Some days I feel like I haven’t accomplished even half of what I meant to — and sometimes I’m right. But what I keep learning is this: I am trying, and I am getting somewhere.

Most days I celebrate progress… and then almost immediately panic because I’m scared I won’t be able to maintain it. Take my corporate job, for example. I’ll make real headway on a project and then instantly freak out — What if it’s not good enough? What if it’s too much? But those “what ifs” will talk me right out of a good presentation if I let them. So I bear down, make it leadership‑ready, and then find the confidence to present it anyway.

And then there’s the Pantry Porch Stand.

I’ve baked every day for the last three-ish weeks. Today I’m prepping again, and my brain is doing its usual routine: What if I don’t bake enough? What if I bake too much? Honestly, I’m exhausting myself with the what‑ifs. The only thing I can be certain of is this: people will show up… or they won’t. And even if they don’t, I’ll still show up the next week, and the next, at least for a month, to see if this thing takes off. Good things take time. They take progress. They take feedback — the good kind and the constructive kind — and the willingness to accept that not everyone will love your stuff.

It’s vulnerable. It’s scary. But that’s life. And it’s what I signed up for with this little business.

I think I’ve done everything I can to launch this thing well. And yes, I’m burnt out right now — mostly because I tried to do too much at the beginning. Scaling back before releasing a menu helped a lot. I have to remember this is a one‑woman job, and I still have a whole corporate career I can’t drop the ball on. I have to juggle both without burning myself to a crisp. I have to keep my energy steady without sending myself into a manic episode, because stress is my biggest trigger.

So I minimize it the best way I know how: with my notebooks. Yes, plural. Recipes in one notebook. To‑dos in another. Things I need in another. For some people that might look like chaos, but for me it’s organization. At a glance, I know what I need, what I have to do, and what’s already handled.

So here I am — still trying, still building, still hoping to be successful. And writing this is hard. It’s vulnerable. But I share these things because I want you to know it’s okay. Other people feel this way too. You’re not alone, and I’m not alone.

Something beautiful is being built here — in me, and in the Pantry — and I’m excited for it, even if I’m still worried I’ll fail. I hope you’ll be part of this journey.