Becoming What I'm Building: A Reflection on Transformation

There it was, another partially filled piece of paper on my desk. Ideas, plans, and visions documented, joining the collection of other pieces of paper containing fragments of dreams both realised and abandoned.

It wasn't a process new to me, as my partner would attest.

I always had ideas. Always had the desire to create.

But there's something about this time felt different. What I didn't anticipate when I began the journey this time was how the process would gradually reshape not just what I do, but who I was.

My very sense of self.

The path of building something meaningful exists in a delicate space between aspiration and pragmatism. I've found myself standing in this in-between place. One foot in the realm of possibility and BIG BIG dreams, while the other is firmly planted in what today's to-do list.

There’s tension here, but maybe that’s the point. Maybe it isn’t something to resolve but a space to inhabit, to let both forces shape me in ways I can’t yet fully understand.

I've come to recognise two distinct parts of myself in this process.

There's the dreamer in me who sees the destination with clarity. The established thriving business, the completed body of work, the fully realised vision. This part of me exists in potential energy, in the quiet thrill of "what will be."

Then there's the builder in me, pragmatic and questioning. The one asking the practical, sometimes frustrating, questions: How will this come together? What resources will this require? Am I truly capable of this? The builder is necessary, keeping me grounded, though she sometimes slows momentum with all her cautious questioning.

What I've learned through experience is that I don't become the builder by waiting for certainty. Transformation happens through action, through showing up on difficult days. When I make decisions without all the answers. When I take small, sometimes wobbly, steps forward, especially when doubt feels overwhelming.

Capacity doesn’t develop before the work. It develops during it.

"Perhaps these ambitions are unreasonable. Maybe I'm reaching beyond what's possible. What happens when I fall short?"

My personal upbringing has been a cacophony of stark cautions to "be realistic" and "understand limitations." Well-meaning advice that sometimes serves to protect yet instead, constrains.

With age, I've started asking the alternative: "What if my vision is too modest? What if I never discover the extent of what's possible? What if 'realism' becomes merely a justification for surrender?"

I'm learning that wisdom lies in holding both perspectives - with curiosity and without judgment. Not as opposing forces, but as co-navigators. In maintaining a wider perspective and space while attending to immediate, tangible steps. In allowing the distant horizon to guide me while focusing on the ground beneath my feet.

The expansive vision gives meaning to incremental progress; the small actions gradually manifest the larger purpose.

As my work evolves externally, I find an internal evolution unfolding in parallel. This may be the most profound aspect of creating anything of substance - the inner transformation that accompanies outer creation.

I can feel old versions of myself slipping away, like a wardrobe clear-out but for my sense of self. I’m questioning long-held assumptions about what I can and cannot do. There’s a raw, unnerving middle space where former certainties dissolve, but new ones haven’t quite formed yet.

This used to feel like failure.

Now, I think it as transformation.

I'm learning to feel into that space of fear and nerves that come with having BIG dreams.

I've come to recognise this as necessary - the space between what was and what will be. It rarely feels comfortable, yet discomfort appears to be an essential element of meaningful change.

Through all of this, one thing is becoming increasingly clear: I'm not simply building a business - I'm developing into someone capable of sustaining it. I’m not just creating work; I’m becoming someone capable of bringing it into being.

The external manifestation and internal transformation progress in constant conversation with one another, each informing and shaping the other.

And this requires a particular patience with myself.

The version of me who can fully embody this vision? She probably doesn’t exist yet - not entirely. She’s forming through each decision, through moments of both clarity and doubt, through a thousand tiny acts of courage accumulated over time.

I wonder what might shift if I approached this process with more trust. If I could see challenges not as obstacles to overcome but as elements that form me into someone capable of holding greater complexity. If what appears as setback might be understood as necessary redirection.

In moments of stillness, I find myself thinking:

• What parts of me are emerging through this journey?
• What perspectives am I developing that weren’t there before?
• Can I glimpse the shape of who I’m becoming?

Not always. But sometimes, in fleeting moments, I sense something unfamiliar yet deeply resonant taking form.

And just as importantly, I’m asking the other side of the question:

• What am I releasing?
• What beliefs, identities, or patterns no longer serve this evolution?

Because growth isn’t just about gaining, it’s also about letting go.

The thing I’m building might not look exactly like I first imagined. The dream may shift. The path may bend. But in the process, something unexpected is happening:

I am changing.

And perhaps that’s the most important creation of all.

I'm curious about your experience with this phenomenon. What are you currently creating, and how is it recreating you in turn? I welcome your reflections in the comments below.