I served for 26 years – then I finally chose myself – by Venetta J. Smithen

There wasn’t one loud moment that changed everything for me. It was quieter than that. Softer. A feeling that kept returning, again and again, until I could no longer ignore it.

After 26 years in the civil service in Saint Kitts and Nevis, I had built a life rooted in responsibility. I showed up. I did what was expected. I gave my time, my energy, my consistency. I was dependable. Structured. Committed. I was someone people could rely on.

But somewhere along the way, I began to feel like I had given so much of myself to my role that I hadn’t fully explored who I was outside of it.

And then one day, I asked myself a simple but life-altering question: If I don’t pursue my passion for writing and storytelling now, when will I? That question stayed with me.

It didn’t leave. It didn’t quiet down. It followed me in still moments, in reflection, in the spaces where I could finally hear myself think. And eventually, I realized something I could no longer ignore — I didn’t want to reach a point in my life where I had regrets about not trying.

That was my turning point.

Becoming More Than Who I Was

In my role as a civilian Local Intelligence Officer in the Royal Saint Christopher and Nevis Police Department, my identity was clear. I was responsible. Reliable. Grounded in stability. I knew who I was within that structure.

But choosing myself didn’t mean losing that identity — it meant expanding it. For the first time, I allowed myself to be creative. Expressive. Open to uncertainty. I went from being defined by my role to being defined by my purpose.

And that shift wasn’t easy.

It felt uncomfortable at first — like stepping into unfamiliar territory without a clear map. But at the same time, it felt freeing. I was no longer confined to who I had always been. I was becoming someone new.

Fear Still Showed Up — But So Did Courage

Of course, there were fears.

The biggest one was uncertainty — stepping away from something stable into something unknown. I questioned myself. I wondered if I was starting too late. If I had somehow missed my window.

But I came to understand something important: Growth does not come from staying where you are comfortable.

So, I leaned into faith. Into reflection. Into the quiet knowing that everything I had experienced up to that point had been preparing me for this next chapter.

Courage, for me, wasn’t the absence of fear. It was choosing to move forward anyway.

I Wasn’t Starting Over — I Was Starting From Experience

There’s a narrative that when you change direction later in life, you’re “starting from scratch.”

But I wasn’t.

My 26 years taught me discipline. Consistency. Commitment. They taught me how to show up, even when I didn’t feel like it. How to stay the course. How to build something over time.

And now, I carry those same qualities into my writing and my business.

This may be a different path, but I am not a different person.

I am bringing everything I’ve learned with me.

Caribbean Women, Strength, and Choosing Ourselves

As Caribbean women, we are raised to be strong.

We carry responsibility. We show up for others. We hold families, communities, and expectations together. There is a deep sense of duty and sacrifice woven into who we are. But in carrying so much, we often put ourselves last.

Choosing yourself can feel unfamiliar. Even uncomfortable. Because in many ways, it goes against what we’ve been taught.

But I’ve come to believe that there is strength not just in sacrifice — but in self-awareness. In growth. In allowing yourself to evolve.

We are allowed to become. We are allowed to choose ourselves too. And choosing yourself is not selfish — it is powerful. Because in doing so, you give others permission to do the same.

Writing Stories Where We See Ourselves

Today, I am the founder of Caribbean Scribbles Publishing — a space born from a desire to create stories that reflect us. I wanted Caribbean children to see themselves in books. To recognize their culture, their language, their everyday experiences.

Because growing up, those stories weren’t always available to us. And that absence matters. Representation matters.

The stories we tell our children shape how they see themselves. So my hope is simple, but deeply meaningful: that through my books, children feel seen, confident, and proud of who they are and where they come from.

It’s Not Too Late

If there is one thing I would want every woman reading this to know, it is this: It is not too late.

There is no set timeline for becoming who you are meant to be. Sometimes life requires you to move through certain seasons before you are ready for the next one.

But that feeling you have — that quiet pull toward something more?

That matters.

Don’t ignore it.

Even one small step is still a step toward choosing yourself. And sometimes, that is where everything begins.