Maybe This Summer Isn’t Meant to Be Magical

I’ve always loved summer. The slower mornings. The longer evenings. The soft permission to exhale after months of rushing and scheduling and school runs. It’s a season I look forward to — not because it’s always wildly exciting, but because it tends to offer a little more space. A little more sky.

But lately, I’ve been feeling a strange pressure creeping in. It starts right around the beginning of June, when the online world seems to explode into sun-drenched promises and picture-perfect plans. Overnight, my feed fills with talk of the best summer ever — of memory-making, screen-free days, bucket lists, road trips, slow living, van life, coastal walks, and dreamy itineraries. The kind of summer you can bottle and save for a lifetime.

And while all of it is beautiful, it can also feel… overwhelming.

Online culture has a way of amplifying everything — especially our expectations. Even the most well-meaning content can start to feel like a checklist we’re failing to complete. Summer, a season that was once about rest and ease and letting life unfold, now often feels like yet another thing to optimise. Another thing to get right. Another thing to perform.

Whether it’s trying to create the perfect childhood for our kids (complete with tech-free adventures and retro 90s nostalgia), or documenting every dreamy moment of a European road trip — the unspoken message seems to be: make it magical.

But what if your summer doesn’t look like that?
What if it’s not a whirlwind of adventures or a scrapbook full of golden memories?
What if this summer is something else entirely?

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The Pressure to Make It Perfect

For as long as I can remember — even back in the early blogging days — there’s been a cultural obsession with creating the perfect summer. I remember it so clearly: the printable bucket lists, the “100 Days of Summer” challenges, the endless activity ideas and packing checklists. And to be fair, a lot of it was lovely. When my children were small, those long days outdoors were our norm — messy play in the garden, homemade slime, nature walks, paddling pools, building forts out of sticks and cushions. It was the life we were living, so the content came naturally. But even then, there was pressure. To make it magical. To document it all. To turn everyday moments into curated memories.

And now? It feels like that pressure has only grown.

Open Instagram or YouTube in early June, and you’re bombarded with back-to-back reels and vlogs declaring this summer must be magical. There’s an entire movement around recreating an ‘80s or ‘90s-style childhood: tech-free, barefoot, screenless adventures that stretch from dawn until dusk. And while the sentiment is beautiful — I mean, who wouldn’t want a few dreamy golden hours in the garden — I also grew up in the ‘80s. And I can tell you now: it wasn’t all bliss and barefoot joy. There wasn’t a huge amount of money around for most families, travel wasn’t the norm, and not every day was sun-soaked and storybook-worthy.

We’ve begun idealising something that never really existed in the way we imagine. And we’re setting ourselves — and our families — up against impossible standards.

And of course, for parents, that pressure runs even deeper.
Whether you’re trying to keep younger children occupied, or find meaningful ways to connect with your teenagers (who may or may not want to hang out with you), it can start to feel like you’re falling short unless every day includes an adventure, a memory, a photo, and a takeaway lesson.

It feels like we’re meant to manufacture something that looks effortless — a season full of memory-making and barefoot joy — when in truth, so many of us are just trying to hold it all together.

And that’s without even factoring in the deeper realities.

If you’re parenting solo — full-time or temporarily while a partner works — summer can feel like a marathon. If you’re working, finding childcare and balancing logistics becomes another stressor. If you’re unwell, financially stretched, emotionally depleted — summer doesn’t magically wipe that away. And if you’re parenting teenagers, the dynamic shifts completely. It’s no longer slip-and-slides and bubble machines. It’s navigating jobs, friendships, independence, and the ever-changing rhythm of growing up.

I had a moment recently, walking through town with my two teenagers — both taller than me now — passing paddling pools and bubble wands in the shop windows. I used to buy those things without thinking, fill the back garden with water play and fairy lights, watch them run wild until their clothes stuck to their skin. I miss those days. I really do.

But more than anything, I think about how summer feels like a release — a breath I’ve been holding all year.

School hasn’t always been kind to one of my children, and while this past year has been a good one, I’ve spent most of it living on high alert. Summer, for me, is not about grand plans or perfect memories. It’s about being able to let go. To rest. To not worry so much. And I imagine there are so many other people out there, quietly carrying heavy loads, who feel the same way.

So maybe it’s time to ask:
What does a perfect summer actually feel like?
And what if, instead of chasing magic, we simply gave ourselves permission to find small, honest moments of ease — even just one a day?

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The Quiet Truth: Not All Seasons Are for Flourishing

The truth is — not every season is for blooming.
Not every summer arrives with open skies and open hearts.
Some seasons are quieter than that. Heavier. More tender. More complex.

Some summers are for surviving. For softening. For healing slowly, quietly, gently — in the background of everything else.

This might be one of those summers. And that’s okay.

Maybe you’re feeling burnt out. Maybe you’ve come through something hard — an illness, a loss, a difficult year, a long stretch of emotional or mental fatigue — and you’re still carrying it. Maybe your life feels full to the brim with responsibilities or decisions or things that just feel hard. Maybe you’re simply tired. And maybe the idea of creating a “magical summer” feels completely out of reach right now.

This summer, I’m not trying to create magic.
I’m just trying to find the quiet moments where I can finally breathe again.

And perhaps that’s what this season is really asking of us — not to sparkle, but to exhale.

Maybe this is the summer where you finally give yourself permission to stop doing what no longer feels right.
Maybe it’s the summer you set firmer boundaries.
Or the summer you pick up a paintbrush again, or a book, or your breath.

Maybe this summer is not about going bigger — but going deeper.
Not about doing more — but doing less with more care.

Maybe you’ll sit down each morning with your coffee and decide not to pick up your phone straight away. Maybe you’ll go for slow walks without needing to track them. Maybe you’ll lie in the grass and stare at the clouds, and let that be enough.

Maybe this is the summer where you stop trying to prove anything — and just allow yourself to be.

Maybe you need to heal.
Maybe you need to reflect.
Maybe you need to reclaim parts of yourself you’ve lost along the way.
Or maybe you simply need to pause long enough to ask, What really matters to me right now?

For me, this summer isn’t about action-packed schedules or Instagrammable moments. Yes, we’re heading off on a little family adventure abroad — and we’re all looking forward to that — but it won’t be glamorous or busy or even particularly eventful. It will be relaxed and quiet and simple. That’s what we need right now.

The rest of our summer will be about slowing down, getting outside, eating well, moving our bodies, spending time together. It will be about choosing rest over rush, presence over performance.

And to me, that’s wellness in its most honest form — not the polished version we see online, but the kind that asks: What do I actually need in this season?

So maybe, for you too, this summer isn’t meant to be magical in the traditional sense. Maybe it’s meant to be grounding. Restorative. Clarifying.
Maybe this is the summer where you stop chasing something out there and start tuning into something in here.

This summer might be…
A slow walk at sunset, not to get your steps in — but to remember how to breathe
A quiet morning with coffee, where no one needs anything from you yet
A nap in the middle of the day, because you’re finally letting yourself rest
Saying no without guilt, because peace is a plan too
Letting go of the performance — and the weight of other people’s expectations
Picking up something you used to love, and remembering it still lives inside you
A gentle kind of healing, the kind that doesn’t look like much from the outside
Choosing softness over striving, slowness over show
A season of silence, reflection, and quietly returning to yourself
Letting yourself just be — not more, not better, just you

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An Invitation to Let It Be What It Is

So what if we simply let this summer be what it is?

Not what it could be if we had more energy, more money, more time, more freedom.
Not what someone else is doing, documenting, planning, or booking.
Just… what it is. As it is. In this season. For you.

What if it doesn’t need to be magical, or memorable, or remarkable in any way?
What if it’s okay for it to be quiet, soft, even a little bit boring?

Because that’s where so much of the good stuff lives — in the spaces we’re usually too busy to notice.

Let this summer be uneventful.
Let it be a little bit slower.
Let it stretch out gently, with no agenda and no performance.

Maybe this is the summer of small joys —
The kind you almost miss unless you’re paying attention.

Let it be the summer of naps and second cups of tea.
The summer of ordinary dinners and easy conversations.
Of early nights, and soft mornings, and noticing things you haven’t noticed in a long time.

Let it be a summer where nothing dramatic happens, but somehow…
you come back to yourself a little.

Let it be enough — even if it’s not spectacular.
Especially if it’s not spectacular.

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If This Summer Feels Heavy

If this summer feels heavy, or lonely, or disappointing — I just want you to know you’re not alone.

Not every season is golden.
Not every chapter is bright.
Sometimes, we’re just making it through.
And that, in itself, is enough.

There’s so much pressure — spoken and unspoken — to turn summer into something magical. But if you’re walking through a hard time, no amount of plans or picnics or perfect weather is going to change that. And that’s okay. Because life isn’t meant to be lived only in the highlights. It’s meant to be lived fully — in the joy, the mess, the heartbreak, the healing, the quiet ordinary days that pass without much fuss.

Pretending something isn’t happening doesn’t protect us from it.
And performing a version of life we’re not actually living won’t bring peace.

But showing up? Letting ourselves feel what we’re feeling? Moving through it, gently and honestly, at our own pace? That’s where the real magic lies.

So if your summer doesn’t look like a golden reel — if it doesn’t include holidays or heatwaves or barefoot children dancing in the sprinkler — that’s okay. You are not doing it wrong.

Those beautiful videos and vlogs and snapshots we see online? They’re just that — snapshots. Tiny, curated glimpses into someone else’s edited hour.
They are not the whole story. No one’s life looks like that all the time.

And here’s what I’ve learned:
When we stop trying to recreate someone else’s summer, we can begin to notice our own.

We start to find our own golden moments.
Moments that are quiet, unassuming — and entirely our own.

That cup of coffee sipped slowly in peace.
That late-evening glass of wine on the patio as the sun dips low.
That overdue catch-up with an old friend.
That soft, wordless walk by the river.
That moment of setting a boundary that brings unexpected relief.
That exhale at the end of a long, ordinary day.

Those are your highlights. Your real-life reels.
They don’t need hashtags or filters to matter.

So if this summer isn’t big or bold or beautiful in the way you imagined, let it be what it is.
Let it be gentle.
Let it be slow.
Let it be healing.
Let it be yours.

Chat soon,

Ciara

P.S. If this post resonated with you, you might enjoy joining me over on Instagram at @ourlittlehouseinthecountry — I share gentle encouragement, honest reflections, and simple ideas for slow, intentional living. It’s where I chat more about creating a life that feels meaningful, not just busy. I’d truly love to hear your thoughts on this post — feel free to share in the comments below, send me a DM on Instagram, or let me know how your summer is really feeling this year.\n\nAnd if you’re in the mood for more gentle reads, you might also like: 10 Things I’ve Let Go of This Summer (So I Can Actually Enjoy It) and 12 Things I’ve Stopped Doing to Live a Simpler, More Intentional Life