My Actual “Someday” List

January 27, 2026

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keyboard of piano in close up photography — Photo by Allan Carvalho on Pexels.com

Here it is. The real one. The things I’ve been “meaning to do”:

The keyboard I bought three years ago. Sitting beside my desk. I was going to learn during summer break. Then next summer. Then the summer after that.

The sketchbook set from 2021. Unopened. I saw someone’s creative drawings on Instagram and thought, “I could do that.” Turns out, I was better at buying supplies than opening them.

The stack of “must-read” books on my shelf. Some have been there since 2019. I carefully selected each one. Then carefully avoided reading them.

The jewelry-making kit from the craft store’s closing sale. Wire, beads, tools—everything I needed to make something beautiful with my hands. Still in the bag.

The camera I upgraded to three years ago, so I could “take better pictures,” I’ve taken exactly twelve photos with it. My phone has thousands.

The journal I bought to document my thoughts during my last year of teaching. I wrote in it twice. Only two days. Then it sat on my desk, blank pages waiting.

The frames I was going to fill with photos I took. Images that bring me so much joy. They’re under the bed in the guest room.

Supplies for about seventeen different projects. Yarn. Paper. Paints. Wood. All bought with such good intentions.

Looking at this list used to make me feel guilty.

Now I’m starting to see it differently.

“Why We Stay in ‘Someday’”

I’ve been thinking about why some of these items have been on my list for years.

The keyboard: I was afraid I’d be terrible at it. As long as I didn’t set it up, I could still imagine myself playing beautifully. Opening it meant confronting reality: I’d be bad. Really bad. For a long time.

The sketch kit: Same fear, different medium. Unopened, it represented possibility. Used, it would represent my actual (terrible) skill level.

The books: Some felt like work. Others felt like commitment. What if I start and don’t like it? What if I start and can’t finish? Better not to start.

The jewelry kit: What if I make something ugly? What if my hands aren’t steady enough? What if I spend hours and create something no one would want to wear—including me?

The camera: Overwhelmed by all the settings. What if I never learn to use it properly? What if my “serious” photos look worse than my phone snapshots? Easier to leave it in the bag.

The journal: Afraid I’d miss days. Afraid my journey wouldn’t be profound enough to document. Afraid of proof that I wasn’t making the difference I had intended.

Every “someday” had a fear attached.

And as long as I kept them as “someday,” I never had to face those fears.

colorful beads in plastic box — Photo by Suki Lee on Pexels.com

Your Turn

This week, pick ONE thing from your someday list.

Not the biggest one. Not the most ambitious one.

The one that still makes you feel a little spark when you think about it.

And continue what you started when you first said “yes” to it.

Open the supplies. Read one page of the book. Plant one seed. Write one sentence.

You don’t have to be good. You just have to continue.

Tell me: What’s ONE thing on your someday list? What intention are you ready to honor?

Share your someday item below—I want to cheer you on.

THE REAL LIFE
Build On Yesterday. Start With Today.

● About the Blog

person stands on brown pathway — Photo by Tobi on Pexels.com

Hello, I’m Sherry.

I’m 56, sitting in nursing school classes with people half my age, continuing the healthcare journey I started 36 years ago.

At 20, I joined the Air Force to become a medic—to pay for college, gain healthcare experience, and find out if I would faint at the sight of blood.

I didn’t.

I learned I didn’t panic under pressure. I discovered I could do hard things. But when I left the military, I didn’t have the confidence or knowledge to navigate the path to medical school. So I pivoted. I started teaching science. Spent nearly 28 years in education—teaching middle schoolers, eventually becoming a principal, always wondering if I’d taken the wrong path.

For most of those years, I thought I’d failed. That I’d given up on my real dream to settle for something more accessible.

Then, at 56, I went back to nursing school.

And I finally understood: I hadn’t given up. I’d been preparing.

The Air Force taught me composure under pressure.
Teaching showed me how people learn and grow.
Working with struggling students taught me patience and that everyone’s timeline is different.
Being a principal taught me leadership and systems thinking.
Starting Little Pine Life—my Etsy shop- proved I still had the courage to try something new.

Every step—even the ones that felt like failures or detours—led me here.

The Real Life is where I share what I’m learning:

Non-linear paths aren’t wrong paths—they’re preparation.

“Wasted” years often turn out to be exactly what you needed.

It’s never too late to continue what you started, even if it’s been decades.

You can live life as it comes, be real about struggles and setbacks, and still be happy, (because that is the real life, not the imagined one) trusting it will all bring you where you’re supposed to be.

This blog is for you if you think you’ve spent too many years on the “wrong” path.

If you’re a recovering planner or permission seeker who judges yourself for taking detours.

If you believe it’s too late because you “should have done this years ago.”

It’s not too late. You’ve been preparing your whole life.

I’m documenting the messy, honest journey of building on everything I’ve already learned—the small switches that save mental energy, the courage it takes to show up imperfectly, the joy of finally continuing instead of constantly restarting.

If you’re ready to stop judging your path and start building on it—messy, non-linear, real—you’re in the right place.

Build on yesterday. Start with today.

Let’s continue together.

Want to follow along? Join the email list for weekly posts about continuing your path—imperfectly, courageously, honestly.