This post began as a long, heavy draft—about 3,000 words—that felt overwrought and distant. I deleted it and wrote what we were actually feeling: honest, simple, and a little raw. We included things we hadn’t said out loud before and a few private admissions we’re only just ready to own.
The truth is we love you. Truly. Even when our messages come across as tough love, we know they come from a place of care, and we want you to know we care right back. We want to do this well. We want to create with joy and excitement. We want to inspire you. Blogging has been an incredible way to make a living and we’re full of gratitude for having shared seven years of our lives with you here.
We would never be here without you; not a day goes by that we don’t remember that. That’s why we asked for your feedback last week and read every single comment. We appreciate the honesty and passion you bring when you care about making this blog better. Much of your feedback resonated with us. Lately we’ve felt off—like we lost our rhythm and are missing the mark both for ourselves and for you. We miss the early days when this felt like a joyful, spontaneous hangout. That vibe faded, and we miss it too.
Over the years, amazing opportunities appeared—things we never imagined: a book deal, curating paint colors, a product line at Target, a showhouse. We’re grateful for each experience. But in hindsight, those projects also shifted the perception of the blog from a personal space into more of a business, for you and for us. Behind the scenes, we’ve dialed many of those things back to reconnect with our roots: we’re no longer curating that paint collection, the second book is mostly written, our Target products have run their course, and the showhouse is complete. We didn’t make a big announcement about stepping back from those projects, so it’s understandable some of you assumed we moved on and left the blog behind. The reality is the blog supports any outside project, so we couldn’t abandon it without harming everything else.
It’s not just our own shift from “John and Sherry” to “Young House Love: The Brand.” The blogosphere as a whole feels increasingly sponsored and corporate. From a reader’s or fellow blogger’s perspective, it can be tough to read a post without wondering about underlying motives. Some of you suggested we keep certain features like giveaways because they paid well; that surprised us since we don’t accept payment for giveaways—we offer free things as a thank-you to readers.
There are other things we wish we’d managed differently. We’ve been too defensive at times, over-explained, let small things change our lighthearted tone, and wrestled with the balance between transparency and oversharing. For example, our handling of the announcement about our third house wasn’t our best decision. We can see how some of you felt we didn’t share enough, and for that we’re sorry.
It’s frustrating to do a job you love poorly—especially when it’s a project you created and nurtured for years. We know this is a dream job and a rare opportunity, and we haven’t lost our gratitude. What we have lost, temporarily, is the rhythm and spark that once made us eager to publish. We began to feel like we were letting you down, and every time we hit “publish” we braced ourselves instead of feeling excited.
To stop the stumble and try to find that spark again, we’re taking a break. We don’t yet know exactly how long, but we expect it will be at least a month. During this time we’ll also step back from Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook, though the blog will remain online so you can access the archives whenever you want. We’ll explore other ways to support our family—something we mentioned earlier this year—because the passion we felt when blogging was a hobby while we had day jobs suggests a different balance might help rekindle that joy.
This moment is our responsibility; the situation with the blog and our internal struggles are things we created, and we own that. Please don’t be upset at the people who gave honest feedback last week or blame them for our decision to step away. We asked for your thoughts because we truly wanted to hear them. Reading your responses was cathartic and clarifying. It helped us see that if we care about this blog and want to return it to a place that feels fun, real, and spontaneous, we need to pause and reset.
In short: we love you, we thank you, and we hope you understand.
