The classroom was quiet when I left. Not the usual kind of quiet after the bell rings—but a hollow one, the kind that settles in your chest. I had packed up my books, handed in my keys, and walked away from a job that once felt like home. Then came grad school. Not a dramatic new beginning, but a slow, stumbling one. Just me, my laptop, and a list of due dates I wasn’t sure I could keep up with. No students. No lesson plans. Just a quiet kitchen and a heart full of questions about what comes next.

I remember logging into the first module of my master’s program and immediately thinking, “They’ve let the wrong person in.” My credentials were fine, but my confidence was nowhere to be found. I didn’t know if I was still a teacher if I wasn’t in a classroom. I didn’t know if I was a writer if I didn’t have a book. I didn’t know who I was if I wasn’t needed somewhere by 7:10 a.m. sharp.

There were days when I would sit in my reading nook, highlighter in hand, rereading the same paragraph over and over, wondering why I thought I could do this. Graduate school as a grown-up, a mom, someone in midlife … it hits differently. You’re not just juggling assignments. You’re wrestling with identity.

Somewhere between writing a historiographical essay and folding a load of towels, I realized I didn’t need to know exactly where I was going. I just needed to keep going. What I brought to the table … my years in the classroom, my love for stories, my curiosity … that was enough. Not flashy, not perfect. But deeply enough. And those moments of doubt? They weren’t proof I was an imposter. They were proof I cared deeply about the work and wanted to do it well. I started to see the feeling not as a warning sign, but as a companion. One that nudged me toward humility, toward growth, toward trust.

You don’t have to have it all figured out to take the next step. You don’t need to feel qualified to start. The truth is, most of us are doing it scared. We whisper “yes” to something new and show up, even when our hands are shaking. And that counts. That is enough.

So today I’m asking:
How do you get through the feeling of being an imposter or unqualified to do something? Maybe you don’t have to fight the feeling. Maybe you just keep showing up with what you have. And maybe, just maybe, that’s more than enough.

There are days I feel like I’m drowning in citations, questions, and uncertainty and on those days, I make meatballs. Not glamorous, not complicated. Just warm, steady, and wildly comforting. Like saying, “You’ve done enough today.” This recipe has become one of my go-to resets. It’s as simple as tossing a few things in the crockpot and trusting that something good is happening, even when I can’t see it yet.

Crockpot Raspberry Chipotle Meatballs

Adapted Recipe from Good & Gather Meatballs

What You Will Need:

What You Will Need To Do:

1. Place the 6 ounces chili sauce, 5 ounces raspberry preserves, and 2 chopped chipotle chiles in the crockpot.
2. Stir well.
3. Add the half a bag of frozen meat balls and coat them in the sauce.
4. Cook on low for 1 1/2 – 2 hours.
5. Serve with toothpicks as an appetizer or alongside mac & cheese boxed or homemade. (They pair especially well with white cheddar.)

Today, I am still figuring it out. Still unsure of where this path leads. Still whispering yes. But I’m learning that “enough” isn’t a destination. It’s a decision. It’s saying, “This is what I have, and I’m showing up anyway.”

And tonight, that looks like a highlighter-stained reading nook and a heart just brave enough to keep going.

Gracefully yours,

Help keep the words flowing and the stories brewing.
Buy Me a Coffee