A glimpse of you.

I still cling to this idea that when I meet you, I won’t be able to scare you off. I won’t be too much. I won’t talk too much, or say the wrong thing. You won’t grow tired of me after too much time together too soon. And I won’t have to convince you of anything.

I still cling to the idea that when I meet you, I will know it’s something special. We will know it’s something special. We’ll share a feeling in our gut that things just might be different this time. Things just might work out finally, for once, forever.

I still think you’re out there. My person. My love. My everything. 

They say it’s a numbers game, and I feel in my heart that I’m inching closer and closer to finding you. I have to be, right? The odds have to be in my favor eventually, right?

I imagine that with you, I won’t need to play the games. I won’t need to second guess myself. I won’t need to worry about holding back.

But then again, I’m not the same person I once was. I’m no longer desperate for the attention and validation that I couldn’t do without before. I am happy.  I am whole. I am content. And I am so in love with this life that I’ve worked so hard to create. 

You’ll be a wonderful addition whenever you decide to show up, if you decide to show up. But for the first time, I don’t need your gaze and approval. For the first time, I don’t need your company. For the first time, I’m going to be more careful about who I let in, because I’m afraid of letting you destroy the peace that I have built for myself. 

But as much as I fear letting you hurt me, I am more fearful that I’ll build these walls up too high while I wait for you, and by the time you find me I’ll be unwilling to let anyone else in. I’m afraid of becoming so calloused and tired that I close myself off completely. Because I’m already weary. I’m already drained. I’ve barely dipped my toes back in and it might only take a few more mini heartbreaks before I stop trying altogether. 

So hurry up, because I’ve had enough of the fleeting moments. Enough of the intense yet short-lived emotions. I’m sick of hearing that I’m unlike anyone they’ve met before. I’ve gotten a glimpse at the other side a few too many times.

I’m ready for my person. I’m ready for a lasting love. I’m ready for a love that I can count on.

Puppy love.

The first time around, I was struck by his beauty. He was sleek, fashionable, and just a touch dark and edgy. He was full of personality, but at times overdid it. He had his moments where he made me so proud, but I never trusted him 100%. There were countless times he embarrassed me, increasingly so towards the end. 

He lashed out at my friends, and eventually my family, but it wasn’t until he did it to me that reality finally sank in. My priorities had changed, and he no longer proved himself worthy of being a priority in my life. He went on to someone new right away, and I immediately felt relief when it was over.

I was confident it was the best decision for both of us, but still, I felt some level of shame. I felt as though maybe I could have done more. Maybe I had expected too much of him? Maybe I had set the bar impossibly high? 

But still, I was happier without him, almost immediately. I barely missed him for a moment.

This time, you came into my life when I knew I wasn’t quite ready for you. 

Things were too unpredictable. My heart yearned for too much change, and I couldn’t be tied down to someone else, not yet. But from the moment I first held you, when I chose you, I was instantly smitten. 

I adore everything about you. You delight me in every way. We are kindred spirits. True friends. I feel a certain type of telepathy with you, a depth of communication that doesn’t require words. A complete understanding between us.

And with that, total trust. It is so refreshing, and so freeing. Because I know with certainty that this is the kind of love I will do anything for. No obstacle is too much as long as it means we can be together. You inspire me to do more. You breathe energy into my days that isn’t there when you’re not with me.

But not anymore. 

I realize now I didn’t have the right to love you the way I did.  I realize now I was foolish to let myself fall so hard when our future wasn’t certain. 

I knew there was someone else, but I forced myself to think they wouldn’t mind, that eventually they would let you go. It was too painful to imagine a future without you, so I chose to see things not as they are.

But of course they wouldn’t let you go. 

You are perfect in every way. Anyone who meets you instantly loves you, and not just because of your striking beauty or smarts. If you were mine, I would never let you go, so how cruel of me to ask someone else to do the same?

I know a love like this won’t be easy to find again. My heart already aches for you, with heavy sobs while you sit beside me. But I have no choice. You are not mine to love like this. 

I must let you go.

Editor’s Note: Thankfully this story ultimately had a happy ending and the imagined adventures have only just begun :’)

Here now.

It’s a strange phenomenon

I’ve been experiencing lately.

I often find myself looking back on my younger self,

And I smile.

At her naïveté. 

At her willingness to fall in love with strangers.

At her drunken bathroom best friendships.

At the way she danced the night away.

At the way she allowed herself to be lured in.

At the many, many heartbreaks she endured. 

I look back, and I smile, and I thank her. 

I thank her for the struggles she went through so that I can struggle less.

I thank her for learning the hard lessons when the grace of youth was on our side.

I thank her for being soft and forcing me to be strong.

I realize now that she was everything I needed to be in order to become who I want to be.

I look back with a special kind of clarity that only comes with hindsight.

And even though I’ve always believed it,

I really see now how everything truly happens for a reason.

I am grateful for every hurdle. 

Because in spite of it,

or more likely because of it,

I am here now.


It’s February 9th, 2021. It’s a Tuesday, it’s cold out, I’m still in pajamas and I’m slowly piecing my place together after a whirlwind weekend, blowing through like a tornado between shifts at the restaurant. 

I took an edible a while ago, and it’s definitely kicking in, so bear (bare?) with me. I’ve been trying to kick weed recently, and I have significantly cut back, but I also find weed to be the thing that pulls the creativity (& motivation to act on it) out of me. More on that another time.

It’s been a while since I’ve published anything, and about a month since I last wrote something. It’s so strange because in some ways it seems like I’ve wasted so much time, but I also feel like I’ve made a lot of progress internally. Despite not doing much of anything these past few months, it feels like I’ve been busy. I feel tired. Almost all the time. Inexplicably. Maybe it’s the cold? Maybe it’s my tiny studio apartment that really emphasizes the groundhog day feel of things? Maybe it’s seasonal depression? Maybe I am depressed? I feel fine, but as days go by, I feel like I fit the symptoms more and more.

Anyone else?

Do we collectively feel this in one way or another?

Does anyone else feel as though you’re doing what you can during these #unprecedentedtimes but also that you might be using it as an excuse to avoid doing anything at all?

I have explored countless ideas since last March. I have tried so many different things. I have pursued so many different avenues, and none have worked out. It forces me to ask the question… is it because those things weren’t meant to be? Maybe. Or is it because I didn’t try hard enough? Could I have done more to see those ideas through? I honestly don’t know. Maybe. 

But I know that I’m at a fork in the road. I need to start taking action now, or I’ll keep slipping down a path that I don’t want to go down. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had some great days and weeks over the last month or two. I actually feel better now than I have in a very long time. But since January I’ve felt a buzzing. An anticipation of something coming. A sense that we are on the cusp of something big. I am also finally feeling a sense of motivation and energy that I haven’t in months, and I want to build on this momentum. 

I don’t really know what’s next. I have a lot of different ideas. All of them a little out there. All of them a little scary. But all of them also way more exciting than anything I have going on currently, and I think that’s worth the risk.

I don’t know what’s next, but my gut tells me I won’t find it in Chicago. 

Just another night.

It was cold. It was rainy. It was 10:30pm. I still had 3 more long work days ahead of me. On any other night, I would have been more than content with a shower, a snack, and snuggling into bed with Netflix. 

But tonight was different.

Tonight we had plans. 

Plans we’d talked about all week. 

But they had changed. 

As I was walking into work, I received a text saying that I could take the night off – something we’d hoped would happen all week. 

My old self would have frantically texted or called you to see if we could make it work. I would have taken the night off with the hopes of seeing you. If you had decided you wanted to stick to our plan, our change of plans, that is, I would have been devastated and created a narrative in my mind of reasons you’re mad at me, or things I did wrong. I might have cried (#cringe). I would have spiraled out of control, emotionally. By the time I heard from you again I’d have a bad attitude out of (seemingly) nowhere. I might have seemed a little crazy. I might have been a little crazy.

But instead, I knew that there was likely a miscommunication at work. I knew one of my coworkers desperately wanted the night off so she could go to her friends birthday, so I offered to work for her. I saw that rush of adrenaline in her expression when she heard those most holy words “you’re cut.”

And so I worked outside on the patio all night, in the rain, in 50 degree weather. I didn’t make great money. But it was just another night, and despite feeling off, I chose to just move through the feelings and stay quiet. 

I was texting with a friend and she said “you should treat yourself tonight .” And I thought yes actually, I should. So I’m writing this from the car, about to shower and put on cozy clothes and eat burrata in bed. My ideal night, really. 

So it’s just another night. And I feel like that’s growth. 

A letter for Travis Tucker.

Travis Tucker. A name straight out of a country song.  We dated for a brief couple of months about 3 years ago. We met a few weeks after I broke up with my first and only serious boyfriend. I had been the one to end things, so I was excited to be single again and back on the dating scene, especially in MENver, Colorado. 

There were sparks from the moment we first exchanged messages on a dating app. Our first date is still one of the best I’ve ever had. I fell for him so hard and so fast that it scared me. He was everything I had ever wanted and exactly who I felt I didn’t deserve. Tall. Athletic. Smart. Compassionate. Adventurous. Sincere. And oh my god so funny. He made me laugh so much, and I was delighted any time I got a laugh out of him in return.

I admired Travis, and I respected him. Being around him made me want to be better. But I wasn’t ready to be better yet, and I think he knew that long before I did. But looking back on who I was then, and some of the conversations we had, I think he would be proud of who I’ve become. 

I’ve taken risks. I’ve learned a lot. I’ve tried new things. I’ve figured out what I like and what I don’t. What I’ll tolerate and what I won’t. I’ve worked hard, and it hasn’t always worked out. I’ve given myself time. I’ve given myself permission to not try so hard. I’ve grown more confident, and a little less apologetic. 

I remember when we broke up it was nearing his 30th birthday and I remember his frantic feelings of not having enough to show for himself, not measuring up to his Ivy League peers, of simply not being enough. I couldn’t understand how someone so perfect in my eyes could feel this way, but as I get closer to 30 myself, I have a better understanding of those feelings of anxiousness, and the dread of falling short of the status quo. 

I remember how crystal clear his vision was for the future, regardless of what anyone else thought. He didn’t have it all figured out, but he knew what would make him happy. I remember the frustration he felt while overcoming one obstacle after another, especially when no one seemed to understand where he was headed, including myself.

I was devastated after we broke up, even though it had only been a fleeting few months together. I felt as though I had lost something special, and it was because I was the one who didn’t measure up. Looking back, I still agree with both of those statements. I look back and see how I was a little too much, how I needed too much, and even as he tried to create space for both of us to breathe, I clung to him tighter. Once things ended all of the grief and sadness and anxiety of two monumental breakups sent me into a spiral, and ultimately that chaos led me to India, and everything changed. 

On the final day of a 10 day silent Vipassana meditation course, a day before starting my journey home, I felt compelled to reach out to him. I wanted to share with him the tremendous growth that I had just experienced, in the hopes that maybe the timing just hadn’t been right for us. But it didn’t take long to find out that he had followed his dream, and succeeded. And he found someone to follow that dream with him. Selfishly, I was sad for a moment. But mostly I felt proud and hopeful. I smiled, and put the phone down. Seventeen months later and life has more questions than ever, but I’m finally I’m starting to feel proud of me too. 

Thinking of you, Travis Tucker

Kind of love.

I want that “i can’t wait to see you” | “me either” kind of love.

I want the kind of love you never get tired of.

I want the kind of love that doesn’t tremble.

I want the kind of love that you never question.

I want the kind of love that makes everything else a little easier.

I want the simple kind of love. 

I want the “oh, you’re different than the others” kind of love.

I want the stealing-glances-across-the-grocery-store kind of love.

I want the squeeze-my-knee-under-the-table kind of love.

I want the kind of love where a simple expression is enough.

I want the kind of love that delights.

I want the kind of love where nothing else matters.

I can’t wait to meet you soon, love. 

Once upon a 500sq foot apartment I shared with my ex-boyfriend.

I loved this teeny tiny highly functional apartment that happened to be the first spaced I shared with a boyfriend. I was always impressed with our ability to collectively build and live in such a tiny space without it ever really feeling too small. Located in the West Highlands neighborhood in Denver, CO, circa 2013.

I took these photos for a submission to Apartment Therapy’s Small/Cool contest, but never submitted an entry. Thanks for not letting these photos go to waste, most treasured and loved readers.

Here’s to manifesting another perfectly petite space all my own ; )

Not for lack of trying.

I have been trying so hard.

  • Trying to accept my circumstances.
  • Trying to be grateful.
  • Trying to stay positive.
  • Trying to imagine a new life that excites me.
  • Trying to let go of the life that was ripped away from me.
  • Trying to do the right thing.
  • Trying to stay informed.
  • Trying to amplify the voices of others.
  • Trying to be a socially responsible citizen.
  • Trying to stay busy.
  • Trying to be responsible.
  • Trying to act my age.
  • Trying to do things differently.
  • Trying to get my life on track.
  • Trying to worry less about the opinions of others.
  • Trying to be less emotional.
  • Trying to be happy.

All that trying, and nothing seems to be working. 

  • I’ve cooked more.
  • I’ve picked up old hobbies like sewing, and new ones like painting.
  • I’ve gotten outside with the dogs more.
  • I’ve spent more time with family.
  • I’ve been working & saving.
  • I’ve pursued buying property.
  • I’ve looked into moving to LA.
  • I’ve tried to start a business.
  • I’ve joined a pyramid scheme.
  • I’ve been broken up with. 
  • I’ve gained weight.
  • I’ve lost weight.
  • I’ve felt moments of pure excitement.
  • I’ve experienced deep let downs.
  • I’ve done a lot, and yet here I am.
  • Right where I started. 
  • Feeling lonely and defeated.
  • Lost.

I think part of why I stopped writing is because I’ve been waiting to have it all together, to figure it all out. To have some big announcement. To have something to show for myself. But during the global insanity that has ensued over the past 5 months, all I’ve been able to figure out is how little I know, and how much more growth is in store.

I have no aha moment to share. I have no routine for quarantine success. I have no at-home workouts. No yoga flows. I have nothing to show for myself, despite trying so hard.

So here I am. Raw, uncertain, alone, but also fully aware of my privilege and the freedom it gives me. From today on, I’m going to do less. Say less. (Try to) think less.

I’m going to focus on what’s in front of me. I’m going to do my best to stay in the moment, while keeping my eyes wide open to the possibility of what’s to come. Because that’s all I have the bandwidth for. Every last bit of effort, drive, creativity, and perseverance has been depleted. Not forever, but for now, I’ve done what I can do.

Even if I don’t have much to show for myself (yet), I know that my efforts have not been wasted. I trust that God has a perfect plan for me, and it’s time to try a little less and listen a whole lot more.

EDIT: It’s been a few weeks since I wrote this piece, and I’ve really tried to apply this approach to all facets of life. Doing less. Lowering expectations. Embracing the now. Enjoying the journey on the way to an unknown destination. And I have good news for you. It’s working. Maybe I had my aha moment after all. Good luck friends : )