The Magic of Starting Ugly: How Imperfect Tries Gave Me More of Myself

I stood over a mixing bowl, staring at dough that didn’t look like anything I’d seen online.

It was sticky. Lumpy. A little sad-looking.

And for a moment, I felt this wave of frustration rise up.
Not because the bread was failing.
But because I didn’t want to be seen failing.

Even if no one was there.
Even if no one would ever know.

It brought up something old. Something I didn’t realize still lived in me:
This idea that I had to be good at something in order for it to be worth doing.
That if it wasn’t beautiful, polished, or right the first time… maybe I had no business doing it at all.

But I kept going.
And that bread? It didn’t rise perfectly. It wasn’t bakery-level.

But when I pulled it out of the oven, it smelled like love.
Like proof.
Like permission.

And in that moment, I realized:
Starting ugly might just be the magic I’ve been missing.

We’re Taught to Perform, Not Practice

Somewhere along the way, many of us learned that our value is tied to what we can produce.
We’ve been taught to show up ready, not messy.
Prepared, not in-process.
Excellent, not emerging.

Especially as Black women.

We were raised to be the best.
To make everyone proud.
To never give them a reason to question us.

So starting something new—something where we might fail or look silly or not know what we’re doing—feels dangerous.

But here’s what I’m learning in this season of softness, slowness, and sweetness:

Trying is sacred.
Imperfect beginnings are holy.
And ugly starts are often the gateway to the most beautiful versions of ourselves.

The First Jam Was Too Thick

I followed the instructions. I double-checked the ingredients.
And still—my first batch of homemade jam turned into more of a strawberry brick than a spread.

I was annoyed. I wanted to toss it.
But then something told me: Taste it anyway.

So I did.

And let me tell you—despite its texture, it was delicious.
It tasted like summer.
Like effort.
Like care.

And in that bite, I felt something loosen in me.

Everything doesn’t have to be perfect to be good.
Everything doesn’t have to be impressive to be meaningful.
Everything doesn’t have to be for show.

Sometimes, the best things are just for you.

We Don’t Grow By Knowing—We Grow By Doing

That’s the truth no one talks about.

You can read all the blogs. Watch all the tutorials. Scroll all the pretty Pinterest boards.
But the real growth? It happens in the doing.

In the sticking-your-hands-in-it kind of way.
In the failing, adjusting, and laughing kind of way.

And each time I try something new—whether it’s planting herbs or making jam or writing a blog post when I don’t feel “expert” enough—I gain another piece of myself.

Not because the results are flawless.
But because I showed up anyway.

Starting Ugly Isn’t About Failing—It’s About Freedom

Freedom from needing to be perfect.
Freedom from waiting for the right moment.
Freedom from performing for approval you no longer need.

When you start before you feel ready, when you let yourself be a beginner, when you dare to look messy—you create space for your truest self to emerge.

That’s what I’m doing now.
And you know what? It’s not just freeing.

It’s fun.
It’s joyful.
It’s me.

Let This Be Your Permission Slip

You don’t have to know what you’re doing.
You don’t need a plan.
You don’t have to impress anyone.

You just have to start.

Try the thing.
Plant the seed.
Make the jam.
Write the blog.
Take the walk.
Start the ritual.
Choose the joy.

And let it be a little clumsy, a little off, a little awkward.

Because when you do, you’ll begin to feel something remarkable:
Yourself.
Unfiltered. Unpolished. Unperforming.
Present.

A Soft Challenge for You

This week, I invite you to start something ugly.

Something you’ve been thinking about.
Something you’ve been curious about.
Something you’ve been waiting to feel “ready” for.

Give yourself permission to be a beginner.
To make a mess.
To do it scared or unsure or uneven.

And then see what grows in you.

Final Word

Every time I try something new, I meet a new part of myself.
And she’s always softer than I expected.
Always more whole.
Always more joyful.

So no, I didn’t master bread.
No, my jam wasn’t perfect.
No, I didn’t become an overnight gardener.

But I did become more me.

And there’s magic in that.

Let’s Keep the Conversation Going

Have you started something messy lately? Something imperfect but beautiful?
Come share inside Wealthy Women Conversations on Facebook.

We’re not chasing perfection over here.
We’re chasing softness, joy, and the permission to be exactly where we are.

Let’s grow—ugly, beautiful, and everything in between.

Slower, Wealthier, Happier