Starting Over: The Art of Doing It Anyway

So here I am. Trying again.

My mentor recently told me that the things I want to “work up to doing” will come naturally if I just let go a little more. And I can’t help but see how this advice connects to my entire life. I think about all the drafts I’ve written but never shared, the songs that take me months to finish, and the vlogs left unedited. I’ve been waiting for everything to be just right, for the perfect space and time to open up so I can create without hesitation. But I see now that the key is letting go.

For a long time, I’ve struggled to find balance between teaching full-time and creating. It’s been a constant battle—giving everything to teaching, feeling burnt out and unappreciated, and then wrestling with disbelief and fear when I turn to my music. I’ve even quit everything at points. I was evicted from my apartment and now I’m living with family members. 

So, here I am. Starting over. Again.

I keep thinking there’s a finish line, a point where things will just get easier. But instead, I’m learning to adapt. I’m learning to evolve and, most importantly, to let go. To take responsibility for my choices. It’s better to share something—anything—than to let that nagging feeling build up inside, knowing that I could be moving toward my dreams but instead, I’m holding back, trying to control every detail.

Now that I’m back in the classroom, and with this being my sixth school in six years, I understand how crucial planning is. In my mind, I tell myself, “If I just plan everything out, I’ll have free time to work on creative projects.” But that free time never magically appears. Taking time to plan also means carving out time to stop what I’m doing in one area—teaching—and dedicate that time to something creative. It won’t happen unless I make it happen. No one else is going to come along and tell me to pause and focus on my music, writing, or vlogging. If those things are important, it’s up to me to prioritize them.

I’ve gone back and forth with myself about whether creating outside of teaching even matters. Is it worth it? This question has haunted me throughout my 30s. I’m finally tired of it. I’m done with the overanalyzing and the spinning. It’s exhausting. Yes, it would be easier not to create outside of teaching. Most of my energy goes into teaching anyway. But if I gave up, I would always feel like I let myself down. I see people thriving in fields I want to work in, and I feel jealous—but at the end of the day, nothing is holding me back but me.

So here I am.

I’m choosing to stop questioning the why and how and just do it anyway. To stop worrying about what anyone thinks or says. To stop the endless research and preparation. To just move forward.

I’m learning that progress happens as I take steps forward, not when everything is perfectly laid out. 

Then there’s the question of why. Why am I doing this? I don’t want to live a life where I’m constantly chasing something. I can’t deny that money and recognition have been motivators at times—wanting financial stability, wanting to be seen as an authority on something. I want to do my best as a teacher because my students deserve someone who truly cares about their education. But I am already giving my best every day. And so is everyone else. And it’s not solely my responsibility to carry everything—it’s all of ours.

When it comes to music, I’ve been afraid to fully commit for a long time. But I’m finally choosing to walk through those fears and disbeliefs. Writing and vlogging are other passions that help me express myself and, hopefully, help others too. They also allow me to hone my skills and pursue what I love. I have an end goal in mind, but sometimes the path feels overwhelming. 

I’m learning to take things one step at a time. To do what I can where I am. And to trust that each step forward will take me exactly where I need to be.