Some mornings, I want to crawl into the softness of my covers and not come out.
Not because I’m sad.
Not because I’m defeated.
But because trying again can be its own kind of exhaustion.
Trying again means opening yourself back up.
To effort. To hope.
To not knowing how it’s going to go.
To the possibility that it might not go the way you want.
There are days when I’m tired of starting over.
Tired of launching again.
Tired of being the woman who’s always choosing growth—even when I could just coast.
But I’ve learned this: it’s not about how I feel in the moment—it’s about the woman I want to become.
And that woman?
She grows her own damn flowers.
Even when the dirt is dry.
Even when the sun won’t shine.
Even when no one else is watching.
You Only Know the Weight of Misalignment When You’ve Lived It
There’ve been seasons where I’ve done the easier thing.
The thing that looked more polished.
The path that seemed to offer faster results.
The option that got applause, but didn’t sit right in my spirit.
And the truth is, it worked.
Sometimes it worked really well.
But it didn’t fit.
It didn’t feed me.
And eventually, the cost of the misalignment started showing up everywhere—in my energy, in my peace, in my joy.
That’s when I learned:
Only you know when you’re not honoring yourself.
Only you know the sting of selling out your truth for temporary validation.
And only you can say, “Not anymore.”
Choosing Yourself Doesn’t Always Feel Glamorous
Slowing down sounds luxurious.
Being happier sounds freeing.
Living in alignment sounds like bliss.
But what people don’t always tell you is that choosing yourself is also hard.
It means saying no when you’re tempted to say yes just to keep the peace.
It means turning down opportunities that are profitable but not peaceful.
It means showing up for your dreams when the progress feels slow, uneven, or invisible.
It means making biscuits from scratch—not because you have to, but because something about doing it your way is sacred.
It means growing your own herbs, even if the grocery store version is easier.
It means saying, “I don’t know where this is leading, but I trust myself to go anyway.”
That’s the real luxury.
Not ease.
Integrity.
I’m in a Season Where I Don’t Have All the Answers
Right now, in real time, I am navigating a space where things feel… layered.
Not broken. Not falling apart. Just complicated.
I’m showing up for what I want.
I’m doing the work.
I’m making bold, intentional moves.
But it’s not giving instant results—and that’s hard for a woman who has always made things happen.
There are moments I wonder:
Should I slow down more?
Should I pivot?
Should I just… rest?
And sometimes I do pause.
I get still.
I ask, “Is this what I still want?”
And more often than not, the answer is yes.
I still want this.
Even when it’s slow.
Even when it doesn’t sparkle.
Even when it’s silent.
Because the life I’m creating isn’t about performance—it’s about peace.
Be the One Who’s Willing to Fail for the Sake of Becoming
I’m learning to honor the woman who is willing to try—
even when it’s hard,
even when she’s scared,
even when she’s tired,
even when she’s not sure how it’s all going to work out.
Because she’s the one who will wake up one day, look around, and see a life she created with her own hands.
A life that fits.
A life that feels like home.
That’s what it means to be the one who grows the flowers.
You’re not just tending the garden.
You’re tending you.
And you don’t have to bloom overnight to be worthy of blooming at all.
Let’s Keep the Conversation Going
This is one of those heart pieces.
If it hit you somewhere soft, I want to hear about it.
Come join the conversation inside Wealthy Women Conversations.
We’re building beauty, truth, and legacy one slow, powerful, sometimes messy moment at a time.
You’re not the only one holding complexity.
You’re not the only one building something that takes time.
And you’re definitely not the only one willing to grow something real.
Slower, Wealthier, Happier 
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