You're allowed to change your mind

And your name/direction. Here, I'll go first! 🔀

Taken on a walk in the Lake District with a new friend last weekend. It’s good to be home—September 2024

Hi friend,

The first thing I noticed when I got out of my car was the smell of manure. That’s one of the things people don’t tell you about living in the UK countryside. You’ll be surrounded by rolling green hills, and walk past sheep and cows almost every day. And sometimes when you open your front door, the only thing you’ll be able to smell is the muck the farmers have spread across their land.

That muck isn’t included on the county’s tourism website or popular social media accounts. It doesn’t fit the image of the dream. People want to see the beautiful landscapes, the stone walls and bridges, and all the cute animals. They want to see the cottages, the interiors, and the cozy pubs with fireplaces to warm up by after a long walk in the hills. People probably don’t want to know you’ll often find yourself walking through sheep poop (and trying to avoid huge piles of cow sh*t) on those walks, or that you’ll need to scrub it all from your boots after. Or that sometimes, especially on a warm summer day, the smell of manure is almost strong enough to make you want to stay indoors.

I returned home from my trip to Canada on September 19th, one of the last days of summer in the UK. I call both places “home,” which might be confusing for you as a reader, but feels true for me. So, whenever I write about my two homes, I’ll always try to make it clear which one I’m talking about.

Something about going home to Victoria felt different this year—and not just because the first thing I noticed when I stepped out of the airport was the distinct smell of the Pacific Ocean. (HEAVEN!) This is the longest I’ve been away for, and it just felt as though something had changed. It wasn’t the landscape (although there is a lot of development happening there!) or the people (except for my baby niece who changed every single day, which was magical to witness). It’s more like I was experiencing life there in a different way. I couldn’t always see it with my eyes, but I could feel it in every walk, every interaction, every mundane task. It was a very different trip from my previous ones.

Interestingly, returning home to the UK felt different this time, too—but the differences were more obvious. I noticed I knew the roads and exits around Edinburgh Airport, and didn’t need to rely on navigation the way I used to. I spent the first few days at Tall Man’s house, and felt more at home there—and with him—than I can remember before. And when I came home to the Lighthouse (what I call my little rented house a few towns over), I experienced it in a new way too. Something about the house feels cold to me right now. Maybe it’s the contents, or maybe it’s just that it feels empty with only me here. I have a few ideas for how I might add some warmth in. But for now, I’m simply noticing: things feel different.

Or… maybe it’s me.

Maybe I’m the one who has changed.

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As you know, I spent the summer re-reading my first book, THE YEAR OF LESS. When I was in Canada, I quietly re-read my second book too. ADVENTURES IN OPTING OUT is a very different book, compared to TYOL, and my relationship with it has always been different too. ADVENTURES is gentle, supportive, and more like a conversation with a good friend. It’s also boundaried and less vulnerable than my usual writing. I started working on it just one year after TYOL came out, and I can see all the ways I was trying to protect myself. (You can read more about what my experience writing/promoting TYOL was like here, to understand why.) It didn’t get much media attention, because it came out in September 2020 and… need I say more? But I have always had a soft spot for this book. It helped me through a challenging time, and continues to today.

This isn’t the first time I’ve re-read ADVENTURES, and it won’t be the last. I wrote it for anyone who was thinking about changing paths in life, which is something I have a lot of experience with. And I’m also not afraid to say: sometimes, I still need the guidance in these pages. I need the reminders! Reminders of how my own thinking works, what types of decisions I struggle with and why, and what helps me ultimately make a choice and take the first step down a new path. Sometimes, I only need to read the introduction or the conclusion/epilogue to get the little push I need. Whatever change I’ve been considering making, I seem to do it with confidence after a few pages.

This summer, I was thinking about a few different changes I’d like to make… the biggest one being related to my work, both here and with future books. Like many of the changes I’ve made in my life, this started with me noticing what wasn’t feeling good: namely, all the ways I felt trapped by a title, a book review project, etc. Little commitments that feel big once someone (perhaps you, my friend) has voted with their dollars and given you money to support what you’re doing. I re-read ADVENTURES with the hope that I might find an answer or at least some permission in the pages. Instead, I found that none of it resonated with this particular change I want to make, because… I’m not afraid. All my other opt-outs have been held back by fear. I couldn’t make the decision or start changing paths until “my excitement about the possibilities finally weighed just a little more than my fears.” (p. xv) But I’m not afraid this time.

Maybe the excitement has always weighed more than any fears. It’s totally possible that I’m just excited!

Or… maybe it’s me.

Maybe I have changed.

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When I first started writing my BIG blog¹ in 2010, I used a pen name. At the time, I had more than $28,000 CAD ($21,000 USD, £15,000) of consumer debt and wanted to document my journey paying it off, but I was ashamed of that debt and did not want anyone in my real life to find the blog. So naturally, I chose the most secretive pen name of all: my initials, LC.

Within a year of starting my blog, I started getting freelance writing clients in the personal finance space. This was thrilling for a young writer (I was 26 when I got my first client), but that thrill quickly turned into reality, because I was forced to give companies a name. They didn’t want me to write as LC. They wanted a first and last name. Again, thinking this would somehow prevent anyone in my real life from finding me online, I opted for the name only my family and a few close friends called me: Cait. Everyone else called me Caitlin (except for my sister who still calls me Caityyyyy). Surely, no one would think to search, “Cait Flanders.”

Nobody did search that or find me. But in 2012, I finally shared my blog with family and friends and let people in on my secrets: that I’d paid off more than half my debt, had started doing some financial writing, and was even working part-time (on the side of my day job) for a financial startup based in NYC. I stopped hiding my writing from people, but I didn’t stop changing my name. I changed the domain from blondeonabudget.ca to blondeonabudget.com, so it wasn’t… so Canadian, I guess!? (There must have been a reason, but I can’t remember it.) In 2015, I felt as though I’d outgrown Blonde on a Budget and changed my blog to my name (caitflanders.com). And I’ve tried a few different names on for size here on Substack: Hi Friend, Explore Within (very briefly), and most recently, The Mindful Consumer.

They’ve all felt a little off, for their own reasons. But if I’m honest with you, friend: I always knew TMC didn’t feel right. It was a phrase I’d used since the shopping ban, and one some people knew me for. So, it felt easy to pick back up and re-apply. But the word “consumer” felt… kind of loaded. And “The Mindful Consumer” felt like a name people could read it and make a lot of assumptions about what topics I might dig into. Topics I knew I wasn’t interested in writing about, and actually don’t have any passion around. Like, at all. I once tried to over-explain my way out of it, but that still didn’t make the name feel any better. If anything, it felt tighter… like I was trapped by it. Or like I’d have to over-explain myself for the rest of my writing days here.

When I interviewed my friend

Nic Antoinette

for ADVENTURES, she likened this kind of discomfort to, “wearing a dress that’s a little bit too tight. It’s not that you can’t make it work. But you would feel so much better if you just changed your clothes.” (p. 40)

I can tell that I’ve changed.

And I’m ready to change my (writing) clothes.

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All of this it to say: I’m changing the name and shape of this newsletter again—and I feel great about this decision! I used to worry what people would think, before making a change like this. And now that I’m on Substack, I could worry it might mean some people decide they don’t want to be paying subscribers anymore². But I’m not worried about these things, this time. First, I can finally see: it’s not that serious! I’ve spent so many years taking everything so. freaking. seriously… and it’s just not! Also: I believe every creative project (or iteration of a project) deserves a title of its own, and every project changes you. (Sidebar: re-reading TYOL changed me.) It makes sense you’d want to change some things after completing each one. It’s all part of the process.

That’s the permission I’ve given myself this time, friend. And if you came to me and told me you were thinking about doing the same thing, I would simply say: do it! Choose whatever new name you want. Choose what makes you feel excited. Choose what makes you feel light and free. Choose what will help you express yourself. Choose what will help you be more of yourself. That’s what we should want for one another: to be more of ourselves. That’s what I want for you.

And that’s definitely what I want for me.

RIP The Mindful Consumer!

Hello…? Stay tuned ☺️

xx Cait

PS - HI FRIEND! I’ve missed you! Can’t wait to catch up more next week ❤️

1. RIP Blonde on a Budget, 2010—2018

2. If that’s you, that’s ok! I’ve always said: whether you stay for 1 month, 6 months, 1 year, or forever… any support is appreciated.