What I Have to Offer (Right Now)

🧭 Building Worlds, Losing My Own

Hey friends,

I wanted to drop in here—somewhere that feels a little more personal, a little more human.

If you’ve noticed, I’ve been pretty quiet lately. Not just here, but everywhere. My last post was about celebrating rejection—raising a glass to the messy, unglamorous truth of trying. And then? Silence.

Honestly, I’ve been sitting with why it’s felt so hard to write or share anything. And the truth is... I’ve felt like I don’t have much to offer right now.

Not in a dramatic, “woe is me” kind of way (though yeah, I have those days too). But in that weird, numb, in-between way. The blank page way.

You know that feeling? When you look back at all the things you’ve done—projects, travels, art, work—and it just feels…past tense?

It’s not that I don’t know I’ve done cool things. I have. I’ve spent over 25 years behind the scenes in film and television—painting sets, designing spaces, making entire fake worlds feel real. From New York bars built on sound stages to medieval castles carved out of foam and painted ancient.

I’ve run a shop full of compass paintings and custom designs. Taught workshops. Worked as a life coach. Roamed the world as a professional house sitter, collecting stories and inspiration along the way.

On paper? It’s a lot.

But knowing it isn’t the same as feeling it.

Lately I don’t feel particularly wise or accomplished.

Honestly? I just feel tired. Quiet. A little lost. Unsure what’s next.

And I really hesitated to even write this. Because it feels like if you’re going to show up online—or especially if people are paying to read your stuff—you’re supposed to have something polished. Insightful. Worth the subscription.

But that’s not what I have today.

Today I just have this.

Honesty.

Because this is part of the story too, right? The part we don’t often post. The blank season. The creative dormancy. The in-between. The desert before the rain.

I don’t know what’s coming next. And honestly, that freaks me out. I like knowing. I like a map. I like having a project I can point to and say “Look—this is what I’m working on.”

But right now I don’t have one.

Just me. Feeling blank.

But maybe blankness isn’t nothing. Maybe it’s the field lying fallow so something can grow. The quiet before the idea. The moment you remember you can’t push the river. That sometimes it is better to put your feet up and float.

I’ve been through this cycle enough times to know it’s not the end. It’s just a season.

So thank you. Really. For being here anyway. For reading even when I don’t have it all figured out. For letting this space be human.

Because I don’t want to only show up when I have something impressive to share. I want to show up like this, too.

If you’re in this place too—feeling blank, disconnected from your own accomplishments, wondering what you even have to offer—I see you.

We can sit in the quiet together for a while.

Maybe that’s the whole point.