Needing Some Major Redirection of Spirit Today: Boundless Perseverance

Today is a struggle day.

I woke up confused, unsettled, unsure which direction to take. One moment, I’m telling myself to send out my resume to places that will bring in income that don’t require a portfolio. I can convince myself that I just need to stabilize my situation before I can pick up where I left off. The goal is to provide for my family, and that is more important than whatever else I have going on right now.

The next moment, something in me resists. If I’m going to work for someone, I want it to be work that aligns with who I am. I have worked in positions that I was not interested in in the past. I was great at what I did, and actually found some sense of self, built my character, and created some joyful moments. In the end, though, I find that these positions took more from me than I gained. I look back and see that I have wasted my time on something that had little to nothing to do with my purpose.

Then I think that if I focus on things I really want to do, it will at least not be a waste of time and energy. I can gain more skills that I need to propel myself forward in the industry I am passionate about. But when I look at job descriptions, they feel layered with expectations—skills I’ve touched, but haven’t fully built out recently. In many respects, it deals with things I have no interest in doing or learning. If only I could focus on what I love.

I pivot a little and think, if I refine my portfolio, I actually make a great fit. I would excel at this position. I just need to gather my things, polish them up, and create a buzz around what I already do so well.

And then, there’s another voice. A louder, deeper one. “Why are you trying to force yourself back into a system you’ve never truly fit into?”

For the past seven years, I’ve built something on my own terms. I’ve thrived in my own way. So if I’m going to do anything, shouldn’t I continue being fully myself?

That sounds good—until reality answers back. Being myself, right now, is not producing income. And as a sole provider, I don’t have the luxury of existing solely in ideas. I have to produce. I have to provide. My family depends on what I bring in, and that weight doesn’t disappear just because I want alignment.

So every morning becomes a cycle. Some days, I move through it calmly. I do a little of this, a little of that. By the end of the day, I can say I did something. But even then, it rarely feels like enough.

Other days, like today, I wake up determined to do better—but I don’t know what “better” actually looks like. And when everything feels unclear, the only answer that comes is: focus.

Just pick something and focus. But even that feels complicated.

My usual streams of income have dried up—my personal business, freelance work, and even the platforms I frequented. When I search for jobs, I find pieces I like, but never the whole. I don’t want to commit to work that pulls me away from what I truly want to build, but I also can’t ignore the need to survive.

So I sit at this crossroads, again. And I’m tired of staring at the fork in the road.

Lately, when I feel like this, I turn to scripture. It is the only place that helps me calm my spirit and remain in the present. I look for something that speaks directly to where I’m lacking—and right now, that’s focus. I’m reminded to set my mind on things above, quiet the noise, and, when it comes to focus, let it be HIM. To shift my attention away from the constant pressure and back toward something steady. Something grounded.

And when I actually do that—when I quiet the chatter and refocus—I find something unexpected. Peace.

No answers or clarity about the future. But peace in the present. A peace that can be unsettling because I see the walls crumbling around me, but I can’t see them being rebuilt. I know that something is happening, because my world hasn’t changed, but my spirit can feel the shift my eyes can’t quite see. What I do notice is what hasn’t been taken from me. The lights are still on. There’s still food in abundance for my family to eat. Our small needs, for gas or field trip money, are somehow there. We are warm, and we have a place to rest our heads. Nothing essential has been removed, even in a season where income feels uncertain.

So the question becomes harder, not easier: Why can’t I feel content?

Maybe that’s the real work right now—not just perseverance, but contentment within it.

This journey is showing me that perseverance is interconnected with all the other positives I have not yet fully embraced. This journey has become about all the things I need to continue developing to move forward in a way that is stable and sustaining. It’s about what surfaces while you’re trying to move the doubt, the fear, and the need for control—the tension between purpose and provision.

There’s so much to navigate beyond just “making money.” But at the same time, making money matters. It’s how my family survives. And I would be lying if I said that weight doesn’t sit heavily on me—especially in a season where I haven’t produced the way I feel I should have. So maybe this isn’t a perfectly packaged lesson. Maybe this is just honesty. A moment of self-awareness. A moment of self-compassion. A reminder I’m giving to myself more than anyone else: That everything I need is already within me.

An inspirational quote from Author Heather Ina. A woman standing in contentment.

---

Heather Ina is an author, ghostwriter, and editor specializing in personal and transformational storytelling. She is the creator of Boundless Perseverance, an immersive guide centered on growth, resilience, and self-reflection.