08/16/2026
When I was packing to leave the U.S., I stumbled upon an old journal and this entry I wrote at 26.
Reading it ten years later felt like proof of who I’ve always been and who I’m still becoming.
In the last decade I moved to New York for a pastry chef job. I quit without a backup plan. I cleaned houses. I became a lifestyle manager. I worked at Food Network. I freelanced. I rented out my apartment to make things work. I eventually started Blondery, built it into something bigger than I could have imagined, and then had to let it go.
I love to say I’ve “lived many lives,” but ultimately, I’ve only lived ✨my✨ life.
I spent the last ten years pushing, pulling, breaking, crumbling, rebuilding and swinging really big.
If I could hug 26-year-old me, I’d tell her: Your world is going to get so much bigger than you can imagine.
And then I’d thank her. For quitting. For trying. For risking. For starting over. For refusing to stay anywhere her spirit had already outgrown. For every decision that eventually carried me here.
At 36, I am confident that whenever my life is over, I will be able to say I did the things I wanted to do, said the things I wanted to say, went where I wanted to go, and lived the life I wanted to live.
My spirit has never really allowed me to do anything else 🤷🏾♀️
I’m deeply thankful for this life, for the people in it, and especially for this newfound freedom abroad.
Cheers to 36 and whatever the hell comes next. 🥂
And if you’d like to send a birthday drink my way, make it a Carajillo via the link in my bio. 🤎 And while you’re at it, order one for yourself. Trust me on this one. 😉
Portraits 📸 by Stars Die, Planets Shift
