My (Not So) Hidden Friction

I was standing—guns blazing—in Sonoma County.

In front of me—my lifelong friend, bouncing around like she was some wisdom-laced leprechaun.

We were business planning, and I was doing what I do: dreaming up the structures I needed for the stability I wanted—while complaining about everything I’d have to sacrifice in the process. Because all I really wanted… was time and space to create.

This battle between stability and creativity was age-old in my mind. She’d heard it before, but this time… she paused, looked me straight in the eye, and said: What if you rewrote that story? Could it be that stability provides the foundation for your creativity, while creativity, in turn, provides your stability?

And that was it.

Her hands kept moving, but everything around her went soft. Her voice faded like it was underwater. And I stood there, blinking in the blur—as if night had turned to day and winter had instantly become summer. Because in that moment, one piece of perspective changed everything.

—

For decades, I’d built the belief that—for the artist—friction was normal. Even necessary.

If I leaned into creative flow, I’d feel irresponsible. Childish. Avoidant. If I focused on systems and business, my soul would shrivel and whisper, “You're missing the point.” Two forces. Both vital. Neither trusting the other.

If I’m creative, I’m unstable. If I'm stable, I've sold out—that belief ran the show for waaay too long.

But I didn’t know what I couldn’t see.

Until suddenly—I saw the lie.

Creativity and stability were never enemies. They were partners, waiting to meet.

Structure isn’t a cage—it’s scaffolding for the work I care about. Systems aren’t a compromise—they’re a container. The “boring stuff”—automated workflows, financial frameworks, team systems—they free up my energy to focus on what matters most.

Conversely, creativity isn’t a distraction from the “real” work. Creativity is the work. Newsletter creation. Instagram content. Website evolution. These are the vehicles. The voice. The living, breathing extension of everything I stand for.

—

Since that blur, something inside me has shifted. The cacophony has been replaced with quiet, and the sharp edges of contradiction have softened. My wheels are up, and I’m moving—smoothly. Less frantic. More focused.

The structures I once resented… are now the support beams that let me breathe. Boundaries have created freedom (read that twice).

Honestly, it’s wild how long I operated bound by my own bullsh*t.

And how fast it all shifted—just by seeing it.

That, is the power of perspective.

—
Ps. If you're seeking your own perspective shift around the content you create—I've recently made space for bi-weekly consulting. Start a conversation to learn more.