Notes & musings from life...

Has anyone else just been… T I R E D?

I expected the turning of the calendar into 2026 would bring with it a certain amount of industriousness. I’m usually delving deep into all of the nitty gritty. But this year, I’ve been finding it hard to even move through the daily tasks. Inertia, rather than my much-prayed-for industriousness.

I want to blame it all on external forces, but I think, in the words of Taylor Swift, “It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me.” I’ve been saying to myself, “Elena, just try to do the bare minimum. That’s a start.” But it’s been hard to even do that.

Back in the fall, I navigated the entire season with a case of mono that kept my body temperature at a steady 100° for about ten weeks. I truly don’t know how I managed. All the drop-offs and pick-ups, product launches, shows nearly every weekend, kids’ days off from school, making dinner, folding the unending pile of laundry…

And now that things are a bit “calmer,” it’s the tiny things that leave me feeling incapable.

Externally, I’ll blame the cold. I’ll blame the polarized world (for the record, I don’t care who you vote for—we are still friends and it’s none of my business; I will not be lending a hand to polarization), I'll blame my ex-husband constantly being a narcissistic a**. There are about a hundred other things I could blame. But it doesn’t help. I’m still tired.

And maybe that’s the part I want to linger with for a moment.

Because if you’re reading this and quietly nodding along, I don’t think this tiredness belongs to me alone. I think there’s a particular kind of fatigue that comes from continuing anyway, making choices both big and small, intentionally choosing beauty, choosing what to give attention and what to let go, in a world that so often feels loud, brittle, and relentlessly urgent and needing of your attention, your outrage, your opinion.

Stopping completely isn’t really an option. But adjusting is.

We keep moving forward, even when the movement looks like just getting out of bed and brushing your teeth. Things that may feel invisible to others, but in the moment require real effort. Sometimes the triumph is simply doing the next thing on your list. Sometimes it’s telling yourself it’s perfectly okay to rest. 

And sometimes it’s questioning why we need words like triumph at all. Why does everything have to be a battle? Why can’t things just… be?

Yesterday I was T I R E D. And fortunately, I didn’t have to go anywhere. I could just be home. Lily begged me to come play with her, so I dragged myself into her room. We played Barbies—which, as it turns out, is really just mommy organizing tiny things, but make it fun!

At one point, Lily leaned in close and said, “I just love hanging out with you, mommy.”

I hope I hold onto that moment for the rest of my life. Because while my mind was swirling - caught up in exhaustion, guilt, and everything undone, all I had to do was pause. Just be. And in that stillness, I was handed something luminous.

Here’s the lesson I need right now, and maybe you do too: some seasons aren’t about momentum. They’re about resilience. And sometimes resilience means pausing long enough to receive the message that in the eyes of the people who love you the most, being present is all you need to do.

Mommy and Me Surrounded by Hearts, Lily Ochs, 2026

Lately, this has been keeping me company. Brief, atmospheric episodes that uncover strange, forgotten, and slightly uncanny corners of history. Each one feels like opening a small drawer you didn’t know existed — curious, human, and a tad macabre in the best way. Perfect listening for slow work, winter afternoons, and anyone who delights in the odd and overlooked.

To start, I want to offer my sincere gratitude to you for taking the time to write such thoughtful five-star reviews for Folkloric. Your words were kind, uplifting, and a much-needed reminder of what makes this work special in a very crowded sea of jewelry.

Margaret says:
“I love all of Elena’s jewelry. It has a romantic quality that feels both timeless and deeply personal. Each piece feels special, like it was made just for you.”

Gwyneth says:
“Absolutely love this necklace. It’s even more beautiful in person, and it feels like something I’ll treasure for years.”

Cynthia says:
“These pieces don’t feel like accessories — they feel meaningful. Like small works of art you get to wear.”

The gratitude I feel reading these words is hard to put into language.

At its heart, Folkloric exists for you. For the person who notices details, who gathers meaning, who wants to live among objects that feel considered and alive rather than rushed or disposable.

I’m still seeking out imagery with history, working slowly by hand, and making pieces meant to be worn often and returned to again and again. Revisiting the story of Folkloric has been a way of checking my compass—making sure that everything I create still feels worthy of being chosen by you.

This isn’t a season of chasing momentum. It’s a season of care. Of refinement. Of tending what already matters.

On the horizon is my Birthday BOGO sale, and I’m working hard behind the scenes to photograph and list pieces as quickly as I can. It’s a bit of a rush—one I didn’t fully intend—but a familiar one. I’ve done this dance many times before. If there’s perfection to be found, I hope it lives in the pieces themselves, rather than in pristine photography or perfectly polished listings.

Seeing these reviews arrive has been grounding and deeply encouraging. They help me steady the compass and keep moving forward with care. Thank you for taking the time to share your words—they truly matter.

And if you didn’t get a chance to write anything last week, it’s always a good time. You can leave a five-star shop review using the link below, and I’ll personally reply with a 15% off shop coupon as a thank-you.