On becoming whole

I didn’t realize how much of my life was built around proving I could do things until I didn’t have to anymore.

Lately I’ve been having conversations- with myself, with friends, with my people online- about work and identity and what happens when the pressure shifts.

For a long time, my life looked like building.

Building businesses.
Building income.
Building proof that I could do this.

Some of that came from survival. Some of it came from fear. Some of it came from not really knowing who I was if I wasn’t producing something.

I didn’t go the traditional route.
No fancy degree (only half-way to a few).
No corporate ladder- quit at entry level.
Just learning by doing and figuring things out while real life was happening.

And honestly, that meant I carried around a major insecurity for years. I assumed people with titles and corporate language knew something I didn’t. Watercooler Club and I’m not invited.

But over time I realized something…

experience is a credential too.
It just doesn’t come in a cute little diploma frame.

I’m an artist and a marketing strategist.

Not one turned into the other.
Not a past life and a current life.

Both. At the same time.

For a long time I thought I needed to pick a lane. Be clearer. Explain myself better. Package things up in a perfect little conventional box.

But the more I tried to do that, the heavier everything felt.

The truth is, my brain doesn’t separate those things.

I see patterns.
I notice tone.
I care about how things feel and whether they actually make sense.
That applies to art.
That applies to business.
That applies to people.

Something shifted recently.

For the first time in a long time, I don’t have to monetize every creative idea I have.

That sounds small but it changes everything.

When survival pressure steps back, you start asking different questions.

Not:
How do I scale this?
How do I optimize this?
How do I prove this works?

But:
What do I actually want my life to feel like?

And that’s a harder question than I expected.

Because I realized I wasn’t simply building businesses anymore.

I’m deciding what kind of life those businesses are building.

I used to think success meant expansion.

More offers.
More content.
More visibility.

aaaand now I’m starting to understand success might look more like integration.

A business that fits inside my life.
Creative work that doesn’t ask to be justified.
Marketing that I don’t dread. Maybe even enjoy.

I’m learning to let things be…idk...
Slower.
More intentional.

That isn’t natural for me. I’m still unlearning hustle culture in real time. 7 years later.

I also realized people aren’t only interested in what I make or what I teach; they’re interested in how I think.

How decisions get made.
How I balance creativity with work.
How I keep building without letting it swallow up everything else.

That feels vulnerable to admit.

I think this next year will look different.

Acadia Thorne will keep evolving- not as a perfectly polished brand, but as a space where my work lives as it changes.

Some things will be for sale.
Some things will just exist because making them felt good.

Microdose Marketing will keep growing too, but in a way that feels sustainable and real.

I’m moving from proving I can build things to deciding what I actually want to build around.

Parenthood changed me.
Creativity changed me.
Burnout changed me.
Time changed me.

I’m learning that joy isn’t a reward at the end of the work. It has to be part of the structure itself.

If you’re in a similar season, where you’ve built something but you’re secretly wondering if there’s another way to do it… you’re not alone.

Sometimes the next phase is just letting all the parts of yourself exist. as they are. all at once.

Artist and strategist.
Parent and business owner.
Creative and practical.

You don’t have to choose.

I’m not sure what this phase is called yet. But I think it looks like becoming whole.