It’s been a while. I thought I’d share an update since you are an important part of my life.
Over the past few years, especially while living abroad, I’ve done a lot of soul-searching to figure out the next steps in my professional life. I finally found a path that aligns with my purpose—writing the story of the ten pivotal years that inspired me to start a nonprofit and co-author La Mariposa. In the spring of 2023, as I was finishing the first draft of my coming-of-age memoir, I hit an unexpected standstill. For months, I stared at the same scene, looped in a mental block, unable to move forward. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t bring myself to skip it and return later. It felt like I was stuck in quicksand, my nose barely above the surface. Every effort to pull free only sank me deeper, the weight of my unfinished story pressing down on me.
Looking back—and I suppose I knew it as I struggled to write—it wasn’t the scene that shook me, but the realization that I was close to taking the next step in revealing my truest recollection of the events I experienced, even though I consulted with those involved and was careful to be fair and respectful and stay within the boundaries of what was appropriate and mine to share.
Alongside this realization, I faced a harsh truth: despite the debate surrounding it, a recent court case involving a major publishing house led to the revealing of an unsettling truth—most authors don’t reach the masses. If they’re lucky, they might sell a few hundred or maybe a thousand books, enjoying only a brief moment of publicity.
Is it worth putting my story out there if it means upsetting or disappointing the people in my life?
I tried to move past this, but I feared judgment. The ¿Que Dirán? imposter, that nagging worry of what others would think, that I worked my entire adult life to manage, especially when my values and integrity aligned with my goals, wouldn’t stop chattering. I could hear the imagined criticisms about my story or my book’s (lack of) success: “That’s not true! I don’t remember things happening that way!” “Aren’t you disappointed your book didn’t do well?”
I’ve often heard memoirists struggle with this issue. Some courageous writers press on, fully aware of the potential consequences but certain that the story’s message outweighs any fallout. Others forge ahead with the belief that those who might be offended should have acted in a way they’d be comfortable seeing in print.
Like me, the more apprehensive writer gets to a certain point in their first draft and then freaks out just as the glowy light at the tunnel’s end nears. They place their pen down, promising to pick it up again after those who may be hurt or offended die.
Is it really worth it?
I have contemplated this question considerably. I journaled, meditated, took long walks with Values and Intentions. I talked to people about my hesitancy, many of whom shared how memoirs impacted their lives and made them feel less alone or a relative’s story filled in the missing gaps and made them feel more connected to their ancestors and heritage.
I decided it is worth continuing.
I picked up the pen and hoped my writing would return as suddenly as it had stopped, but it didn’t. So, I shifted my focus to less paralyzing projects. Then, in late May of 2023, I faced the heartbreaking loss of my father-in-law—a man I deeply loved, whose moral compass always pointed true North. He was an exemplary human unlike any other, and I was honored to have known him. Just two days after his passing, I was asked to step into a temporary leadership role at the nonprofit where I served as a board director. Although I knew this role would pull me further into the quicksand, something, an overwhelming instinct, nudged me to accept.
Those eight months turned out to be some of the most fulfilling of my life. I had the privilege of working with a phenomenal team to advance a mission supporting youth development. Drawing on my experience in budgeting and operations, I helped streamline systems, implement policies, and establish a sustainable foundation for the organization to thrive. The experience rekindled my passion for helping others reach their highest aspirations.
Since then, I’ve trained to become a professional coach, started my own coaching business, and am starting a certification program to deepen my skills.
And, slowly, I’m working on my story. It will take time, but when I think about what I want to leave behind in this world, long after I’m gone, I realize that the words I’ve written will live on.
I’m curious, when you think about your own journey, how have life’s unexpected detours shaped the legacy you hope to leave behind?
Thank you for reading and being part of my journey. xoxo
Nancy Roldán Johnson 