From Breakdown to Breakthrough: How I Went All In on My Creative Dream
The Breakdown
I had an emotional breakdown.
Actually, it was more like a series of breakdowns—waves of despair that would hit and recede over the course of several days. The job opportunity I'd been hoping for, the one that felt perfectly aligned with what I wanted to do, had fallen through.
Months of waiting, hoping, planning—all of it evaporated. I remember the exact moment the realization hit: this wasn't going to happen. All that time spent waiting to hear back was wasted.
I felt lost.
The Practical Pivot
When you're in that kind of despair, you need something concrete to hold onto. For me, that became bookkeeping. It wasn't glamorous, but it was practical. It was something I'd tried before but never really gave a proper shot. So I made a plan: spend the next few weeks teaching myself bookkeeping.
I'd follow Intuit's course, work through a textbook, create a video portfolio showing my work and thought process. I even considered enrolling in community college for an accounting certificate, and volunteering to get practical experience. It was a solid, sensible plan. And for about two weeks, that's exactly what I did. I studied. I learned. I told myself this was the path to financial independence, to moving out, to stability. But then something unexpected happened.
The Discovery
I discovered that my local library has something called a "whisper room"—literally a soundproof, isolated recording space that patrons can use. This might not sound revolutionary, but for me, it changed everything. You see, I'd had this idea floating around in my head for years: starting an ASMR channel. But there was always this massive constraint—I didn't have a proper space to record. No isolated room, no plain background, too much ambient noise. The friction was too high, so the idea just... stayed an idea.
But now? Now I had a solution. And not just any solution—a free, accessible one. Within hours of discovering the whisper room, my mind was racing. I already had a condenser microphone (decent, not professional, but better than Apple earbuds which I initially considered). I could use my phone camera. I just needed some basic tripods, which I immediately ordered. Suddenly, all those ASMR video ideas I'd been passively collecting came flooding back. I started making lists. Sound triggers I could create with household items. Video themes and series.
The possibilities felt endless.
The Conflict
And that's when the real struggle began. I had two paths in front of me: the practical bookkeeping route I'd just committed to, and this exciting, creative, deeply uncertain ASMR path that had suddenly become feasible. The problem? I'm a low-energy person. I value my time and energy extremely carefully. The idea of simultaneously self-studying bookkeeping, potentially enrolling in community college, AND learning how to run a YouTube channel from scratch felt like a surefire path to burnout. I knew myself well enough to recognize that trying to build competency in two completely different new things at once, while working, would mean I'd probably give up on everything.
But here's the thing that really got me: bookkeeping had never truly excited me. It was concrete, yes, but was it really more secure than ASMR? I had no accounting background. Even with a certificate and an unrelated four-year degree, there was no guarantee anyone would hire me. It would take time, effort, and luck—just like growing a YouTube channel would. The difference? ASMR felt aligned with who I actually am. It was creative. It energized me in a way bookkeeping never quite did.
The Wisdom of Testing
I was ready to go all in on ASMR immediately. Drop bookkeeping entirely, dive headfirst into content creation, bet everything on this new path. But then I had a conversation that reframed everything. The key insight was simple but crucial: I hadn't actually made a video yet. I loved the idea of running an ASMR channel. I loved brainstorming video concepts and imagining the possibilities. But I didn't know if I'd love the actual process: the filming, the editing, the uploading, the waiting for views, the process of growing organically, the grinding out content when inspiration wasn't flowing.
So instead of choosing immediately, I gave myself a specific experiment: Make and upload 20 videos in 6 months. Then reassess. During that time, I'd put bookkeeping on pause (not abandoned, just paused) and focus my creative energy on actually doing the thing, not just thinking about it. After 20 videos, I'd have real data:
After 20 videos, I'd have real data:
- Did I actually enjoy the process?
- it sustainable with my energy levels?
- Was I still excited, or had it become a chore?
- Was I getting any traction?
Only then would I make a real choice—not between an idea and a plan, but between two things I'd actually tried.
The First Video
Two weeks later, I published my first ASMR video. And let me tell you—the experience taught me more in a few days than weeks of planning ever could.
The pre-publishing anxiety was real. I kept second-guessing everything. What if my description wasn't right? What if my tags were wrong? What if the whole filming and editing process was flawed?
The post-publishing anxiety was worse. I realized the audio wasn't as loud as it should be—a pretty significant mistake for a channel focused entirely on audio quality more than visual aesthetics (which I had forgone entirely).
I started catastrophizing, telling myself I'd already failed. But here's what I learned: I was looking for a reason to quit. That's why I was afraid to check my analytics. That's why I was viewing the data as something that would "confirm my failure." My mind was trying to protect me from something big and scary (starting and maintaining a YouTube channel) by finding an escape route.
When I finally looked at the analytics—after recognizing this pattern—I saw that about 15-18 real people had viewed my video in the first day or so. Not hundreds. Not viral success. Just 15-18 people who clicked, watched, and spent time with something I made. And you know what? That was okay. It wasn't scary. It wasn't disappointing. Because I'd learned to see the data as just data. Analytics don't tell you that you've failed—they just tell you what happened. The story of failure? That's something you create.
What I'm Learning
I'm still early in this journey. One published video doesn't mean I have the full range of experience needed to run a successful channel. I'm learning about audio engineering, video editing, managing my perfectionist tendencies, and the reality that meaningful growth on YouTube typically takes 12-18 months.
But here's what I know now that I didn't know before: The process is genuinely fun. Yes, sometimes it's frustrating. Sometimes it's tedious. But fundamentally, I enjoy it. That's the signal that matters most. Technical problems are solvable. Audio too quiet? I'm learning how to fix that. Background noise in one clip? I'm figuring out filters and better recording practices. Each video teaches me something new. The next thing I want to get down is becoming a better performer. Believe it or not, a lot of ASMR involves performing, if only to set an object down so the microphone does pick up a heavy, bassy/brassy thud. The fear never fully goes away—you just learn to act anyway. I'm still anxious about publishing. I still worry about click through rates, watch times, and growth. But I'm learning to recognize when anxiety is protective versus when it's just fear of something new and uncertain. Small picture wins matter. Publishing one video and not letting the analytics destroy me? That's a win. Learning one new editing technique? That's a win. These small victories fuel the long-term vision.
The Real Question
Two weeks ago, I was torn between bookkeeping and ASMR, worried I was just in love with the idea rather than the reality. Now I've done the reality. I've filmed. I've edited. I've published. I've looked at the scary analytics. I've learned technical lessons. I'm already planning the next video. I did the trial. And I'm still here. Still excited. Still learning. Starting something risky is scary, no matter what the project is.
But the antidote to fear isn't certainty—it's action. You don't need to know if you'll succeed before you start. You just need to test whether you want to keep going after you've actually tried. I'm 19 videos away from completing my 20-video experiment.
And honestly? I already know what my answer will be.