Mind the gap.
Back in January, I wrote an essay called “2026 is for finding my true fans.” In it, I set the intention to be more me in my writing:
“So, that’s my intention for 2026: to attract my true fans by writing more honestly, sharing more consistently, and showing up more unapologetically. To open myself to the possibility of being known through my words, not with fear but with trust that the right people will find me just like I’ve found James and Anna and Amie and so many others. Because I do want to be known. And I want you to know me, too.”
It was a recommitment to both my writing and myself, and in many ways it’s worked. I’ve written and shared an essay (or more!) every week since then. I’ve written more about the topics I enjoy writing about, especially writing and feelings and the self-compassion I find at the intersection of journaling and parts work. And I’ve found more of my true fans, too. As of today, there are 117 of you reading my words in your email every week. (Thank you!)
I’ve also been feeling more creatively energized since I set that intention. The more I write and share about the things I actually enjoy, and the more my words are well received by you, the more inspired I feel to write and share more of those words. It’s a positive feedback loop I’m grateful to have tapped into!
But lately I’ve noticed that the more I step toward my authentic self in this way, the more aware I feel of the gaps where I’m not being who I want to be or doing what I want to do.
An example: Whenever someone asks me what I do, I almost always tell them I’m a copywriter. It’s true, I am, and I enjoy the work. (I’m also currently looking for my next client. If that’s you, reach out!) But it’s also kind of a copout. When I say I’m a copywriter, it’s usually because it feels easier or safer than talking about my feelings-forward essays. When given the chance to back the work that lights me up, I don’t, and I don’t feel proud of that. I want to be someone who backs their work, shares their excitement, and invites others into it—not someone who shrinks themselves out of fear or to make others more comfortable.
I want to be super clear that I’m not judging myself for this. I know there are deeper stories at play. I know that those stories are working to keep me safe. I also know that those stories are misguided; they might have kept me safe once, but now they’re only keeping me small. (For example, “No one will understand” keeps me from sharing my excitement, which protects me from the pain of rejection but also leaves me feeling isolated and wrong for feeling excited in the first place.).
So how do I bridge these gaps? How do I show up even more authentically without totally wrecking the trust I’ve built with the small, scared parts of me that crave safety?
My therapist and I are working on this question together. We haven’t come up with the answer just yet. But there are some things I’ve tried over the last few weeks that have helped. If you’re feeling aware of the gaps between who you are and who you want to be, maybe they’ll help you, too.
Notice the gaps.
When do you feel least like yourself? What makes you think, Why do I keep doing that? Is there anything in your life that just feels off?
I already named one of my big ones: not backing my writing when given the chance. It ties into my tendency to tamp down my excitement about things in general; I don’t want to be too much, or too childish, or something—I’m still sorting through exactly what fuels that behavior. But the gap itself is clear, and it shows up when I turn my back on something that feels deeply important to me.
Get curious.
What would feel better in those moments? How do you wish you had acted or responded instead? What do you actually want or enjoy?
In my case, it would feel better to own my identity as a writer—to be honest about what I love. Every time I find myself in the gap, I wish I had given the other person the chance to join me in my excitement or share their own—to pave the way toward genuine connection by being unapologetically myself.
That last question is one I’ve done a lot of reflecting on. I’ve even gone through my old journals and emails looking for signs pointing me toward my interests. Some things I’ve discovered I really like, am good at, and keep doing even when it doesn’t make sense to other people: writing about writing and journaling, connecting with other creatives and artists, talking about big feelings and how to navigate them, working hard on things I believe in, sharing helpful ideas and resources with people I care about.
Take a small step forward.
How can you lean into your curiosity just a little more? What low-stakes ways are there to act in alignment with your values? What little actions can you take toward your genuine interests?
Here are a few steps I’ve taken in the last six months to try to bridge the gap:
Updated my bio to claim my identity as a writer
Reorganized my website to focus on my essays first
Reached out to other writers about creative collaborations
Shared an essay I was really proud of with a group of friends I trust
Talked about my writing when a friend asked how I was doing
Each of these steps felt scary at the time but also exciting and, most importantly, aligned with who I want to be. Maybe these are too big for you—that’s okay. We all have different tolerance for risk, fear, and rejection. Identify the small steps that feel right and doable for you, and do them.
Repeat.
What’s feeling good and right and fun and exciting? What’s not quite right? What are the moments when I feel the twinge of not showing up the way I want? Where are the gaps still?
As I’ve taken steps forward, I’ve also tried to be mindful of how those steps (and the results of those steps) feel. One thing I’ve noticed is that virtual steps (like updating my website and reaching out to writers) feel way easier to do than in-person steps (like telling a friend about a recent essay). Even just saying “I’m a writer” still feels almost impossible to do. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong, though. I can use that information to get curious and identify more small steps that might help bridge this more persistent gap.
I’m still not where I want to be. Not entirely. But I’m much closer to my more authentic self than I was in January. And if I mind the gap, stay curious about my values and interests, and keep taking small steps in alignment with them, I have a feeling I’ll be closer still in another seven months.
What gaps have you noticed in your own life? What’s one small step you might take toward bridging it?
Comment and let me know.
Or, email me at dylanmichaeljulian@gmail.com.
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