Learning to Live without answers

Throwback to my childhood room. I was probably in 4th grade in this photo. Surrounded by Hello Kitty wallpaper, photo albums, books, and my ‘A’ journal, I was already dreaming big. Behind that giant monitor, I always felt like I was running the show, CEO of my own life before I even knew what that meant.

There are moments in life when someone’s words stick with you, not because they were profound, but because they were unnecessary.

A long time ago, I learned that this man, once told another woman to tell me: “you should really tell April as a friend that she shouldn’t tell people she wants to be an actress in a professional setting.”

What makes it even more strange is that he didn’t even tell me directly.

Here’s the part that frustrates me the most: I don’t even remember when, where, or how this supposed moment happened.

I’ve worked with clients, colleagues, partners, and even with strangers and I’ve always been professional. Sure, I’ve shared my passion for acting, it’s a part of who I am. But was it during a formal meeting? Over coffee after hours? Passing conversation at an event? I honestly have no clue. I don’t see myself randomly telling that I am pursuing acting without it being in the topic of conversation.

And that not knowing eats at you.

But here’s the thing my mom once told me, something I still carry with me. When I was younger and upset over a breakup, demanding to know “why,” she said: We may never get answers from people. We may never know why they did what they did or said what they said. This wont be the first time I wont get an explanation and if you live waiting on those answers, you’ll stay stuck. Sometimes we have to accept that closure doesn’t come from others, it comes from within.

So maybe I’ll never know why this coworker thought my dream was something to hide.

But I do know this: it says more about the limits of his imagination than mine.

Because here’s what I’ve learned, there will always be people who aren’t big dreamers, who want to keep you small, or who can’t see themselves daring greatly, so they don’t want you to either.

But that’s not my story. And it doesn’t have to be yours either.

I’m choosing to keep showing up. To live unapologetically. To stop waiting for permission to dream out loud.

Because the truth is, no one is thinking about you as much as you think they are, they’re too busy worrying about themselves.

So why waste time dimming your light?

I may never have the answer to “why.” But I do have the answer to “what’s next.”

And that’s to keep moving forward, boldly and unapologetically.

You’re Not Waiting - You’re Hiding

I found this photo from my 5th birthday party. I’m in a frilly dress, smiling without a care in the world. My uncle had asked me, “April, what do you want to be when you grow up?” And without hesitation, I said, “A girl.” I didn’t fully understand the weight of that answer at the time. I just knew I wanted to be seen, to be expressive, to be me. Looking back, I realize that even at 5 years old, I was already choosing authenticity over expectation. I wasn’t chasing a career or a title. I was chasing identity. And isn’t that what so many of us are still doing? Trying to remember who we were before the world told us who to be.

There’s a big difference between waiting for the right time and hiding behind the wrong fear.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about all the ways I’ve let fear especially the fear of judgment hold me back. From posting the video, to sharing the idea, to walking into the room like I belong there.

And what I’ve realized? It wasn’t the world holding me back. It was me.

Who Are You Really Afraid Of?

It’s not always “them” the strangers on the internet or the people from high school. Sometimes it’s you.
Your inner voice. The one that whispers:
What if it’s not good enough?
What if they don’t get it? What if I’m not ready?

But can I ask you something? Ready for what?

You’re not preparing. You’re procrastinating.
You’re not refining. You’re retreating.
And somewhere deep down, you know it.

Fear Loves to Feel in Control

Here’s what I’ve learned as someone who’s danced with doubt more times than I can count:

Fear is a liar with perfect timing.
It shows up right when you’re about to move. Right when something inside you says, go.

It tells you to wait…
...but it never tells you when to stop waiting.

So let me offer you a mindset shift:

You’ve already lived a version of life without taking the leap.
You already know what it’s like to play it safe.
You already know “no.”

So what happens if you just try?

You don’t need another pep talk.
You need a reminder:
You don’t need permission to take up space.
You don’t need a perfect plan to start.
You don’t need to be fearless to be free.

You just need to be honest about what’s holding you back.
Then decide today that you’re done hiding behind it.

What fear has been holding you back in disguise?
And how will you show up *in action* this week?

Born on a tuesday

My grandmother holding me on my birthday, April 26, 1994.

I was born on a Tuesday at 3:33 PM.

My grandma was the first person to hold me after my mother - and I swear her voice was the first soundtrack to my life.

I’ve always loved that detail. There’s something about Tuesdays. It’s not the start of the week, it’s not the weekend. It’s the in-between. The momentum. The quiet confidence. The reminder that you’re allowed to begin - even if it’s not the “perfect” time.

Maybe that’s why I’ve decided to post here every Tuesday - to claim the middle of the week as a rhythm, a ritual, a promise to myself that I’ll keep creating, keep showing up, and keep opening doors.

This week’s door? Launching my podcast, April In Action. It’s scary and exciting and weirdly grounding all at once.

But I keep thinking about that hospital photo - baby me, wrapped in a blanket, resting in my grandmother’s arms. I’ve always had someone believing in me, even when I couldn’t speak for myself.

So I’m showing up now. For her. For me. For the little girl who knew how to trust the rhythm of Tuesdays.

Thanks for reading, for cheering, for being part of this moment.

I hope you open a door for yourself today. Even just a crack. Even just in your mind.

You never know what might be waiting on the other side.

-April Nicole

Reclaiming My Creativity at 30: Starting Over Without Starting From Scratch

The last play my grandmother saw me perform. She passed away a couple months later on April 22, 2009.

There’s something that shifts when you enter your 30s. At least, it did for me.

It’s not just age, it’s clarity. It’s a new kind of confidence.

And for me, it was the moment I decided I wasn’t going to keep putting my passion on the back burner.

I’ve loved acting since I was 12 years old. Theatre was my escape, my outlet, my joy.

But somewhere between chasing degrees, working 9–5s, and showing up for everyone else, I forgot to show up for her.

The girl who lit up on stage. The one who dared to dream.

Life took me in another direction, one I don’t regret. I earned my Master of Science in Criminology and worked in investigative roles that tested my strength and heart.

But through it all, that creative spark never left. It was just waiting for me to say “I’m ready.”

Now, I’m here.

Creating. Acting. Writing.

Showing up for my own story.

But this story isn’t just mine.

I carry the spirit of my grandmother with me in everything I do.

She was a performer in her own right. A singer with a magnetic presence, who lit up rooms even if the only audience was a group of strangers. She didn’t have the platform, but she had the fire, and I feel like I inherited that same fire.

She passed away in 2009 when I was just 15, but her energy has never left me. In so many ways, I feel like I’m living the dream she never got the chance to chase fully.

Her voice, her boldness, her love for entertaining, those things live in me.

Honoring my own creative path feels like a tribute to hers.

She didn’t get to take her story as far as she wanted to, but I still can.

And that thought pushes me every time I feel like quitting.

This site aprilnicoleofficial.com isn’t just a website. It’s a commitment. To myself. To the little girl who believed. To the woman I’m still becoming.

So if you’re reading this and you’ve ever felt like you had to start over then here’s your reminder:

You’re not starting from scratch.

You’re starting from experience.

And you’re allowed to begin again.

For her. For me. For every dream that didn’t get the ending it deserved, this is just the beginning.

Let’s see where this goes.

-April Nicole