A Reflection on Enoughness, Creativity, and Coming Home to Myself
For most of my life, I’ve been performing.
Not on a stage. Not in a spotlight.
But in the quiet, everyday ways that so many women do —
Holding it all together.
Anticipating needs.
Being exceptional. Being useful.
Trying endlessly to be enough.
The problem was… I never truly believed I was.
Recently, during a quiet journaling moment, I asked myself:
“What parts of your day feel most like you, without effort?”
I sat with the question longer than I expected.
Because almost every version of “me” I pictured came wrapped in performance —
Achievement, productivity, proving something to someone.
I didn’t know who I was outside of that.
But then a surprising answer came.
When I’m with my kids.
With them, I’m not performing.
I’m not trying to impress or prove.
They love me as I am —
Whether we’re laughing, resting, or doing nothing at all.
In their presence, I can simply be.
And for the first time in a long time, that felt like enough.
Still, that realization brought up something deeper:
Why didn’t I see myself the way they do?
Even when I’ve accomplished things I’m proud of,
there’s been a quiet voice in the back of my mind saying,
“Nobody cares. It’s not enough. You’re not enough.”
That voice has lived inside me for years —
shaped by childhood wounds,
unspoken expectations,
friendships that made me feel like a backup plan,
relationships that asked me to shrink to be loved.
I’ve spent so much time trying to be more —
but rarely letting myself believe that I was already enough.
So I asked another question:
“What would change if I believed I was enough — even if no one noticed?”
The answer?
Everything.
I’d still work hard.
I’d still create beautiful things.
But I’d do it from a place of wholeness, not striving.
From truth, not performance.
My voice would rise above the critic.
My pride wouldn’t depend on applause.
That’s what Of Quiet Things has become for me —
A space to create slowly and honestly.
A place where softness isn’t weakness,
and where I don’t have to shout to be heard.
This past week, after finishing my latest journal,
I sat beside my boyfriend and showed him what I’d made.
He was proud of me.
But more importantly — I was proud of me.
Not because he saw it.
Because I did.
Later that night, I wrote this in my journal:
“Validation will never be enough when you look for it outside of yourself. You will always be left wanting.”
That truth landed deep.
Because pride — real pride — is an inside job.
So is healing.
I’m learning to see my creativity as a part of me,
not an exception to who I am.
From designing a tattoo,
to styling a cottage home,
to building this journal brand from scratch —
It’s all me.
And I’m learning to love that about myself.
Quiet Reminder to Anyone Reading:
You don’t have to be perfect to be worthy.
You don’t have to perform to be accepted.
You are allowed to create, rest, laugh, and exist — without explaining yourself.
You are enough, even when no one notices.
🌿 Bring Quiet Home With You
If you’re craving more moments like this, explore the journals created to hold space for your quiet becoming.