I'm Stuck Between Three Lives

Day 1 of documenting my beautiful disaster

Hi, I'm Emily. I'm 46 and I'm having an existential crisis in real time. So naturally, I thought I'd document it on the internet because... why not add public humiliation to the mix?

Here's the thing that's been keeping me up at night (besides my cat's judgmental stares): I'm literally stuck between three versions of myself, and it's like being in the world's most uncomfortable psychological sandwich.

Life Number One: Producer Emily

For 23 years, I WAS my job. I breathed spreadsheets, I dreamed in call sheets, I introduced myself as "Emily the Producer" (not really, though) like that was my actual fucking name. I let my career define everything - how I projected myself, how I thought, how I breathed.

Spoiler alert: it wasn't serving me. But I clung to it like a security blanket made of stress and caffeine because it was familiar, and familiar felt safe even when it was slowly killing me.

Life Number Two: Cocoon Emily

Thanks, COVID. Thanks, cancer. I spent years wrapped up in my house like a human burrito, binge-watching Netflix and convincing myself that sweatpants were a lifestyle choice. Was I healing? Maybe. Was I hiding? Definitely.

These were my chrysalis years - the transitional years where I didn't want to leave my comfort zone. Let's be honest, I didn't want to put in the hard work to make change happen. Others make reinventing yourself look SO easy, like they just wake up one day and decide to become life coaches with perfect lighting and motivational quotes.

Meanwhile, I'm over here like a newborn giraffe trying to figure out how legs work.

Life Number Three: New Emily (Terrified Edition)

And now there's this new version trying to emerge. She's supposed to be brave and entrepreneurial and post videos without wanting to crawl under a rock. Plot twist: she's absolutely terrified.

The truth is, my old life is GONE. Poof. Like a magic trick. But I keep grasping for it because bills don't pay themselves, and apparently my cat expects to be fed EVERY DAY. The audacity.

When I look at the future, I see a million possibilities, and my brain just... freezes. It's like being at an ice cream shop with 47 flavors when you only wanted mint chocolate.

The Crumpled Ink Philosophy

So I started this thing called Crumpled Ink. The idea is simple - blank page, crumple it up when it sucks, try again. Eventually, you get something beautiful and bound and worth reading.

This journey? Probably not inspiring yet. It's raw, it's real, and honestly, I'm making it up as I go. But it's where I am RIGHT NOW. And maybe that's enough.

What I'm Learning

Here's what I'm figuring out: If you know what you DON'T want, changing is actually simple. You just... stop staying where you are. Revolutionary, I know.

I'm done thinking I'm competing with everyone. There's unlimited success out there, people. The only person who can rob me of happiness is me, and honestly, I've been a terrible thief because I keep giving it back.

I survived cancer. I survived my entire career imploding like a dying star. I can survive figuring out what's next.

The Commitment

So here's what I'm doing: I'm going to stop ignoring the changes I want to make. I'm going to stop waiting for the perfect plan because perfect is the enemy of done, and done is the enemy of my savings account.

It doesn't work overnight; it works over time.

I'm 46, and I'm finally digging up the courage I was born with. It's buried under years of playing it safe, but it's there. I can feel it.

Join me as I figure this out. I'm going to rewrite, cry, laugh, stumble, fall, and probably embarrass myself daily. It's going to be hard, but knowing me, it'll mostly be funny.

Welcome to Crumpled Ink, where we're all just figuring it out as we go.

And if you're stuck between lives too... well, at least we're stuck together.

Day one of documenting my beautiful disaster. Let's see what happens.