⏳ The 2.3-Hour Epiphany ⏱️: Why Slowing Down and Making Critical Distinctions Unlocked My Purpose 🤝

Everything in my life seems to start slow… until it isn’t slow anymore 🚀. Writing was like that for me — at first, it crept along, but then it picked up speed and became a way of keeping track of myself 📝. It reminded me that I’ve always had a way to review what I did yesterday, to stay on top of the things I didn’t finish before the year ended ⏳.

The epiphany came when I cut my hair 💇🏽. I thought it would take an hour, but once I turned the camera on, it stretched into 2.3 hours ⏱️. At one point, I rushed, and the results weren’t what I imagined. That moment reminded me: I don’t like rushing. I prefer to take my time 🐢. Whether it’s designing, writing, or cutting hair, sometimes you need to pause, look again, and let time and review guide you 👀.

I also realized I didn’t give enough feedback to the places I visited this year — even the scary restaurants 🍽️ that might have landed me in the hospital 🏥. Those stories matter. Real experiences matter. In a world full of unreliable reviews and AI-generated opinions 🤖, people need honest accounts to feel safe. If someone eats somewhere and their immune system shuts down overnight, that’s not just a review — that’s survival ⚠️.

So was it a failure that I didn’t review enough? Maybe. But the direction I want to go now is different 🌍. I’d rather spin a globe and focus on helping displaced humans through efforts like Habitat 🏠. And yes, I make a distinction: “displaced” isn’t the same as “homeless.” Not everyone who’s misplaced is without a home. Society often lumps people together unfairly, ignoring the differences in their circumstances. That’s not right 🙅🏽.

Someone struggling with addiction 💊 shouldn’t be treated the same as someone who simply lost their housing. These are different experiences, different realities. Understanding that takes people skills 🤝, not just an Instagram test. Knowledge flows through human connection, not shortcuts. Even raising 100 dogs 🐕 as a kid taught me that wisdom doesn’t always come in words — sometimes it’s in the silent lessons.