When you start building something new, it's always so fascinating to see how much work you need to do internally to actually lay the ground — to have the new thing take space and actually become part of your new reality, your new identity if you will. I started posting on Pinterest occasionally a while ago and have been on and off with it for a bit now. Even at the beginning of the year I wanted to restart posting regularly, but found myself obsessing over the performance of anything I posted. When I saw growth I thought "oh well nice, I feel like I want to continue" — when I saw a dip I was instantly discouraged and would drop it altogether. Same happened when I started posting on Substack — I didn't see any movement and I dropped it, disregarding the fact that I was completely new to the platform and had barely posted hah. I digress.

You can tell me: that's stupid, that's not how it works, you should push past those feelings and just keep going if you're passionate about what you write. And I would completely agree with you — even writing this makes me realize how silly it is. But when you're inside it, when you don't see the light at the end of the tunnel and you have no prior experience to draw from, you do feel discouraged. And that's as human as it gets. I'm not trying to be defensive here either hah, or justify breaking my own streaks and plans. So why am I telling you this? Because I want to share the inner work I had to do to start over and not drop it this time.

I thought of this quote, and it's been on my mind for a long while:

"Nothing is too early or too late which is seasonable for thee."

What I think Marcus Aurelius meant was this: you are always in the right season, even when it doesn't feel like it. The timing isn't wrong. You aren't behind. What's happening right now is what you're supposed to be experiencing right now.

Why has this become my anchor? Why have I adopted it as part of my philosophy? I know, sounds posh hah — but I like that I have my own philosophy system, and this is something I align with deeply. I just feel like any other time I simply wasn't ready for it. When I started posting for the first time I didn't really know what to expect — I was riding on the hype of inspiration and statistics telling me I was doing great. And so I did, until it wasn't so great anymore. I wasn't prepared for feeling uninspired and still showing up. I wasn't prepared that sometimes it took longer than I wanted to admit, that sometimes the material wasn't that good but I still needed to finish it, that I needed to constantly look for ideas and write them down and draft and find my voice and adjust and create systems to allow for creative thinking and writing. (The systems part is worth its own article — stay tuned for that one.)

My riding on the high note didn't help me, because once things weren't so great I would leave and go away from it.

And this whole thing was happening because I wasn't trusting myself. If something goes sideways — it means I'm bad, I'm not worthy, I shouldn't have even started. But to build trust it requires time and repetition.

You can only ever control the input, never the outcome. The email either arrives or it doesn't. The pin either gets clicked or it doesn't. The app either resonates or it doesn't. What you control is the quality and consistency of what you put in. Everything after that belongs to timing, other people, circumstances. And that's not a failure of control — that's just how it works.

I decided to stop checking statistics impulsively like my life depended on it. And when you stop, you find out that you actually have more time, more freedom to come up with new ideas, write new thoughts, articulate them — and most importantly, to continue.

When you stop forcing something you have no control over, you finally release that load and find peace and energy for creativity.

Most people confuse letting go with giving up. They're not the same thing. Giving up is stopping the work. Letting go is releasing the outcome after the work is done. One is weakness. The other is actually the harder discipline — because it requires fully trusting what you did.

What is happening right now is what you are supposed to experience right now. I used to beat myself up about not starting earlier, not sticking to a routine, not trying harder. But the truth is I can't control any of that. I am doing it NOW. That's all that matters. Maybe I wasn't ready to adhere to my own expectations, to do the work needed, to push through the obstacles — but it's okay. I have learned that lesson. As someone once said:

"I have learned from my mistakes more than from my successes."

That work needed to be done. I knew what was required and now I am ready to do what's required. I don't allow myself to be harsh about past mistakes anymore — I appreciate the present self more, for actually doing it despite how hard it might feel.

Trusting the timing is hard work. It is harder to trust the timing than to obsess over outcomes. Trusting requires discipline — knowing that you have done everything that was needed and now you're done. You don't have to hold mental tabs on it at all. You can let go and work on the next thing. Because when you do more of it, you get better. And when you get better, you do better and you see better results. Some things are visible — like stats on your posts. Others are only visible to you, because something changes inside you, in the very wires of your brain. And I would argue the invisible change is so much more valuable than anything you can track. That invisible change makes you believe in yourself, finally.

You finally have the capacity to continue. You find ways to make it work, to make it better, to find inspiration in your own work — and that only pushes you further.

Look at me — I sit down and write, and every time I feel like I don't have it in me to write anything decent, I still do it. Every time. I sit down, doubt, write, post, and the loop repeats. But every time I have a little more proof that I've done it before. One article, two, five, ten, fifteen. This gives me hope that I have hope to get actually good — not right now, but someday hah. I only built this trust because I trained the muscle, because I knew what it required and decided to pursue it, and because I trust myself to sit down and do the work.

Maybe before I wasn't mature enough for this. But now I know I'm doing the right thing, I'm on the right path, and there's so much more I want to write about and share. I am willing to let it grow at its own pace.