Reclaiming my past selves.
I've been craving a slower, more personal way to share what’s going on in my creative life—something that feels truer to me than the noise of social media. My hope is that this monthly(ish?) note becomes a space where I can reflect, connect, and keep the people who care (hi, that’s you!) in the loop.
The shift from winter into spring has brought me back to my leafy porch—coffee in hand—watching seedlings grow in my veggie garden. Gardening is one of my simplest fulfilling pleasures: quiet and grounding. Lately, this “I love to garden” version of me has made me reflect on all the different selves I’ve been over the years.
There’s the version of me who swam every day and took yoga religiously. The piano performance competition winner. The Stanford grad. The young professional, determined to crack into tech. The aspiring cake baker. The lonely new mom. The street-art obsessive who idolized Fecal Face Gallery. All of them: me.
For a long time, I kept past versions of myself at arm’s length—sometimes subtly, as priorities shifted and life got more complicated. Other times, it was a full-on rejection, like when I left home for college and abruptly stopped playing piano (after practicing every morning of my life for…10 years?), as if to draw a line between who I was and who I was becoming. But lately, I’ve started to examine and question that distancing. What if growth in my mid-life comes from reclaiming those selves instead? Even the most cringe versions (or especially those)? To say: yes, I am her. I’ve always been her. I am a constellation of everything I’ve lived through. Those selves aren’t gone—they’re just waiting to be reclaimed.
This feels especially important because I believe growth as a creative is inseparable from growth as a person. And I can feel myself right in the thick of it. This year, I’ve made a quiet commitment to listen more closely to my own ideas, writing them all down without judgement. Some are silly, some are serious—but I’m starting to see patterns emerge about what I care about, what I notice, and what I want to make space for.
If nothing else, this blog (and accompanying newsletter) is part of that practice. A way to tune into my inner voice more clearly—and to share that voice with you, as it shapes what I create next.
