I’ve followed every hack, attended countless events, sent cold emails, revised my CV more times than I can count. I’ve cried — not because I’ve failed, but because the version of me that exists in 2025 is the version I once prayed for… yet not quite the version I imagined.
I would be lying if I said I’m happy about it. Truthfully, I’m more tired than happy. Tired of trying, tired of pressing. But I can’t give up. I just can’t.
So I press toward the mark of the higher calling — even though, some days, I have no idea what that calling truly is. I feel like I’m floating in an ocean of ideas, and some days… I feel like I’m drowning.
2025 has been a long episode of life lessons. It’s as though my life hit auto-cruise on “things Erin should learn.” And honestly, I’ve learned plenty. Here are a few of them:
1. It’s Okay to Be Lost
As someone who prides herself on being able to figure things out, being lost used to feel like failure. I’m a “do-it-all” kind of girl — there’s hardly anything I can’t at least try to navigate.
I crochet, draw, write, sing, cook (very well, thank you), bake, and crunch numbers for fun. I’ve worked across finance, investment, healthcare, HR — even dabbled in product. And through it all, I’ve learned one thing: there’s no line of work I can’t survive or even excel in.
But still, I haven’t found the one thing that fills me. I have a job that pays my bills, but not one that fuels my heart. I used to think that was the worst thing ever, but it’s not.
It’s just… life. And that’s okay.
2. It’s Okay to Let Go
Let go of that dream. That friendship. That goal.
It’s fine. You didn’t commit a crime.
There’s a Yoruba saying: “Twenty children cannot play together for twenty years.” It’s true — and not just about friendships. It applies to everything. Sometimes, that dream you’ve been clinging to is the very thing holding you back.
It’s okay to change the course of your ship. You don’t owe anyone your peace. As long as it’s legal and aligns with God’s will, pivot.
3. It’s Okay to Not Be Okay
This one took me a while.
I’m the kind of person who cries to my mum or aunt, then faces the world saying, “I’m fine.” I used to live by the Frozen anthem:
“Don’t let them in, don’t let them see,
Be the good girl you always have to be.
Conceal, don’t feel, don’t let them know...”
Well… let them know!
You don’t have to be in pristine condition all the time. You don’t have to look like what you’re going through — but you also don’t have to hide that you’re going through it.
I don’t have all the answers. Half the time, I don’t even know what questions I’m asking anymore.
But I’m learning to breathe. To pause. To accept that peace isn’t the absence of chaos — it’s finding calm right in the middle of it.

1 Comments
My baby write on. Oh yea ride on! On Eagles wings
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