A Decade of Doubt
My mantra for 2025: I invite adventure into my everyday life.
It’s been a decade of letting go — of unreciprocal relationships, of people who weren’t meant to stay, and of parts of myself that believed I had to hold on to be loved.
Some goodbyes have felt liberating, like taking a deep breath after years underwater. Others have shattered my heart into a million tiny pieces. Both, though, have made room for the woman I’m still becoming.
And this year — 2025 — has been the year of adventure, to say the least. Did I anticipate that? Not exactly. But I am so incredibly grateful for every twist, every detour, and every unexpected opening that’s led me here.
No joke — as I’m writing this, my mantra app just popped up with:
“I invite adventure into my everyday life.”
You can’t make this stuff up.
When I was 18, I bought my first brand-new car — a shiny Corolla S. I still remember sitting at the finance desk, pay stubs in hand, nervously going through the paperwork.
The salesman asked about my rent, expenses, and whether I could manage the payments. I was working full-time, living in an apartment with my boyfriend. I didn’t have debt, and I was figuring life out on my own for the first time.
But here’s what stands out all these years later:
When I filled out that application, the salesman wrote “boyfriend” as part of my financial reference — as if his name somehow made me more credible.
I didn’t even realize it then, but something in me had already been taught to believe I needed that — that I couldn’t stand fully on my own.
It’s wild how early that conditioning begins for women. The belief that we need someone else to survive — financially, emotionally, or otherwise.
Even now, I catch myself going there unwillingly at times. Wondering if I’m really okay on my own. Wondering if I’m enough without anyone standing beside me.
But the truth I keep returning to is this: I already am.
Every time I’ve let go of a relationship that wasn’t mutual, every time I’ve rebuilt from heartbreak, and every time I’ve chosen myself over comfort — I’ve proven that.
So much of our confidence is directly tied to our bank account.
A decade of doubt has turned into a decade of self-trust.
It’s not about not needing anyone — it’s about knowing you can hold your own. It’s about loving from a place of wholeness, not survival.
This chapter isn’t about starting over. It’s about continuing on, rooted in the knowing that everything I once looked for in someone else, I’ve been cultivating within me all along.
Here’s to the next decade — one not built on doubt, but on the deep, steady trust that I am whole, capable, and free to adventure into whatever comes next.
For years, I poured that same energy of proving myself into my work. I told myself I was building — and I was.
Building a business.
Building stability.
Building a life that felt like mine.
And in the beginning, it did take long hours and late nights. The grind was necessary. But over time, I realized that building and burning out are not the same thing.
Since March, I’ve been slowly making changes that put me in alignment with the life I want to live.
I’ve consciously started ending my days at a decent time. Some weeks are easier than others — and yes, getting ready for events like the Empowerment Party still brings its fair share of late nights. But I no longer wear exhaustion like a badge of honor.
I don’t need busyness to fill the void anymore.
Some nights that space feels lonely and sad. And others, I’m resetting and filling it with good things.
Because I’m not chasing worth through productivity — I’m creating space.
Space for stillness.
Space for joy.
Space for my next adventure.
And that, to me, feels like real success.
XO,
Laura
