As July closed its chapter, I found myself sitting in the stillness—heart racing, mind spinning, body exhausted—trying to make sense of everything the month hurled at me. Some of it was beautiful. Most of it was brutal.
If you’re anything like me—trying to juggle life as a writer, partner, caretaker, and chronically ill neurospicy human—balance isn’t a goal. It’s a daily f*cking fight.
This month? Nothing went “according to plan.” There were doctor visits, emotional spirals, panic attacks, ER trips, and days that made just existing feel like a high-stakes game of emotional Jenga. But here’s the raw truth I kept coming back to: balance isn’t about perfection—it’s about persistence. It’s about showing up anyway. Resting when I needed. Writing when I could. And forgiving myself—over and over again—when I just… couldn’t.
Here’s what July taught me (with its claws out):
1. Balance Isn’t a Destination—It’s a Damn Fight
I used to think balance was something I could achieve. Now I know it’s something I claw my way toward one hour at a time.
Between the emotional fallout of selling the truck, the unexpected notary chaos, and being on high alert for my wife’s health, my nervous system never got a day off. My body reminded me every chance it got: you can’t outrun burnout. Especially when you’re living with fibromyalgia, executive dysfunction, and anxiety that likes to cosplay as heart problems.
Some days, I had spoons. Other days, I had spork shrapnel. But I’m learning—gritting my teeth and learning—that balance isn’t about doing it all. It’s about being honest with myself, shifting expectations, and choosing grace over grind.
2. Writing Through the Wreckage (and the Panic)
This month, writing didn’t just save me—it gave me somewhere to put the heaviness. Between journaling through breakdowns and building Tiegan’s Fate one emotionally-drained paragraph at a time, the page held space when I couldn’t.
There were moments I spiraled so hard, I curled into the fetal position and couldn’t speak. There were days I almost didn’t make it out of bed. But I still wrote. Even when it was heavy. Even when it was just a whisper of what I wanted to say.
And that matters. That counts. That’s how I know I’m still in the fight.
3. Showing Up Looks Different Every Day
Showing up in July looked like:
- Pressing the damn heart monitor button just in case that fluttery chest feeling wasn’t just anxiety.
- Cooking breakfast after four hours of sleep.
- Checking in with my wife, even when my own heart was breaking.
- Sitting with discomfort instead of shoving it down.
- Releasing a new sticker set even when my hands were trembling.
- Publishing an eBook even while questioning whether anyone would buy it.
- Clicking “Launch Site” on a website I built from scratch—scared as hell but doing it anyway.
It didn’t look heroic. It looked like survival. But I showed up. And that’s more than enough.
4. Celebrate the Quiet Wins (and the Loud Ones Too)
I didn’t just survive July—I created in it.
I launched my damn website. I released multiple eBooks. I designed products. I uploaded them. Marketed them. Built something from the raw edges of my life.
And yeah—there were days I stared at my sales numbers and felt like it was never going to happen. Like maybe I was shouting into the void. Like no one cared.
But I kept going anyway. Because even when it felt small or pointless or invisible—it mattered.
Other wins looked like:
- Taking care of my wife when she needed urgent care.
- Holding space for both of us when we were unraveling.
- Managing the emotional load of endings, beginnings, and the unknown.
- Not completely falling apart (even when I wanted to).
That’s the kind of sh*t no one puts on Instagram. But it’s real. And it’s progress.
5. Flexibility Saved My Sanity
Structure? What’s that? July laughed at my color-coded schedule and burned it to the ground.
But instead of letting it break me, I adapted. I traded rigid daily plans for a weekly task dump. I leaned into what my body and brain could do that day, instead of punishing myself for what they couldn’t.
I stopped treating flexibility like failure. It’s not weakness—it’s strategy. It’s survival. And I’m finally learning how to wield it.
6. The Bigger Picture is Still Beautiful (Even When It’s Blurry)
Zooming out, I can see it: everything is still in motion. Even when I feel like I’m standing still, I’m becoming—more honest, more self-aware, more resilient.
July wasn’t pretty. It was raw. It stripped away a lot of illusions. But it left behind something stronger: a version of me who knows how to show up even when everything feels like it’s breaking.
I’m not building a brand. I’m building a life I can actually live in.
Final Thoughts
Here’s what July carved into my bones:
- Balance is messy and merciless.
- Progress is often invisible.
- Showing up isn’t small—it’s everything.
So just to recap:
July came in swinging and didn’t let up. If I had to sum up the month in one word, it would be: stretching. Emotionally, mentally, physically—I was pulled in every direction. But damn if I didn’t keep showing up.
I launched my website. I put products into the world. I formatted and released several eBooks. I created things I’d only dreamed of actually finishing, let alone sharing. And there were days it felt good. But there were also days I looked at my sales numbers and felt like it was never going to happen. That creeping voice of doubt didn’t whisper this time—it shouted.
Behind the scenes? I was falling apart a little. There were days my body hurt so bad I couldn’t think straight. Nights I laid in bed with my chest tight, wondering if the pain was just anxiety or something worse. I braced myself for impact more than once. I cried in silence. I smiled in public. I spiraled and clawed my way back out.
I danced with panic and still managed to write. I wrapped a monitor around my chest and still found ways to create. I questioned everything—my path, my purpose, my worth—and still decided to keep going. That’s what July taught me. Not how to be fearless. But how to keep moving even when I was scared as hell.
I’m proud of what I built. I’m proud of what I faced. But mostly, I’m proud of the fact that I didn’t let the hard days erase the progress I’ve made.
August, you’ve got big shoes to fill. Let’s dance.
If you’ve been hanging on by a thread, if you’ve spent more time crying than creating, if you’ve felt broken, lost, or not enough—I see you. You’re not alone. You’re not behind.
You’re still breathing. Still trying.
And that makes you a f*cking warrior.
💬 Your Turn:
What did July teach you—about balance, about writing, or about just making it through?
Drop your story in the comments. Let’s be real together. 💛