Today, I had coffee with a friend — one of those friends who knows you well enough to lovingly call you out. We were catching up, sharing the usual laughs and updates about work, life, and kids, when she said something that stopped me in my tracks.
She smiled and said, “You know, it’s been a while since you’ve posted anything. I miss reading your thoughts. You always had this way of putting things into words that made me think, or laugh, or just feel something.”
It was a simple comment, but it hit deep.
Because she was right — it had been a while. Somewhere between the chaos of everyday life and the weight of everything I juggle, I stopped sharing. I stopped writing. I stopped showing up in that space that once brought me so much clarity and connection.
And the truth is, it wasn’t because I didn’t have anything to say. I just started to feel like maybe I’d said enough. Like I’d hit a wall.
Sometimes I go through these cycles — I get excited about something, pour myself into it, learn, grow, get better at it… and then suddenly, it’s like the thrill is gone. I feel like I’ve mastered it, or at least reached a point where there’s nothing new to say or do. So, I move on. Or worse, I stop altogether.
It’s not laziness. It’s not even lack of interest. It’s this strange mix of restlessness and perfectionism — wanting to always be “onto the next,” but also feeling like if I can’t do something perfectly or passionately, I shouldn’t do it at all.
But that mindset? It’s where consistency goes to die.
My friend didn’t mean to hit a nerve, but she did. She reminded me that what I share doesn’t have to be perfect, or new, or groundbreaking. It just has to be me.
And maybe that’s what I’ve been missing — the reminder that consistency isn’t about flawless effort or constant motivation. It’s about presence. It’s about showing up — even when I don’t feel like it, even when it feels repetitive, even when I think no one’s paying attention.
Because someone is paying attention.
Someone does miss the things I say, the thoughts I share, the realness in between the chaos.
So why is it so hard to stay consistent?
Maybe it’s because consistency requires vulnerability. It forces me to confront the quiet truth that I don’t have to reinvent myself every time — I just have to keep being myself. Over and over again.
Maybe it’s also about trust — trusting that the effort matters, even if I don’t see the result right away. Trusting that small steps, done repeatedly, build something stronger than bursts of inspiration ever could.
I think deep down, I’ve always confused consistency with willpower.
Like it’s something I have to muscle through.
But I’m learning that real consistency comes from compassion, not control.
Compassion for the days when life feels heavy.
Compassion for the moments when inspiration runs dry.
Compassion for the version of me that’s just trying her best — even if “her best” looks different every day.
So maybe this post is me choosing to begin again. To write, to reflect, to reconnect — not because I’ve got it all figured out, but because I’m realizing I don’t have to.
Consistency doesn’t mean never falling off. It just means not staying off.
And if I can keep coming back — to my words, to my voice, to the things that make me feel alive — maybe that’s what consistency truly is
If you’re reading this and you’ve fallen off from something you love — writing, creating, working out, dreaming, or even just believing in yourself — know that it’s okay. You haven’t failed. You’re just paused. Life has a funny way of pulling us in a million directions, but you can always come back. Start small. Start tired. Start imperfect. Just start again.
Because sometimes, the hardest — and most powerful — part of being consistent is simply deciding to show up one more time.
This made me emotional🥹
You’re a treasure to have as a friend. You always have this way of making people feel seen, even in your writing, but especially in person. You give the best hugs, the kind that last until you know the other person is ready to let go. It’s like you make sure there’s a spiritual connection in that moment, and somehow everything feels lighter after. You’re such a great friend and an incredible writer, and you should never stop doing what you love. The world needs more of the warmth and honesty in your words and in your presence. You lift my spirit even without trying. Please don’t stop writing, or doing the things that make you come alive. You’re great in everything you do because is YOU