Before We Begin…

I’m writing this post as I work on putting together this website. My seven-year-old daughter is playing Minecraft as she waits for me to finish up, ready to start our “sleepover” where we’re going to make Oreo balls, eat pizza and popcorn, and watch movies. It’s not as different as any other night—we just allow more junk food and go ahead and dedicate the time for a full-length movie instead of an episode or two of a show we’re all working through (currently: Hilda). I fill this out and feel myself observing my own fear and doubt.

Here’s the thing: I’ve been making things as far back as I can remember. Being poor does that for you: you know you won’t be able to get that cool notebook everyone has so you figure out how to make it yourself. Do you want a new stuffie? Make it yourself! You believe Olive Garden is the pinnacle of luxury, so you teach yourself to make alfredo at ten-years-old. In high school, the cool girls have scarves with kitschy yarn designs so you start practicing how to embroider.

Now, I’m of the camp that we don’t have to monetize all of our hobbies. We can enjoy some things and not decide to make it “a part of the hustle.” But it wasn’t until about five years ago that I decided to try.

I made a lot of mistakes. I doubted myself every step along the way. I still do. I still make mistakes and I still doubt myself. Right now, I’m worried that maybe Squarespace won’t be where I want to make my website—but you know what the best lesson is that I’ve learned out of every endeavor? That it isn’t until I really dive in and try, and then keep trying—learning from my mistakes, seeing if I can keep going with a product, method, platform, troubleshooting as I need to, that I really learn the most.

Life is a learning process. We, ourselves, are creations in progress. We are unraveling and being put together in new and beautiful ways. We are physical bodies and human emotion. We are nature and nuture—just like everything we make. Sometimes the resin doesn’t set because the house is too cold. Sometimes the bread doesn’t rise because there’s too much humidity. Sometimes we get tangled up in all the things and tangles take a little while to unwind.

But it’s okay. I’m here. You’re here. If you’re reading this, you are here and you’re here with me.

I think that’s worth it.