One Month in Business

One month ago, I decided to just start.

Not “wait until it’s perfect.”
Not “research for six more months.”
Not “circle back when I feel qualified.”

Just start.

“Just Do It” felt too Nike, too inspirational poster taped to a cubicle wall. “Just Start” felt more honest. A little clumsy. Slightly unhinged. The kind of advice you give yourself when you’re standing at the edge of something and thinking, well… if not now, when?

So I did.

I registered a domain. Filed for an LLC. Opened a business bank account and stared at it like it might bite me. I started social media. I Googled a truly alarming number of “How do I…” questions. I watched YouTube videos narrated by men who looked twelve and somehow knew everything about algorithms, commerce platforms, and Instagram reels.

I learned that starting a business is 10% vision and 90% clicking buttons while whispering, please don’t mess this up.

There has been a learning curve—steep, relentless, and occasionally rude. I naively assumed it would be easier. Or at least more linear. Instead, it’s been a choose-your-own-adventure book where every page says, Are you sure?

And yet… I’ve loved it.

There’s something intoxicating about not knowing what you’re doing and figuring it out anyway. About building something piece by piece, even when the pieces don’t quite fit yet. About realizing that confusion isn’t a failure—it’s just part of the process.

So let’s talk numbers. Because nothing keeps you humble like numbers.

Accomplishments after one month in “business”:

- Instagram followers: 0 → 17
(One of them is organic. ONE. I will treasure them forever.)

- Website: Live, functional, selling things on the internet like it’s 2026

- Revenue: $0

- Confidence: Shaky but alive

- Delusion: Strong

- Hearts and minds: Won (I think)

If this were a movie montage, this is the part where the music cuts out and you hear the protagonist breathing heavily.

But here’s the thing: zero dollars doesn’t mean zero progress. Seventeen followers doesn’t mean no one’s listening. Writing into the void still counts as writing. Showing up still counts as showing up.

Which brings me to the question people don’t always ask out loud: Why do this at all?

Why choose the harder path? Why trade certainty for chaos? Why voluntarily sign up for late nights, slow growth, and the occasional existential spiral?

For me, it’s independence.
It’s filling a gap I can clearly see and can’t stop thinking about.
It’s being challenged in ways that stretch me instead of numbing me.
It’s hustling—but not just for hustle’s sake.

It’s for my boys.
It’s to build something from scratch and let them see that doing hard things is worth it.
It’s to prove (mostly to myself) that I can try, fail, adjust, and keep going anyway.

Because the alternative—never starting, always wondering—feels worse.

So, in the spirit of accountability (and mild internet exposure therapy), I’m putting some goals out into the world:

- 2,500 Instagram followers by the end of the year

- Sales (let’s say… $10,000—terrifying to type, but here we are)

- Go public: in-person events, real-life conversations, getting the word out beyond my phone

- One blog post every week
Even if no one reads it.
Even if I’m just whispering my thoughts into the digital abyss.

Especially then.

Because this month taught me something important: momentum doesn’t come from certainty. It comes from action. From starting before you’re ready. From doing the thing even when the scoreboard looks… unimpressive.

One month in, I’m still standing. Slightly bruised. Definitely caffeinated. Quietly optimistic.

And tomorrow?
I’ll just start again.