How to keep going when you're doing a different, non-traditional thing

Dear stranger,

You asked me this week: "How do I keep going in the messy chaos of something that's not the traditional thing, something different? How do I believe in myself?"

I've been sitting with this one.

Because I know this question well. Not in a "I've read about this" kinda way, more so in a "I have lived inside this question for years and sometimes still do" kinda way.

You see, I always wanted to write. Not in a vague, wouldn't-that-be-nice way but in a this-is-the-thing-that-makes-me-feel-most-like-myself-and-I-want-to-do-it-for-a-living way. Letters, honest thoughts, and real conversations I wanted to have with people, just on a page. It kept coming back. I kept coming back to it.

And yet. I come from a family of professional designations. Accountants, architects, doctors, MBAs. Serious, legible, respectable things. And the message I absorbed growing up was that writing wasn't a real thing. Not necessarily from my family directly — it just felt like a known fact, like gravity. You couldn't make money from it. It was a hobby at best and a delusion at worst.

So I did what a lot of us do. I tried to choose the safe, secure path and become what I thought I should be.

And in doing so, this is what I learned and will share with you now.

1. You will try to escape this calling. It won't work.

In 2015 I started an online health and fitness coaching business. Before Zoom was cool, before "working online" was really a thing, before anyone in my life — including myself — had a clear idea of what I was doing. 😅

And it was hard. Not just the business part — the explaining it at parties part. The watching people's faces do that thing part.

When I was running The Writing Way, I was with a partner who didn't really believe in what I was building. And when someone you love doesn't believe in what you're building, you start to borrow their doubt.

It moved in.
It unpacked its bags.
It started leaving its dishes in the sink.

So, I applied to nursing school.

Not because I really wanted to be a nurse, to be honest. Because I wanted an exit. A credential that meant something to people. A way to stop having to explain myself at Christmas. I wanted to be loved by someone who needed me to be something more traditional, and I thought maybe I could just... become that.

Spoiler alert: I didn't get in.

Was I devastated? Not at all. There was some rejection, sure. But what I really felt was relief.

Because the escape route had closed, and I was still me — still wanting the same thing, still writing letters to strangers in my head.

Every time you try to escape, that's not weakness or failure. That's data. By doing so you’ll get the clearest possible evidence of what you’re actually meant to do.

Go down as many alternate paths as you need and want. You'll inevitably find your way to what you’re meant to do.

2. You might want the universe to force your hand. ...it probably won't.

Here's something I don't think I've told anyone, and I'm telling you because I think you might understand it.

There have been times when I genuinely wished I'd get another tumour. (I had 6 surgeries for benign cystadenomas in my 20s). Not because I wanted to be sick — I want to be very clear that I did not want another surgery — but because then I'd have a reason.

Then no one could question it. Then I'd have a reason bigger than I want this — which, at the time, didn't feel like enough. I could do the thing I actually wanted to do, and blame the tumour for it. It was a cozy little loophole.

I was so scared of being wrong. Of being judged. Of losing people. Of betting on myself and having it not work out. That I would rather a diagnosis force my hand than trust myself to make the call.

The diagnosis didn't come when I wanted it. (Only when I didn’t haha.) It doesn't usually.

And eventually you realize you're just standing there, still wanting what you want, waiting for a permission slip that was never going to arrive.

So you have to write it yourself. Which, I'll be the first to admit, is annoying.

*shakes fist* Damn you, universe.

3. You don't have to fully believe. You just have to keep feeding the right thing.

I think there's a part of you that's a skeptic. It doubts, questions, interrogates everything — including you, including this. It doesn't trust easily because it doesn't want to be made a fool.

I have that part too. And it's not your enemy — it's probably what makes you really good at what you do.

But, it can't run the whole show.

Here's what I've landed on: both parts can exist in you at the same time. The part that doubts AND the part that moves toward this thing like it's the only direction that makes sense (even when it really doesn't make any sense.)

That's not a contradiction or problem. That's just being a human being.

You don't have to silence the doubt. You just have to decide which part you feed.

I invite you to immerse yourself in this different way. Find the people who are doing it, or something like it, in some other industry or corner of the world. Surround yourself with people who say try it, I believe in you, why not, and YOLO. Look for evidence that crazy, different, wild “untraditional” things are possible for others and hey, what if, just maybe they could be possible for you too.

You were brain-bathed in one way of seeing the world for a long time — it’s not your fault — and it takes time to consistently see new ways. But you don't have to undo that alone.

Shield the tiny spark. It's scared and fragile and sacred. And the only way to find out what it's capable of is to let it make you look a little foolish.

That's not a warning. That's the whole point.

Because here's what I know: there will come a point where you have wrestled and ignored and suppressed this thing so many times that there's nothing left to put it out. And you'll surrender — maybe with a sigh, maybe with a swear word, maybe both — and realize there's nothing else to do but trust it. And follow it.

This letter is me, still writing. Still doing the thing I was told wasn't a thing.

And I want to say to you, dear stranger, trust the spark more than anything else.

Follow where it leads you and let the fun begin 😏

Thoughts? Let me know how this landed for you.

And let me know how it goes.

With care,
Deanne.