If you’d seen me at the beginning of the year, I was a bit of a mess. The reality had kicked in that I’d spent two decades building a career that was now giving me the ick. Ostensibly, things looked good. I’d figured out how to make a handsome living using words, I was designing and renovating my dream bathroom, and I was able to invest energy into a fledgling business I believe in (yes, this one you’re visiting right now). But still, some part of me knew that I no longer felt like myself.

It was this annoying little feeling gnawing away at me, probably for years. Something under my skin saying nope, this is not for you. An utter inconvenience because I was onto a good thing – the kind of life I had truly, madly, deeply wanted for so long. 

And sure, I knew I had the potential to do other things, but the hypothetical idea of a shift felt wildly different from looking down the barrel of actual change. It felt like, and in some ways continues to feel like, I’m imploding. That everything I know about myself, what I’m good at, what I have to offer, has to crumble away so I can build something new from the rubble.

I’m honestly not sure what possessed me, but my first decision was to stop working with corporate clients. Cue the dramatic music, because closing the door to your primary source of income is terrifying. I’m still figuring out if I’m a lunatic or a crazy genius. It went against every bit of conditioning I’ve ever received and maybe that’s why I was able to make the leap? I was at that point of exhaustion where the fear of change was overpowered by the fear of staying the same. It didn’t stop me from feeling that I was giving a giant middle finger to the universe who had delivered exactly what I’d asked for, but it did seem like something future me would be down for. 

I find it hard to trust those whispers. I can acknowledge when my spidey senses are tingling and know that if I ignore it, they’ll only get larger and more destructive ways. Still, the practice of tuning in often seems like detonating a bomb in the middle of the old versions of myself. I get it, sometimes you need to shed your skin. I’d just be down for it to be a little less turbulent.

For the past five months, I’ve kept my word to myself. I’ve been in explorer mode. Every day, I’m committed to making tangible progress towards a new way of existing – driven by how it feels in my chest. I want to do things that come easily to me, that make other people feel good. I know that it’s possible to live a life like that, but I’m still figuring out what it’ll actually look like.

A lot of us seem to be in this space right now. Unwinding “truths” that we were convinced were part of us. I have literally zero advice to give, other than a hopeful kind of feeling. Some days I want to ignore that pesky voice urging me to keep going, but I know there’s no turning back. The rear view is boring when whatever’s ahead is completely unknown. Inside me is some hidden, essential self, creating a choose-your-own-adventure saga. After all this time, I’m willing to admit she knows much more than I give her credit for.

Image credits:

I - How's Everything Going, Jon-Michael Frank (2016)

II - Now I Lay Me Down, Ashley Blalock (2010)