Between Joy and Cash Flow
I’m at that point in life where I know what I want to do—and somehow also don’t. You know that weird place? I’m full of ideas, but translating them into a life… that’s the puzzle.
A while ago I made myself try things that genuinely bring me joy. Tiny actions, nothing dramatic. I started writing again. I kept a running list of things I actually enjoy spending time on. Blogging. Journaling. Reading. Watching fashion shows. Making videos. And then I fell back into my teenage hobby: fiction. It felt good—like meeting an old friend and realizing we still laugh at the same jokes.
Then reality knocked: cool, but how do I live off this? I looked at selling my writing and creative products. I explored affiliate programs… and, surprise, being Latina often means fewer platforms, lower commissions, or straight-up “not eligible.” It’s extra friction—not a full stop.
Right when I needed a nudge, I found one. Before my mom left this summer, she hid a Tibetan postcard among my things. On it she wrote: “I’ll be waiting for you to start using all the potential I know is inside you.” It’s in my desk, so I get daily reminders to keep going. Some days it feels like a warm hug; other days it’s a dare I’m not ready to take. But it’s there, quietly insisting.
With that note in mind, I set a simple goal. My original plan was to post here once a week. Needless to say… I haven’t. I stressed about it, then remembered this started as a hobby. Also, I’ve been busy living (and yes, having my 347th existential crisis of the year). I flirted with business ideas, started learning about investing, signed up for a Chinese course (which I won’t be able to finish), and—small detail—planned to move back home. I’m going home—sweet home. After two and a half years in China, I’m leaving, and I couldn’t be more sad. When it hit me, it hit hard. Shit—this is real. What am I going to do?
And yet, there’s another truth alongside the sadness. I’m not sad at all. I have a new plan of life, working with my mom. So this new projects fill my days with the anticipation of what new things life will bring me. I’ll also be able to see my siblings, which I miss dearly every single day. I’ll be able to spend time with my nephew and my 3 nieces. I’ll meet the newest member of the family (due in a few days from today), my brother’s firstborn. So technically 2 nephews and 3 nieces.
Practically speaking, the timing makes sense. The time is right. I’ve been receiving signals from the universe (sounds hippie…) but things are aligning for me to go back home (didn’t find a job). The worst part of all? Leaving the subway, Alipay, all the shopping platforms, and the unlimited plans this city has offered me until now.
Which brings me to discipline vs. mood. In the middle of that spiral, I was scrolling through Pinterest and found a picture with a line that stuck in my head: STICK TO THE PLAN NOT THE MOOD. I felt attacked—in the best, most uncomfortable way. It reminded me that changing plans every single week isn’t always wisdom; sometimes it’s avoidance. I have so many ideas that I overthink the pros and cons—Will this specific thing even work in my country? Will the plan last long enough to be executed?—and then I pivot again. That’s 100% me, and I’m not proud of it. So I’ve been building a plan: making the list of what I’m doing and what I want to do smaller and smaller, because doing everything at the same time equals doing nothing.
So this is where I’m landing. It’s a record of the experiment—how to turn words into a business without losing love for them. How to leave a place that changed me and carry it forward. How to choose a handmade life, even if it’s slower. So here’s my plan: I’ll write here every time I can. I’ll keep drafting fiction. I’ll test small, passport-friendly ways to support this work. If something fails, it fails fast, and I learn. Just like before.
This won’t be a highlight reel. It’s the messy, honest log of building a life around the things that make me feel most alive.
If you’re also in that “I know, but I don’t know” season, pull up a chair. I’ll bring the updates; you bring the patience. And if any post helps, share it with a friend mid-pivot too. See you in a week, or two… or even maybe a few hours.
