My goals might not be what'd you'd expect. Eat in a way that helps me feel light, energized, nourished and clean. Always allow for comfort, too. Loosen what I've learned about how anything "should" be. Feed my mind with new ways of using language. Absorb words with a deep energetic understanding that translates to my work. Be happy with where I am, including the shit parts. Strengthen my body to confirm that results are tangible. Let people know that I see them, and I care. Be fully myself around others.
Live creatively in every sense.
It's a path filled with unknowns. Void of blueprint. No formula to success in the making. Timelines are for the birds. Regardless of planning, I'm always surprised at the hash out.
My biggest wins aren't what I've gotten the most recognition for. They are the confirmations that I'm proud enough of who I am to receive the good in life. That could be anything from the publishing deal of my dreams to a six-pack of toilet paper from my mom, because everything that supports me living a creative life deserves appreciation. Even the smallest wins make major sway, because not so long ago, I didn't see any good in myself, and everything felt chronically bad. I hated my job, I numbed my creativity with addictions, I hurt my body. My day-to-day was painful.
Sometimes I think I don't have much to show for where I'm at now, how far I've come. But a deeper knowing encourages me that everything about the woman I am is extraordinary. The way I express myself. How I treat others. What brings me joy, and how I'm able to actually feel it. I do nice things for myself, because it opens the tap on my creative spirit. I believe that my writing is beautiful and every day I practice a piece of doing what I love.
There's really no end goal. I just want a life where I create freely, receive an energy exchange for my work that affords beautiful experiences for myself and others, relish the surprises flexibility delivers and completely forget that the idea of a finish line ever existed.