If I’m lucky, my day begins at the barre — palms resting lightly on polished wood, toes wrapped tight, muscles slowly stretching awake to the rhythm of music that fills the studio. Ballet has always been a portal for me: a space where movement becomes both challenge and release, where every leap feels like a declaration of freedom. These days, I haven’t been able to attend classes regularly, but livestreaming from my living room (or, on sunny mornings, from the balcony) has been its own kind of gift. Not what I imagined, but surprisingly healing.
When I’m not moving, I write. Writing is where I untangle emotions and air out the thoughts that weigh me down. It’s become my way of coping with all the uncertainty surrounding us — a way to breathe a little easier. And thanks to my continued collaboration with Brahmin this season, I have the space to share these reflections more openly. That’s a gift in itself.
On days when I’m staring at a blank page, I start small: a question. “How am I feeling today?” Or, “What’s one thing I need to work on right now?” By the end, I feel lighter, as though I’ve confided in a trusted friend. Sometimes I even flip through old journals, and the rush of nostalgia — and perspective — is its own therapy. Past heartbreaks, failed attempts, victories I once overlooked…it all reminds me how far I’ve come.
So today I ask myself a bigger question: What makes me feel most alive?
Love, First and Always
I feel most alive when I’m in love. My favorite memory? The first kiss with my fiancé. I remember leaning against his car, pretending to be cool while my heart practically tumbled out of my chest. And then — suddenly, gently, and with a passion that made time dissolve — he kissed me. My purse dropped to the pavement, my nerves melted, and my entire world shifted. Later that night I called Jen, my best friend here in Florida, and she knew instantly: I had fallen hard, and there was no turning back.
Love, in its purest form, has a way of grounding me while lifting me sky-high. It’s messy, thrilling, sometimes unpredictable, but always alive.
The Power of Obstacles
If my journals tell one story, it’s that obstacles have shaped me as much as joy. From the time I was told I’d never be a dancer — and danced anyway — to the boss who dismissed me as a terrible writer, only for me to find my voice through blogging. I remember the Vogue stylist who once told me, in front of a crowded crew, that I had “a great eye.” I’ll never forget Jen urging me to finally leave the wrong relationship, reminding me that sometimes survival is the bravest success.
Feeling alive isn’t just about the easy, sparkling moments. It’s also about the hurdles, the doubts, the late-night tears followed by mornings where you start again. Obstacles, as exhausting as they can be, are proof of life in motion.
Fashion, My Forever Fuel
If ballet is my first love, fashion is my lifelong companion. My closet has always been more than a collection of clothes; it’s a sanctuary. When I first moved into a 350-square-foot studio, flat broke, I’d sometimes choose a fashion magazine over groceries — not out of vanity, but because it gave me hope.
I remember during Hurricane Matthew, after receiving a breakup text that shattered me, I curled up in my closet, pressed against my handbags, and cried. That same closet later became a stage for late-night styling sessions, glass of wine perched nearby, music pulsing as I pieced together outfits until midnight. In those moments, surrounded by textures, colors, and memories, I feel electricity running through me. Fashion, as frivolous as some may think, keeps my spirit alive.
Choosing Hope
Uncertainty lingers everywhere right now. Some days I wake up strong and steady. Other days I’m anxious, caught in the spiral of “too much, too fast.” But revisiting what makes me feel most alive has reminded me that hope can be stitched into even the most fragile of days.
Carrie Bradshaw once said, “Maybe the best any of us can do is not quit, play the hand we’ve been given, and accessorize the outfit we got.” I hold onto that. Life may not be unfolding as I planned, but it’s still happening — in love, in resilience, in the quiet joy of pairing a handbag with the right dress.
So I’ll continue to dance in my living room, write in my journals, and lean into love and fashion, because they keep me grounded, inspired, and alive.
Now, I’ll turn the question to you: What makes you feel most alive?
Because answering it — even just for yourself — might just be the reminder you need that, despite everything, life is still here, waiting to be fully lived.