The Summer of 35

Tired, But Hopeful Something about this week felt exhausting yet hopeful. I took time to reflect and release , to sit with my thoughts instead of running from them. I realized I’ve been moving at full speed for so long that I never stopped to just be —to relax, enjoy life, and breathe. I don’t want to be the person whose only accomplishment is work and a stacked bank account. That gets lonely real fast. Beyond Hustle: Cultivating a Full Life Success should never come at the cost of true friendships, love, and the richness of life itself. My 20s were a careful balancing act— work, school, friendships, and dreams. I prioritized goals, achievements, and leveling up. But now, in my 30s , the work I put in sometimes feels obsolete, small, meaningless. But that’s a lie. The work I did—and continue to do—is necessary, valuable, and deeply meaningful. Growth doesn’t always scream loud victories ; sometimes, it’s the quiet, consistent evolution that matters most. Loving the Process ...

The Weight of Unresolved Feelings I’m finding it harder to run away from my feelings of deep sadness and hopelessness. There’s an unsettling stillness in accepting that some things cannot be numbed forever. I’ve been slipping back into my old vices—not because I want to, but because they offer me a moment of release. A moment where my muscles relax, my mind expands, and my creativity flows. But I see it for what it is now: a temporary bandaid. Money, success, assets—none of it erases the emotional unpacking that I’ve yet to confront. Still, there’s something cathartic about putting my thoughts into words. This space, these reflections, they help. Because acknowledging the problem is the first step. Revisiting the Things I Love Beyond the heaviness, this week reminded me of the simple joys that bring me peace. ✨ Time alone, undisturbed. ✨ A good series that pulls me in. ✨ Snacks. Loads of them. ✨ Reliable WiFi, because obviously. Most importantly? Silence. The kind that ...

  The Weight of Unseen Sadness There is a sadness in me this week that I cannot shake. A heaviness that lingers, curling around my spirit like a thick mist. My community has begun to notice, their questions cutting through my fragile composure like sharp knives. "Are you okay?" Each inquiry feels like a demand for an explanation I do not have. I try to swallow my emotions, but the questions make me cry. I rarely know the origins of my pain—I just know that I am unhappy, unfulfilled, and longing to disappear. Far away. Where no one can see me, where no one can know me. The Struggle to Keep Hoping I am tired. More than that, I am weary. Hoping has become harder now. The well of optimism I once drank from so freely has run dry. Initially, I chalked it up to the natural rhythms of my body, perhaps a passing shift in my cycle. But even as the days stretch on, the weight remains. I feel weakened by my failures, as if every attempt I have made was for nothing. Every dream chas...

  The Disconnect Between Intention & Execution I’m realizing that the day I write my blog and the day I submit it should not be the same. Throughout the week, I have these deep, soul-shaking revelations. My thoughts feel poetic, my realizations profound—but then Friday arrives, and I’m blank. Or irritable. Or emotionally haywire. I don’t like this. I don’t like how I’m showing up in this creative space. It feels rushed, like I’m forcing the magic instead of nurturing it. And maybe that’s the real lesson here—not just in writing but in life. Rushing Through Excellence How often do we set our minds on something, only to rush through it just to say we did it? We tell ourselves we’re working toward greatness, but if we’re honest, we’re not fully present in the process. We show up halfway, give a “good enough” performance, and then wonder why we feel mediocre. The truth? We can’t expect extraordinary results from basic effort. Excellence requires patience, refinement, a...