Sometimes I dream of a life without ambition. I picture myself in a quiet village, walking the dog, raising my kids, and working a job that doesn't require my soul—just a simple clock-in and clock-out . I’d make homemade pasta, call it a day, and be entirely content with "enough."
Don’t get me wrong; I’m grateful AF for the chance to chase a dream. But sometimes, that eagerness haunts me. My childhood visions of being Taylor Swift can make my own real-world achievements feel small. I find myself awake at night, wondering if people think it’s sad that I haven't "made it" yet.
But what does "making it" even mean? Is it awards? Status? Money? I don’t have much of those. But I do have joy. I have the magic of connecting with people through my songs or the simple bliss of a flat white and a walk with my son.
I’m still learning to breathe through the comparison traps. Every time I think I’ve stepped off the treadmill, I find myself looking at a mental or literal “feed" and feeling behind. I’m growing, but I haven't reached pure surrender yet. I'm working on it.
I wrote a song about this climb. It’s called "The Ladder," and it’s out on Spotify today. If you’ve ever felt stuck on a ladder similar to this, I’d love to hear your story. Let’s bond over it, maybe even sharing a flat white :)