The messy middle

Right now, I’m teetering between two extremes—full confidence and full doubt. One minute, I feel rooted, clear, unshakeable. The next, I’m spiraling in a sea of uncertainty, questioning every idea and ambition that crosses my mind. It's a strange place to be, this in-between.

Here’s the truth:
I have confidence in myself.
I know who I am.
I know what I want—and perhaps more importantly, what I don’t want.
I know my worth. And I’m starting to realize I can’t bear the thought of handing that worth over to someone else to define, manage, or monetize.

Nobody knows my value better than I do.
So why should someone else decide how much I'm worth, how far I can go, or how I'm allowed to grow?
That thought alone shakes me to my core.

It’s giving: “Thanks, but no thanks.”
It’s giving: “Watch me.”

And still…
Doubt creeps in. Whispering that maybe I’m not built for this. That burnout in 2024 wasn’t just a bump in the road—it was a warning. That dreaming of starting my own company is audacious. That I won’t make money. That I’ll lose my freedom. That I’ll lose myself in the process.

Who do I think I am?

But then… my ego steps in. Loud and proud. In full protection mode.
Telling me to take the leap.
To make my own rules.
To set my own schedule.
To take on clients that light me up.
To tune out the noise, the haters, the limitations.
To bet on myself.

And if I’m being honest—my heart is excited by that.
But it’s also scared as hell.

My head doesn’t know what it wants anymore. It’s tired. Overthinking everything.
My gut is yelling, “Go for it!”
My body wants to stay cozy in the garden and never work another day in its life.
My ego is tangled up in other people’s opinions.

So, where do I go from here?

Which voice do I listen to?

This is the messy middle. The space between who I’ve been and who I’m becoming.
And maybe—just maybe—it’s okay not to know exactly where I’m headed yet.
Maybe the work right now is listening, not deciding.
Maybe it’s sitting with the discomfort.
Maybe it’s being gentle with myself as I sift through the noise and reconnect with what’s true.

Because deep down, I do believe I can do this.
I do believe I’m capable of building something of my own.
I do believe that burnout wasn’t a sign to stop—it was a sign to realign.

What if the fear of failure is just the cost of dreaming big?

What if the real risk is not trying at all?

I don't have all the answers yet, but here's what I know today:
I’m listening more closely to my gut.
I’m choosing to believe that I can build something beautiful, slow, intentional, and mine.

And when I forget that—I’ll come back to this post and remember.