My Biggest Failure of 2025
I haven’t felt like a failure this year. Mostly, I’ve felt curious. And ungrounded.
Which, in hindsight, is exactly what I signed up for when I chose MAVERICK as my word for 2025.
Maverick doesn’t build tidy systems. It breaks old ones. It asks better questions than it answers. It expands possibility and refuses to settle.
So no, I wasn’t spiraling in shame. I wasn’t secretly panicking that I was doing it wrong. I was doing exactly what Maverick energy requires.
What I underestimated was how unanchored the year would feel.
The discomfort I didn’t name at first
Curiosity is intoxicating. But curiosity without grounding is destabilizing.
All year, I was exploring. Testing. Staying open. Letting things evolve instead of locking them down too early. From the outside, it probably looked intentional. From the inside, it felt… floaty.
Not unsafe. Just unsettled.
I kept thinking consistency would arrive eventually. I just didn’t realize it was waiting for something much deeper than discipline.
What the science says about seasons like this
Neuroscience actually explains this phase really well.
Our brains naturally alternate between two modes:
- Exploration: curiosity, novelty, scanning, identity expansion
- Exploitation: refinement, repetition, deepening what works
Maverick is pure exploration mode.
And in exploration mode, the brain intentionally loosens routines, deprioritizes efficiency, and resists commitment. That’s not dysfunction. That’s how we gather data before choosing where to land.
ADHD brains are especially sensitive here. They’re interest-based nervous systems, not priority-based ones. Until something feels meaningful and identity-aligned, consistency feels premature at best and suffocating at worst.
So the ungrounded feeling wasn’t a problem to solve. It was a signal that I was still gathering information.
Why consistency didn’t show up earlier
Here’s the part that matters.
Dopamine, the neurotransmitter tied to motivation and follow-through, doesn’t reward repetition for its own sake. It rewards anticipated meaning. It spikes when the brain trusts that effort will matter.
For most of 2025, my nervous system didn’t have enough clarity yet to make that call.
I was still asking:
- Who exactly am I serving?
- What do I want to be known for?
- Where does my energy actually come back to me?
Until those answers settled, consistency would have been artificial. Something to force instead of something to inhabit.
And forcing consistency too early doesn’t create peace. It creates resentment.
The quiet tension I didn’t talk about
There was one specific place this showed up.
I avoided fully naming my work.
I avoided the word coach, even though coaching is very much what I do. Not because I don’t believe in it, but because my brain kept whispering, There are a shit ton of them.
Same story with my newsletter. “There are too many emails.”
And yet...a few people reply every week and gift me those wonderful human connections. Reading their emails are undoubtedly one of my most favorite parts of the work I get to do. And has helped me name something I couldn't before.
Not because things weren’t working. But because they were.
When consistency arrived (without being summoned)
The last few months of 2025 surprised me.
Not with momentum. With peace.
A different quality of energy settled in. Quieter. More grounded. Less frantic. The kind that comes when your nervous system stops scanning for the next option and starts trusting the ground beneath it.
I didn’t become more disciplined. I became more decided.
Which meant I could finally stop circling the language and just say it.
I’m a Dopamine Coach for High-Achieving Women Over 40 who feel invisible in their own lives. I use nervous-system science and playful accountability to help them launch their comeback tour.
Saying it doesn't feel bold. It feels accurate.
Why consistency finally feels good (even with ADHD)
There’s a myth that consistency should feel boring to ADHD brains.
In reality, when consistency arrives at the right time, it feels regulating.
Decision fatigue drops. Cognitive load lightens. Creativity becomes playful instead of urgent.
Predictability signals safety to the nervous system. And when the nervous system feels safe, dopamine regulation improves. That’s why this version of consistency doesn’t feel like settling.
It feels like relief.
The reframe I needed all along
I didn’t fail at consistency in 2025. I opted out of it on purpose.
"Maverick" did exactly what it was meant to do: it expanded my sense of wonder. It burned down what no longer fit. It refused premature certainty.
Consistency isn’t a correction to that season. It’s the completion of it.
What I want other women to hear
If you feel curious but ungrounded, you’re probably not doing it wrong. You’re likely in an exploration phase your nervous system hasn’t completed yet.
And if you’re craving consistency now, it doesn’t mean you’re losing your edge. It means your system is ready to stop proving and start building.
Maverick creates possibility. Consistency creates sustainability.
Neither outranks the other. They just serve different chapters.
You don’t need more discipline. You need permission to finish becoming. Consistency is what shows up when you do.
