What I saw / heard/ read this week:

I watched a video (link in footer) this week that I originally clicked on for myself.

I was looking for something practical—something about clarity, communication, and long-term thinking. I didn’t expect it to sit with me the way it did. But one question from it hasn’t let me go:

Am I planting flowers… or am I planting oaks?

Flowers grow fast. They look good quickly. They give you proof that something is happening.

But they only last for a season.

Oaks take time. A lot of time.

They don’t reward you right away.

And for a long while, it looks like nothing is happening at all.

And that’s where most of us get discouraged.

I’m in a season where things are moving and not moving at the same time.

My company has had fast wins, but also delays, missteps, and timelines that keep shifting. Old versions of me would’ve been panicking—pushing harder, questioning myself, burning out quietly.

But lately, something different is happening.

There’s a strange calm underneath the stress.

Not because things are easy—but because I’m starting to understand that this uncomfortable middle is part of the oak stage. The part where roots are growing underground, even when nothing looks impressive on the surface.

And honestly? I’m still wrestling with this tension:

I don’t have a perfect answer yet. But I do know this: rushing myself into flowers won’t get me the forest I want for my family.

I don’t need to tell you this—we are tired.

As Black women.

As parents.

As people carrying responsibility on every side.

So many of us are living in survival mode, trying to get through the week, the month, the next bill, the next crisis. And survival is real. Necessary. Honorable.

But survival alone doesn’t plant oaks.

And I think many of us feel that quiet fear underneath everything:

That question doesn’t mean you’re ungrateful.

It means you’re thinking beyond today.

Something I keep coming back to is this distinction:

Being responsible for people is not the same as showing up for them.

Responsibility keeps the lights on.

Showing up builds safety, trust, and possibility.

Both matter. But one compounds.

So here’s a simple framework I’m using—and I wanted to offer it to you, gently, without pressure.

For the next 24 hours: Be visible.

Ask yourself each day: What did I do today—big or small—that improved someone else’s quality of life?

Not productivity.

Not hustle.

Not just “I went to work.”

I mean:

Small acts still plant roots.

For the next 12–18 months: Be valuable.

Ask: What am I building that will still feed me—and the people around me—years from now?

That might be:

Not everything needs to grow fast.

Some things need to grow deep.

If you’re feeling behind, unseen, or unsure—please hear this:

You are not failing.

You are not late.

You may just be underground right now.

And that doesn’t mean nothing is happening.

All you’re being asked to do is keep showing up.

Keep learning what to hold on to—and what to shed.

Keep planting, even when you can’t see the tree yet.

It’ll get there.

With time.

With honesty.

With consistency.

You’re not lost.

You just can’t see around the corner yet.

And you’re meant for more than this season alone.With you,

Notes from building with intention.

I'm aiming to create a simple format for sharing my journey of growing Tugs, especially during challenging times. I want to offer something that goes beyond just focusing on the product.

My goal is to present the mess of my mind a way that's easy to digest, with just five key points. These posts will highlight what I've observed, what I've learned, and a simple action that inspires me—and hopefully, it will inspire others too as we navigate our lives, whatever they may look like.

These insights might not always stick to one specific topic, but in my quest to become a better business owner, I've found that the lessons often help me grow as a person. They emphasize understanding, communication, self-encouragement, and self-discipline—qualities I believe we all need.

Other Things I Found: