Doing it Again and Again
Uprooting or Perfecting?
Here we are—I’m redesigning my website… again.
It’s not the first time. And once I move past the initial resistance—the daunting mountain of work ahead—I have to admit that I enjoy the process. Revisiting what I’ve written over the years, looking at the images I’ve used, and deciding what to keep and what to let go of so I can best explain the transformative, unique, and intuitive process I use with my clients.
Even though I am the same person, I have changed over the past thirteen years that FabYOUlicious has existed, or even in just the past couple of years since my last website update. I’ve learned new tools and discovered new ways to approach different types of clients. On a personal level, I’ve become calmer, more content—less ecstatic. My demeanor has shifted from “fabulous limitless warrior” to “finding limitless fabulousness in every moment of life.” My work is less scripted and more intuitive, and I trust the insights that come to me more and more, no matter how strange they may seem. Maybe because experience has taught me to trust the process of transformation without judgment.
Still, I wonder—what is so different today that I feel compelled to spend hours every day, for a week or two, changing an already existing website?
A few days ago, while reading The Mountain Is You by Brianna Wiest, I came across the definition of uprooting as the process of changing again and again instead of perfecting what already exists.
In Chapter 3, uprooting is described as a form of self-sabotage for those who “do not allow themselves to blossom. Those who are only comfortable with the process of sprouting.”
At first, I fought against the way that description could apply to me. I love creating. There’s excitement in new beginnings, in exploring the unknown, in piecing together a vision. But then, the book described uprooting as a way to avoid stress or difficult situations. And I had to admit—that part felt true too. The past few months have challenged my business. Moving to France and getting married, as wonderful as it was, distracted me from the constant demands of entrepreneurship.
So what is this? A form of self-sabotage, or a way of clarifying my work?
To answer, I used my own tools—sensing how this project was making me feel.
Nervous. Excited. Hopeful. Self-judging. My chest felt tight, my stomach queasy. It didn’t take long to trace it back to my childhood—where uprooting was a constant.
From 5th grade through my senior year of high school, I was always the new kid. My parents had to move, and so I moved too. Every year, a new school, new classmates who would either become friends or bullies. It wasn’t easy. I was two years ahead of my peers, and I wanted to hide—but at 5’10” by the time I turned thirteen, that wasn’t exactly an option. I longed to belong, to be part of a group, but every time I invested in friendships, they were cut short by another move.
So I adapted. I became an expert at the first quarter—assessing my classmates, quickly bonding with the safest ones. I grew open to different teaching styles, learning to navigate change with ease.
So yes, it’s true—I thrive in the early stages of a project. I’m non-judgmental, curious, open, and creative. But am I as comfortable with long-term commitment? With perfecting something over and over again?
I think my experience with uprooting was both a gift and a challenge.
It taught me resilience, curiosity, compassion, and adaptability. It made me an empath, constantly adjusting to new environments and sensing how to navigate them in a short amount of time. It also showed me that letting go is not the end of the world—it’s simply a doorway to a new beginning.
On the other hand, I lack the persistence and tenacity I see in some of my fellow entrepreneurs. I’m not the best at pursuing leads or staying on brand. And yes—I do tend to reinvent the wheel one too many times.
Is my website redesign an act of uprooting or perfecting? Maybe it’s a little of both. But instead of seeing it as self-sabotage, I choose to see it as evolution. Growth isn’t always about staying the course—it’s also about refining, adapting, and sometimes, starting fresh. Since my life is no longer rooted in one place—we plan to continue traveling and exploring the world—it’s essential that my work adapts to a more nomadic way of life.
After all, my strength isn’t in staying rooted but in embracing change with intention. And if that means redesigning my website again and again, then maybe that’s just part of how I bloom.
