On Reinventing Yourself (for the Millionth Time)
Because growth happens when we stop thinking we’ve got it all figured out.
I just did something pretty exciting — I created a folder inside of a digital folder and named it “Past.” Thrilling, right? I promptly started dragging and dropping.
The folders for clients I no longer work with and products I no longer support.
Then, the ad copy folder for the products I used to promote.
Then, my blog folder.
That last one caused me an enormous pause. Blogging? In the past?
Blogging was how I started 12 years ago when sitting at my round, oak kitchen table that had nail polish stains from my sister-in-law. Blogging was how I took that first step into entrepreneurship, blindly and unsteadily like the baby giraffe I was at the time. Blogging was how I first shared my voice with the world. Blogging was where I found my enthusiasm for writing online.
I’d had success with it too. I landed clients, cultivated fresh ideas, and built myself a business.
For years, I was the Savvy Copywriter who turned boring businesses into interesting ones and helped clients leverage their voice's power to stand out in the noisy world. I made good money doing it too.
Then things changed on the home front. Our family was growing, which meant that the brain space I’d had to get creative shifted to a different type of fun — motherhood. It was a juggle that so many online entrepreneurs seem to have mastered, but I struggled hard. My kids weren’t quiet for meetings (but did I want to force them to be?). My brain was fuzzy from a lack of sleep. My shoulders were tense with the pressure to fit into the norm I had built for myself. I was the writer. I was the entrepreneur living the dream and showing others that I could HAVE IT ALL (the rallying cry at the time).
As I was doing the creative work for everyone else, I stopped doing it for myself.
Hello, imposter syndrome, my old friend.
Have you ever fallen into an identity crisis professionally, continuing to do what you’ve always done and showing up in the way you were “supposed to” just because it felt comfortable?
Sometimes that comfort level becomes too comfortable. Sometimes, we let these narratives we tell ourselves become our identity, leading us further away from the reality we dream for ourselves. Sometimes, in a social media world, we show how we think the world wants us to show up, sharing our big lofty dream life. And sometimes, that sharing only moves us closer to the status quo.
By not evolving, we settle. Is that a life well-lived?
What would happen if we shook up those norms and allowed ourselves to grow outside our comfort zone?
Wild concept, right?
I found personal growth when I let my husband talk me into RVing. I’d given him every reason not to go that route for a year prior. It was too expensive. We’d need to buy a truck AND a rig. There were bugs (OH THE BUGS). It was cold (GIVE ME WARMTH). It would be too much work. We’d have to travel with kids in the car for hours to see anything beyond cactus and dirt.
But we did it. At nine months pregnant with our second child, I waddled into the dealership and used those scary hormones to negotiate our way into a deal on a truck. Then, four months later, while wearing the baby on my chest and holding my 1-year-old’s hand, we bought our first rig.
That first night in the RV was anything but blissful. We had to stuff a pack-n-play between the dinette, making the entryway feel tight. My baby boy wasn’t super comfortable being away from his crib, so he woke up every hour, and every time he did, I was convinced the entire campground could hear him crying.
And yet, despite all that went wrong, I was HOOKED.
We made memories around the campfire. Things felt much bigger outside the rig; that stuffed pack-n-play was temporary. We breathed in fresh air in the mornings. My husband and I could sit outside at night to talk after getting the kids to bed — something we couldn’t do as easily or comfortably in a hotel. Things were just more manageable in a way, despite my preconceived notions.
Since we started RVing, I wanted more of it. Craved the open road. Craved campsites. Craved adventure.
Because of those cravings, I’ve worked hard to fit more of the RV lifestyle into our family’s world.
When I started Roadpreneur, I did so on a mission to help other wanderlust souls enjoy that same beauty of time and location freedom. Still, something felt out of alignment inside of me. While teaching how to build a business from the open road, I wasn’t fully using the same concepts to grow my sister company, Cruisin’ + Campfires, or my husband’s new venture. And because of that, I made some tough decisions this summer. I decided to practice more of what I preach. I decided it was time to lead by example and shuffle around how I help others into this crazy beautiful world of RVing and entrepreneurship. I decided it was time to reinvent myself.
Just like people don’t want the perfect friend — the one that makes them feel like they’re always doing something wrong and on edge — people don’t want that perfect biz buddy either. So, it’s time to shift how I show up, teach, and present myself to the world.
Because growth happens when we stop thinking we’ve got it all figured out. Only in those tense moments when you can push through uncertainty to try something new can you stop settling for less than your potential.
I don’t strive to show up for perfection here. What a relief, right?
And because I’m not here to put on a perfect face to the world but rather to offer up a digital diary of my business-building adventures while RVing as often as possible, I wanted to show up in a more intimate space. I chose SubStack over a traditional blogging platform like the one where I first started because it feels tighter knit than other parts of the web, and I like it that way.
Traditional blogs are great for SEO, but it’s time to tell the algorithm to shove it. This space is my new speakeasy, and you’re invited to enter through the backdoor (that’s the fun door to come in through anyway, right?).
This is a private place (especially if you’re a paid subscriber) where we can share ideas. This isn’t a one-sided dialogue. We can connect in the comments and build together.
So who am I to be taking this journey with?
Fair question, given all my ebbs and flows, past reinventions, and sometimes flaky-feeling vibes (I’m not, I promise).
I’m an entrepreneur without an overnight success story
I’m an entrepreneur who, if I died tomorrow, wouldn’t have much to leave behind to my kids, and I’m now shifting to change that. Morbid but true.
I’m an entrepreneur who has helped hundreds of others build a business but who has hodgepodged my way through building my own. Cobblers shoe syndrome, be damned.
I’m an entrepreneur who has built a business consistently made just enough money to pay myself a lukewarm salary every other week.
I’m an entrepreneur who has experienced so much shiny object syndrome I’ve finally become blind enough to it that I’m DONE looking elsewhere for growth ideas.
I’m an entrepreneur who has just mass unsubscribed, so I don’t fall into that same trap again (no regurgitated hairball strategies here).
I’m an entrepreneur who has been behind the scenes of seven-figure businesses, seeing how others present themselves to the world. Warning: Not all entrepreneurs are as buttoned up and perfect as they appear in the mirror. It’s time to shift that internet fake happiness.
I’m the entrepreneur who remains fired up about living a life of adventure and is ready to help others continue to pursue the same dream of RVing, taking the longer hikes, and living — truly LIVING— this life now instead of post-retirement.
Let’s face it. Our futures aren’t waiting on anyone else but ourselves to make changes, so we can grab the bull by the horns and do this.
This life is ours to invent and reinvent when needed. Rinse and repeat, baby!
Are you ready to hike this journey together? Consider this your invitation to break the norms, stop settling for your personal status quo, and start showing up as YOU so that you can open the door to more adventures in life and business. Let’s GO!
You mentioned Substack seemed more tightly knit. How has this shift in platform influenced your connection with your audience, your writing process, and your overall productivity? Can you give a specific example where that closer knit group has impacted you and your business?