Three months into this blog, and I’m still searching for clarity on what I want it to become; still untangling what exactly it is I’m reaching for.
I find myself floating in this strange, in-between space, where excitement collides with hesitation. All of my pieces have been written to evoke a feeling – a vibe – but how do I continue to create something when I’m still trying to figure out what it is?
The fear isn’t about whether or not I can do this; It’s about whether or not it matters.
Do I have anything to offer? And where is this going to lead me?
In spite of the overwhelm, I keep showing up, even when my confidence wavers and the finished work never quite matches what I saw in my mind. The result of that daily discipline?
I self- published a workbook.
It’s out in the world now, and I have no clue if anyone will buy it. And I don’t think it matters much, really. What matters is that I did it. I didn’t just dream about it – I pushed through the hard stuff and I finished something.
That alone is a kind of victory.
Yet, the questions keep coming. And while I enjoyed creating the workbook, it’s the blog I keep returning to. This has become my foundation – where my thoughts take shape and I clarify what I want my life to consist of.
When I began writing here, the goal was simple: to have a space that was mine, for my voice and my thoughts, where I couldn’t be censored or lose ownership of my work. It was a return to long form social media, which I’ve missed in a world of sixty second explanations.
I just didn’t expect for it to become such a vital extension of myself, so quickly.
The more I’ve written, the more I’ve felt myself coming back to me. And the more I’ve begun to wonder if I could really write for a living.
What would that look like? And more importantly, do I even want to? Will turning something I love, into something financial, destroy it for me? Am I a hypocrite for considering monetization?
So many questions.
I grew up watching my parents dream – thoughtful, beautiful, ambitious dreams. But circumstance, apathy, and addiction pressed in on them, harder than they deserved. Slowly, their dreams faded, swallowed by hesitation or abandoned for survival – or maybe because believing in something bigger simply felt too overwhelming.
They gave in to the quiet surrender of maybe later.
Later never came.
In my own ways, I’ve done the very same.
I’ve let go of things I loved because I didn’t think I was good enough. I’ve walked away from dreams because others didn’t believe in me, either, or because chasing them meant risking losing someone I loved. Over and over, I made myself smaller, quieter, and more practical, convincing myself that maybe this wasn’t meant for me, after all.
I let fear, doubt and judgment keep me from even trying.
But this – writing, creating, connection, nature – feels like my way back. This feels authentic to my values and my purpose. This feels like my way of reclaiming the life I was meant to live, before I let it be shamed out of me because I was too afraid to stand on my own.
I won’t let my ideas wither before they’ve had the chance to breathe and unfold into something real; And I can’t keep waiting for the perfect plan or the perfect version of my work – because there will never be a perfect time. No such thing exists.
Beneath it all, I want to build something meaningful.
But building something meaningful isn’t just about intention – it’s about navigating the realities that come with it. In the digital world, that means facing a framework that demands more than just words.
Blogging isn’t what it was back in the 90’s… Now, there’s an entire infrastructure behind it: SEO, meta data, branding, marketing and social media strategies, and countless other things that make my head hurt. And though I’m still not entirely comfortable with all of it, I’ve learned more than I ever expected to.
At the end of the day, no one cares if I formatted a post perfectly or used the right keywords. They don’t even really care about my experience, either. What actually matters is whether my words resonate with the reader – whether they leave feeling more understood, or with just more knowledge, than they arrived with.
People might not always remember exactly what I’ve said, but they do remember how it made them feel… That shift in perspective has greatly influenced how I approach my writing. Instead of obsessing over saying just the right thing, I’m far more focused on why I’m saying it.
There’s no clear blueprint for building… this… and the tension between wanting to create something lasting, something deeper than a string of blog posts, and not knowing exactly how to claim that, is real.
But I’m still here. Still learning, still questioning, still showing up.
Still refusing to let uncertainty stop me.