Big day tomorrow. My husband and I are collaborating on a video shoot for the first time.
Last year he came along to my annual photoshoot and captured some footage, but since it was not a dedicated video shoot, most of what we got felt too behind-the-scenes. He was in the background, doing his best with what we had. Tomorrow is different. Tomorrow is intentional.
The main goal is to finally replace the packing videos on my website. I shot those alone, in a friend's apartment, three or four years ago. Maybe four. They look exactly like what they are: a home video made by one person doing everything herself. I have always known they were not very good. But they were good enough for then. They conveyed the message, and at the time, that was enough.
There is something bittersweet about retiring them. Those videos were made by a version of me that had zero budge and no idea what she was doing. She just showed up with a camera and figured it out. I have a soft spot for her.
Tomorrow my husband takes over the biggest time drain in this business: the filming and editing that has been eating into every other part of my week. Handing that off should free me up to focus on the work that actually moves the needle. The thinking, the planning, the decisions that only I can make.
And that is where it gets interesting. And a little scary.
Letting go of control is one thing. I am so used to doing everything alone that handing off any part of this feels unnatural. But the harder thing, I am realizing, is what letting go actually requires of me. It is not just about trusting someone else with the camera. It is about stepping into a larger version of myself.
Someone once told me that growing into who you need to become is the hardest part of building something. Not the logistics, not the money, not the strategy. The identity shift. Because with every new version of yourself comes the grief for the one you are leaving behind.
For five years I have wrapped myself in a very specific story. I am a solopreneur with two toddlers and I am maxed out. This is the best I can do. And honestly? That story has served and comforted me. When I am exhausted, when I am overwhelmed, when everything feels like too much, that story is a warm baby blanket. It says: it is okay. You are doing enough. You are enough.
But lately, my feet are sticking out the bottom. The blanket still feels familiar, but it no longer keeps me as warm as it used to. The box I put myself into, though still comforting, is feeling quite small.
Tomorrow is the first day of trying something different. A shoot. A collaboration. A small step into a bigger version of what KAEIU could be.
I will let you know how it goes.
With love,
Maria
The original packing video. We are retiring her with love.