What’s Your Babylon?
"I know your book will be worth reading. I knew it before you started. But do you realize how much good you are doing yourself by writing it? An effing ton! Get it out of you, girl. The paper can't be hurt. You can. Get it all out. And I'm so glad you're going to share it with the world!"
Josey's first boyfriend broke up with her yesterday.
She came home from school quiet. Red eyes. That teenage heartbreak that feels like the end of the world because, at 13, it kind of is.
So I let her skip one of her two volleyball practices. Because sometimes your kid just needs an exhale and to feel regulated. Which poor babes was anything but that. It was a sob fest, a Ben & Jerry's emergency night, big hugs, snuggles from our Frenchie, and distractions to reset her before practice.
But some things will never change: when my baby hurts in any way, it hurts my mama heart too.
This morning, during my reflection time, something hit me.
I was reading about the Israelites—people who were exiled to Babylon and held captive. A special kind of hell where they felt abandoned, forgotten. Eventually, they escaped. Freedom, right?
Except they found themselves in a new exile. Home, but not okay. Different captivity, same despair.
I bet they were thinking, “Come on. Can you throw us a bone here?”
But the point wasn't about their suffering. It was about the promise they had to hold onto: no matter how dark or desperate things got, there was a path out of brokenness. A way forward they couldn't see yet.
The question that caught me: "What's your Babylon?"
What's your Babylon? What's the thing holding you back? The season that feels like it will never end? For the Israelites, it was literal captivity. For us, it's the job we hate, the business that won't thrive, the personal struggle that keeps us up at 3 a.m.
We all have our Babylon. Every single one of us encounters seasons that suck. And yet—if we keep going—those seasons eventually serve us and our end goals.
I know that's off my usual beaten path. But sometimes we all need that boost of hope. Whatever you believe in, wherever you find it—hold onto it.
Because the hard seasons don't last forever. Even when it feels like they will.
The Week That Was
This week was good. Busy as hell, but good.
I didn't make the manuscript progress I really wanted to, but I did make progress. And sometimes that's all you can ask for.
I spent most of my writing time compiling information from multiple old chapters and piecing them together into one cohesive new chapter. Chapter 6: The First Fuck-Up. It's about my early business mistakes—the email campaign disaster where I went off-script and embarrassed myself, the 1:1 coaching model that became unsustainable, all the ways I had to learn how to actually run a business by royally fucking up first.
The chapter mining process is wild. I've already written so much of this book—it just needed to be reordered and pieced together in a way that actually makes sense. Story of my life, honestly.
But getting Chapter 6 right took longer than I expected. Because when you're pulling content from four different old chapters, you have to make sure it flows, that it doesn't repeat itself, that the voice stays consistent. It's like doing a puzzle where half the pieces are from different boxes.
And while I was doing that, life kept lifeing.
I was a taxi driver to my teenager (as usual). I Christmas shopped. It snowed. Clients moved and cancelled calls, so I had to pivot. The usual chaos of December while trying to finish a book and run a business and not lose my mind.
But here's the thing that stopped me in my tracks today:
The Comment That Made My Week
Someone left this on my social media this week, and it made my whole damn week:
"I know your book will be worth reading. I knew it before you started. But do you realize how much good you are doing yourself by writing it? An effing ton! Get it out of you, girl. The paper can't be hurt. You can. Get it all out. And I'm so glad you're going to share it with the world!"
I read that and just... exhaled.
Because they're right. This book isn't just for the people who will read it someday. It's for me. Getting it out. Putting the hard stuff on paper where it can't hurt me anymore.
The paper can't be hurt. You can.
That line will stick with me for a while.
Manuscript Progress
Here's where we're at:
Chapters 1-6: Complete (33% done, 6 of 18 chapters)
Chapter 1: Porcelain Throne (the toilet call that changed everything)
Chapter 2: When the Fire Starts (Africa, Mom's death)
Chapter 3: Twenty-Six Days (Dad's death)
Chapter 4: The Bloody Beginning (building the business while employed)
Chapter 5: The Middle Finger Call (the quit)
Chapter 6: The First Fuck-Up (early business disasters)
What's Next:
Chapter 7: The Podcast That Changed Everything (spoiler: I met my husband through a podcast, so yeah, it changed everything)
Then Chapter 8: Firing Karen (boundaries, learning to say no, firing clients who don't respect you)
I'm still on track to finish the editing process by the end of Q1 2026. Which feels both terrifying and exhilarating.
One Busy Day at a Time
I guess I simply feel blessed and at ease right now.
Even in the chaos of taxi-driving and client pivots and teenage heartbreak and chapter mining, there's this underlying current of peace. Like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be.
I can't wait to finish the edit process and move forward to publishing decisions. But alas, one busy day at a time.
And if you're in your own Babylon right now—the job you hate, the business that won't thrive, the personal battle that feels endless—just know this:
The hard season won't last forever. Even when it feels like it will.
There's a path out of brokenness. You just can't see it yet.
Keep going.
What's your Babylon? What season are you trying to survive right now? I'd love to hear what you're working through. Reply and let me know.
Until next week,
Becca
