Dissonance to Direction: Finding Your Purpose and Taking Action

“How are you” my friend Maggie texted me late October of 2024.

“I think I’m having a second mid-life crisis” I replied.

Maggie: That’s too soon, for another one.

We joked about mid-life crisis-ing together and then promised to grab coffee soon.

By mid-life crisis, I was, of course, referring to my 2023 Renaissance… which was not a crisis, but a rebirth. This second one, though, was hitting differently. It felt like a deep, dark rut rather than the growing pains of a new beginning. I was unsettled. This was my best year for my interior design business, gaining steady projects and staying busier than ever. I should’ve been fulfilled professionally… happy. But something was missing. That elusive something.

Notice the Dissonance

With the sudden loss of my brother Anfernee that spring of 2024, I naturally blamed grief. It discolored and distorted everything—my work, my routines, even my sense of purpose. I spent that summer trying to counter it with attempts of lazy positivity, but my mind kept slipping into waves of sadness. I felt like a deep-sea diver, moving in slow motion through the crushing weight of resistance.

All the sunshine and songbirds of summer couldn’t have been further from the sinking depths of darkness I felt inside. Why me? Why my family? How could something like this happen?

I fell deeper and deeper into those unanswerable questions until it felt like there was nowhere left to go. I could stay in this spiral, this pit… or I could find a way to rise back to the surface.

Here and there, I’d hear stories about other people who had experienced loss or trauma. And each time, something in me softened. See? You’re not the only one. You’re not alone in what you’re going through. Many people live with grief, with pain.

Slowly, and with a great deal of conscious effort, my perspective began to shift—from inward to outward. I stopped asking “Why me?” and started asking, “How can my experiences help other people?” It was subtle, but it changed everything. It lifted me just enough out of the fog to see that the heaviness I’d been carrying wasn’t only grief—it was something else nudging me.

With that tiny bit of clarity, I finally had the courage to look deeper. To examine the restlessness humming beneath the surface. I started to tease apart the dissonance, dissecting the anatomy of “What’s up with Ruth?” The answer was buried at the very bottom of everything, and I intended to dig until I found it.

Listen to the Nudges

Around the same time, I kept coming across interviews with Robert Greene on finding one’s purpose. One weekend, I was doing laundry at my sister’s house and opened the cabinet for detergent. A stack of books caught my eye—Mastery by Robert Greene specifically. More nudges. My brother-in-law let me take it, and I dove in. Story after story of artists, inventors, entrepreneurs, and scientists who defied the odds, persisted through failure, and ultimately found and lived out their purpose.

I examined my own current career and skill set. I had a degree in interior design with 4+ years of experience. I started my own business. I loved problem-solving, creating tailored spaces, helping people. It was a skill, yes—but was it my passion? My purpose? I was doing what I was good at, but was it what I was meant for?

Ask yourself the Hard Questions

I journaled, processed, and let my thoughts simmer. Then one day, a sharp, clear question landed in my mind:

What part of yourself do you believe in so deeply that you would put every effort into turning it into success and greatness?

I was shook by the way it forced me to think beyond my current state. It felt like high stakes. I didn’t have an answer—not yet. Months passed. I read, I journaled, I sat with my thoughts. I reflected. I started thinking backward: what drew me as a child? Stories, music, art, books... But what really clicked later on as a teenager and young adult, was writing.

If there’s one thing that make the planets feel aligned and sets a flame alive in my chest, it’s writing a really good line. Through poetry, essays, articles—even notes to friends. Crafting something raw, high-impact, and gut-wrenchingly honest. Words that feel so true they blister. That’s what I live for—the brutality, the beauty, the connection. Authentic expression.

Okay… I thought: writing. But how do you find a job as a writer with no formal education in the field and very little experience? I’d been published a couple of times in small online journals back when I lived in Perth, Australia. I’d received positive feedback, but that was ages ago—and I was very much out of practice.

Then I thought… what if I just published my own writing? Started a blog? I’d always felt, deep down, that writing was a path I was meant to follow—but I’d never really pursued it, or even knew where to start. Now, though, it seemed like the right time. I had crossed every other bridge—different jobs, relationships that didn’t pan out, living in different countries… but this was one path I hadn’t yet taken.

Catching Economy vision board: setting the tone for colors, themes, and overall feel.

Take Action

I set to work on shaping the vision: the aesthetic, the branding, the purpose, the goal. I knew I wanted a blog that fused travel and transformation. I’ve always believed that travel is essential to growth, to broadening your perspective. I wanted to weave together stories of the places I’d visited with deeper reflections—lessons, inspirations, moments that stayed with me. I didn’t exactly know what that would look like. I didn’t know if anything like it even existed. But I knew I wanted these themes to coexist.

I worked day and night on building my website and writing blogs, making sure I’d have pieces ready to post when I launched. I sifted through my library of photos and flipped through old journals, searching for stories and inspiration.

Face Your Fears

As I worked—and as the launch date drew closer—I battled waves of fear and doubt. What do I really have to say? Do I have anything of value to offer? Nobody’s going to care. No one’s going to read these stories. What if I’m a bad writer? Will people think I just want attention? My iPhone photos are amateur compared to those other blogs.

I was terrified of putting myself out there, of people seeing me, seeing my story. I was scared of criticism, of being misunderstood. I was scared of taking on this pursuit completely alone—being my own leader, my own manager, my own decision maker. Everything fell on me: my vision, my instinct, my execution.

I pictured specific people I thought might have something negative to say… imagining them scrolling on their phones during lunch, making a joke at my expense as they came across my content. I considered the things they might say—or think—about me. I envisioned the criticism almost like facing a bully.

And, in a way, it helped me get ahead. I reminded myself: it doesn’t really matter what other people think or say. This content isn’t for them. I can’t let the fear of judgment stop me from reaching the people who are encouraged, inspired, and comforted by what I have to say.

I realized that to truly do what I wanted—to share real stories that foster connection, to remind people they’re not alone—I would need to be vulnerable. I would need to put myself out there, again and again.

Be Patient With Yourself

I remember the very first Instagram reel I posted in January of 2025—dipping my toes into the waters of content creation. I knew I’d have to promote my blogs through social media, and Instagram felt like the most natural place to start. The reel wasn’t anything groundbreaking, just a montage of photos and videos from 2024, fitting for a New Year’s post.

The caption read:

I forgot that I turned 30 this past year. As I was looking through photos/videos from 2024, I was like, “Oh yeah… hit that milestone.” Much of spring and summer was such a blur. Grief has a way of warping time… you feel sort of paralyzed as life continues to go on around you. Then all of a sudden, March turns into October. And here we are now in January, as another new year begins. Even though there were some dark and difficult days that at times felt like they would never pass, it’s really beautiful to look back and see the good moments too, with the most quality people. 🤎

I remember feeling what I call a “vulnerability hangover.” The second I posted it, I shut my phone off and went straight to bed—too scared to see who liked it, who didn’t, who watched it, who commented, who cared.

Looking back a year later, it’s almost funny that this caption felt so gut-wrenchingly vulnerable at the time. Because since then, I’ve grown accustomed to sharing. I think carefully about what I put out into the world. But I post, hope it resonates, and move on. Because ultimately, it’s not about me.

That’s not to say I don’t still struggle with vulnerability—of course I do. But it’s encouraging to see how far I’ve come, and to keep reminding myself why I do what I do.

Remember Your Why

In the spring of 2025—one year after Anfernee’s death—I published a blog called “Between Grief and Graceland: Part One and Two.” It was a raw reflection on navigating grief during what was meant to be a celebratory trip to Memphis for my 30th birthday. It was, by far, my most vulnerable piece yet. It’s also my most-viewed blog to date, resonating deeply with others. I received an outpouring of messages from people who genuinely appreciated that I shared the story—messages that built a quiet, beautiful connection with those who had lived through something similar. Catching Economy was serving its purpose. I was serving my purpose.

I could’ve kept that story all tucked away in my notes, never to see the light of day. I could’ve watered it down. I could’ve given in to fear and doubt. I could’ve ignored the nudges and stayed stuck in my spiral of self-pity. I could’ve kept asking myself the wrong questions—playing into a mindtrap designed to keep me from moving towards my path.

But I didn’t. I chose, instead, to ask myself the harder questions—the helpful ones. To listen to the underlying dissonance and actually do something about it. To follow the nudges. To work through the fear. And to keep putting myself out there, again and again.

Finding Your Purpose

Often, it starts with dissonance. The places you feel unsettled or dissatisfied. The areas of your life that keep tugging at you.

Ask yourself: Is it my environment—or is it my mindset? What can I accept, and what can I no longer live without?

The clues have probably been there all along, scattered throughout your life since childhood. Ask the hard questions—the helpful ones. Dig deep. Look backward. Follow the threads that keep showing up. And remember: purpose rarely exists just for us. More often, it becomes something that ultimately serves others.

Ask yourself: What part of yourself do you believe in so deeply that you would put every effort into turning it into success and greatness?

Then define what success means to you—a dream job, a new hobby or side hustle, healthy relationships, a move, a creative spark, a deeper season of growth. Whatever it is, let it be yours. Once you’ve defined it, the next step is to take it one day at a time—embracing the hard, the awkward, and the unexpected.

And be encouraged: nothing ever ends up looking the way it did when you first started. Your early YouTube videos might be awkward with barely any views. The first workout feels like punishment. The job search is like rejection on repeat. Even that toxic guy you swore off somehow starts to look appealing again. Change is hard, uncomfortable, scary—but so is staying stuck. I remember entire years slipping by where nothing really shifted. I was safe, comfortable… but I wasn’t growing. I wasn’t moving toward my fullest potential.

If 2026 feels like the right time, let this be your sign: start now, and keep going. You’ll be amazed at where you’ll be a year from today.