Let me tell you a short little story about my life (assuming you’re interested…),
I’ll take that as a yes! I think we all like to believe everyone is interested in our lives anyway, who am I to pretend otherwise?
Let’s begin…
*serene nostalgic music plays*
I grew up surrounded by warm, enveloping sunshine and tall grass — amongst palm trees, ocean spray, and the aromatic euphoria that accompanies lightly sweetened cuban coffee. My mother was my confidante, my father: my comedian. My sister: my role model, and my grandmother: my angel. Together we formed a fabulous clan. I never once felt unable to conquer the world with them by my side. I was given an excellent education, a lot of love, and the space to be a dreamer. Growing up was all-together a lovely experience. Most likely to be the loveliest of my life.
There was something missing though — there always is, right? We crave perfection so incessantly that we have to re-train ourselves halfway through our twenties just to understand how to be grateful for what we already have…sometimes what we’ve always had. So naturally, humanly…I always craved just a little bit more. I saw myself somewhere far, far away, where my primary company would be the clouds I used to try to climb towards from where I lay on the earth below in that tall, tall grass.
I grew up (kind of). Moved away for college. I missed my family — hard, but I learned a lot. About myself. About others. About differences in culture. You see, when you take that step outside of your bubble — away from the people who love you most in the world and have carried you on a cozy, velvet cushion through every door you’ve entered, you begin noticing all those small (formerly irrelevant) details your selfish little teenage-self took for granted. Being forced to do everything on your own from one second to the next really opens your eyes; it creates some magical and much needed space in your heart & mind for much much more love, appreciation, and humility — it doesn’t pay as much attention to those pesky selfish thoughts that demand our attentions. I’m very grateful for that fleeting moment in my life that were my college years. It taught me how to grow up, but most importantly, it taught me what really mattered at the end of the day — para mi, that was most definitely The Fam.
College came and went, but I still yearned for independence. As much as I had a newfound appreciation for those ride-or-die people I am lucky enough to call my familial squad, I felt in my heart there was much more growing up needing to be done on my part. And I had to do it alone. I’m an Aquarius, what can I say? I had no clue what I desired from life, what I was interested in, and the mere thought of having to answer either of these questions to anyone asking clouded my mind with panic.
Sooo, naturally, I went on a trip. A decently long trip. To a bunch of ethereal, culturally inundated places where the people were pleasant and the food was transcendent. I tried to clear my head, “figure myself out,” get myself together, etc., etc. I integrated myself into their ways of life, nourished the friendship of locals to get private tips & tours, and drank a fair amount of quality wine. Amidst all my most diligent efforts…I did not get myself together. Shocking! Not really, though…who figures life out on one trip? The answer? No one. Now, that’s not to say I dismissed the epiphanies I did have about myself…you learn so much about “you” and “your respective place and role on this earth” while traveling, but I quite obviously still had no idea what truly made my soul sing. What I did come to understand, however, was that I needed some more time on my own, that I was enamored! infatuated! completely enthralled! with Europe, and that I did not, under ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, want a boring job. Sooo, naturally (once again), I found a Fashion Stylist internship (yeah, apparently that was a thing) in New York City (where I had visited once), packed my little red suitcase, and bid adieu to that familiar warm, enveloping sunshine and tall grass — to palm trees, ocean spray, and the aromatic euphoria that accompanies lightly sweetened cuban coffee…