The Post I Was Afraid to Write

After weeks of designing, rewriting, and overthinking, Wayfinder Practice is finally live.
This website isn’t just a space for my work — it’s a marker of something deeper.
It’s the moment I stopped waiting to feel ready, and decided to begin anyway.

For me, this isn’t just the start of a practice.
It’s the start of becoming the person who believes it’s possible.

I almost didn’t post this.
For days, I kept circling back — changing a line, adjusting a photo, convincing myself it wasn’t quite ready.

But the truth is, I was scared.

Launching this site felt like more than just publishing a page.
It felt like stepping into a new identity — not just someone learning to help others, but someone daring to believe they can make a difference.

And that terrified me.

When I finally hit publish, it was quiet.
No fireworks. No sudden rush of clients.

But something shifted.

It wasn’t about the website — it was about finally allowing myself to be seen.

So far, I’ve had one client find me through my own work. Just one.
And that single message meant everything.

It reminded me that this is how all beginnings feel — small, uncertain, and real.

There’s a story I’ve always loved.
Michelangelo was once chiseling away at a large block of marble when a boy asked what he was doing.
The sculptor smiled and said, “There’s an angel inside this stone, and I’m setting him free.”

That’s what this process feels like.
Each step, each hesitation, each quiet act of courage — it’s all part of chipping away at the layers that have kept me hidden.

Some days, I feel like the sculptor — steady, patient, carving with care.
Other days, I feel like the marble — raw, uncertain, still waiting to see what will emerge.

And both are necessary.

Wayfinder is just beginning.
It’s not a polished brand or a big business yet.
It’s one small step, one conversation, one person at a time.

I’m learning that growth doesn’t happen in leaps.
It happens in these small, persistent moments — when you decide to try again anyway.

So this is the post I was afraid to write:
I’m still figuring it out.
I’m still scared.
And I’m still here.

If you’re standing at your own beginning, maybe this is your reminder:
It’s okay to start small.
Even the smallest start can set something beautiful free.