I remember sitting in my therapist’s office in January 2020, crying because I didn’t have a plan for the year.
No goals. No word of the year. No checklist. Just blank space.
And I felt so dumb for crying about it. I kept saying, “I know this is ridiculous,” but I couldn’t stop. Six months earlier I’d lost my job in corporate IT, and even though I was home with two kids and pregnant with my third, I still felt like I was supposed to be doing more. Like I was failing somehow because I didn’t have a clear vision for what was next.
I thought the tears were about not having a plan, but looking back, I think it was the first time I admitted to myself how lost I felt.
And here’s the part that matters to me: things didn’t magically get better.
My third son was born that July. The world shut down. Therapy moved online. But inside, I still felt heavy. Stuck. I stayed in that space for a long time. Way longer than I wanted to. It wasn’t quick, and it wasn’t clean.
I didn’t start making jewelry until March 2021. Below is the very first picture I've ever shared of my work.
There was no grand idea. No “this is going to be my business” moment. I was just looking for something small that would help me feel like myself again. Something quiet. Something creative. Something that didn’t ask for anything from me except to show up.
And somehow, playing with clay became that thing.
I wasn’t trying to build a brand. I was just trying to feel again.
But piece by piece, it started giving me more than I expected. Joy. A sense of direction. Little moments of purpose in the middle of motherhood and uncertainty. It helped me heal in ways I didn’t even know I needed.
So when I say this isn’t just jewelry, I mean it.
It’s what helped me get back up when I didn’t know which way was forward.
It’s what helped me feel creative again after months of just surviving.
It’s what reminded me I could still build something beautiful, even if I felt like a mess.
Starting over doesn’t have to be loud or dramatic. Sometimes it just looks like sitting in the discomfort a little longer than you thought you could. And then one day, trying something new.
And maybe that one small thing is what starts to carry you forward.