Dear Wannabe Diary,

First week of January: done. And guess what? I’m still here, still writing, still riding this wave of new year, new me energy like I’m the main character of a motivational YouTube montage. Honestly, who even am I? Seven days in, and I’m still excited to wake up at 7 a.m., plop down in front of my laptop, and pour my thoughts into this diary.

It’s a miracle. Or caffeine.

Preschool Panic and Finding My Groove

This newfound productivity might have something to do with my toddler starting preschool recently—about a year later than most kids her age. We kept her home as long as we could because I work from home and thought, Hey, why not keep her close for just a little longer? Cute idea, right? Yeah, until I got pregnant again and was told, “No lifting, no stress, just rest.” A laughable request when you’re alone all day with a 2-year-old.

Long story short, we scored a last-minute preschool spot, and now my house is quiet from 7 a.m. to 3 p.m. I’m trying to use this silence to do something meaningful instead of, you know, watching Netflix all day. (Not that I didn’t enjoy my two-month binge session. Shoutout to every series I devoured while lying in bed “resting.”)

Past Failures and Beaded Dreams

This isn’t my first attempt at being “productive.” Oh no. During my enforced couch arrest, I tried making jewelry from beads. Thought it’d be perfect—sit in bed, make something cute, maybe sell it. I even managed to create one gorgeous necklace and matching earrings before abandoning the whole thing because, well, ADHD brain.

Next, I threw myself into a crash course on Amazon PPC because hey, if I’m failing at selling products on Amazon, I might as well fail smarter. Spoiler: I learned a ton but still haven’t fixed my failing product listings. Then came the Wattpad romance novels because apparently, I decided escapism > growth. And don’t even get me started on how I wasted the holiday break.

But Something Feels Different This Time

I don’t know what clicked with the New Year, but something shifted. I’m motivated, I’m consistent, and I’m genuinely excited to write every day—even if no one’s reading this yet. It feels... right. Like I’m finally doing something for me, and not because I think it’s what I should be doing.

Sure, launching this blog is terrifying. The thought of putting my innermost thoughts online for the world (and maybe someone I know) to stumble upon? Chills. But that fear? That’s why I’m doing this. I’ve spent too much time avoiding criticism, running from failure, and worrying about what people think. Maybe I need this. Maybe I need someone to hate-read my posts and leave a snarky comment. Maybe that’s how I grow a thicker skin and stop giving a damn.

Let’s Be Honest

Even with all my overthinking (because obviously, I’m still second-guessing every word I write), a little voice in my head whispers: No one’s going to read this. No one cares about your ramblings, your failures, your weird existential crises. And you know what? Maybe that’s true. Maybe I’m just another drop in the vast ocean of internet oversharing. But that’s fine.

This isn’t about going viral or becoming the next Oprah. This is for me. To grow. To change. To prove to myself that I can stick with something longer than two weeks.

The Fear of Launch Day

Of course, the thought of actually hitting “publish” scares the hell out of me. What if no one reads it? What if someone does? What if it flops? What if it doesn’t? My brain is a whirlwind of what-ifs, but this time, I’m determined to push through. No expectations. No goals. Just me, showing up every day, trying to build something I’m proud of.

And who knows? Maybe, just maybe, by the end of this year, I’ll look back and see 365 posts, a thriving online presence, and a slightly more confident version of myself.

Signing off,
Wannabe Relentless (but still rethinking that beaded jewelry phase).