Homebody & Heart

I Don’t Feel Like I Know What I’m Doing — and I’m Doing It Anyway

It’s been a while since I’ve written here.

Not because I didn’t want to. But because I’ve been living inside a version of my life that didn’t have words yet.

Everything feels new. And unfinished. And uncertain.

I left the law firm after almost four years. Four years of knowing exactly where I fit, what was expected of me, and how to move through my day without questioning every step.

And now I am a real estate agent.

Which, structurally, is just waking up every day and choosing anxiety.

There’s no training period where you quietly observe from the corner. You are immediately in it. Talking to lenders. Talking to clients. Talking to other agents who have been doing this since I was learning cursive.

Sometimes I hang up the phone and immediately replay the entire conversation, wondering if I missed something obvious. Wondering if I sounded like someone who belonged in the room.

Now, nothing feels automatic.

I’m fully in real estate. Fully committed. Fully terrified.

I’m working with buyers now. Real people. Real decisions. Real consequences.

And somehow, they trust me.

I don’t always understand why. But I’m trying to learn how to trust myself too.

Meanwhile, life at home is also undergoing its own full restructuring.

My son has entered full toddler mode, which is less of a developmental stage and more of a philosophical position. He has opinions now. Strong ones. About everything. Including things that did not previously exist as decisions five minutes ago.

He also has his own room now.

This is historic, considering he has slept approximately four feet from me since birth. We’re in the early stages of the transition, which currently involves negotiations, emotional appeals, and what I can only describe as targeted resistance.

He looks at me now like a small union representative. I am outnumbered and underprepared.

We’re also waiting on the results of his autism evaluation, which feels like standing in a doorway without knowing what’s on the other side. Nothing is wrong. Nothing is broken. But I can feel that we’re on the edge of understanding him in a deeper way.

Parenthood, it turns out, is mostly just adapting to a constantly shifting job description you were never formally trained for. You make decisions with incomplete information. You improvise. You hope you’re getting it mostly right.

And sometimes you are. Sometimes you’re absolutely not. And sometimes those two things are indistinguishable.

Grief has been present too.

Someone from my old life is gone now. And with him, a version of the world that used to feel stable.

It’s strange how quickly a life can rearrange itself.

Some days, I feel like I’m falling behind in everything at once. Like I’m not learning fast enough. Not becoming fast enough. Not keeping pace with the version of myself I thought I would be by now.

Other days, I catch small glimpses of something else.

A conversation that felt easier than the last one.
A moment where I didn’t second-guess myself.
A quiet excitement about the life I’m building, even if I don’t fully recognize it yet.

I’m trying to build a routine, but everything still feels loose and undefined. There’s no structure unless I create it. No safety net except the one I build myself.

It’s equal parts freedom and psychological experiment.

I don’t think reinvention looks the way we imagine it will.

It’s not clarity. It’s not confidence. It’s not certainty.

It’s uncertainty. It’s grief. It’s fear. It’s excitement. It’s showing up every day without proof that it will work.

And doing it anyway.

Nothing feels stable yet.

But maybe stability isn’t something you start with.

Maybe it’s something you build.

Slowly. Inconsistently. Between moments of doubt and moments of unexpected clarity.

Maybe stability looks less like confidence —
and more like continuing to show up, even when you feel wildly underqualified for your own life.

And if nothing else, I am becoming extremely qualified at waking up every day and choosing anxiety.

Which, at this point, feels less like a personality flaw
and more like professional development.