Custody Battle: My Heart vs. My Brain
It’s not always loud, this fight between your heart and your mind. Sometimes it’s a quiet tug—persistent, steady, exhausting. Two voices that don’t speak the same language, both trying to guide you through the fog.
The heart speaks in feelings. In sparks. It doesn’t care about calendars or context—it just knows what it wants. It chases love, raw energy, truth in its purest form. It’ll wake you up in the middle of the night with a new idea, with no clue how to make it real, just knowing it matters.
The mind… it’s more methodical. It whispers things like:
Does this even make sense in your timeline? Will your audience understand this? What will people think? Is it too different? Can you afford to fail right now?
And the weight of all those questions? It’s heavy.
Because they’re valid. They aren’t trying to kill your dream—they’re trying to protect you. But sometimes it feels like protection and fear are wearing the same mask.
That’s where the uneasiness sits:
In that in-between.
In loving the way something feels, but hating how uncertain it all is.
In wanting to follow your gut, but not wanting to wreck everything you’ve built.
In knowing this new idea might be the most you thing you’ve made—but wondering if it fits the version of you the world already knows.
And then there’s the heart again, reckless and honest and stubborn.
Saying, This is what I want. This is who I am. Don’t dull it down just to be digestible. Saying, Forget the schedule. Forget the pressure. Just create.
But the mind claps back with real-life stress:
Rent. Time. Consistency. What’s the return? Will this be understood? Does this align?
It’s exhausting.
And it’s real.
But neither side is wrong. The heart brings the pulse. The mind brings the plan. One without the other, and you risk losing either your soul or your structure.
So maybe the goal isn’t to pick a side. Maybe it’s to let them take turns.
Let the heart introduce the idea—messy, emotional, raw. Then let the mind clean it up, stretch it, give it shape. Let them teach each other. Let them inform the process.
Some days, you’ll need your heart to lead. To remind you why you do any of this in the first place.
Other days, you’ll need your mind to take over—to keep you grounded, sharp, intentional.
Balance doesn’t mean silence. It means letting both voices speak, even when they clash.
Because the most powerful, honest work usually comes from the tension between the two.
