When did I lose it?

That spark. That quiet courage.
That pull toward something you didn’t fully understand—only that it moved you.
You’d see someone doing something beautiful, something bold — and immediately think:
“I could be that.”
Didn’t matter if it made sense. Didn’t matter if people rolled their eyes.

“I want to be an astronaut!” 
“A singer!”
“A shopkeeper with the coolest pens in town!”

As kids, no one taught us how to believe. No podcast. No self-help book. We just did.

Then—slowly—something shifted.
One day you said no to something that lit you up.
Another day you stayed quiet when you wanted to speak up.

It wasn’t one big moment—just tiny trades: courage for caution, freedom for fear.

“What if I fail?”
“What if I’m not enough?”
“What if I start and can’t keep going?”

How many dreams were left behind before they even got to breathe?

Along the way, we listened to the voices:

“Be realistic.” “It’s hard.” “Only 10% make it.”
“People like us don’t do things like that.”
“Only if you’re born in the right country, family, timeline.”
“You need money. Connections. A backup plan.”

And doubt—the quiet thief—dimmed the light.
We stopped following the spark and let fear choose our future…
then called it “realistic.”

But really, we weren’t protecting ourselves from failure—we were protecting failure from ever being proven wrong.

Every silence from inaction hurts more than any failure ever could.
And the scariest part? We barely noticed it happening…

Until one day you realize you haven’t felt lit up in a long time.
When did I lose that spark? Can I get back on board—or is it over?

Here’s the wild part: the spark never left.
It’s still in you.
Maybe you won’t become the astronaut you dreamed of at eight.
You can’t rewind and choose X over Y.
But even now, there are things that light you up the second you think of them.
You still glow when you talk about that one thing.
You still feel a pull—even if you’ve buried it.
You see someone brave or joyful and your spark flickers…

then doubt rushes in and smothers it.

I know that pattern. I’ve lived it.
That’s why I made something gentle—and powerful—to interrupt it:
a small daily space for you and that flicker.
Ten minutes to feel it. And maybe… follow it this time.

If you want a gentle nudge to start, I’ll send you Day 1 as a gift.
Drop a 🖤 or type SPARK and I’ll DM it to you.
Just a moment to remember: you still light up for a reason.

Let’s stop letting doubt author your story.
Let’s see what happens when you start writing it again.

— Pamela 🖤
(PhD, but more importantly: former living-room pop star, dreamer, spark-watcher)