Survival
It is peculiar that I am still dealing with the same situations I faced a few years ago—desperation, frustration, confusion about my finances and life path. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do to bring in money and care for myself. For a long time, the pressure to earn made me feel I had to do a lot at once.
I have many interests and talents, but my motivation wasn’t rooted in enjoyment; it was rooted in survival. I kept juggling projects so I’d have a backup if something fell through. This constant juggling pushed me to extremes—doing the most and then doing nothing at all.
Origins & Frustration
Social media amplified these feelings. Endless content, endless ideas, endless people documenting their lives. I was overtaken by comparison and felt pressured to create, produce, and monetize myself as a brand.
Under our current system, survival means selling your labor, and value is measured by productivity, credentials, and profit. I was taught that working harder leads to worth and stability. But working harder didn’t bring financial abundance; it brought exhaustion and burnout.
Even with a master’s degree, I struggled to make ends meet. I tried to stay afloat but found release only when I stopped resisting—when eviction forced me to quit fighting for my apartment after another job burnt me out. I believed the lie that doing more would earn more, but all I was pushing a rock up a hill.
I still desire to thrive, not just survive—to have more than the bare minimum, to earn without being drained. Sometimes I feel I don’t want to do anything at all. A girl on TikTok said, “Your purpose isn’t what you do; it’s being an embodiment of love.” That resonated. It means how I show up every day matters more than the job title.
Realization
Deep down, I know everything is fine—even when I forget. I’m still cultivating what my life looks like. I don’t mind working creatively, but I also feel vulnerable living with family. I want security, yet I don’t want to put pressure on music to provide it and drain the joy out of it.
I want work that’s low-stress, offers work-life balance, and aligns with my activist spirit. Teaching fits some of that, but when it comes to creativity, I worry. My lack of money feeds my stress, but stress won’t solve it.
Faith means choosing what I enjoy even if it doesn’t pay right away, and knowing everything will work out. I don’t have to pressure my creations to fund me. I can do what I love freely and trust the process. I can withdraw, listen to myself, and act from alignment.
There’s no blueprint—no right or wrong way. I’m choosing the path of least resistance because there’s already enough to combat externally. Things are divinely orchestrated, and we co-create with our actions. I’m choosing actions that let me glide through existence: present, calm, not unconscious but awake.
Driving reminds me of this. There’s no need to speed. Others rush and get frustrated, but often I end up behind them anyway. Sometimes they vanish, and I wonder, “Was it worth it?” This mirrors my life: pushing, hurrying, hyper-focusing on self and destination without regard for the cost. I don’t need to do that.
Practices & Solutions
Knowing myself and accepting where I am helps me find answers. I make decisions based on truth, not on what I think I “should” do for safety. There’s no right or wrong—just alignment.
If someone asked me what I’m actually doing to stay centered while I rebuild my life, this is what I’d say:
Practices & Solutions
- Morning pages & journaling – Daily writing to release thoughts and gain clarity.
- Sitting with feelings – Allowing overwhelm, jealousy, or despair to surface without judgment.
- Breathing & napping – Simple pauses to reset the nervous system.
- Movement & music – Dancing, listening, or creating to shift energy.
- Spending time with loved ones – Grounding yourself in connection.
- Choosing alignment over urgency – Making decisions from truth rather than “shoulds.”
- Letting go of income pressure on art – Creating for joy first, trusting the process for the rest.
These practices remind me that life is a process, not something to be rushed. They ground me so I can make decisions from wholeness rather than fear. In the moment they can feel counter-intuitive—who would think that pausing instead of pushing could move you further along?—but they’re a form of self-care. I’m still unlearning the belief that I don’t have enough time to devote to myself. The more I love myself, the more my life improves, and the more fully I can show up for others. Change starts within.
How are you showing up for yourself today? I’d love to hear in the comments — your reflections inspire me too.
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