I dedicated today as an admin day.

A Saturday spent putting some structure behind the momentum that has been building around me lately.

And strangely enough, I feel incredibly privileged to need to work on a Saturday.

This week has been filled with beautiful conversations with incredible people throughout this community—people who are genuinely committed to helping others and doing meaningful work.

And ever since the solar and lunar eclipse energy shifted through—yes, I’m going there because that is very much me—I’ve felt like I was plucked out of one timeline and dropped directly into the beginning of my next chapter.

At first, I didn’t really understand where all of these conversations, meetings, introductions, ideas, and opportunities were leading me.

Lately, though, it’s becoming clearer.

They’re bringing me home.

Back to the kind of work that feels deeply connected to who I am and what I believe I’m here to do.

So this morning, I planted myself in a café and started working through the details of an upcoming workshop—a workshop, by the way, that I somehow forgot I booked two months ago and now has several registered participants.

Very on brand.

And if you know anything about the way my brain works, you know that once I get locked into something I care about, I disappear into it.

I stop checking the time.

I forget what’s happening around me.

I will realize I’ve had to pee for the last hour and still convince myself I just need to finish one more thing.

ADHD superpower… with questionable consequences.

But eventually, I looked up.

Really looked up.

The café was packed.

Much busier than I expected for a Saturday afternoon.

But what caught my attention wasn’t how crowded it was.

It was what was happening inside of it.

The whole place has this incredible 70s-living-room feel—couches, comfy chairs, dining room tables, old desks, mismatched furniture, the kind of pieces that feel like they could have come straight from your parents’ or grandparents’ house.

And everywhere I looked, people were simply living.

A mom playing chess with her kids.

Two friends across the room fully immersed in a conversation through sign language.

People working.

People laughing.

People on dates.

People drinking coffee and taking their time.

Different ages. Different stories. Different chapters.

All sharing the same space.

And in that moment, one thought came through so clearly:

You are actively living inside the timeline you desperately wanted six months ago.

That stopped me.

I felt tears well up in my eyes.

Not from sadness.

From pure joy.

Maybe that doesn’t sound profound to everyone.

But to me?

This is gold.

Because six months ago, I didn’t know exactly what I was trying to build.

I just knew I wanted freedom.

I wanted meaningful work.

I wanted to wake up and care about what I was doing.

I wanted conversations that lit something up inside me.

I wanted to be surrounded by people who were trying to make a difference.

I wanted space to create.

Space to write.

Space to teach.

Space to serve.

Space to become whoever I was becoming without constantly trying to squeeze myself back into a life that no longer fit.

And today, I realized I was sitting right in the middle of it.

Not the finished version.

Not the polished version.

Not the version where every question has been answered and every detail has been figured out.

But the living, breathing beginning of it.

And I think that’s the part we miss sometimes.

We get so focused on the life we’re trying to create that we forget to notice when pieces of it have already arrived.

I still have no idea exactly how all of this is going to turn out.

There are still unanswered questions.

There is still uncertainty.

Fear still tries to grab the microphone from time to time.

But the freedom I feel from living closer to my truth gives me exactly what I need to keep going.

And lately, I’ve noticed something else changing too.

I’m leaning less and less on the old version of me—the girl carrying a dream in one hand and fear in the other, constantly looking for reassurance that she was allowed to want more.

And I’m becoming really fond of the woman standing in front of me now.

The woman who chooses herself.

The woman who trusts herself.

The woman who follows what feels meaningful even when she doesn’t have the entire map.

The woman who lets passion, purpose, and hunger become louder than the fear telling her to stay small.

Maybe the next chapter doesn’t begin when everything finally makes sense.

Maybe it begins the moment you start living like you trust yourself enough to figure it out.

And every once in a while, you look up from the keyboard long enough to realize:

You’re already in it.

P.S. Thank you Atomic Cat Cafe for such a wonderful experience!