THE MIDDLE GROUND - a mental health toll.

I’m a highly creative person. From the outside, it might seem like I’m thriving—my presence online, the professionalism in my work, the language in my flyers, the design of my websites. It all feels cohesive, like I have it together. And I want it to look that way. But the truth is, I don’t always have it together.

People see my creativity and assume I’m doing okay. They think I don’t need help because I present my work with care, sincerity, and a touch of perfectionism. But that perfectionism is a mask, a way to prove I’m worthy even when I feel far from it.

Here’s the thing: being the founder of a business, having ideas, or showing up for my work doesn’t mean I’m successful. It means I’m trying. Trying to be seen. Trying to be heard. Trying to showcase my value in the hopes that someone recognizes it.

And it hurts when that recognition doesn’t come. It hurts when people assume I have all the answers, or worse, when they think I don’t need their support.

But what’s even harder is the rejection. Every pass from a job application is devastating. Each rejection feels like a confirmation that I’m not what a company wants, even when I know I could excel in that role. It’s excruciating to pour yourself into applications and not even make it to the interview stage.

The rejection dysphoria is real. It chips away at your confidence and makes you want to give up. Sometimes, I think, Why even apply? Should I just focus on building my own business instead of chasing roles I’ll never get? That thought crosses my mind often. And yet, it’s hard to ignore the sting of being overlooked.

I’m in the middle. I’m not young anymore, but I’m also not yet where I want to be. I’ve honed my skills, lived through experiences in different cities, and now in a different country. I know my value. But sometimes, it feels like it’s still not enough—not for the “higher-ups,” not for the people who could partner with me, not for those who could support my work.

I wrote once about being in a midlife crisis, and I wonder if this is what it feels like. Seeing your value so clearly on paper, knowing your worth in your heart, but still feeling like you’re stuck. Still trying to prove yourself.

As my birthday approaches, I don’t feel like celebrating. Instead, I reflect on what I don’t have, what I haven’t achieved yet, and the goals I’m still chasing. The older I get, the more I feel my confidence slipping because I’m not where I thought I’d be.

The hardest part is knowing I have this power—this purpose—but not the means to use it fully. That’s when it hurts the most, when mental health takes the biggest toll.

So I ask myself, and I ask you: Do we keep hiding? Do we keep proving? Or do we let go and trust the process?

~deeply