Letting Go of Success on Substack

But Still Writing

It’s time to throw in the towel with Substack. I’m no longer going to wish and hope to make a living as a writer. It just feels like a waste of time.

Photo by Yuvraj Singh on Unsplash

I’m tired of stressing over what’s marketable, or whether an article is “good enough” to build an audience. I want to enjoy writing for the sake of writing—not because I might make money doing it. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want that to happen, but after all this time here, I haven’t seen any real growth.

And that’s okay. If even one person—not counting myself—gets something from my words, then that’s enough for me.

What I can’t stand anymore is how my feed is flooded with people yelling about how to make money. It feels like that’s all anyone cares about. It’s not about meaning or message. It’s just growth for the sake of growth, and chasing dollars for the sake of chasing dollars.

I get it—of course I’d love to work for myself. But I’m not going to get there by burning out over things that don’t align with who I am.

So I’m letting go of the dream of making a living through Substack.

I’m setting myself free—free to be myself, and free to write simply because I want to. To create because it feels good. I still want to show up here. I still want to build a community. But that’s it. If something comes from it, great. If not, that’s fine too.

There’s this heavy belief I’ve carried for years—that if I’m doing something creative, it has to make money. And I get why that belief exists. I want freedom. I want to run my own projects. I want to earn enough to enjoy my life.

But right now, I’m underpaid at a job that leaves me drained. I don’t know if freelancing is for me, or if I’m just too burnt out to tell. And it’s hard—really hard—to write and make videos when your energy is already tapped before you even sit down.

Sometimes I wonder if I should just walk away from everything creative, take a job that pays well, and stop trying to make anything at all. Would that make me happier?

Does the world even need more content?

These are the thoughts I wrestle with daily. No wonder I’m tired. No wonder I feel pulled in a million directions at once. I’m unsatisfied and restless, and it sucks. I hate relying on a “normal life” just to fund my future—I’ve always wanted to build it for myself. But playing by other people’s rules is a trap. It keeps you small.

And I’m tired of playing small.

I felt it when I was recording short videos for Instagram. I felt it when I helped my girlfriend launch her first podcast. I felt alive. She was glowing. And so was I.

Right now, both of us are standing at the edge of two paths: one that leads to a safe, mediocre life on someone else’s terms, and one that could lead to something extraordinary—but only if we take the risk.

If we want real happiness, we have to break the rules. We have to break convention. That’s the only way we’ll ever truly live.

So I’m going to keep pushing forward, and try to enjoy my life the best I can.

The truth is, a lot of stuff gets in the way of being happy. I was lying in bed the other night, and my cat was curled up on the floor beside me. He looked so peaceful. And I thought—look at us, wasting our lives stressing about work, when we could be living.

We can’t will our way into a better life. We can put ourselves out there and still get nothing back. We can apply to jobs with better pay and hear nothing. It’s exhausting. And when there’s nothing to look forward to, it’s hard to see the good in anything.

But I’m still here. Still trying. Still writing.

And maybe, for now, that’s enough.