What If 'Delay' Ends Up Being A Beautiful Gift?
A year-end reckoning.
Last week, I told you about the tension I’m sitting in—the ambivalence between knowing I can’t control outcomes and still trying to do so anyway. And between understanding that my white-knuckling doesn’t work yet, reaching for it when I’m scared.
I left you there. In the middle. In the discomfort.
Because that’s where I was. That’s where I still am, honestly.
But here’s what I’m realizing as I look back at 2025:
Sometimes staying in the tension long enough lets you see what you couldn’t see when you were busy trying to push your way through it.
2025 was supposed to be the year I finally arrived. The house built, the book launched, the platform ready, the PROOF that all my hard work paid off.
The reality is…
The house still hasn’t broken ground. The book got delayed another six months. All those perfectly color-coded boxes are still locked in storage somewhere, and I still can’t find the keys.
On paper, this looks like a year of losses, delays, and plans that didn’t work out.
But here’s what I didn’t see coming:
The house that keeps not breaking ground? Every delay has given us another chance to come back to the drawing table. And each time we do, it gets better. Clearer. More us.
What’s on paper now - what we’re creating together - we actually love. Really love.
If we’d built it on my original timeline, we would have missed that. We would have settled for good enough instead of waiting for what’s right.
The extra six months with the book?
It’s given me time to get clearer about who I am as a writer, and who I want to be. It has allowed me to visualize how I can actually serve people in a way that feels obvious and true instead of forced.
I wouldn’t have found that clarity if I’d gotten what I wanted when I wanted it.
But perhaps the most significant gift? White space.
Because things didn’t go as planned, there’s been room to breathe. To rest a little. To let my nervous system calm down instead of staying in constant go-mode.
I didn’t plan for that. I probably would never have made myself do it, but turns out I desperately needed it.
These weren’t the miracles I was looking for.
I wanted the house, the book, and the proof that my hard work paid off on schedule.
But maybe the miracles are found in the places we least expect.
Maybe the gift isn’t in getting what you want. It’s in discovering what you actually needed while you were waiting.
The delays I thought were problems? They turned into opportunities. The lost momentum I was so frustrated about? It became space to breathe.
The things that didn’t happen on my timeline made room for what actually needed to happen.
What I’m carrying forward into 2026.
Not the perfectly executed timeline. Not the proof that my planning works. Not the color-coded certainty I was reaching for.
The white space. The room to breathe.
I’m taking more time to think about the outcomes I want to see in my life - not just the ones I think I should want, or the ones that look good on paper, but the ones that feel true.
I’m building in rest. In pauses. In space for things to unfold at their own pace instead of mine.
And here’s what I’m learning: Sometimes relaxing and going with the flow produces better results than all my forcing ever did.
The house on paper that keeps getting better because we gave it time? That came from letting go.
The clarity about who I am as a writer? That came from breathing room.
The sense of calm in my nervous system? That came from being forced to slow down.
The best things that happened this year happened when I stopped trying so hard.
I wish I could tell you I’m done white-knuckling. That I’m launching this brand, this platform, and this book with complete surrender and grace.
But that would be a lie.
I’m still going to grip too tightly sometimes. I’m still going to forget what I know and reach for control when I’m scared. There will still be some sort of spreadsheet situation.
Because ambivalence is the middle of healing, remember?
But right now, I’m also building in space. Time to pause. A little room to breathe.
Because maybe the point isn’t to work harder. Maybe it’s to rest more. And trust that what’s meant to come will come in its own time, not mine.
If you’re in your own season of “more stop than go,” if you did everything right and it still didn’t turn out the way you planned, here’s what I want you to hear…
The delay you’re experiencing might be the perfect gift.
What unexpected gift showed up in your delays this year? What would happen if you gave yourself more room to breathe in 2026?
Hit reply, I’d love to know.