My fiancé is asleep on the small full-sized bed in my living-room-turned-bedroom while I sit nearby, typing away and sorting through old photos. For those who don’t know, we don’t live together—at least not yet. It’s not that we don’t want to, but rather because life has us working in two different cities. He spends his weekdays in downtown Miami, while I’m an hour north in West Palm Beach, where my apartment also doubles as my office. For three years, we’ve been navigating a sort of “semi–long distance” rhythm, catching up on long weekends and holidays whenever possible.
That all shifted last Friday. Like so many others, his office sent employees home to work remotely, which meant—for the first time—we would actually share the same space, full-time, for however long this season lasts. Suddenly, our half-distance relationship turned into an unexpected trial run of living together.
Earlier this week, during one of his video calls, a coworker asked if he had a pink kitchen. He looked around, confused, before realizing the backdrop of his call included my walls, botanical prints, and, yes, my very pink kitchen. He laughed and explained that he was temporarily working out of my place. That moment set the tone for much of this past week: little pockets of humor tucked in between the stress, reminding us to find joy in small, ordinary things.
In between his meetings and my writing deadlines, we’ve been cooking meals together (on a Wednesday, which still feels novel), taking evening walks and waving at neighbors from a safe distance, and sitting up late with glasses of wine, sharing hopes and worries. Some nights we joke and laugh until our cheeks hurt; other nights I find myself opening up about fears of uncertainty, and he admits he feels the same. Both of our families are feeling the weight of this global moment, and like so many others, our plans—trips, work opportunities, even wedding to-do’s—are on hold. It’s a strange mixture of fear and gratitude, but in that tension, we’re learning a lot.
And today marks something special for me: my blog’s six-year anniversary.
It feels almost surreal to look back on the beginning. I nearly didn’t start this journey at all. I was terrified of being vulnerable, worried what people might think, especially without a formal background in fashion. At the time, I was heartbroken from losing my career as a professional ballerina, stuck in a PR job that left me unfulfilled, and paralyzed by fear of change. But deep down, I knew that unless I took a leap into the unknown, nothing in my life would improve.
Starting the blog was my way of betting on myself. And six years later, here we are.
Oddly enough, the same emotions I felt back then—uncertainty, fear, self-doubt—have resurfaced in light of everything happening now. But just as that season taught me, these are often the moments when growth begins. Times of disruption invite reinvention. When the familiar falls away, necessity pushes us to adapt, to create, and to rediscover what truly matters.
Looking back over six years of building this space, I see how much courage, resilience, and faith it has required. Not every season has been easy, but each challenge has pushed me to evolve in ways I never imagined. Today, as I sit in my small apartment with the man I love and a future still full of question marks, I find myself leaning into those same lessons: to stay hopeful, to embrace reinvention, and to keep moving forward even when the path feels uncertain.
I’ve started cherishing the slower moments more deeply: pausing to admire the spring blooms around my neighborhood, curling up with new books, or simply enjoying the comfort of this little apartment. At the same time, I’m stretching myself to think differently about my work, to stay flexible with my blog, and to dream about what the next chapter might look like.
When I first began writing my “Life As I Know It” series—a sort of personal letter from me to you—I never anticipated how much it would capture the changes in my life month after month, year after year. Some entries make me laugh, others bring me to tears, but together they tell a story of growth I never want to forget. They remind me that even when life feels uncertain, the future holds more than we can imagine.
I once had a friend tell me they couldn’t wait to have coffee with me in ten years. I think about that often, especially in times like this. It’s a reminder that even when the present feels heavy, there’s a future worth leaning into, one full of promise and transformation.
So here’s what I know now: the past six years have taught me to face fear with courage, to embrace reinvention when life demands it, and to believe that something beautiful always comes from the unknown. And today, I want to encourage you to do the same. Whatever doubts you’re facing, whatever fears are weighing you down—push through them. Keep evolving. Keep reaching for the things that make your heart come alive.
Because even in seasons of uncertainty, we can choose growth. And even from the quiet of our homes, we can dream.
From the bottom of my heart—thank you for being here. Your presence, your support, and your encouragement mean more than I can ever say. Without this community, I wouldn’t be who I am today. For that, I’m endlessly grateful.
