit than poetry. You have to find a melody for it. I started listing the title tracks, too. Making music feels closer than ever. For my birthday, a group of friends and I did country karaoke. I sang Mama’s Broken Heart by Miranda Lambert for a crowd of people I know — essentially one of my biggest fears. My friends hyped me up and told me that I need to make music now. I’m 29. If not now, when? I love to sing and making music is probably my biggest life goal honestly. I’ve already accomplished some personal things, like hosting art shows, and publishing my first poetry book.

Now it feels like I need to at least try with music. Who knows, it might not pan out. But I won’t know unless I try.

Speaking of that, I made a TikTok to assist with this singing journey. So many people have grown on that platform and my growth on Instagram has been at a standstill for years. Seemingly, I haven’t hacked the algorithm in a way that works. I’m tired of no one seeing my content and trying hard to be seen. Which is ironic because I feel like I am also working through the fear of being seen. All of this acts like exposure therapy for me. Following your dreams is sometimes uncomfortable, and it definitely means stepping outside of your comfort zone.

Anyway, I also got a tattoo of a cowboy boot on my arm because why not? Slowly covering my body in art like I have always wanted to, despite what others may think.

29 is feeling bold. I am emerging one day at a time. I hope you are, too.

All my love,

Isabel

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So many messages lately about where I stand. I wanted to clear things up in this short audio episode. Let me know if you listen, I love you and happy new moon!

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Each year when the “new year” rolls around, and after the excitement (or illusion) of a fresh start wears off, we seem to be left with impending doom.

Dark, gray skies because it’s the middle of winter (in the Northern Hemisphere, that is) and Nazis moving into the White House… It can do a number on your mental health.

The song above came on my Spotify day list yesterday as I was on my walk. It is a beautiful song, and there is a children’s book to go along with it and Mateo loves it. As Cat Steven’s voice gently crooned into my headphones, slightly high, I kept thinking to myself was, “Are we really doing this? The planet — specifically this country — so vast and wonderful, and we’re going to lose everything thanks to some white man who doesn't care?”

This can’t be how the story goes, right? Surely this isn’t how it all ends…

If you are feeling hopeless, I think that’s valid. These are scary, uncertain times. We are all unsure of what the future holds — and as a millennial, I feel like we have been living through “unprecedented times” for the entirety of our twenties (and let’s be real, for the entirety of our lives).

I am ready for something more peaceful, but I fear we are far from that right now. It’s looking like there will be a fight to be fought and a war to be won before anything gets “better”. Sometimes you have to look at the issue head on, in all of its ugliness and heal it for it to change. A lot of people like to push things under the rug, indefinitely, but we no longer have that luxury. We have to look at what this country was founded on and why history seems to be repeating itself. There is a reason the man now in office was reelected — just look at this country’s roots.

The foundation of something unhealthy must crumble for something better to be rebuilt. I am excited for that eventual possibility, but I do cringe at the fact that we will see so much corruption, sadness, and hatred as it all unfolds.

I will never be able to change the world on a mega scale but what I can focus on is all of the micro ways I can impact people’s lives. One of the ways my mom was good at this was by taking action within her community, and helping people around her. She also changed lives by simply being a safe space.

She was always a warm, loving place for people to be themselves.

And that’s all I can do now.

So, if you are reading this. Listen to that song, maybe go on a walk (slightly high is up to you, but it helps me when anxiety is taking over) and try to find anything optimistic that moves you. Any tiny glimmer of hope you can find. Research ways to get involved in events around you that promote the change you wish to see. I recently researched any Indigenous community events that I could be a part of and learn from, and found one happening next month. Another really important thing I believe we can do right now is listen to Indigenous voices.

I would like to say this as well, if you are an immigrant or have relatives or loved ones who are. I see you, you are brave, and you are welcome here.

Additionally, if you are queer, trans, or part of the LGBTQIA+ community, you are celebrated, cherished and welcome here.

We are so lucky to have you!

My goal is to have these spaces be a place for the next four years, and beyond, where you can exhale instead of tense up. Where you can breathe instead of holding it all in.

Just know, you are safe here.

Life updates on our end:

Some mold in our home needs to be remediated but I am feeling thankful we found it before it got worse or started really affecting our health. It was found in my art studio / office closet and we don’t spend a lot of time in there, mostly me when I can. So I am feeling grateful it wasn’t found elsewhere.

I am talking to a few different agencies about doing the social media / influencing thing again. It is something I have been thinking about a lot. My capacity to do it is greater than it was when I quit — with an emphasis still on only working with brands with integrity and ones that align with my values.

There is a pressed flower guide in the works that I have been working on for months that I am excited to release. Its release date is still TBD but I am thinking of a spring release which would make sense considering flowers = spring and summer. I will keep you updated here and on my art page @artbyisabelsofia on Instagram.

Anyway, I hope everything is well wherever you are, despite everything.

All my love,

Isabel

The ending you didn’t see coming.

The person you thought you’d grow old with.

The one who you have known since 5th grade.

The reasoning for its demise is still unclear.

And my heart hurts but I’ll be fine.

If you have ever experienced a friend breakup before — my heart is with you. It’s even harder when you don’t understand why they ended things. But I won’t dwell on it for long. I will look back on our time spent together fondly. Going through boxes the other day, I found a photo album of us. For a second, I was tempted to throw it in the Goodwill bin. But now I am unsure what to do with it. Those are priceless memories contained in photographs over the years of us. Our nicknames scribbled on the front of the album. We did everything together for many years. And then, we drifted apart. Over time, the drift became so big, we couldn’t mend the gap. The bridge would no longer reach. And the water below was too rough. We wouldn’t dare try to swim to the other side.

It isn’t my first friend breakup but it is with someone I never expected. I am on good terms with most of my former friends — we stay in touch by way of the occasional birthday text or reel sent over Instagram. My best friend who lives in Texas is someone I had a breakup with years ago; one we were able to mend with grace and forgiveness.

I actually hadn’t talked about this with anyone for weeks after it happened in fear of me talking about it making it all the more real, because well…

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How do you tell the truth about yourself when the truth feels like swords in your throat?

When to tell it, you have to look away from who you’re telling it to because it feels too heavy to give to someone else?

Where has shame infiltrated my mind so much that I don’t know how to be open anymore?

Am I so disconnected from myself that I can’t tell the world who I truly am, or has the world just been too harsh on soft people like me?

It wouldn’t be hard to see — I feel like it might be obvious but not everyone was taught to read between the lines like I was.

Not everyone can see a person’s feelings inside them like they’re wearing transparent skin.

I was taught to absorb the energy of everyone, something like an empath.

Perhaps the society I was raised in has forgotten those who were too gentle to fit into it.

I might run from this forever — unable to formulate the right words to explain it.

What if I’m not who I thought I was?

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My sincere apologies that my presence here has diminished a bit. I have felt like I have been juggling so many things the past few months so this space has been put on the back burner. Thank you for sticking around through all of the ups and downs:)

This past week especially has been a whirlwind. Mateo’s 3rd birthday party, my first big holiday market, and oh yeah, nearly dying. The main highlight was clearly that — needing to get emergency surgery on Sunday. I drove myself to the emergency room without realizing that it would all happen so fast, but I guess that’s why they call it an emergency.

So, here is the story of my nearly-burst gallbladder and emergency removal surgery.

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It is changing me deeply. I am devouring it. I love books like this. I love memoirs.

I love when people tell their stories.

For a long time, I have felt like I couldn’t tell my story. Or can’t. There was too much at stake. And maybe there still is.

But for now, I can make this place beautiful.

And I will.

I will.

With love,

Isabel

Dear community,

There will be many things in life that will attempt to tear you down. To disrupt your flow. Interfere with your work here. There will be people who don’t quit. Who will intentionally push your buttons and try to make you angry.

Don’t let them.

I feel like a large part of a person’s life — women especially — is spent mitigating other people’s poor behavior. We try to excuse things we know to be wrong; mistreatment of others or ourselves. And often, we are tested. It is imperative that we keep our heads about ourselves, even when we’re tested.

I don’t mean don’t get angry — get fucking angry. But don’t lose your cool. Don’t let them steal your life force energy, or rather, don’t give it away by giving anyone a reaction they are looking for. There is a way to express anger healthily and most men don’t know how to. I think therein lies our power. How we respond to life tells us everything we need to know about ourselves. It is important to note when weak people (often men) will try to get a reaction out of us. They want us to get worked up so they can call us crazy.

Don’t let them.

Our energy is sacred. We must protect it and use it for good. Our intentions should be set and we must remain focused. That is why I voted for a woman as president of the United States. It seems silly to me that men were ever considered “leaders”. When has this country specifically ever been successfully led? If you mean led into war, sure, they’ve figured that out.

But I think only a woman could bring true peace. Only a woman could unify and delegate and pacify and alleviate and soothe. That’s what we do. It is in our nature.

Now, I have been critical, for good reason, of the specific woman who is running for office. If not her, there will be others after her. For me, I do want a woman as leader of my country. I hope I live to see that day.

It will be crucial the next few weeks to remain calm even in the face of stress and hatred. Be diligent. Get into nature. Stay steadfast. Keep your head. Keep an open heart. Someone in the next few days will surely try to get a rise out of you.

Don’t let them.

We will rise, but on our own terms.

All my love,

Isabel