Today, I noticed something I used to rush past — that subtle ache that comes when you’ve given too much of yourself to people or projects that can’t hold you. For a moment, it felt like failure. But what I really met was fear.
False Expectations Appearing Real
Fear that the magazine might not rise again.
Fear that the spark I once had might be gone.
Fear that the quiet between ideas meant the end of me.
But it wasn’t the end. It was my nervous system asking for honesty.
I’ve built so much from momentum — from being the one who always finds a way, carries the vision, pushes through. Yet today I saw that pattern clearly: I’ve been hustling my own heart, mistaking urgency for purpose.
Pause
So instead of pushing harder, I paused.
I cried.
I breathed.
I told the truth — to myself, not the world.
The truth is that emotional growth isn’t glamorous. It’s not a quote or a comeback. It’s the moment you sit with discomfort and decide not to run. It’s admitting, “I’m scared,” without handing the wheel to fear.
I’m learning that leadership doesn’t mean staying steady for everyone else; it means being real enough to steady yourself first.
And if this is what growth looks like — a quiet day, a tight thought, a shaky leg, a small cry — then I’ll take it. Because it means I’m still here, still growing, still becoming.
