Tag: love

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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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Embracing Authenticity: Liberating the Self from the Burden of Apologizing

This post was going to be a bit of an apology for not posting yesterday, but after a phone call with a collogue I have a bit of advice to heed “never apologize”.

To clarify – the intention of yesterday’s post was to be the announcement that my video finally uploaded to YouTube, but, as it turns out, the last little stretch has still taken 48 hours. I get a bit annoyed with that, but I digress…

Let’s dive into this apology thing a little bit.

In a world where conformity often masks the true essence of individuality, the notion of refraining from apologies can be a radical act of self-affirmation. It’s about reclaiming the narrative of our lives and refusing to diminish our authenticity through unnecessary self-deprecation. While the concept of never apologizing may seem confrontational, it is, at its core, a declaration of self-worth and a commitment to honoring one’s truth.

Apologizing, in many contexts, has been ingrained as a societal expectation—a reflexive response to avoid conflict or maintain harmony. However, this ingrained habit often comes at the cost of our authenticity. How many times have we apologized for expressing our opinions, pursuing our passions, or simply being who we are? Each apology chips away at the foundation of our self-esteem, reinforcing the notion that our true selves are somehow flawed or unworthy.

By embracing the concept of never apologizing, we liberate ourselves from the shackles of societal judgment and self-doubt. It’s about unapologetically owning our beliefs, desires, and boundaries, without seeking validation or approval from others. In doing so, we reclaim our power and assert our right to exist authentically in a world that often demands conformity.

Moreover, refraining from apologies allows us to set boundaries and prioritize our well-being without guilt or hesitation. How often do we apologize for saying no, asserting our needs, or simply taking up space? By rejecting the need for constant validation, we cultivate a deeper sense of self-respect and self-love, honoring our inherent worthiness regardless of external validation.

Furthermore, the concept of never apologizing is not about absolving oneself of accountability or refusing to acknowledge mistakes. Rather, it’s about reframing apologies as acts of self-betrayal—a betrayal of our true selves in service of societal expectations. It’s about discerning when apologies are genuine expressions of remorse and when they are merely attempts to placate others at the expense of our authenticity.

In embracing this mindset, we create space for radical self-acceptance and self-empowerment. We reject the notion that our worthiness is contingent upon meeting arbitrary standards or conforming to societal norms. Instead, we celebrate our uniqueness, honoring the diverse tapestry of human experience without apology or explanation.

The concept of never apologizing is not a rejection of accountability but rather a celebration of authenticity. It’s about reclaiming our right to exist unapologetically and honoring the truth of who we are, without diminishing our worthiness for the sake of conformity. So, let us embrace the power of authenticity and liberate ourselves from the burden of unnecessary apologies, for in doing so, we pave the way for a more inclusive, compassionate, and authentic world. That being said – I am not advocating for not apologizing when it is earned or necessary. I am saying that apologizing for things you have no control over (you know who you are) or small, trivial things, or things that make you intrinsically you are does you no good and teaches the other person that you do not deserve respect.

Just some food for thought.

xoxo
-S