Sitting in therapy yesterday, I realized something about the art of remembering. How, as we use it to recall the past, we have to choose whether those memories stall us or propel us forward. Remembering isn’t just about looking back; it’s about noticing how certain moments, assumptions, or expectations can shape the way we see ourselves. Sometimes these things stir you, but they don’t have to shake you. The quiet erosion of life can creep in: Little moments that make places you were once certain of yourself feel uncertain. I’ve felt it before, and yes, it can linger for a while, but I never stay there.
It made me think about past experiences. Some recent, some years ago, that had quietly influence how I saw myself. Like a conversation months ago with someone from church who follows me on Instagram. He was surprised to learn my age and said, “Oh, I thought you were younger because of the way you post.” At the time, it seemed small, but now I see how subtle assumptions can cause me to question the way I show up in the world.
Then my Therapist asked me a series of questions that led me to admit something out loud that I hadn’t fully faced before: Somewhere along the way, I realized I had become afraid to dream big. Over time I started internalizing things and subconsciously agreeing with thoughts that didn’t align with who I’ve always been. Not through my words, but my actions. Instead of walking courageously in the midst of fear, I started letting fear lead.
The fear of failure.
The fear that I would never “reach the goal.”
The fear that it would take too much and that I didn’t have it in me.
The fear that I wasn’t qualified enough.
All the things I once would’ve laughed in the face of were now quietly occupying my mind, body, and spirit.
And that realization made me think about the version of me that doesn't doubt or question my ability. Moving through life with a boldness that didn’t ask for permission and required a bit of delusion of grandeur.
I’ve always known I was designed to create.
I’ve been writing, acting, dancing, performing in general, since I was a babe in the eyes of the good Lordt lol. I dreamed big and often was met with resistance from people who didn’t share the same vision, couldn’t see past our circumstances, or placed limitations on me. But with a youthful fearlessness, untainted by the expectations of the world, that resistance fueled me. It made me go harder. Be bolder. Move with a kind of righteous audacity that didn’t waver or second-guess itself. I didn’t shrink, I thrived.
But somewhere along the way, the internal messaging shifted.
As I got older, people started saying the quiet part out loud, but subtly, “Shouldn’t you focus on having a man, children?” “You’re too independent, a man won’t feel like you need him.” And the thing about loud comments said subtly is that they don’t hit all at once, they erode. Slowly. Quietly. Piece by piece. They plant seeds.
Suddenly, boldness starts getting replaced with fear, audacity softens into unnecessary humility, and before you even realize it, you’re dimming your light. Those moments led me into deep soul searching. Because if I’m honest, I allowed those external voices to hold space in my heart. I let the questioning turn into quiet insecurities:
What if they’re right?
What if I got it all wrong?
What if there is a time limit on creativity, love, joy and living life on my own terms?
But then I realized something. In most cases, my authenticity didn’t expose a flaw in me, it reflected something back to them. And it’s easier to question someone else’s path than to confront your own lack of fulfillment. I’ve always found it interesting that the concern for my life often came from people whose choices I never questioned.
I’ve been called an anomaly a few times and an outlier once, usually by men (not sure if that means anything). But when I first looked those words up, I felt pride, because if being an anomaly means deviating from the norm while still feeling aligned in my soul, that’s something I’ll embrace every single time.
After my therapy session, I attended a Women's History event and one line from the speaker stayed with me:
“She remembered who she was, and the game changed.”
And that sat in my spirit because that’s exactly what was happening in that moment for me. I recognized it wasn't about becoming someone new, but remembering who I’ve always been and standing solid in that.
The truth is, I was stirred. By what people said, by what was implied, by what I started to believe. But I’m not shaken.
I know who I am, and have weathered to storms to stand firm in that. Not cautiously, not halfway, but in the lioness way, like my Wizard of Oz counterpart. Walking fully in the courage I already have, even in the midst of fear. I mean the saying does go, “If your dreams don't scare you, you aren't dreaming big enough.”
Designed2Create was never just a phrase to me, it was always a truth. And now, it’s something I’ve officially claimed. Fully. Legally. Unapologetically. A reminder that I was never meant to play small.
So don’t let life’s storms, social expectations, or even well-meaning people erode your spirit, your soul, or your vision. You are the one who has to live your life, no one else.
It’s okay if you don’t desire what others think you should. It’s okay if your path looks different.
Just don’t go gentle into the night. Rage like a fire in the field.