Life Transitions & The In-Between

The cold sea licks at my feet, and I ache with yearning—for a cottage by the sea, for salt air and harbor walks. But yearning is not absence; it’s an invitation to live the dream life in the figs already ripe before us.

My childhood bedroom is now my office. A wooden desk sits where a twin bed once was, cameras and computers where Barbies once lived. Some days it feels like my past self is still here, just out of reach. This essay is about memory, leaving and returning, and what it means to live beside her again.

I spent years living in the when-then cycle: When I get this, then I’ll be happy. When I reach that milestone, then my real life begins. I chased dream after dream, but every time I arrived, I’d already set my sights on the next. It took an unexpected pause to see the truth — the in-between isn’t a waiting room. It’s where the becoming happens.

I never met my great-grandmother, Concetta. But somehow, she keeps showing up—in my mirror, in my kitchen, and in the quiet rituals passed down through generations. This is a story about memory, family recipes, and the invisible ways we’re shaped by the women who came before us.

When crisis cracked my life open, I learned that friendship doesn’t always look how you expect. Some people fade. Some root deeper. This is a love letter to the ones who showed up and a reflection on how I’m learning to do the same.

Somewhere between 26 and 32, I started shrinking my desires, believing I was too old, too late, too much. But I’m learning that wanting isn’t dangerous—and naming what we want is its own quiet rebellion.

I used to think life was about getting to the next station. Now I’m learning that the real magic is in the ride itself—and that the in-between might just be where we finally feel at home.

On April 2, I was laid off from my six-figure job, and everything changed. Instead of rushing into the next chapter, I chose to slow down, start over, and document the journey.

What if boring wasn’t a sign you’re doing life wrong — but proof you’re finally coming home to yourself? A personal essay on romanticizing the mundane, reclaiming rest, and honoring the quieter seasons of becoming.

It’s been 57 days since I was laid off, and instead of sprinting toward the next chapter, I’ve been sitting in the quiet unknown. This post isn’t a list of takeaways or a tidy success story. It’s a reflection on what happens when life slows down without your permission—and the uncomfortable, beautiful lessons that surface when you finally stop trying to fix it all.

Burnout recovery, life after caregiving, and finding purpose after a layoff — this blog explores how one woman is rebuilding her life slowly and intentionally through tiny rebellions, cozy rituals, and creative rest. If you're navigating a life transition and craving slower mornings, softer ambition, and intentional living, this is your reminder that healing doesn’t have to be loud to be life-changing.

Come spend the first day of my new job with me. My company is located in the PNW, but I work east coast hours. I'll show you how I prep for the first day, set up my new work from home equipment, and more!

Traveling and moving about can be exhausting. Unsure of where or what to call home. I've learned that home isn’t a particular location. Home is people.

Back in October, I decided to head home. Sometimes life on the road has to come to an end, but it doesn't mean the adventure is over.