Okay. Can you hear me? I know, I know—sometimes I sound like I’m in a wind tunnel when I’m on the road. But for real, I had to share this little moment from yesterday… or was it last night? Time blurs. Either way, I did a video. Wasn’t planned, wasn’t curated, wasn’t scripted. It just happened. And honestly? I liked it.
I was trying to show off my little setup for my isopods—yes, those babies arrive on Monday and I am hyped. But in true me fashion, I ran into some tech drama because apparently, the flip camera function vanished mid-recording. Picture this: me, birds chirping on my back, trying to get this angle right and flipping the phone like it’s a Rubik’s cube. What was going on? I don’t know. But what I do know is that I was giving major Auntie energy. Like, how you work this thing again? energy. And honestly, I’m okay with that.
The thing is, despite all the chaos and comedy, that video felt real. It was unedited, unfiltered, and undeniably me. And that’s a big shift, because if I’m being honest, I didn’t always like the stuff I was creating. In fact, I think I’ve talked about this before—how I published a whole book that I didn’t even like (hi, Eve’s Apple). But I had to get it out. It had to be released. It’s the doing that matters.
Early in my creative journey, I couldn’t stand my own art. But I kept doing it, not because I was in love with the results, but because I had to. It was about growth, not perfection. And I’m realizing now that I don’t need everything to fit into a mold or be content-worthy. I just need it to be honest.
Watching that video, I wasn’t cringing. I wasn’t overthinking. I actually enjoyed it. There was no pressure, no performance—just presence. And look, video content? It’s exhausting. Time-consuming. Overwhelming. Especially when social media tries to turn every thought into a “piece of content.” But I’m not here to be a content creator. That’s not the goal.
The goal is learning. Growth. Documenting the process. That’s it.
Because when it’s real, when it’s grounded in truth—it’s sustainable. It’s not forced. It’s not weird (well, maybe a little weird, but not internet weird). Y’all know what I mean. There’s a kind of weird out there that just doesn’t feel like home. And I’m trying to stay grounded in what does.
So yeah, I’m sharing this because I’ve learned that motivation is not it. It’s flaky. Disrespectful, even. Some days it’s high, other days it ghosts me. I can’t depend on it. What I can depend on is my why. My purpose – my God given purpose.
That’s what carries me through. That’s what keeps me showing up. Because feelings? Whew. They’re wild. Unreliable. One day I’m in love with everything, the next I’m like, “Why am I even in school again?”
But then I remember—I want my degree. I want my master’s. That’s my why.
So when excitement dips and I feel the drift coming, I try to reconnect with what lights me up. Like creating an environment that recharges me. Surrounding myself with things that help me remember why I started. That way, I can redirect that energy into what actually matters. Even when I don’t “feel like it.”
And that’s the lesson I’m sitting with today—how to turn that excitement into discipline. How to build in accountability. Because I know myself, and I know I need it. For sure for sure.
That’s why I’m hosting a session tonight on this online co-working space I use called Flow. It’s not social media—it’s just a quiet little digital space where we all log on, cameras off or on, and work. Together. Focused. Intentional. If you want in, I’ll drop the link somewhere in here.
At the end of the day, I’m just trying to use whatever tools I’ve got, however I can, to get to where I’m going.
Because this journey? It’s not about creating the perfect video, or the perfect post—it’s about showing up. And that’s enough.
Let’s get it.
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