- PPF Points
- 2,100
What 12 Months of Consistency Did for Me — My Before & After (The Real, Messy Version)
A year ago? Man, I was fried. Like, my brain was actual toast. Not from pulling all-nighters or whatever—just from being SICK of my own nonsense. I’d start a new blog: abandoned after three posts. YouTube script? Sitting in the purgatory folder. Websites half-built, passwords lost to the void. I literally had a whole graveyard of “game-changing” tools I’d logged into twice.
If you’re expecting one of those magical origin stories where the clouds part, spoiler alert: didn’t happen. No lightning bolt, no grand epiphany. Just me, sitting at my laptop, tired of my own excuses, finally whispering: “Okay, let’s just keep showing up, even when it sucks.”
Here’s how that boring, unsexy commitment ended up nuking all my old patterns — and yeah, what I actually got out of it.
—
Rewind: Where My Starting Line Totally Sucked
Picture me, 12 months back:
Honestly, I thought success was like, one “breakout moment” away. Some viral post, some random retweet, and I’d be set. Spoiler: I got nothing. Every time there were crickets, I called it a wrap and moved on to something new. If you want a masterclass in how NOT to show up, past me was the poster child.
—
The Switch: Just Show Up (Even When It’s Ugly)
One day, I cracked. Not dramatically. I wasn’t crying on the kitchen floor. Just... kind of over my own crap.
So I made ONE rule:
Show up. Every. Single. Day.
Tiny actions counted. Bad days counted. “Didn’t feel like it and only wrote a paragraph” counted. No more “go viral,” “make 6 figures in 90 days” B.S.—just:
Was it fun? No. Did I daydream about quitting? Nonstop.
—
Months 1–3: Eat Dirt, Grow Roots
The first few months? Hoo boy. The worst. Felt like yelling into the void. My progress tracker barely moved.
What I did:
Results? Went from 300 -> 1,500 followers and snagged 200 emails by just not ghosting on my goals. Had people DM and say my stuff helped them. No “overnight success,” just a tiny trickle of strangers who cared.
—
Months 4–6: Holy Crap, My First $1K (…And a Dash of Confidence)
By month four-ish, something clicked. Some posts landed, some flopped, but I noticed patterns.
What I actually did:
And BOOM, $1,200 in a week. First time I made money NOT trading my time for it. Plus, people emailed me: “You just made my life easier.” Uhh, what? Felt unreal.
—
Months 7–9: Hitting the Wall (Almost Quit, Didn’t)
Seven months in, everything stalled. No growth, sales dried up, engagement flat. Felt like the universe was saying, “Go back to scrolling TikTok, loser.”
Instead? Doubled down on making better stuff, not just more stuff. Started cross-posting everywhere. Chatted with other creators (collabs, shoutouts, all that jazz).
The big lesson: it’s not that you don’t hit walls—it’s what you do when it feels like you’re running face-first into one.
—
Months 10–12: Everything Compounds (Finally!)
Suddenly it was like, all the boring work added up. Not “rocket to the moon” explosive, just… slow, steady, snowball vibes.
What changed?
1. Audience: 300 -> 10,000+. Not viral, just EARNED. People started tagging me as “that guy who makes digital stuff less confusing.”
2. Money: Went from $0 to $5K+ months with 3 offers ($29 kit, $79 workshop, $149 mini-course). Not fancy, but they sold. Every. Dang. Day.
3. Wildest stuff—opportunities started chasing ME: podcast invites, paid collabs, newsletter gigs. All ‘cuz I stuck around.
4. But here’s the gold: I stopped second-guessing myself every time I hit “post.” Confidence went from “ehh, maybe I should quit” to “yeah, I actually know what I’m talking about.”
—
So, that’s my incredibly unglamorous, non-Hollywood “before and after.” Consistency is boring. It’s eating dirt. But the compounding? Oh, it’s real. Show up, even when it sucks. The rest takes care of itself. Honest.
A year ago? Man, I was fried. Like, my brain was actual toast. Not from pulling all-nighters or whatever—just from being SICK of my own nonsense. I’d start a new blog: abandoned after three posts. YouTube script? Sitting in the purgatory folder. Websites half-built, passwords lost to the void. I literally had a whole graveyard of “game-changing” tools I’d logged into twice.
If you’re expecting one of those magical origin stories where the clouds part, spoiler alert: didn’t happen. No lightning bolt, no grand epiphany. Just me, sitting at my laptop, tired of my own excuses, finally whispering: “Okay, let’s just keep showing up, even when it sucks.”
Here’s how that boring, unsexy commitment ended up nuking all my old patterns — and yeah, what I actually got out of it.
—
Rewind: Where My Starting Line Totally Sucked
Picture me, 12 months back:
- Followers: Under 300. My dog has more on Insta.
- Email list: Zilch. Not even my mom signed up.
- Sales: LMAO.
- Money? Random freelance scraps if I got lucky, barely $800-1,000 (gross).
- Mindset: Scatter-brained, low-key scared of my shadow, allergic to “putting myself out there.”
- Habits: Addicted to buying online courses I’d never finish, posting once, and bailing when nada happened.
Honestly, I thought success was like, one “breakout moment” away. Some viral post, some random retweet, and I’d be set. Spoiler: I got nothing. Every time there were crickets, I called it a wrap and moved on to something new. If you want a masterclass in how NOT to show up, past me was the poster child.
—
The Switch: Just Show Up (Even When It’s Ugly)
One day, I cracked. Not dramatically. I wasn’t crying on the kitchen floor. Just... kind of over my own crap.
So I made ONE rule:
Show up. Every. Single. Day.
Tiny actions counted. Bad days counted. “Didn’t feel like it and only wrote a paragraph” counted. No more “go viral,” “make 6 figures in 90 days” B.S.—just:
- Write something, anything, daily (even if no one reads it).
- Post somewhere (even if it’s embarrassing).
- Help two people, not two thousand.
- Forget the numbers. Serve the humans.
Was it fun? No. Did I daydream about quitting? Nonstop.
—
Months 1–3: Eat Dirt, Grow Roots
The first few months? Hoo boy. The worst. Felt like yelling into the void. My progress tracker barely moved.
What I did:
- Picked Twitter as my main thing—fast, chaos energy felt right.
- Puked out a value tweet daily. Not viral threads. More like, “Hey, here’s a hack I learned.”
- Cooked up a scrappy lead magnet (free checklist) and made an email list, finally.
Results? Went from 300 -> 1,500 followers and snagged 200 emails by just not ghosting on my goals. Had people DM and say my stuff helped them. No “overnight success,” just a tiny trickle of strangers who cared.
—
Months 4–6: Holy Crap, My First $1K (…And a Dash of Confidence)
By month four-ish, something clicked. Some posts landed, some flopped, but I noticed patterns.
What I actually did:
- Stalked my own posts to see what people wanted.
- Built a scrappy $29 digital thing (template + mini-guide).
- Launched to my (still tiny) list and Twitter.
And BOOM, $1,200 in a week. First time I made money NOT trading my time for it. Plus, people emailed me: “You just made my life easier.” Uhh, what? Felt unreal.
- 3,500 followers
- 500 on the list
- And for the first time, I sounded like MYSELF instead of a knockoff of everyone else.
—
Months 7–9: Hitting the Wall (Almost Quit, Didn’t)
Seven months in, everything stalled. No growth, sales dried up, engagement flat. Felt like the universe was saying, “Go back to scrolling TikTok, loser.”
Instead? Doubled down on making better stuff, not just more stuff. Started cross-posting everywhere. Chatted with other creators (collabs, shoutouts, all that jazz).
- Sales climbed to $2K a month
- 7,000 followers
- 1,200 emails
The big lesson: it’s not that you don’t hit walls—it’s what you do when it feels like you’re running face-first into one.
—
Months 10–12: Everything Compounds (Finally!)
Suddenly it was like, all the boring work added up. Not “rocket to the moon” explosive, just… slow, steady, snowball vibes.
What changed?
1. Audience: 300 -> 10,000+. Not viral, just EARNED. People started tagging me as “that guy who makes digital stuff less confusing.”
2. Money: Went from $0 to $5K+ months with 3 offers ($29 kit, $79 workshop, $149 mini-course). Not fancy, but they sold. Every. Dang. Day.
3. Wildest stuff—opportunities started chasing ME: podcast invites, paid collabs, newsletter gigs. All ‘cuz I stuck around.
4. But here’s the gold: I stopped second-guessing myself every time I hit “post.” Confidence went from “ehh, maybe I should quit” to “yeah, I actually know what I’m talking about.”
—
So, that’s my incredibly unglamorous, non-Hollywood “before and after.” Consistency is boring. It’s eating dirt. But the compounding? Oh, it’s real. Show up, even when it sucks. The rest takes care of itself. Honest.
