This will be the year I stop blocking my own shine
courage under fire
Last year, I talked. I talked a lot. I talked to my sisters, my parents, my close circle of friends, my doctor, my therapist, and, of course, through this blog to all of you. But during the holiday season, as I took a month-long break from this Substack, it hit me—I had been talking to everyone except myself.
It was like I had been hosting a panel discussion about my life, but I forgot to invite the actual keynote speaker: me. Sure, I had plenty of conversations about my goals, my struggles, and the life I envisioned. But the hard, unfiltered, staring-myself-down-in-the-mirror kind of chats? The ones about the heavy baggage I was still dragging along and the real reasons I kept hesitating? Those never happened.
The truth is, I’ve been in safe mode for the past two years. You know, like when your computer crashes, and it boots up with the bare essentials just to function? That’s been me. After my mental health diagnosis, I was so terrified of slipping back into old, harmful behaviors that I tiptoed through life, second-guessing every decision, every creative spark, every moment of joy. I was hyper-focused on building routines to keep me stable, but somewhere along the way, I started to feel like I was losing the vibrant, go-getting, slightly chaotic creative I used to be.
I convinced myself that being boring was the price of stability. Excitement? Too risky. Passion projects? Potentially dangerous. The old me had made a mess of things, so the new me decided to play it safe. But in doing so, I started to feel my light dim more and more. And honestly, I started to settle. I told myself, “Maybe this is just my life now.”
Let’s be real: mental health diagnoses come with a lot of labels. They’re often classified as disabilities, which can affect how we think, feel, and interact with the world. And while that’s valid, it doesn’t tell the whole story. For me, living with bipolar disorder has meant navigating a delicate balance between honoring my emotional and psychological well-being and fighting the urge to let fear dictate my life.
But here’s the thing: fear is sneaky. It’s not always loud or obvious. Sometimes, it shows up as a quiet whisper in the back of your mind, saying, “Maybe you shouldn’t try that. What if you fail?” Or worse, “What if you succeed, and you can’t handle it?” Fear convinced me that staying in my comfort zone was the safest bet. And for a while, I listened.
But not anymore.
I’ve spent enough time hiding in the shadows of my own insecurities. This is the year I stop blocking my own shine. It’s time to stop playing small and step back into the light—to let the sun hit my face, no sunglasses, no filter, no safety net.
Do I have a clear, step-by-step plan for how to do this? Somewhat. But I do know this: growth requires stepping away from the familiar. It means embracing discomfort and uncertainty, even if it scares me senseless. It means finding the courage to face the voices in my head that tell me I can’t, shouldn’t, or won’t, and reminding them that they don’t get the final say.
I’ve already started taking baby steps. I’ve been testing the waters, reacquainting myself with the creative projects I put down, dusting off dreams that have been sitting on the shelf for far too long. But now it’s time to pick up the pace. This year, I’m walking briskly, then jogging, and eventually sprinting toward the life I know I’m capable of living.
Am I scared? Absolutely. But I’m also thrilled. Because for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m taking back the reins. No more hiding behind excuses or fears. No more holding myself back because of what might go wrong.
This year, I’m committing to myself. To my truth. To my dreams. I’m choosing to believe in the version of me that’s bold, resilient, and unapologetically bright. It’s scary and exhilarating all at once, but isn’t that what living is all about?
So here’s to stepping into the light. Here’s to embracing the shine that’s been there all along, waiting for me to stop dimming it. And here’s to 2025—a year of courage, growth, and unshakable self-belief. Let’s do this.
Recommended Substack Read
I’ve got a real soft spot for truth-tellers—the kind who aren’t afraid to say the quiet part out loud. If that’s your vibe too, you have to check out this post on Substack by
. It’s the one that hooked me and turned me into a fan and subscriber.