When You’re Not There Yet, But You Still Believe
Trusting the journey.
Over the last week or so, I’ve felt a strong nudge to go back and read my journals, some as far back as 2017.
Why?
What’s the significance of 2017?
I’ll tell you in a moment. But before I do, I want to encourage you:
Start journaling.
Write as often as you can. Write about your desires, battles, the messiness, the joy, and the in-between moments when you’re still figuring things out. Write as if it already is—because, in many ways, it is. Write with gratitude. Write with purpose.
It doesn’t have to be eloquent. It doesn’t need perfect grammar. Just write in a way you will understand when you read it years from now.
So when you feel a nudge, like I just did, to open a journal from years ago, you can follow the words that flowed then, and they’ll suddenly make sense again.
I’ve always been a writer.
I write everything—ideas, thoughts, random downloads.
As a child, writing was my thing. My mother used to tell me how I’d wake her up at night to ask for a notebook and a pencil. She’d get up, hand them to me, and go right back to bed. I’d be there in the quiet, scribbling things only my little mind could understand.
Over the years, writing became my safe space. It’s how I dreamt, how I processed life, how I planned, how I navigated joy, pain, purpose… and everything in between.
In the last year or so, I started noticing something:
My Instagram captions were getting longer.
They weren’t just updates—they were stories. Lessons. Reflections. And somewhere in that, I realised: There are things I need to say.
Not just in captions.
Not just for views or engagement.
But someone, somewhere, on the other side of the screen, needs to hear it.
That was my cue.
To go back to journaling more intentionally.
To start a blog.
To share from the heart, with purpose.
Here’s the truth though:
I’ve held back sometimes.
I’ve questioned, “Should I really share this?”
I’ve told myself, “I’m not going to tell everyone all my business.”
And sometimes, I’ve written pieces I didn’t plan to share—but I hit “publish” anyway because I was at peace with it.
Because I knew it could help someone.
Because someone might need to hear my story to unlock their own.
So, back to the journal.
Back to 2017.
Why that year?
Because it was a year of transition.
Of dreams whispered into pages that I didn’t even realise would become the foundation of what I’m living now.
2017 was the first year I wasn’t gainfully employed. It came right after I was fired from a job, and it marked a major turning point in my life. That year became a season of exploration—I was figuring things out, testing new paths, and saying yes to opportunities that stretched me far beyond my comfort zone.
It was the first time I said, with a mix of confidence and uncertainty, “I’m going to bet on myself.” And even though I didn’t have all the answers, I knew I had to try. 2017 was the year I took my first real step into entrepreneurship—a decision that challenged me, changed me, and set me on a path of growth I never imagined.
Even though things didn’t unfold the way I had hoped, that season became the foundation that built me and shaped me into who I am today. Yes, I ventured into entrepreneurship, and while it didn’t turn out the way I expected, it led me to discover my strengths, my purpose, and the incredible power of betting on myself.
When I picked up that old journal, the words leapt off the page.
Some felt like they were written yesterday.
Others felt like they were waiting for me to catch up.
Reading those entries made me realise I was doing the work to become who I am —even when there were questions and uncertainties. I wrote the vision, I wrote the desires, and all I wanted - some have materialised, others not so much, but the work has begun.
I also came to realise that some of my goals have shifted—some were set just to give me a sense of accomplishment, while others were impulsive, in-the-moment decisions that didn’t genuinely align with who I am.
If you’re feeling the tug to revisit an old version of yourself—to go back and read your own words—do it.
There’s wisdom in the words you once wrote.
There’s clarity waiting to meet you again.
And there’s healing in seeing how far you’ve come.
This is your reminder to pick up your pen.
To write it all down.
To tell your truth, even when it’s messy.
And maybe, one day, years from now, you’ll get a nudge too—to go back and rediscover the parts of you that still dream, still desire and still believe.
I have been quietly circling back to the woman I was in 2017—hopeful, maybe a little uncertain, but so clear on what she dreamed of building. And now, standing here in 2025, with all that has unfolded since, I understand that I wasn’t just writing for the moment—I was writing for the future me. The one reading it now.
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Writing used to be my thing as a child as well. Entrepreneurship allowed me to remember my creative gifts. Looking back on the past can motivate you to keep going. Awesome article.