Here’s what you need to know: I’m going to start over.
Ain’t nothing I’ve ever built that I’ve been too afraid to burn down and start from scratch. The business, the brand, the marriage… baby, nothing is safe.
There’s a meme floating around the internet that says something to the effect of, Some of y’all are afraid to start over, but I’m already on my fifth or sixth life. My sentiments exactly. I’d love to say this started when I turned 40, that something shifted and suddenly I had clarity about who I am and what I want, but literally, this is the story of my life.
In the past, there’s been a lot of shame around that. Around seeming inconsistent. Around constantly starting new projects, changing my mind, changing direction. I’ve had Instagram friends reach out and say, “Girl, if you archive your feed one more time…”
And listen. Fair.
But lately I’ve been wondering: What if the goal isn’t to stop starting over? What if the goal is to know when it’s time to begin again?
I’m no expert. I could definitely be doing this all wrong. But the way it’s worked for me is that sometimes you don’t get the answers until you start doing. You can think about it. Pray about it. Make the vision board. Write the business plan and make it plain. And still, there are some things you won’t know until you move.
Sometimes you have to do the thing long enough to realize, Wait. This ain’t it.
Maybe the idea made sense when you started. You probably meant every word when you said yes. Perhaps you built something you genuinely loved. You prayed for it. Worked your behind off for it. And then somewhere along the way, you learned something. The circumstances changed. What you want changed. What you’re willing to live with changed.
And once that happens, you’ve got a choice to make. You gonna keep going just because you already started, told folks it was coming, launched the thing, or invested years in it?
Baby, no.
Sometimes you’ve got to start over, and I think there has to be some grace in that.
I’m a big fan of Lucille Clifton. I discovered her through the poem won’t you celebrate with me where she wrote, “what i have shaped into / a kind of life”. I keep coming back to the wonder of a kind of life. Not the finished life. Not the life where everything went according to plan. Just the life she shaped from what she had.
I know something about shaping a kind of life.
As a matter of fact, I come from women who take what we’ve been given and make something out of it. That may be one of my favorite things about Black women. We gon’ make something out of nothing. I’ve learned how to keep going regardless of circumstance. How to make a home, raise my girls, build things, dream things, believe God, lose things, grieve things, and still wake up asking, What’s next?
Grace might be the ability to look at the lives I’ve already lived without needing to call any of them a waste. Realizing I’ve needed every version of the woman I’ve ever been to be who I am today.
The business wasn’t a waste because I’m building something else now. The marriage wasn’t a waste because it ended. The ideas I’ve moved on from weren’t a waste because they never became what I imagined. I don’t have to make the old thing bad to give myself permission to begin again.
It was a kind of life.
It was mine.
And now I get to shape another one.
That’s growth.
I imagined I’d have it all figured out by adulthood. When we were growing up, didn’t it seem like mama ‘nem knew exactly what they were doing? Yeah, I’m not sure we talk enough about how life doesn’t really work like that. There’s trial and error. There are detours. And often, the polished version of folks you see in public is powered by private tears, prayers, and possible failures.
And we gon’ leave those so-called failures in the possible category because says who?
Listen, in 2025 I closed the physical doors of my bookstore, left the church I was attending, and filed for divorce after 12 years of marriage. I’d built my life and identity around all three. And it ain’t take but one shaky little year to burn them all down.
I’ve been to therapy. I’ve cried. I’ve prayed. I’ve had to sit with choices I made and choices that were made for me. Last year should’ve killed me.
Instead, I’m taking my alleged losses as lessons and going on about my business.
Literally.
Because there’s still business to tend to. I’ve got 4 daughters watching me live, bills that care nothing about the state of my mental health. There are things I want to write, places I want to go, work I believe I’m supposed to do, and a whole life that still requires my participation.
And maybe that’s what I understand about starting over now. You don’t always get a clean slate.
Sometimes you’re starting over with kids and responsibilities and debt and memories and a calendar full of things that still need to get done. Sometimes you’re starting over while still grieving what ended. You can be excited about what’s next and still sad about what was. You can also know you made the right decision and still miss parts of the life you chose to leave.
All of that gets to be true.
I think I used to imagine starting over as this big, dramatic thing. Burn it down. Reinvent yourself. New year, new me. Archive the Instagram feed, apparently.
But most of my starting over these days looks extra regular.
It’s deciding what I’m going to do today.
And then doing it again tomorrow.
Because I can burn something down. We’ve established that.
Building is another story.
So, back to my original question how many times are we gonna start over?
As many times as it takes.
Until I get it right.
P.S. All these fresh starts are cute, but eventually we’ve got to do something with them. See you next Sunday.
Nyshell Watson is a Michigan-based writer, filmmaker, and story keeper. Her work includes essays, poetry, and documentary storytelling centered on Black women’s lives and stories.
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i’m ready for a fresh start myself
The doing is what I need to be doing. How does one know where to start when there are so many ideas swirling around in one’s head? Any advice of what has worked for you on where to start or which one to do?