Same Ambition. Different Capacity.
This is what showing up looks like tonight
It’s Sunday night.
I’m staring at a blank screen.
The week is coming.
Can’t stop it.
I have no blog post written.
No title.
No image selected (the hardest part).
I’m committed.
Can’t skip it.
But right now, I’m not showing up the way I want.
I want to do this.
I just don’t have the energy for it tonight.
My brain feels like a ping pong ball right now.
And then there’s Migs.
That’s what I call my amygdala. The part of my brain that keeps me safe.
Right now, he’s trying to save me from publishing a less-than-perfect post.
Migs doesn’t care about context or capacity.
He’s saying:
“You committed to a blog every Tuesday.
So write it.
And don’t half-ass it.”
Even if you’re exhausted.
“If you want it bad enough you’ll make it happen.”
Is Migs in your head too?
He’s loud for me right now.
I’ve been working 50–60 hour weeks lately.
Starting at 5:30am.
Straight through the day.
And then this week hit.
My daughter had her wisdom teeth removed.
And the cat, the one that gave me purpose a few weeks ago, is now running the house.
I’m just trying to keep up.
With all of it.
I know my limit.
I can keep about five plates spinning. After that, one starts to wobble.
And I’m past that.
Same life.
Different capacity.
And when capacity drops, everything feels harder.
The work.
The decisions.
Even the things you care about.
The plates are already wobbling.
Time to adjust.
But not in the way I usually do.
I didn’t cancel everything.
I played mahjong Friday night with my Mahjong Mamas.
I went to lunch with a friend today.
Not because I had extra time.
Because I needed it.
It wasn’t accidental.
It was intentional.
I’m learning that when things feel off,
I need stability, not balance.
And for me, connection is what steadies me.
So I kept that.
Which meant something else had to give.
Showing up doesn’t have to be perfect to still matter.
Not polished.
Not the way I’d planned.
But still thoughtful.
Still intentional.
This is what showing up looks like tonight.
Same ambition.
Different capacity.
I write one short essay each week about midlife and making sense of it.
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