“I Hear You, But I’m Not Listening”

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on how much our own thoughts can hold us back. As I work toward my creative goals, I’ve had to face the quiet voice that tells me to stop or slow down—and learn how to move forward anyway. Here’s what I’ve discovered…

Change is difficult.

I’ve decided to go after my creative goals and see what I can truly achieve. While I dream about the future, I feel the past trying to hold me back—past habits, past thoughts, past routines.

If I want to move forward, I need to let go of the past. I need to think differently, act differently, and—most importantly—feel differently. To achieve my dreams, I need to feel as if they’ve already happened.

While I work on this, a little voice in my head keeps whispering: “You’re tired, you should stop.” Or “Leave it for tomorrow.” Or “You’ve done enough today, no need to do more.” These thoughts are strong and persuasive, but today I laughed at them and said out loud: “I hear you, but I’m not listening.”

Awareness of these thoughts—and their seductive pull—is the first step to real change.

So, when that little voice says ‘stop,’ smile and take one more step. Your future self is cheering you on.

Finally letting go and moving on.

For the past five years, I’ve been holding onto a storage unit filled with pieces of my “just in case” life. You know the kind—boxes of kitchenware, furniture, exercise equipment, a few sentimental items... things I might need someday.

But someday never came. And I’ve come to realize it probably never will.

This month, I made the decision to let it all go. Everything.

I’m selling what I can, donating the rest, and closing that storage unit door for the last time.

It’s a big breakthrough for me—not just practically, but emotionally. I used to tell myself I was being smart by saving those things. But the truth is, I was clinging to a version of life that no longer fits who I am now.

I live in my van. Everything I need is right here with me. If I ever truly need something again, I’ll find a way to get it. In the meantime, I’ve been carrying the weight—literally and mentally—of things that don’t serve my life anymore.

Letting go has brought a surprising lightness. A sense of freedom I didn’t even know I was craving. It’s not just about the stuff. It’s about giving myself permission to move on.

And as a bonus? I’m generating a bit of income by selling some of the items—and saving $120 a month in storage fees. That’s money I can put toward art supplies or new creative adventures. Now that feels aligned.

Minimalism, for me, isn’t about restriction. It’s about clarity. It’s about living fully with what matters—and letting the rest fall away.

If you’ve been holding onto “just in case,” I get it. Truly. But maybe—just maybe—you already have everything you need.

Here’s to lightening the load.

A new beginning

I’ve been on the road a lot lately, and somewhere along the way, something shifted.

The wide skies, quiet mornings, and long drives gave me the space to hear a voice I hadn’t been listening to closely enough—my own. I realized I want to live differently now. The version of vanlife I used to live doesn’t quite fit anymore. I’m not chasing movement the way I used to; I’m chasing meaning. Creation. Connection.

I want to spend more time making art. More time filming. More time writing blog posts like this. These things aren’t just hobbies anymore—they feel like essential parts of who I’m becoming.

A quiet moment on the road—where new thoughts began to take shape.

And that’s the thing—I am becoming someone new. Or maybe I’m finally becoming who I was always meant to be. But stepping into that version of myself means letting go of the old one. Letting go of the way I used to do things. Of patterns, comforts, and habits that no longer serve me.

Change is awkward. There’s no getting around that. But I trust that what feels strange today will one day feel natural—my new normal. This isn’t the first time I’ve redefined myself, and I doubt it will be the last. But something about this moment feels right. It feels like a beginning.

I’ve just launched my website, and with it, a new way to share, connect, and be seen. That’s exciting—and a little scary—but mostly it feels like exactly what I’m meant to be doing.

So if you’re reading this, thank you. You’re witnessing my first step into something new. I hope you’ll stick around for the journey.