I didn’t expect to be writing this post, but we need to talk about what’s next.
I’m not sure how you’ll feel about this update — especially those of you who have been here with me from the beginning — but I can’t hold it in anymore, and although it feels scary to share, it’s time.
About six months ago. I promised you guys an update about this blog and the state of things. I backpedaled on that because to be honest, I didn’t want to publicly admit how much my numbers have fallen but it’s no secret anymore.
Blogging is a dying industry.
Many of my peers will point to the rise of AI as the cause — and it certainly plays a part — but the truth is, the unraveling started long before ChatGPT came onto the scene. We traded story for strategy, connection for clicks, and authenticity for algorithms.
So in the spirit of how blogging used to be — a personal story you could cozy up to with a mug of hot tea before bed — this is a post that doesn’t care about SEO. It doesn’t care about Google, or AI, or any of it.
It’s just me. Talking to you. Like we used to.
So without further ado, let’s go back in time a little bit, shall we?
To where the story all began.
The Relentless Pursuit of Adventure
The year was 2010. I was sitting in my grey cubicle in Newport Beach, staring blankly at a spreadsheet when a friend sent me a link to something I didn’t even know existed — travel blogs, written by women, traveling alone. It was a small community back then, a handful of people quietly living the dream that had once felt so out of reach for someone like me. A dream I was too scared to even say out loud.
I didn’t know anyone who had made travel their full-time life without a book deal or a trust fund. But these women were out there, telling their stories, updating from the road, and inviting strangers into their journey. I couldn’t stop reading. I was captivated. And from that day forward, I couldn’t unsee the possibility. The idea had taken root.
Two years later, armed with a brand new URL and a carry-on bag, I stepped onto a one-way flight to Bangkok and decided to see if I could become one of them too.
What’s followed since then has been more than a decade of change — of evolution, of reinvention, and of a community that once felt like a tiny family growing into something enormous and, at times, unrecognizable.
Back then, we weren’t in it for fame or fortune. We certainly weren’t in it for the photoshoots in ballgowns on mountaintops. (My fellow backpackers from the early 2010s — can you even imagine watching someone haul a flowy dress up to Doi Suthep for a photoshoot?) No, it was about something else entirely.
It was about the story.
We wrote like we were scribbling in our diaries. Raw. Personal. Unfiltered. The best posts could transport you across oceans. I checked obsessively for updates from my favorite bloggers. I felt like I knew them. Their victories felt like my own. Their heartbreaks hit close to home.
I left a job that made me six figures by age 24 for this dream, but we weren’t chasing money — we were chasing freedom — messy, beautiful, uncertain freedom. We were in pursuit of our own version of Alex Garland’s The Beach, or Jack Kerouac’s Dharma Bums.
Each day on the road and each new sweaty and dirty adventure was a victory. Living off of street food in Southeast Asia, bartering in local markets, learning the firsthand, on-the-ground way how to say “thank you” in seven different languages. We gave up corporate ladders and reliable paychecks for bare feet and sweaty nights in dorm rooms – the kind of fulfillment you can’t put in a LinkedIn bio.
The money came slowly, if at all. I remember being thrilled to get $100 for embedding a hidden link in a blog post — that covered ten nights in a hostel. I churned out freelance articles for $75 a pop – and churn them out I could. Speed writing had been one of my greatest strengths, but it turns out it’s not even a skill anyone wants or needs anymore (but I’m getting ahead of myself here – don’t you know how this story ends?).
It was gritty and exhausting and uncertain, but it was real. I didn’t care if it was sustainable. It was life on my terms.
The Halcyon Years
And then, around 2015, something shifted.
Brands started to take notice. The audience we had painstakingly grown over years of storytelling suddenly had value. We were no longer just wanderers with a WordPress account — we were “influencers” before that was even a word people said with a straight face. The money was still modest, but we were getting comped and sometimes even paid trips and, for the first time, it felt like this might actually work.
I moved to Berlin where rent was (then) modest. I still traveled for 75% of the year, leaving behind an apartment, and hitchhiked and adventured around the globe. I still cared about the adventure beyond all else, but something else started happening too – I could invest in my IRA again. I could buy my own hotel room and leave the dorms behind. I could have some comforts.
Those, to me, were the golden years — 2015 to 2018 — when the travel blogging world still felt intimate and full of promise. We met up at conferences, partied in random corners of the globe, and cheered each other on. There was still soul in it, still room for vulnerability, and still a hunger for connection.
But slowly, quietly, something else was happening.
SEO became the new currency. The heartfelt stories started to fade, replaced by how-to guides and itineraries. And I was part of that shift. My personal posts didn’t rank on Google, but my “Southeast Asia backpacking checklist” did. It made money. People were searching for it. And that changed everything.
Looking back, I have regrets. I miss those messy, meandering personal stories — both reading and writing them. But most of us pivoted because we had to. We were building businesses. And the storytelling that had once been our heart and soul was no longer the thing that paid the bills.
The Rise of the Influencer
By 2019, I started to feel disillusioned. What had once been about discovery and connection had become about aesthetic. The wild, sweaty, real adventures were being replaced by perfectly posed photos in silk dresses at sunrise. Instagram became a highlight reel — not of real life, but of what we wanted people to believe.
I deleted the app for a while and my assistant (OMG, I had an assistant!) had to take over the posting for me. I was sick of the fakeness, the filters, the perfection. Places we loved were being loved to death. The quiet spots we once stumbled upon were now overrun, geotagged into oblivion.
And worst of all? The story was gone. In its place was content — a word we never used back in the early days. Back then it was writing. It was photography. It was a post. Now it was just content to be consumed, ranked, and regurgitated.
The pandemic accelerated everything. Blogging exploded — not with travelers, but with copycats. People were writing guides about places they’d never even been to. They’d skim existing posts, reword them, slap on some affiliate links, and hit publish. Quantity trumped quality. SEO was king. And it worked.
Even I played the game.
I deleted old storytelling posts that didn’t rank – the vulnerable ones that had built my dedicated audience are now nowhere to be found. I doubled down on search-friendly content. It boosted my traffic. It made me money. But at what cost?
The soul of what we built was quietly disappearing.
Comment pods became the norm — influencers colluding to artificially boost each other’s engagement. If you’ve ever seen ten influencers all comment “OMG, unreal” on each other’s photos, that’s what that is. It was never about you, the reader. It was about the algorithm.
I’m glad I never stooped to joining a comment pod, but in many ways that left me behind.
We weren’t storytellers anymore. We were marketers. And I hated it.
It’s also the time when I made the most money.
Present Day – Where Will We Go?
The rise of the influencer wasn’t just a trend I observed — it was when my business exploded. I had employees. I was juggling tours, the blog, YouTube, Instagram — dipping a toe (or diving headfirst) into every opportunity I could. On the outside, it probably looked like success. But the more this industry grew, the more I found myself on a hamster wheel, constantly launching, constantly comparing. Someone else was always making more, growing faster, and it never felt like enough.
Still, that’s the nature of this business. It’s exhilarating, and it’s exhausting.
At one point, we did what so many business owners do when the going is good — we leaned hard into what worked – Google. Over 90% of mine and every other blogger’s traffic came from rankings. Then March 2024 hit. A Google update wiped out years of work for many bloggers overnight. I escaped that one, but the updates that followed — with AI-generated answers taking over the top of search — have hit hard (here’s a blog post by Amanda Williams that does a good job of explaining everything if you want the details). Now, unless someone really wants a personalized take, there’s no reason to click through to a blog post anymore.
My newer site, ParenthoodAdventures.com, and the solo female travel content here are still holding strong — because they’re built on a voice and 13 years of experience that AI can’t quite replicate. But it’s a far cry from the days this blog brought in $20K a month.
I’m one of the lucky ones. I was smart about saving and investing when the money was good. I’m not worried. And more than anything, I understand that this space has always been about change. Back when we were selling links, we all thought that was the model. Then Facebook, Pinterest, Google — each one had its time. And each time the tide shifted, those who didn’t evolve got left behind.
So yes, a lot of bloggers are angry. They feel something was stolen from them. But to be honest, I think the industry was always on borrowed time. It’s just that the changes are coming faster now.
So, What am I doing now?
Well, I’m still here. And like always, I’ve evolved. I started a new Instagram that outperforms my old one — totally organically, no comment pods, no tricks. I leaned into what I know: sharing the beauty of the world, usefulness, and connection. And I started working as a travel advisor, partnering with incredible hotels and planning trips for families — often while traveling with my own little one who has already been to 17 countries! If this resonates, I’d love to book your trips, too.
Would 26-year-old me approve? Maybe. Maybe she’d be impressed. Maybe she’d think I sold out. But honestly, I’m not sure I can afford to care what she thinks anymore. I’ve changed.
Some days, I think about walking away from it all and just being a mom. But I’ve never been good at having idle hands — I like to build things. Still, I won’t lie: I’m tired. Tired of launching, tired of chasing trends, tired of the game constantly changing. I know that everyone’s feeling the uncertainty — about jobs, the world, the future.
But that’s the truth, isn’t it? We never really know what’s coming. We never did.
And yet here we are. Still standing. Still building, and I’m grateful for it all. I got to live out my dream for over a decade. How could I resent any part of this journey?
Maybe the industry will look completely different again in a year. Maybe something new will rise from the ashes of what once was. I don’t have a crystal ball. But I do have hope — not because everything is perfect, but because I’ve seen what’s possible when you keep showing up, keep evolving, and keep creating from a place of heart.
That’s always been the real secret — and it still is.
So if you’re a blogger reading this, DO something new. Shift like your career depends on it, because it does and it always did. And if you’re a longtime reader, I hope you know how much I love and have valued you over the years. I don’t know what the future holds, but thank you for everything.
I don’t know what it will be, but I do know there’s more to come.
Please visit:
Our Sponsor