Here you go — keeping it in the thread as requested: A Write To Rise conversation Kathleen has been in my world for about a year and a half. We talked back then about her wanting a podcast. We talked about her writing. We talked about all the things she was carrying inside her that hadn’t yet found a place to land. Then life did what life does, and the dream went quiet for a while. When she came back to me in April 2026, almost exactly a year to the day from our first conversation, the dream was still there, the writing had gone cold, she’d shelved the ideas like so many of us do and she still didn’t have a home on the internet that felt like her own. So she joined Hoala Studio, the free starter program I built inside of Substack & Skool for women just like her: women who know they have something to say, but who freeze in front of a blank page or a blinking cursor and don’t know where to begin. The studio is for the woman who is tired of social media and performing for algorithms. She is tired of getting blasted by ads and people showing up in her messages asking for her credit card information without ever even introducing themselves. This is the space for the women who are looking for an easier, softer way to express themselves and a cozier home on the internet. Six weeks later, I’m watching a completely different woman. She’s launched a podcast. She’s published essays I can’t stop thinking about. She interviewed a living legend in the Holistic Nursing space the first week of being in the Studio. She has a workshop coming up that she was talking about starting over a year ago. The thing I want to name out loud, because it’s the thing the internet rarely shows you — none of this came from a viral moment or a clever growth hack. It came from one decision, made over and over: do it messy. Do it anyway. This is our conversation, and the lessons I want every woman building her voice on Substack to take from it. The internet she’d been trying to make work Kathleen, like a lot of us, had tried the social media thing. Posting in groups. Trying to “attract” people. The unspoken rule in most of those spaces is no self-promotion, which is a strange instruction to give a small business owner. And the workaround — cold DMs — made her feel icky. They make all of us feel icky but we do it anyway because this is what we are taught to do to have a successful business or to attract the people that are meant to be in our world. “I know what you’re doing,” she said. “I can see where the conversation is going to lead.” Someone messages with friendliness, then steers it toward a summit, a course, a credit card. The transaction was always the punchline. As a neurodivergent person, those interactions quietly cost her energy she didn’t have to spend. This is something I want to keep saying out loud: the load social media puts on neurodivergent women is not the same load it puts on everyone else. The ads, the inputs, the constant performance, the algorithmic comparison — our nervous systems process all of it at full volume. When I pulled myself off social media a year and a half ago, two things happened: my bank account had more money in it at the end of the month (I’d stopped buying random things), and I stopped feeling broken all the time. (There is a laundry list of other amazing things that happened in my life, but these are the ones that came to mind during this convo) I could finally sit with how blessed my actual life was, instead of measuring it against a feed. When I finally convinced her to stop spending time on social media and start spending time on Substack, I watched her unfold into a completely different human in a month’s time. Substack didn’t just give Kathleen a new platform. It gave her a place where her brain could rest and a home for her voice and her perspective. Why “just do it messy” is the whole secret When Kathleen came into Hoala Studio, she didn’t need another online course. She needed a starting point. Her own words: here’s what templates are, here’s how to make them yours, here’s where to begin if you want minimal thinking required. That was intentional. I built it that way because I am also neurodivergent, and I know what happens when a woman with a thousand ideas opens a blank Substack: she opens twelve more tabs and closes the laptop. What you actually need is a structure simple enough to step into, plus permission to do it imperfectly. “It’s never going to be ready. It’s never going to be perfect,” Kathleen told me. “Just do it good enough, and you can go back to it later.” She changed her podcast name three times. She might change her publication name again. None of it has cost her a single reader. The work is on the page. The polish comes later. Her voice is getting stronger by the day. The Dr. Jean Watson email This is the story I want every woman reading this to hold onto. Dr. Jean Watson’s Caring Science has shaped Kathleen since her second semester of nursing school. It’s the framework underneath everything she does — personally, professionally, all of it. For years, she’d carried this quiet dream of connecting with Dr. Watson, but Dr. Watson is a living legend in the holistic nursing world. Busy. Important. Unreachable, presumably. Kathleen finally got an email address. She poured her heart into a message. She assumed she’d hear back in a week or two, if at all. Dr. Watson emailed her back in two hours. I have fifteen minutes tomorrow. Send me your Zoom link. (Kathleen didn’t even have a Zoom account. She set one up in a panic.) The first two minutes, she was tongue-tied. The last two minutes, she was tongue-tied. The ten minutes in between, she said, were one of the best moments of her year — a woman she’d looked up to for over a decade pouring wisdom directly into her. A week later, Kathleen sat down with me and said: what do I do with this? I don’t want to keep it to myself. And we figured out the answer together. Upload the recording to Substack. Don’t worry about editing it or polishing it to perfection, just do the scary thing and hit that publish button. Stop debating the title. Push the button. You can fix everything later. She has a podcast now!!! Ahhh! The girl that was terrified to start a podcast last year has a podcast now and her first interview is with an absolute legend. Rejection sensitivity is not a personality flaw I want to name this because it’s part of why so many neurodivergent women never launch the thing they’re dreaming about. We don’t experience the small risks of putting our work out the way neurotypical people do. A normal nervous system can rationalize a quiet post, an unanswered email, a critical comment — okay, on to the next one. Ours doesn’t. Ours runs a thousand simulations of what we did wrong, what those people thought of us, what we’d have to change about ourselves to be acceptable. So when a neurodivergent woman does launch the thing, what she’s pushed through is not laziness or perfectionism. It’s a real nervous-system response. The confidence Kathleen has now didn’t appear because she suddenly stopped being sensitive. It appeared because she shipped anyway, got real feedback from real humans, and started slowly building evidence that her voice was wanted. The first time she hit fifty subscribers, she said it felt like imagining fifty people in a room who wanted to hear from her. That image is everything. Every subscriber is a tiny affirmation: yes, you. Keep going. What Heart and Hearth is really about Kathleen’s publication, Heart and Hearth, reflects a broader vision that goes far beyond Dr. Jean Watson’s work. She’s writing for the BIPOC community, the Asian community, the Filipino community specifically. She’s writing for the women who walk into wellness retreats and notice they’re the only brown person in the room. She’s writing about the eldest daughter role, the high-achiever-as-the-only-form-of-praise dynamic, the family-needs-over-individual-needs script so many women in her community grew up inside of. She’s writing about boundaries you were never allowed to have as a kid and have to teach yourself as an adult. About cooking and cleaning and doing laundry, you learned alone because you’re a smart kid; you’ll figure it out. And she’s writing about something I love: the search for childlike wonder as an adult, when your childhood was structured by other people’s choices and you never got to find out what actually brought you joy. There is a particular kind of work that can only be done by a woman who has lived inside that exact experience. Another Filipina, another Asian woman, another eldest daughter can read Kathleen and exhale in a way she couldn’t reading me. Representation isn’t a buzzword. It’s whether the woman who needs to see herself in the work can actually see herself. What I learn from creators like Kathleen I grew up in Mississippi inside a specific Southern Baptist doctrine. I’ve spent years deconstructing the religious teachings, the whitewashed history, the cultural assumptions I was handed as fact. My partner is full-blooded Japanese, born in Hawaii. My closest friends are Korean, Chinese, Hawaiian-Filipino-Japanese. I’m the only white person in my circle. And the depth of what I didn’t know — what was stripped from my education on purpose — keeps surprising me to the core of who I am. Substack has been one of the places I’ve done that learning. Creators like Kathleen, writing from inside experiences I will never have, have given me language and context I bring back into my own home. When my partner can’t quite explain something about her culture, sometimes another creator has already explained it for her, and I can meet her with more compassion than I’d have had otherwise. This is why I keep saying it: your quirks, your perspectives, the things you’ve safeguarde