Finally Understanding What It Feels Like When I Actually Do the Work.

An essay on healing, creating, and being human

Turning 38 has prompted a wave of introspection, one that feels deeper and more transformational than I ever anticipated. This year, my reflections are not just about the passage of time; they’re about stepping into a new version of myself. It’s a journey I’m actively embracing, fueled by the work I’ve been doing in therapy and the quiet moments of awareness that are reshaping who I am. I think this is called "doing the work," and let me tell you, it’s not easy.

The Healing Process

Healing is messy. It’s not the tidy, Instagrammable journey some would expect. It’s real, raw, and sometimes it feels like walking through mud in your best shoes. But it’s necessary. There’s no escaping it if you want to be your best self. For the longest time, I lived with walls built up so high, I forgot what it felt like to even peek over them. Those walls, rigid yet protective, were my way of keeping things at bay. I thought I was guarding myself from hurt, but what I was really doing was keeping myself from feeling things that could heal me.

A while ago, an ex told me I was "rigid." I hated that. I rejected it, like I rejected him. Rigid? Me? I wasn’t cold, I wasn’t distant. But looking back, I get it now. I had created a fortress around my heart. Maybe that’s what we do as women sometimes—we protect ourselves so fiercely that we forget how to let love in. The truth is, those walls built out of fear kept me stuck in a cycle. I’m learning to soften. It’s not easy, but I’m allowing myself to let go, be tender with myself, and accept vulnerability. Slowly but surely, the walls are coming down (with discernment), and I’m stepping into something new.

The most beautiful sunset at Holly Knoll in Gloucester, VA.

The Creative Process

This shift isn’t just internal; it’s showing up in my creative work. If you’ve been following my journey, you know I’ve always been passionate about creating, especially through cocktails. But this year, something shifted. Instead of creating for others, I’ve realized that what I’m sharing is a reflection of me. This new phase of my creativity isn’t just about crafting a cocktail or a 60-second Instagram Reel; it’s about crafting myself. It’s about showing up and letting people see me, not just the version I think they want to see.

Storytelling takes time when rigidity has been the norm for maintaining my boundaries. I’ve always been a go-getter, pushing myself, but storytelling—real, honest storytelling—requires me to slow down. The transition from short-form content to long-form content requires me to be present and an active participant in my story. It’s challenging to let go of the perfectionist mindset and let my work breathe, evolve, and just be. But that’s where the magic happens. It’s no longer about rushing to the finish line; it’s about enjoying the journey, even the uncertain parts. It’s about making space for spontaneity, for the little things that fill my soul (like my Monday morning coffee and floral notes), like rewatching Girlfriends and Insecure for the 27th time, buying myself flowers, solo dates, trying out a new recipe, or booking a spontaneous trip.

The breakfast room at Holly Knoll.

And yes, some days, I cry and I don’t even know why. I told my therapist, “Some days I just cry, and I’m not even sad.” She said, “The tears are the expression of release.” And if I’m being real, I don’t think it’s just the tears that are being released, it’s the layers of myself I’ve been holding back, too.

The Human Experience

The truth is, we're all just figuring this thing out. At 38, I’m learning that there’s no one-size-fits-all approach to life. I’m learning that I don’t have to choose one thing; I can be a passionately layered multi-hyphenate without being “all over the place.”

I can start over as many times as I need to without carrying shame from one chapter to the next. I can heal and be mesmerized by the woman I see in the mirror. I can rest and still win.

I don’t know exactly what the future holds, but I feel prepared. I’m ready for the next chapter, ready to show up as who I am and not who I think I should be. I’m actively participating in my own transformation, and let me tell you, it feels powerful.

Doing the work means acknowledging where we are, processing our emotions without guilt, forgiving ourselves for the parts of our story that feel unfinished, and reframing the moments that tried to break us. So, here’s to 38. To the work. To the healing. To the vulnerability. And to the transformation.

Mint Juleps and taking it all in.

I’ll leave you with this affirmation:

I am worthy of growth, of softness, and of becoming the truest version of myself. I trust that every step I take, no matter how small, is guiding me toward the life I am meant to live.

With care,
Jaylynn.

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About me:
I’m a writer, creator, and encourager behind Soft & Still — a space for slowing down, coming home to yourself, and living with more presence. Here, we honor the small, sacred work of becoming.

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