Not a "goodbye."

No really, it's not.

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As many of you know, or may have noticed, Carbs & Coffee Co. has been absent from the market scene for most of the calendar year. And even before that, I had started to pull back, had taken impromptu "breaks", and had more last minute cancellations than I'd care to admit.

Since March, though, I have not baked a single loaf of bread, rolled a single sourdough croissant, or concocted any new filling or dough recipes. Not only did/have I not had the physical energy to do so, I hadn't the brain power either.

At the time, I simply thought I just needed more rest. More time--to recuperate, to heal. And then, I could move on and move forward with my life.

My husband had been pushing me for months to take a step back from the market scene. Really, from baking/working in general. Not because he didn't want me to work, but because I couldn't handle it, physically. It was killing me.

I was passing out daily, I couldn't stand on my own two feet for more than five minutes without getting lightheaded, dizzy, getting tunnel vision and losing my balance...

My blood pressure was tanking, causing me to throw up, to be nauseous, and to experience almost daily migraines.

My brain quite literally wasn't getting the oxygen it needed to be able to think clearly.

I couldn't remember anything. Not why I got myself up and to a standing position and walked into the kitchen to get something. Not to call the doctor—or why I needed to, or which one to call. Not to send my nephew's birthday present. Not my schedule, not my husband's, my son's... Nothing.

For months (years, really) these symptoms went on, only growing when I thought they would shrink. Until I was suddenly the least dependable person I knew.

I felt like a flake. I even bought myself a card months ago that had a croissant on the front and said something like, "sorry for being so flaky." I never sent it to anyone, I just kept it in my kitchen for months—my dark sense of humor got a kick out of it I guess.

My wake up call came at the last market I attended. I passed out once. I was too dizzy to stand, too weak and shaky to pack up my things. I tried to do it slowly, without anyone noticing that I wasn't okay. It didn't work. My sweet, sweet market neighbor noticed. She made me sit down, drink some water, and I cried. I was so embarrassed by this person that I had become. This woman who no longer could handle a simple market tear down, or a kitchen clean up, or counting the correct change to give back to a customer.

Things that five-years-ago-Sarah would have thought were literal child's play... I was giving all my energy to and still couldn't do them correctly, or without help, or at least without taking a break every 2-5 minutes.

I no longer have the luxury of living life by "normal" standards. I have to be much more conscientious about my energy and where it's going.

Before March of 2025, I was maxing out my energy doing the bare minimum for my business, and at the end of the day, it came back to bite me in the butt.

I finally gave in to my husband's pleading to take a step back and we decided I wouldn't bake until at least August. That I'd take the time between then and now to heal, to rest, and to stop overdoing it.

I really did think that would be enough. I thought the rest would get me where I needed to be by now.

And, truthfully, I do believe I am where I need to be. I just am not where I thought I'd be.

I have spent every week since March going to doctors, to treatments, to acupuncture, etc. I have been working on healing my physical body as well as my emotional one. I have learned to regulate my nervous system through trauma work, which is opening up space in my body's systems to heal.

I have undergone a necessary major surgery—to open further space for my body to heal.

I have addressed the pain my body, brain, and nervous system have endured instead of ignoring its existence.

It has been a time consuming, exhausting, frustrating, yet eye-opening process.

But, I'm still in it.

That's the funny thing about Chronic Illness. It doesn't just go away like other illnesses or injuries do...

It's not something you just “get over.” It’s something that will stick with me forever. It will get better—of that I have no doubt. But the harsh reality is that I will always have to lead a different life than the one I used to.

Managing the impacts and effects of Lyme disease will always be a full-time job for me. And I know that is not what anyone wants to hear.

But if I were to go back to the version of myself that was trying to suppress the true nature of my symptoms, I would be doing not only myself a disservice, but my entire family, and friends.

Since March, I have learned that:

• canceling plans is okay

• rest is not a luxury, it is a necessity

• softness is not equal to weakness

• some people really will never understand your circumstances, and that is okay

• I do not need people to fully understand, compassion is enough

• enlightened selfishness is a good thing

• I am no less worthy now, than I was before—as a totally able-bodied woman

• investing the time, money, and energy into my health now will allow for more adventures later

• grief is the most confusing, complex emotion

• I can feel both joy and sadness in the same moment—each day is full of really big, dichotomous emotions, and it is okay for all of them to co-exist peacefully

• writing allows me to experience full creative expression, as well as process life changes—and I will continue to embrace it

• everything is temporary—the good and the bad—so living in the moment really is the most important way to be

• being is doing

• I am lucky to be as optimistic as I am—when I think of others going through similar circumstances, my heart hurts for those that 1.) do not have the support I do, 2.) are prone to depression (thankfully, I am not), 3.) do not have the financial means/support to "take a break" from work—I literally don't know what I would have done without it

I didn't write this post as a "goodbye", or for any form of sympathy or excuse for my absence/lack of communication.

Honestly, I just miss the people I came to know as Carbs & Coffee Co. grew over the last four years. I miss the connection, the interactions, and the true sense of community I felt a part of.

Many of you became friends. I miss seeing your faces, hearing your updates, and sharing stories, pastries, and fresh air.

Like I said—this isn't a goodbye. I have no intentions of letting Carbs & Coffee Co. bite the dust, but rather, I intend to lean back into it when and where I can. In a way that looks much different, perhaps, but is right for where I am right now.

Hopefully in the next few months I will be able to have an impromptu bake sale, or even a pop-up, who knows!

But for now, I plan to share my creativity in different, less physically demanding ways. Mostly through writing, and mostly it is work that may not be shared for a very long time. However, I do hope (now that my brain fog is not quite so extreme) to post more blogs (maybe even some recipes), and more short/long form writings both here and over on my new Substack--Chronically Confused.

As always, thanks for being here, for being a part of my unconventional entrepreneurial journey, and for all the support you have given me over the last few years while navigating such a turbulent disease. Your support means more to me than you could ever know!

Now, if you made it this far—go drink a coffee and maybe grab a pastry... you deserve it!