Work With Your Brain, Not Against It

School was always about contorting myself into something I wasn’t.
Shrinking. Straightening. Editing myself to fit.

I wasn’t encouraged to create the way that came most naturally to me—and of course I was afraid to. My style of learning was rarely, if ever, celebrated in the classroom.

Structure was praised. Linear thinking rewarded.
Rigidity felt like the only way to be taken seriously.

I think back to how I used to “prepare” for presentations. Which is to say—I didn’t. I would make the presentation, and that was it. I didn’t rehearse. I didn’t write out my notes. And yet, it worked. Every time. Still, I carried guilt. It felt like I was somehow cheating the system. If people knew how little I’d practiced, would they still take me seriously? Would they still respect the work?

For a long time, I told myself I was just a great BS artist.
I was bullshitting my way through life.

But I see now—I wasn’t bullshitting.
And if I was, then I must be world-class, because somehow it kept working.

The truth is: I was working with my brain, not against it. I just didn’t know that was allowed. I had spent years distrusting myself, convinced that the traditional way was the right way. I placed more faith in the systems around me than in my own internal compass.

I don’t blame anyone.
It’s just that some of us move differently. And for too long, we’ve been gaslit into thinking that different means wrong.

Here’s the thing: the things you stick with all have something in common.
They work for you.

There’s a natural rhythm to how your brain wants to operate—how it thrives. And when you lean into that, your genius reveals itself.

For me, my creativity flows when I stop over-preparing. When I don’t script every word. When I stop trying to perfect and just speak. That’s when I come alive. That’s when people connect. Because authenticity isn’t just magnetic—it’s memorable.

The things that make me powerful—my emotions, my humanity—aren’t flaws. They’re the very reasons people resonate with what I create. When I let go of rigidity, my energy reaches the people it’s meant to reach. It repels the ones it’s not. That’s not failure—that’s alignment.

That’s when I began to think of myself as an artist.
A creative.
Someone who flows, who dreams, who trusts her way of doing things.

I got rid of the “shoulds”—and started honoring myself first.

And that changed everything.

Here’s something else I’ve learned: don’t create a battle in your mind when there doesn’t have to be one.

I found myself wanting to post my second weekly podcast episode on Tuesdays instead of Mondays. It didn’t make strategic sense. But it felt right. I liked my Thursday episodes. And something about Tuesday just worked for me. So I went with it. That tiny shift helped me stay consistent—and consistency is what moves the needle.

You don’t have to force yourself into structures that feel heavy. You just have to pay attention to what actually helps you create.

People would still say, “Wow, how did you pull that off? You must’ve prepared a ton.”

And in my own way—I had.
Just not the way they imagined.

My preparation didn’t look like rehearsal. It looked like thinking. Dreaming. Overanalyzing. Being in my own head. Observing everything.
That’s how my brain works.

And I’ve learned to let it.

You are brilliant. You are not broken. You do not need to earn your creativity through suffering. You just need to work in a way that lets it out.

So ask yourself:

• Where does my mind want to go?

• What feels natural, easy, alive?

• What am I resisting—and why?

• Does this feel light or heavy?

• Do I thrive with structure? Or with space?

Run the experiment.
You don’t need to prove anything.
You just need to trust yourself.

Honor the way your mind moves. That’s not a flaw—it’s your formula.
And when you start creating from that place, everything begins to unlock.