Tag: life

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Do It Anyway

Why Waiting to Feel “Better” Might Be Holding You Back

There’s a moment that sneaks up on us. It might be when you’re brushing your teeth, driving to work, or standing in line at the grocery store. You catch yourself thinking, “I’ll do it when I feel better.” When I’m more stable. When the anxiety settles. When I finally stop feeling this heavy sadness.

But what if that moment never comes?

Here’s the hard truth: waiting to feel ready might mean waiting forever. Life doesn’t always give us a neat little window where everything aligns and we suddenly feel brave, joyful, or put together enough to start living. Healing doesn’t always show up before the experience. Sometimes, the experience is what heals you.

So go live.

Not a curated, perfect version of life. Your real, messy, miraculous life. Do it sad. Do it anxious. Do it uncertain. Let the shaky steps count just as much as the sure ones.

You don’t need to have it all figured out to move forward. You don’t have to be healed to be worthy of joy, love, connection, or progress. If you wait for all the pain to go away before you begin, you might miss the part where the beginning is what softens the pain.

We’re taught that clarity, happiness, and motivation should come before action. That we need to fix ourselves first, and then we’ll be ready. But what if the act of showing up exactly as we are is what helps us feel whole again?

Start living now. Not because everything feels easy, but because your life is happening right now. Don’t sit on the sidelines waiting for a cleaner chapter. Write your story in the middle of the mess. Use the colors you have, even if they don’t match.

You don’t have to be fearless to be brave.

Sometimes the unknown is where you discover your strength. Sometimes walking into the moment is what brings the healing you’ve been waiting for.

Whatever it is, from starting the business to taking the trip, signing up for the class, applying for the job, going on the date, or saying yes to the opportunity, you are allowed to do it imperfectly. You can carry your sadness, your fear, your doubt. You don’t need permission to begin.

Just begin.
The healing might be waiting on the other side.

xoxo
-S

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The Road That Still Breaks My Heart

There’s a road I used to turn down that felt like stepping through a portal, like the air shifted as I crossed the threshold into something softer, safer, almost sacred. I lived at the end of that road for five years, and even now, years later, I’m still grieving the loss of it like I lost a person. Because maybe I did.

I lost the version of myself I became in that house.

That place wasn’t just where I lived. It was where I finally exhaled. Where I found rhythm and comfort and hope again. The walls weren’t just shelter. They were sanctuary. And when we left, it wasn’t just a move. It was a tearing. A dislocation. A grief I’ve never quite been able to outrun.

It’s been almost five years since we left, which is almost the same amount of time we lived there. Somehow, that symmetry makes the ache sharper. Like I’m standing on either side of a mirror, looking at a version of myself I can’t reach anymore.

I still cry when I think about it.
I still tear up when I get too close.
I still find myself dreaming about it, vivid, aching dreams where we’re allowed to go back. Where we’re living there again, like nothing ever changed. And I wake up heartbroken all over again.

Some people think of grief as something reserved for death, but I know better. I’ve learned that there’s such a thing as living grief, the kind that haunts you quietly, the kind that follows you into your sleep, the kind that doesn’t have a funeral but still deserves to be mourned.

I don’t know how to stop wanting it back.
And maybe I don’t need to. Maybe that place will always be a soul marker, a lighthouse I can’t reach but still look for on dark nights.

Sometimes, I wonder if peace like that ever comes back.
Not in the same form, but in pieces. In fragments.
In new light through new windows. In quiet mornings where my heart doesn’t feel so bruised.

But for now, I carry it.
I carry her, the woman I was in that house.
The woman who finally felt like she had made it home.
And every time the sky turns that color, the one that feels like a Zach Bryan song, I let myself miss it.

Because what we had there, that was home.

There’s a reel on my Instagram that goes with this post. I put it together with a song that gets me every time. You can watch it here.

To those of you that follow me everywhere – thank you for putting up with this for a few days in a row. I don’t know that I’m through it yet, but I do know there is catharsis in posting.

xoxo
-S

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The Art of Showing Up When You Feel Invisible

It’s one thing to be tired. It’s another thing to feel invisible.

Lately, I’ve been doing everything I know how to do. I’m posting, building, creating, and showing up. Still, it feels like I’m operating just outside the edges of everyone’s attention. I keep doing the work, but none of it quite lands. I keep hoping something will catch. The silence is louder than anything I’ve made.

It’s not about applause. It never really has been. But when you give so much of yourself, including your time, energy, and creativity, and the return is minimal at best, it’s hard not to feel like you’re fading into the background.

When everything feels stuck

I’ve hit a plateau in more ways than one.

The scale won’t move, even though I’ve been putting in the effort. My income hasn’t changed much, despite months of work across two businesses. Mentally, I feel like I’m moving through fog.

There’s also the noise that comes from being surrounded by people with big personalities. The ones who take up space without noticing anyone else in the room. They speak first. They speak loudest. Somehow, they’re always the ones being heard. I’m still here, trying to build something real and steady, but it feels like I’m constantly being overlooked.

It’s draining. Not because I expect the spotlight, but because I’m tired of having to work so hard just to be seen at all.

Still moving

Even with all of this, I haven’t stopped. It’s not because I’m feeling hopeful. It’s just what I do.

I still get up. I still write posts. I still plan bakery menus. I still share tools, create content, and show up for a job that pays the bills, even if it isn’t the one I want forever.

An old advisor once told me to get up, dress up, and show up. It stuck with me, not because it was deep, but because it’s something I can still manage. Even on the days when everything else feels out of reach, I can still do that.

Most days, that has to be enough.

There’s no bow on this

This isn’t the moment where everything changes. There are no breakthroughs here. Just something honest.

I’m tired. I’m working hard. I’m doing what I can. Right now, it doesn’t feel like it’s being met with much in return.

But I’m still here. I’m still creating. I’m still planting seeds, even though I won’t see them bloom for a while.

That isn’t failure. It’s just the part of the process people don’t talk about.

A little borrowed peace

There’s a quote I’ve been holding onto.
“Worrying doesn’t take away tomorrow’s troubles. It takes away today’s peace.”

Peace feels rare lately. I don’t want to keep giving it away just because I’m afraid that my work isn’t paying off fast enough. So I’m trying to let myself rest in the doing. Even when no one claps. Even when the numbers don’t move. Even when the progress is invisible to everyone but me.

What to do when you’re in this place

If this feels familiar, if you’re in a stretch where you’re doing the work and still feel invisible, I hope you’ll pause for a second. Acknowledge how heavy it all feels. Then keep going with whatever’s in front of you.

Here’s what’s been helping me:

  • Keep a done list. Don’t track what you didn’t finish. Track what you did. Let it add up.
  • Turn down the noise. Log out. Mute people. Unfollow accounts. Do what helps you hear yourself again.
  • Make something just for you. Don’t post it. Don’t monetize it. Just make it because it feels good.
  • Finish one small thing. One task. One piece of progress. One win you can hold onto.

You don’t need to feel visible to be valuable. You don’t need to be noticed to be strong. You are allowed to keep building quietly.

And if all you did today was continue, that counts.

xoxo
-S

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Gratitude and the Ghosts I Carry

I’m going through something right now.

It’s not the kind of something you can tie up in a punchline or smooth over with a filtered selfie and a good caption. It’s the kind of something that sits in your throat, too heavy to swallow, too stubborn to spit out. The kind that makes you want to cancel everything and also say yes to anything that might distract you from it. I filmed a video already; I talk more about it there. But I haven’t been ready to let it out in writing until now. Maybe not even now. Maybe this is just the pressure valve hissing open because I’ve been holding it in too long.

This morning I saw an image, just a throwaway post on someone’s story. One of those things you scroll past a hundred times a day. But it stopped me cold:

“No amount of regret changes the past. No amount of anxiety changes the future. But any amount of gratitude changes the present.”

I don’t believe in signs most days. I believe in algorithms, and caffeine dependency, and making the best of what’s rotting in the fridge. But this hit like a reminder I didn’t know I’d asked for. Like someone whispering through the noise, pay attention.

Because regret and anxiety are the monsters I know best. Regret follows me like a shadow. It creeps in after the conversation ends. After the silence stretches too long. After the decision is made. It sounds like, You should have known better. You should have done more. You should have seen this coming. It’s not just about the big moments either. It’s about all the tiny ones. The split seconds where I didn’t speak up. The days I didn’t take care of myself. The years I spent twisting myself into shapes to be more palatable, less much.

Anxiety, on the other hand, is loud. It doesn’t creep. It crashes. It’s that buzz under my skin, that hum in my brain that never quite lets me rest. It’s the panic of not knowing what comes next, and the certainty that it won’t be good. It makes me flinch at the future like it’s a fist about to swing. It whispers about failure and financial ruin and being forgotten. It tells me I’m running out of time. That I’ve already wasted too much.

So between those two, regret dragging behind me and anxiety pulling ahead, I rarely feel like I’m anywhere solid. Just suspended between what I can’t fix and what I can’t control.

And then there’s that last line:
“Any amount of gratitude changes the present.”
And I want to roll my eyes at it. I want to dismiss it like I do most platitudes. But I can’t. Because there’s something true in it, and truth doesn’t need to shout to be real.

Gratitude is quiet. It doesn’t erase anything. It doesn’t overwrite the damage or scrub out the scars. But it does anchor me, even if only for a second. It pulls me out of the loop. It gives me something to touch.
Right now. Not someday. Not what was. But this.

And the truth is, I haven’t been doing a good job of being here lately. I’ve been somewhere else entirely. I’ve been in the hospital room that still haunts me. I’ve been on the couch where I numbed out for months. I’ve been in the mirror, picking myself apart. I’ve been in the future, catastrophizing every possible path, convinced none of them end well.

But gratitude says, stop. Just for a moment.

Look around.
There’s a dog sleeping with her paw over her nose.
There’s hot coffee cooling too fast but still comforting.
There’s your body, still trying, still waking up every morning, even after you’ve cursed it and failed it and apologized to it and cursed it again.
There’s the ridiculous fact that in the middle of everything crumbling, someone still said “I love you” and meant it.
There’s breath. There’s sweat. There’s music.
There’s you. Still here.

And that doesn’t fix it. It doesn’t make the grief go away. It doesn’t make the money show up or the fear disappear or the trauma untangle itself. But it’s something. It’s a rope. And right now, that might be enough.

I don’t have a clean ending for this post. No tidy resolution. No three-step plan.
I’m still deep in it. Still clawing my way toward whatever the next version of me looks like.

But I’m grateful you’re here, reading this.
I’m grateful I have words, even when I don’t want to use them.
I’m grateful for the click of the keyboard and the low hum of the heater and the fact that, despite it all, I haven’t stopped showing up for myself, even in the smallest of ways.

That’s where I’m living right now. In the small. In the barely-there gratitude. In the tiny flickers of light that remind me I’m not done yet.

And maybe that’s the whole point.

xoxo
-S

P.S. – Dare I ask – should I create a shadow work series/workbook? What do you think?

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63 Days to Miss Oil City

The Game Plan for Sophie Atomic

So, here we are. Sixty-three days out from Miss Oil City.
I’ve got my registration in, my lashes on standby, and a whole lot of work to do before I strut across that stage as Sophie Atomic.

This is going to be my official Pinup Prep kickoff, and I’m claiming Mondays right here on the blog to track the chaos, glamour, breakdowns, glow-ups, and everything in between.

I’m not starting from scratch. I’m down about 45 to 50 pounds so far, depending on the day. I’ve been in a plateau for a minute (hi, I see you), but I’ve got my eyes set on shedding another 20 to 30 before showtime. Not because I have to. Because I want to feel like myself, dialed up to 11.

What Needs to Get Done

Let’s be real. Sixty-three days sounds like a lot until you write out the list. So here it is. Everything I need to work on if I want to bring Sophie Atomic to life on that stage.

👗 Outfit Planning
I don’t just want to wear something cute. I want a look. A moment. Something that gives cheeky rebel with a wink of spooky sweetness. If I have time and it makes sense, I may call in my sister for something custom. That might be more realistic for Rock’n’Route Rendezvous later in the year.

✅ Signature outfit, with backup
✅ Proper undergarments that lift, smooth, and let me breathe
✅ Accessories that scream “planned” instead of “panicked”
✅ Shoes I can strut in without dying

💃 Walk Like Shalom
You know the moment. Shalom Harlow gliding like liquid confidence. Every movement intentional. Soft, strong, unforgettable. That’s the energy I want to bring. Not just a walk. A presence.

✅ Daily strut practice, mirror or hallway or kitchen
✅ Record myself once a week to spot what needs work
✅ Channel Sophie in every move. Confident, clever, a little dangerous

🎭 Character Building
Sophie Atomic isn’t just a name. She’s a whole vibe. A cheeky little hellraiser with a pin-up pout and a don’t-mess-with-me sparkle in her eye.

✅ Write a backstory or character bio
✅ Start journaling as her once a week to get in the mindset
✅ Practice embodying her in mirror poses and daily movement

💄 Hair and Makeup Trials
I can’t show up looking like I just rolled out of bed unless it’s in a glam robe and victory rolls. Hair and makeup need to be locked in and able to hold up under nerves, lights, and hopefully a tiara.

✅ Full glam once a week to test and time the process
✅ Pick a go-to lip color and hairstyle that feels like Sophie
✅ Learn from every trial what works, what doesn’t, and what melts off under pressure

📸 Mirror Poses and Photo Practice
Photos are half the game. I want to hit my angles with confidence, not guess and hope for the best.

✅ Practice five to ten go-to poses in the mirror every day
✅ Set up at least two full-glam photo sessions, even if they’re DIY
✅ Study poses from vintage pinups and modern icons. Steal like an artist

📉 Body Goals and Stamina
Like I said, I’m already down 45 to 50 pounds. But this next stretch is about more than the number. I want stamina, glow, and confidence. I want to feel strong when I walk on stage.

✅ Stick to my Virta plan
✅ Keep moving every day, even when I don’t want to
✅ Stretch more. Sleep better. Hydrate like a queen
✅ Cut down on self-trash talk. It doesn’t belong in the dressing room

😁 Smile, Darling
I don’t need a blindingly white Hollywood smile, but I do want to feel confident grinning under those lights.

✅ Add tooth whitening to my nightly routine
✅ Cut back on things that stain. Iced coffee, I still love you
✅ Drink more water. Yes, with a straw

🗓️ My Weekly Breakdown
To keep from losing my mind, I’m giving myself themed focus days.

Monday: Blog post, progress photos, walk practice
Tuesday: Hair or makeup trial
Wednesday: Character development, journaling as Sophie
Thursday: Full glam run-through
Friday: Outfit planning and accessorizing
Weekend: Reset, photo sessions, reflection, rest

That’s the plan. It’s not about being perfect. It’s about showing up, showing out, and reminding myself that I’m allowed to take up space and look damn good doing it.

So here’s to the next 63 days. Sophie Atomic is coming in hot and a little haunted.

Let’s get ready to blow the roof off Oil City.

See you next Monday. 💋

xoxo
-S

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75 Hard Challenge | My Honest Day 57 Progress & Lessons

If you follow me on Instagram (@levelupsaho), you already know I’ve been all-in on the 75 Hard challenge. It’s not just another fitness challenge, it’s a full-scale commitment to showing up, every single day, no excuses. I didn’t start this on a whim, and I’m not coasting through it either. This challenge is teaching me more than I expected! Not just about self-discipline and mental toughness, but about my own cravings, limits, and capabilities.

Why I Took on 75 Hard

I needed something that would push me past my usual limits. Physically, mentally, and in every area of my life. Half-measures weren’t cutting it anymore. 75 Hard doesn’t let you negotiate with yourself. You either do the work or you start over. Two workouts a day (one outdoors for mental resilience), a gallon of water, 10 pages of reading, progress photos, and sticking to a strict diet. No shortcuts. No cheat days. No wiggle room.

But what I wasn’t expecting was how much I would start craving certain things. Moments of peace, structure, and even my outdoor workouts.

Unexpected Benefits of 75 Hard: Why I Crave My Walks

I thought I’d be craving sugar, rest days, or just an easy way out. Instead, I find myself needing my evening walk. Not because it’s part of the challenge, but because it’s become this essential moment where my mind slows down. No music. No distractions. Just me, the cold air, and the sound of my footsteps. It’s a craving I didn’t see coming, but one I don’t want to lose.

And then there’s the exhaustion. The kind that settles deep in my bones, making every muscle ache. But it’s not the kind of exhaustion that breaks me. It’s the kind that builds me. I’m learning that I can push through. That I can function even when my body is screaming at me to quit. Every day, I prove to myself that I have more in me than I thought.

What 75 Hard Has Taught Me About Self-Discipline

This isn’t a feel-good, just do your best kind of thing. Some days, I’m dialed in. Other days, I’m dragging myself through every task. But I get it done. Every single day. Because that’s the deal.

  • The exhaustion is real. There’s no skipping workouts because I’m tired. I show up anyway.
  • No compromises. There’s no “I’ll make up for it tomorrow.” You either hit your targets or you start over.
  • Mental grit is everything. Stripping out the noise and doing what needs to be done has sharpened my mindset more than I expected.
  • Craving routine. I used to resist structure, but now I find comfort in it. My workouts, reading, and meal planning have all become something I look forward to.
  • Seeing what I’m capable of. The biggest lesson? I’m stronger than I thought. Pushing past my own limits every day is proving that to me in ways nothing else ever has.

What I’ve Learned So Far from 75 Hard

I expected 75 Hard to be tough. I didn’t expect it to shift the way I see myself. I always thought I needed motivation. But what I actually needed was proof.

Proof that I can show up, even when I don’t want to.
Proof that I can handle exhaustion, discomfort, and self-doubt without letting them stop me.
Proof that I can trust myself to follow through on what I say I’ll do.

Follow My 75 Hard Journey on Instagram

I post the reality of this challenge daily on my Instagram stories. No filters. No sugarcoating. Just the actual work, struggles, and wins. If you’ve ever considered doing 75 Hard or just want to see what real commitment looks like, come follow along.

This isn’t about aesthetics or short-term wins. It’s about proving to myself that I can commit and execute no matter what. If you’re ready to take on something big in your own life, stop waiting for the perfect time. Just start.
xoxo
-S

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The Turning of the Page

Life at 40

Today is my 40th birthday, and I’ve spent some time reflecting.

Birthdays have always felt like natural moments to pause, take stock, and think about where life has taken me. Turning 40 feels big, not because I’m scared of it, but because it’s an invitation to look back on everything that’s brought me here and dream about where I’m going next.

When I was 18, life felt wide open, like a blank notebook waiting to be filled. I thought I knew where I was headed: a career, a family, stability, and maybe even a little fame. I dreamed big. Becoming a rock star, crafting guitars, or exploring ancient Egypt as an archaeologist. I thought I’d have it all figured out by now.

Turns out life doesn’t follow a script.

Mourning the Dreams That Changed

It’s hard not to look back and think about the “what-ifs.” At 18, I had this vision of who I would be and what my life would look like. I thought I’d be financially stable, with a family and a career that made me proud. Instead, I moved 1,000 miles away from everything I knew to ultimately live with a man. That decision had a bigger impact on me and my approach to life than I ever could have imagined at the time. I left school and those passions behind.

I entered the workforce right away, and somewhere along the way, I stopped dreaming altogether. Survival replaced ambition. Work replaced wonder. It took years to move back home and even longer to rediscover myself as someone with passions and goals beyond just getting through the day.

Looking back, I’ve realized it’s okay to mourn those dreams that didn’t come to life. Mourning doesn’t mean regret. It just means acknowledging the path I thought I’d walk and honoring the person I thought I’d be.

Learning to Bloom in My Own Time

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself, it’s that I take my time. I’m not someone who rushes into anything, whether it’s finding my passion, reconnecting with old friends, or making big life changes.

For a long time, I thought that made me slow, maybe even lazy. Now I see it for what it is: my rhythm. It may take me longer to bloom, but the results are uniquely mine.

Over the years, I’ve built a life full of diversity and richness. From roller derby and blogging to baking cakes and starting my own ventures, I’ve created a life that’s vibrant and uniquely me. I’ve maintained a 35-year friendship with my best friend, who I’ve reconnected with more deeply in the past year.

No, it’s not the life I envisioned at 18. But it’s one I’ve worked hard for, and I’m proud of it.

Dreaming Ahead

Forty doesn’t feel like an ending. It feels like a new beginning. For the first time in years, I’m letting myself dream again. Not just about what could have been, but about what can still be.

Right now, I’m focused on my health. I’m working hard to lose weight, not just for how I look but for how I feel. I’m building my ventures into something I can be proud of, chasing financial stability, and carving out a future that feels more intentional.

There’s something freeing about letting go of the pressure to have it all figured out by a certain age. I’ve realized there’s no finish line for success. Just a series of chapters, each one building on the last.

A Message for You

If you’re reading this and feeling like life didn’t turn out the way you thought it would, I want to remind you: that’s okay. Plans change. People change. And it’s never too late to rewrite your story.

Here are a few things that have helped me make peace with where I am:

  • Stop comparing your timeline to others. There’s no “right” time to achieve your dreams. You’re not behind. You’re on your own path.
  • Celebrate what you’ve built. Even if it’s not what you imagined, it’s yours.
  • Let go of the idea that you’re too late. You’re not. It’s always the right time to start dreaming again.

Turning the Page

If 18-year-old me could see me now, I think she’d be surprised. Maybe even a little disappointed. But I also think she’d be proud of the person I’ve become. Proud of the resilience, the growth, and the way I’ve learned to find joy in the unexpected.

Forty isn’t the end of the road. It’s just another chapter. And I’m excited to see what’s next.

If you’re standing at your own milestone, I hope you know this: you’re not alone. It’s okay to mourn the dreams that didn’t happen, but don’t forget to dream forward. There’s still time to bloom.

Here’s to turning the page.

xoxo
-S

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Letting Go

Goodbye to My Non-Farm Dreams

If someone had told me a few years ago that I’d be saying goodbye to my chickens, I probably would’ve laughed in their face. Those quirky, feathered little ladies brought so much joy into my life. They were part of my big homesteading dream, a dream I poured love, sweat, and way too much money into. If you’ve been around a while you are fully aware of all of the ups and downs I’ve faced with these cluckerellas. But here I am, writing this post with a bittersweet mix of emotions, knowing it’s time to let go.

Letting go of my non-farm dream wasn’t something I took lightly. It’s not easy to admit when a season of your life has run its course. But deep down, I knew it was time.

A Dream Hatched

When I first started raising chickens, it felt like a step toward a life I had always imagined. Fresh eggs, a little slice of self-sufficiency, and the simple pleasure of watching them scratch around in the yard. It was a dream that felt so right.

But life has a funny way of changing the script. As much as I adored those chickens, my circumstances shifted. The time, energy, and resources needed to care for them started to feel like too much. It became clear that the life I had envisioned was no longer aligning with the life I am building now.

The Goodbye

This week, I packed up my girls and drove them to their new home. A beautiful farm where they will have more space and freedom than I could ever provide. Watching them settle into their new coop was both heartwarming and gut-wrenching.

I cried. Of course I cried.

Saying goodbye is not just about the physical act of letting go. It is about mourning what could have been. But it is also about making peace with the fact that we cannot do everything, no matter how much we want to.

A New Chapter

Here is the silver lining. As one door closes, another opens. Letting go of my non-farm dream has freed up space physically and mentally to focus on other goals.

One of those goals is my health, and I am thrilled to share a milestone I have reached. I have lost 20 pounds at the time of filming. At the time of posting, it is over 30. I have lost 18.25 inches off my body. This progress has been months in the making, and honestly, it feels like a win I really needed right now.

I am learning that progress, whether in fitness, personal growth, or life in general, requires sacrifices. Letting go of my chickens is not just about saying goodbye to a dream. It is about embracing the bigger picture.

Lessons in Letting Go

If there is one thing I have learned through this process, it is this: letting go does not mean failure. It means making a conscious choice to prioritize what matters most in this season of life.

And that is okay.

It is okay to pivot. It is okay to put a dream on hold. It is okay to admit that something is not working anymore.

Because sometimes the hardest goodbyes are the ones that lead to the best beginnings.

Your Turn

Have you ever had to let go of something you loved to make room for something new? I would love to hear your story. Let’s talk about it in the comments below. 💬

And if you want the full behind-the-scenes scoop on this emotional goodbye, check out my latest video on YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FeYH_eiogvY

xoxo
-S

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Rediscovering Myself: A Journey Ahead

Life has a peculiar way of sweeping us along its currents, often pulling us away from the shores of our true selves. In the cacophony of daily obligations, expectations, and societal norms, we easily lose sight of who we truly are. I’ve come to a pivotal moment in my life where I realize I need to find myself again. This blog post is a heartfelt commitment to my future journey of self-rediscovery. Perhaps it might inspire you to embark on your own voyage of finding your true self.

The Gradual Erosion

Without noticing, we begin to drift away from our core. We become the roles we play—parent, partner, employee, business owner, friend—until those roles overshadow the essence of who we are. I’ve worn many of these identities like a second skin. Each layer adds a burden, each responsibility a distraction. Somewhere along the line, I stopped being ‘me’ and started being everything for everyone else. This realization did not come suddenly. It came slowly, over time, as I began to feel the weight of an inauthentic life pressing down on me.

The Wake-Up Call

My wake-up call came as a slow burn rather than a sudden jolt. It was the quiet realization on a Sunday morning, with a cup of coffee cooling in my hands, that I no longer recognized the person staring back at me in the mirror. My dreams, my passions, my unique quirks had buried under the weight of routine and the expectations of others. The familiarity of daily life had dulled my senses, numbing me to the loss of my true self. I need to reclaim my life, to strip away the layers that no longer serve me. It’s time to reawaken the dreams that once fueled my spirit and reconnect with the passions that once defined me.

Embracing Solitude

The first step in finding myself again involves embracing solitude. Not just physical solitude, but an emotional and spiritual one. I need to create a space where I can listen to the whispers of my soul, untainted by external noise. Long walks in nature, journaling, and quiet moments of reflection will become my sanctuary. In these moments, I hope to reconnect with the person I used to be. More importantly, the person I want to become. This solitude will not only serve as a retreat but as a workshop where I can rebuild and refine my sense of self.

Reigniting Passions

Rediscovery also means rekindling the flames of old passions and exploring new ones. I plan to dust off my paintbrushes, buy a new set of watercolors, and let my creativity flow. (Figuratively speaking. . . you don’t want anything to do with something I might be painting. . .) I will pick up books that have gathered dust on my shelf. Each page will take me back into the world of imagination and wonder. I want to start experimenting in the kitchen, turning cooking into a joyful, meditative practice rather than a chore. These activities, though small, will be profound in their ability to bring me back to life. Moreover, I intend to seek out new hobbies and interests, pushing the boundaries of my comfort zone to discover facets of myself that have yet to be revealed.

Setting Boundaries

An essential part of this journey involves learning to set boundaries. I have to learn to say ‘no’ without guilt and to prioritize my own well-being. It won’t be easy. People won’t always understand, but I know it’s necessary. I need to surround myself with people who uplift me. Those who understand my need for space and growth. Supportive friends who encourage my journey without judgment. I must communicate my needs clearly and assertively, making my personal growth a non-negotiable aspect of my life.

Fighting for Myself

A crucial element in this journey is learning to fight for myself so I don’t lose myself again. Life will always try to pull me in a million directions. I must stay grounded in my commitment to myself. I need to stand up for my own needs and desires, even when it’s uncomfortable. This fight means constantly reminding myself of my worth, advocating for my time, and resisting the pressures to conform to others’ expectations. It means being my own champion, my own best advocate, and fiercely protecting the boundaries I set.

Embracing Challenges

I also recognize that this journey will not be without its challenges. There will be moments when I doubt myself. Times when the path forward seems unclear. I need to embrace these challenges as opportunities for growth. Each obstacle will serve as a lesson. Each setback a stepping stone. By facing these difficulties head-on, I will become stronger and more resilient. I intend to approach these challenges with a mindset of curiosity and learning, viewing them as integral parts of my journey rather than impediments to my progress.

The Ongoing Journey

Finding oneself is not a destination but an ongoing journey. There will be moments of clarity and moments of doubt. Times when I feel in sync with my inner self and times when I feel lost again. But I’ve come to understand that this is part of the process. I will continually peel back the layers, question, explore, and evolve. I will celebrate the small victories and learn from the missteps, always keeping my eyes on the goal of living authentically and fully.

The Beauty of Rediscovery

In this journey of self-rediscovery, I aim to find beauty in vulnerability and strength in authenticity. I’ve learned that it’s okay to not have all the answers, that it’s okay to be a work in progress. Each day, I strive to be a little more me, to live a life that resonates with my true self. And in doing so, I hope to inspire others to embark on their own journeys of self-discovery. I envision a future where I am not only more attuned to my own needs and desires but also better equipped to support and inspire those around me.

Finding myself again will be a challenging but profoundly rewarding experience. I commit to this journey, with all its ups and downs. If you, too, feel disconnected, I encourage you to take that first step. Embrace the journey back to you. You are worth it.

This post serves not just as a reflection but a call to action. Let’s reclaim our identities, pursue our passions, and live authentically. Together, we can find our way back to ourselves and create lives that truly reflect who we are. The road ahead may be long, but it promises a return to the vibrant, true selves we were always meant to be.

xoxo
-S

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Dear 20-Something Me: A Letter from the Cusp of 40

Hey there,

I hope this letter finds you well, wherever you may be on your journey. As I sit down to write to you, my younger self, I’m filled with a sense of nostalgia and reflection. You’re at such an exciting time in your life – full of hopes, dreams, and endless possibilities. But there are a few things I wish I could share with you, a few lessons I’ve learned along the way that might make the road ahead a little smoother.

First and foremost, I want you to know that it’s okay to feel a little lost sometimes. Life is messy, and it doesn’t come with a roadmap. You’re going to encounter moments of doubt, moments of uncertainty, moments when you wonder if you’re on the right path. And that’s okay. Embrace the journey, my dear. Trust that every twist and turn, every bump in the road, is leading you exactly where you need to be.

I know you’ve been told countless times that you’re “mature for your age,” and while that may be true, don’t let it weigh you down. Being responsible is important, but so is embracing the joy of being young. Don’t rush through life trying to check off all the boxes of adulthood. Take your time. Enjoy the ride. And above all else, don’t forget to laugh – at yourself, at the world, at the absurdity of it all.

Oh, the adventures you’re going to have! From spontaneous road trips to late-night conversations that stretch until dawn, your 20s are going to be a whirlwind of excitement and discovery. Embrace every moment, my dear. Say yes to new experiences, even when they scare you. Take risks. Be bold. And never, ever lose sight of the fire that burns within you – the passion, the drive, the unshakeable belief that you can change the world.

But amidst the chaos of youth, don’t forget to take care of yourself. It’s easy to get swept up in the thrill of the moment, to push yourself to the limit in pursuit of your dreams. But remember: self-care isn’t selfish. It’s essential. Listen to your body. Rest when you need to. And don’t be afraid to ask for help when you need it. You don’t have to do it all alone.

As you navigate the ups and downs of your 20s, you’re going to encounter some rough patches. There will be moments of heartache, moments of disappointment, moments when you feel like you’re drowning in a sea of uncertainty. But here’s the thing: you’re stronger than you realize. You have a resilience within you that’s truly remarkable. So when life knocks you down – and it will – dust yourself off, my dear, and keep moving forward. You’ve got this.

And please, please don’t be in such a rush to grow up. I know it’s tempting to want to have it all figured out – your career, your relationships, your future. But trust me when I say that life is so much more than a checklist. It’s about the journey, the moments, the memories. So take your time. Enjoy being young. And know that it’s okay to not have it all figured out. You’re exactly where you need to be.

As I stand on the cusp of 40, I look back on my 20-something self with a mix of fondness and nostalgia. You were so full of hope, so full of dreams, so full of life. And while the years may have brought their fair share of challenges, they’ve also brought moments of incredible joy and growth. So as you continue on your journey, my dear, remember to cherish every moment – the good, the bad, and everything in between. For it’s in those moments that you’ll discover the true magic of being alive.

xoxo
-S