Having the Courage to Choose

I feel it inside. A shift happening. A new season of life emerging. For so long, I have been trying to do it all and hold it all together. And for just as long, I have felt two steps behind like I was always letting myself down.

I made promises to myself, then quickly broke them. I was inconsistent. I was late. Again and again, I didn’t follow through.

It wasn’t for lack of caring. I was spreading myself thin. Way too thin. I am only one person. There are only twenty-four hours in a day. I need to sleep, work, take care of a family and a home. What does that leave me with?

It leaves me with the passions and desires that are in my heart. The feeling that there is something bigger inside me that wants to come out, but it won’t happen if I allow myself to be pulled in one hundred different directions. I need clarity. I need focus. I need to let it all fall away and see what truly is calling to me.

For a long time I thought I had to say yes to every creative idea I had. And maybe I did in that moment. Maybe following all those ideas led me to learn more about myself. But what I am realizing now is there is another kind of courage in choosing between them. In saying yes to what really matters now and allowing the rest to be complete.

Instead of asking myself, what should I do next, I started looking backwards. I dug into the archives of my own life. What have I always been attuned to? What has been my guiding post since I was small? What do I know in my heart to be true?

I set aside the expectations I have put on myself. I set aside the things I think I “need” to do for no other reason than that others are doing them. I set aside what others think I should be doing.

I got quiet. Very, very quiet. I didn’t put a timeline on figuring it out. I gave myself space to breathe. To ebb, to flow.

As I have leaned deeper into the beat of my own heart and the sound of my voice, I am seeing it’s time to shift. It’s a new season of life. Raising my daughter, leaning into my voice, seeking ways to reconnect with my partner.

What worked for me before doesn’t fully work for me now. I am shedding a layer of life and leaning into this new chapter.

I know everything I have gone through has led me to here. To this moment, carrying all those life lessons imprinted on my heart, ready to keep learning, growing, and becoming.

The quiet has shown me I need to let go of what is no longer working for me. I need to give it thanks for all it gave me, but also give myself space to fully step into this next version of myself.

One of the clearest signs of this shift is my website. I have been holding onto it even though I rarely keep up with it. Every so often I think that I should do something with that space. Update it, redesign it, figure out what it should become. When I finally got quiet enough to ask whether I actually wanted it anymore, the answer surprised me. No. My website had become less of a creative home and more of a source of guilt. It was a constant reminder of something else I wasn’t doing. I realized I don’t need to figure out what the website should become. I can simply let it go.

Substack feels like coming home to my Blogger days. When reading someone’s blog felt like arriving on their virtual front porch and being invited into their life through their words. This is where my roots are. Sharing stories from my heart. Noticing the ordinary in the everyday moments. Connecting through words. Being in community with people rather than maintaining my own little island on the internet, which I felt lost on.

Another place I am feeling called to is Red Leaf 3D Printing. Red Leaf feels different because it isn’t another thing I am trying to squeeze into my life. It is something that Dustin and I are building together. We always wanted to do something together, and this opportunity gives us room to use what we are naturally good at, while creating something that belongs to both of us.

In this season of life, that is all I have capacity for. Spending time with my girl is my priority. I want to be fully present for her as much as I can. I also want her to see me chase my dreams and do hard things.

When I look back, I can see how every creative chapter led me to the next one. Giggling in the Rain opened a door I didn’t even know existed. From there came videos and web series, JenniferBelthoff.com, the Love Notes Postcard Project, classes, coaching, creative writing nights, communities, and podcasts.

I followed a lot of ideas. Some flourished and some faded. Some taught me what I needed to learn and then quietly ended. None of them were ever wasted. They were breadcrumbs helping me to understand a little bit more about what lights me, what I am good at, what drains me, and ultimately, what I want to carry forward.

For years, growth looked like adding things in. Leaning into a new idea, another project, another possibility. In this season, growth looks different. It looks like choosing. Choosing Heart Notes, Red Leaf, my family, my relationship, myself. It looks like giving those parts of my life enough room to actually breathe instead of giving them what tiny bits of energy I had left.

There is a sadness in letting go of things that once meant so much to me, but there is also relief. I don’t need to keep every version of myself alive because she once mattered to me. I can thank her and take what she taught me as I move forward. I can let her go and make space for what is to come.

Maybe this next chapter isn’t about becoming someone new. Maybe it is about clearing away enough noise to fully hear the women I’ve been becoming all along. And maybe it’s finally trusting her enough to follow where she is leading.

Not every ending means something went wrong. Sometimes we simply outgrow what once fit us, and honoring that ending creates room for what wants our attention now.

What are you still carrying simply because it once mattered to you?