Dear journal, friends, and future friends reading this,

My jewelry and this community have picked me up more times than I can count. I will never be able to fully express my gratitude for the steadfast and unconditional love and support I have received through all my seasons. Genuinely, from the depths of my soul, thank you for being here. I hope I can light up your life in even a fraction of the way you have lit up mine.This is my first blog post, although I am not sure I would even call it that. It feels more like a journal. A safe space. A place to share intimate parts of myself, like this entry will do, but also a space to share lighter moments too. Upcoming travels, life antidotes, fashion, jewelry. An extension of myself, just as Set to Shine has always been.

This is the beginning of a space where I share my journey honestly, imperfectly, and in real time.

Once more, thank you for being here and taking the time to read.

Four Years Later and A Lifetime to Go

What is funny about this first entry is that I originally wrote it three years ago, trying to say the exact same things I am about to dive into now. Back then, I was one year fresh in my lessons and experiences, so eager to share what I had learned. But the truth is, I was not done going through what I have gone through now, and honestly, I still am not. What I have had since then is time. Time to sit with my lessons, to grow into them, and to see things from a more elevated perspective.

That feels worth sharing. Physically, I am in the same place I was back then. But mentally, emotionally, spiritually, I am a million miles ahead (with a billion miles still to go).

As you will learn while reading, you can experience so much growth and still look back on your life and feel like you have not grown at all. I know that I have developed so much. Both personally and professionally, I have learned a lot. I have become more vocal about what I believe in. My morals and values are more defined. I have healed spiritually and fortified myself mentally. And yet, I am still in my parents’ house, in my childhood bedroom.

What a strange feeling.

For a long time, this made me question myself. “Who am I to share what I have learned about mental health and life when, on the outside, my life looks the same as it did years ago?” Here is the answer I keep coming back to:

Growth does not always look like movement. Sometimes growth looks like staying still long enough to change everything inside of you.

When I look back at the girl I was four years ago, I do not feel embarrassment or frustration, I feel pride. I wish I could sit with her and tell her the things I know now. I wish I could reassure her that she was not failing, she was becoming. That is what I want to do here.

If I can help even one person get back up after falling down, that is enough for me. I will say, rather bluntly, I am not here to stop you from falling. With love, I truly believe we all need to live through our experiences and thus, our lessons. But I do want to be one of the people who reminds you that you are capable of getting back up and trying again.

I am here to remind you that your growth is success. Life did not unfold the way I planned. It unfolded the way I needed. And looking back now, I trust that.

At the core of this story is trust. Trusting yourself. Trusting your path. Trusting that even when you do not know what is coming next, you are capable of handling it.

If you have read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, you may understand this idea on a deeper level. Sometimes when we fall, we stay there because it feels familiar. But the things that happen are not happening to you. They are happening for you. (I strongly recommend reading The Alchemist if you haven’t already, it is life-changing)

Now, without further ado, after the longest epilogue ever, we go back to May 2023, as I first tried to write and reflect about May 2022. CHAPTER 1

Shit Hits the Fan It is May 2022. I am moving out of my shared apartment with my ex-boyfriend just shy of our five-year anniversary. I am not moving into a new, exciting place though, I am moving back into my parents’ house.

I remember packing my things and feeling like I was physically moving backwards in life. Every box felt heavier than it should have. I was embarrassed, disappointed, and scared, even though I tried to convince myself I was doing what I had to do. Walking back into my childhood home felt like admitting defeat, even though deep down I knew I was just trying to survive.

What happened?

I had quit my well-paying government job, the one my parents and I were so proud of me for securing right out of college, to pursue my dream of owning a jewelry business. That same business that was now the source of my stress, anxiety, doubt, fear, etc, etc; the list goes on.

For a while, I coped with all of these changes by trying to hold onto what was. Trying to control what was left of the past. Just trying to gain control of something, anything, because I felt that I had no control over the rest of my life. Holding onto the past, holding onto what I once knew, felt safe. What I did not realize then was that I was trapping myself in past memories and past versions of myself. I was holding onto what was familiar, and in doing so, I was stunting my own inevitable growth. The kind of growth that only comes after you are forced to face a new, unprecedented, and entirely unplanned reality.

Like so many people do, I looked back on past moments, my relationship, my business, my life in general, through rose colored glasses. I fixated on when things were better, or at least when they were not what they were in May 2022. I replayed conversations in my head, wondering what I could have said or done differently to prevent ending up in what felt like a post-apocalyptic version of my life. I was weighed down by disappointment and regret, unsure of where my life was heading because the plan I had so carefully and painstakingly built had completely fallen apart.

I stayed stuck in that cycle of reminiscing and regret for a while, which led me to find ways to cope, or rather, suppress these feelings, instead of facing everything head on. If I stopped numbing, I was afraid I would have to face the grief, the guilt, and the quiet fear that maybe I had ruined my life and did not know how to fix it. Or worse, the fear of not knowing what to do next. Honestly, I was exhausted. I did not feel ready to figure it all out yet. Figuring out your next step is, excuse my French, fucking hard when you already feel like you and everything you know is dying or already dead. Morbid, but true.

What I could not see then was that this kind of death is also a rebirth. The loss of everything I once knew was quietly creating space for transformation. A clean slate. Something I would later become deeply grateful for. But the good stuff comes later. Back then, I was still very much in the middle of it.

I picked up habits I knew were not healthy for me. I ate to forget about my problems, or at least while the food was in my mouth. I binged Netflix and ate until my stomach hurt. Numbing. I also smoked a lot to try to escape the pain, but it eventually just made me more anxious.

I stopped putting love and care into myself. I did not want to exercise. I did not want to do skincare (and if you know me, skincare is my religion, so things were bad. Very bad.) I felt like a shell of a person. I did not recognize myself in the mirror, and that scared me. I remember standing there longer than I wanted to, wondering how I had become someone who felt so disconnected from herself. That fear turned into anger toward myself, which led me right back into the same coping mechanisms, eating more, scrolling TikTok for hours, anything to avoid sitting with myself.

Naturally, this pattern caused me to disengage from my work, my friends, my family, and myself.

I was lost. I was depressed.

CHAPTER 2 Breaking the Cycle

To end a cycle, you have to make a hard decision.

It is ironic, because a cycle implies there is no end. That is exactly why choosing to end it is so difficult. It requires facing your shadows. It requires leaving the past in the past.

“You cannot drive forward while looking in the rearview mirror.” I forget who said that, probably Matthew McConaughey, but besides the point, it has always resonated with me.

What has happened has happened. You cannot change it, and you should not. Life ebbs and flows. People, places, and moments are allowed to come and go, no matter how much it hurts.

Admitting you want to end the cycle is the first step.

For me, that admission came quietly. There was no dramatic moment. I was just exhausted. Exhausted from repeating the same patterns, from hating myself for coping the only way I knew how, and from feeling like I was watching my life pass me by. I knew something had to change, even if I did not yet know how.

Here is what came next for me:

Acknowledgement.

CHAPTER 3

To Acknowledge is to Let Go

Acknowledge that the past is over. Truly over. You cannot change it no matter how hard you try.

Give yourself permission to feel. Really feel everything. The anger. The disappointment. The grief. Cry it out. Scream it out. Feel whatever you need to feel.

You are human. It is okay to have immense emotions about losing people, opportunities, experiences, and versions of your life you loved.

When you allow yourself to feel, like really feel, feel freely, you create space to let go. You feel so that you can release. You release so that you can move forward.

Ironically, this is one of the shortest passages, but do not let its length fool you. This step looks different for everyone. I cannot tell you how to do it, and I do not think anyone truly can. What I do know is this:

You have to acknowledge and make peace with the fact that you cannot change the past. You can only move forward.

And once you accept that, you are ready for what comes next.

CHAPTER 4

Radical Self-Acceptance

Give yourself credit for being where you are right now.

I am not perfect. I have made many mistakes. But I am proud of myself for taking steps toward growth. I was nowhere near where I wanted to be then, and honestly, I am still not. But I am proud of who I am. I am proud of my resilience. I am proud of how far I have come.

I am here. I am trying.

That matters more than I think.

There were days when the only thing I could do was get out of bed and show up. Instead of tearing myself apart for not doing more, I told myself that was enough for that day. That one shift changed everything. This perspective shift took growth out of punishment mode and made it feel possible.

This was one of the most important steps for me in my healing journey, because when you are rebuilding yourself, you are a sponge. The things you do, the way you speak to yourself, and the stories you repeat in your head matter deeply.

When you are down, negative self-talk comes easily. I know this because I was brutal to myself. “How could you be so stupid?”

“You wasted years of your life; I am so disappointed!”

“You look ugly today; I am so embarrassed!”

“You are letting yourself go: I am so ashamed!” … The list never seemed to end.

But here is the thing. Self-talk matters. You would never let your friend speak to themselves like that! If you friend were struggling and tearing themselves apart, you would stop them immediately. You would remind them of who they are. You would hold them, encourage them, and believe in them when they could not.

So why not give yourself the same grace and kindness?

Be your own best friend. Cheer yourself on. Tell yourself you love yourself. Give yourself credit, especially when it feels undeserved.

This shift is hard. I know it, and I still catch myself speaking negatively sometimes. But it takes intentionality. It takes pausing, looking at the situation, looking at yourself, and making a conscious choice to respond with self-love and patience instead of instinctual criticism.

Instead of immediately jumping to, “God, I am so stupid, why did I do that?” try shifting the language. Say, “that was not the best choice, but I am still learning. How can I fix this?” That small change moves the conversation from a personal attack to constructive reflection and action.

It is empowering to know you can remedy a mistake rather than punish yourself for it. One response helps you grow. The latter keeps you stuck and makes you smaller.

Over time, this practice rewires your subconscious. You begin to default to compassion instead of criticism. It is no different than training any other muscle in your body. You build strength through repetition. This is how positive thinking becomes muscle memory.

You control the voice in your head, why not make it a nice one? CHAPTER 5

Life Grows from You

The more loving you are toward yourself, the bigger your world becomes. At first, that love sparks excitement. A big goal appears. A shiny version of yourself suddenly feels possible. You feel motivated, inspired, hopeful for the first time in a while, and that feeling is so good.

But then the dopamine wears off.

You realize how far away that version of you feels, and suddenly everything feels overwhelming again. It feels easier to crawl back into bed, pull the covers over your head, and let life pass you by.

But here is the truth. Life will pass by anyway.

You can either watch it happen, or you can choose to participate in it.

That does not mean you need to change everything overnight. You do not need to do a complete 180 the moment you start feeling better. In fact, that usually leads to burnout. The life you are building does not come from doing more all at once. It begins from within, with the words you speak to yourself, and it unfolds gradually through small, intentional steps.

If you want a new job, say in marketing, you are not going to wake up tomorrow as a creative director at a major brand. But maybe you start by going to Ulta, buying something small for yourself, taking cute videos, editing them, and posting them online. Maybe you take a short class to learn a new skill. Maybe you do a fun photoshoot with a friend. Maybe you just scroll TikTok for ideas and try one on the weekend.

The point is, you start small.

You take steps that do not feel overwhelming. You choose things you know you can complete. You set yourself up for success.

Every time you complete a small task, you are teaching your brain something important. You are proving to yourself that you are capable of doing what you say you will do. That builds trust. That builds confidence. And before you know it, this turns into devotion to yourself. You start to get excited about showing up for yourself. You start being excited for and participating in small actions of devotion towards yourself.

This might look like going for a walk in the evening, cooking yourself a healthy meal, or catching up with a friend you have not seen in a while. These small actions, which are actually so big, begin to open doors. Eventually, you find yourself interested in taking a workout class, trying a new weekly hobby with a friend, or simply saying yes to something new.

You begin putting yourself in the way of opportunities and experiences instead of hiding from them. When you stay in bed, your world becomes smaller. When you show up, even in small ways, your world begins to expand.

Slowly, you start embracing the idea that anything can happen for you. And instead of that feeling being scary, it becomes exciting. Trusting yourself plays a huge role in this shift, and I will talk more about that soon.

You begin to feel proud watching yourself learn new skills, grow, and gently shed the version of yourself that no longer fits.

Give yourself credit as you take these steps.

Do the little things. Take the time to be proud of yourself. Tell yourself you love yourself. Tell yourself you are proud of yourself because yesterday you did not say yes to trying something new, and today you did.

And when you miss a day, do not get mad at yourself. Get curious. Ask why. Were you tired? Were you overwhelmed? Did you need rest? Sit with yourself and say, I will try again tomorrow.

Be patient. Be kind. Be loving.

You cannot hate yourself into a version of yourself that you love.

CHAPTER 6

Trust

This part ties everything together.

When I look back at the time I felt the most lost and depressed, I realize now that it was not just because I had lost a relationship, a job, or the life I thought I was building. It was because I had lost trust in myself. I did not have the words for it then. I could not name it. But as I was unpacking those boxes back into my childhood bedroom, I did not trust myself anymore.

I did not trust the version of me that had made the choices that led me there. I did not trust my ability to build something new. I did not trust myself to handle the overwhelming pressure of a complete life shift. The future felt bleak because I could not picture a version of myself who knew how to move forward. And without trust in yourself, everything feels heavier. Every decision feels paralyzing. Even hope feels unsafe.

What I did not realize at the time was that trust is not something you magically find again. It is something you rebuild. Slowly. Quietly. Through action.

The acts of self-love I spoke about earlier were not just about feeling better. They were about proving something to myself. Every small promise I kept became evidence. Evidence that I could rely on myself. Evidence that I could show up. Evidence that even when everything felt uncertain, I could still take care of myself in the ways that mattered.

Slowly building trust back with myself is how I found my way home. Back to myself. Back to my purpose.

The foundation of that rebuilding started with one simple truth. We cannot control what happened, but we can control how we respond to it. I could not undo the past. I could not change the choices I had already made. But I could choose how I spoke to myself, how I treated myself, and how I showed up for my life moving forward.

Trusting myself does not mean believing everything will be easy. It means believing I am strong enough to handle what comes next. I have been through hard things before and I survived them. I can and will do it again. I trust that. I trust me. 

I learned to reflect on the past to learn, not to punish myself. To practice self-compassion and forgiveness. To remind myself that I did the best I could with what I knew at the time. That shift alone softened something inside of me.

It is so incredibly important to note that life did not suddenly become easier. Problems did not disappear. There was no moment where everything clicked and stayed perfect. But there was evolution. There was growth. And there was a quiet confidence that came from meeting my problems head on and realizing I could survive them.

In 2022, I stopped my jewelry business. I was in financial debt. I still am. That is difficult to admit. But through consistency, humility, and some very hard lessons about money, I am actively working to fix that mistake and ensure I never repeat it. That is what growth looks like for me.

That same year, I needed stability, so I moved back in with my parents, I took a big pay cut and started working at a mental health office. Ironically, my mental health suffered more than ever. I was living at home, barely making it to payday, fighting with my parents, and my confidence was at an all-time low. I truly did not know what I was doing with my life.

What followed was not one big decision, but a series of small, exhausting attempts to figure things out. I tried things. Some worked. Some did not. None of it was linear. I would feel hopeful one week and completely defeated the next. I kept thinking I had reached acceptance, only to realize I still had more to process.

Eventually, the question was no longer “why did this happen?” but “what do I do next?” And even that answer kept changing.

I knew money was a big part of why I felt stuck. So, I gave myself a simple goal, not a forever plan, not a perfect vision, just something I could manage in that moment. Make more money.

I tried. I started bartending. I kept my passion for jewelry and art alive through in person markets. Some days it felt empowering. Other days it felt pointless. I was exhausted. Drained. Beat up. Losing hope. Everything felt like survival mode.

There were nights I sat in my car after work, completely drained, wondering how much longer I could keep going like this. I questioned every decision I had made. I questioned whether trusting myself had been a mistake. But even in those moments, I kept showing up the next day. And the day after that.

I am still learning. I am still trying. And it was that persistence, more than any single decision, that slowly started to change things.

What I did not realize at the time was that even in survival mode, I was building trust. Every shift I worked. Every bill I paid. Every day I chose not to give up became proof that I could rely on myself, that I could honor the promise I made to keep going and create something better. I was capable of handling more than I ever thought I could.

At the same time, I was learning something just as important. I did not have to do it alone.

I learned how to lean on people. I learned how powerful community is when you are at your lowest, and honestly, at your very best too, and all the moments in between. Community matters more than we realize. Sometimes it was as simple as a conversation, a text, or someone believing in me when I could not believe in myself. Those moments carried me further than I could carry myself.

And slowly, doors started opening.

Through my community, I got a job as an executive assistant. From there, I worked my way into marketing, and I fell in love with it. Through that role, I discovered a passion for editing and creative work, which unexpectedly reignited my creativity and eventually brought me back to jewelry in a way that feels healthier, more aligned, and more intentional.

What I understand now is that trust was not just about following passion. Trust was also about doing the things I did not want to do, and believing they still had a purpose.

Every job I worked, even the ones I hated, I was learning skills I did not know I needed. If I had not worked at that mental health office, I would not have met my psychiatrist that I use today and who has truly changed my life. I would not have gained the organizational skills that helped me land my executive assistant role that I am currently working at. Without this job, I would not have met my boss, an incredible business owner who has taught me so much and inspired me to pursue creativity, marketing, and ultimately my jewelry again.

None of it felt glamorous at the time. Most of it felt uncomfortable, frustrating, and far from where I thought I should be. But I trusted that if I kept showing up and doing what was good for me, even when I did not enjoy it, it would lead somewhere meaningful.

And it did.

I was unknowingly preparing myself to finally write this journal, four years later, with clarity, confidence, and a sense of peace I have not felt in a long time. For the first time in a while, I feel grounded in who I am and where I am going.

At the end of the day, it all came back to trust. Day by day, I trusted myself to take on whatever was in front of me. Sometimes that looked gentle. Choosing self-love. Spending time with friends. Reading. Crafting. Slowly finding my way back to creativity and passion. Letting joy back in without forcing it.

And sometimes trust looked hard.

It looked like doing things I did not want to do. Making money to pay my bills. Showing up to work when I was exhausted. Having uncomfortable conversations with other people and even harder ones with myself. Holding myself accountable. Choosing responsibility even when I felt unsure or afraid.

Trust became knowing that when I say I will do something, I follow through. That I can rely on myself. That I can handle discomfort without running from it. That even when I do not know what is coming next, I trust myself enough to know I will get through it.

I am still here. I am still trying.

And that means more than I ever realized.

CHAPTER 7

Still Living, Always Writing

If there is one thing I hope you take from all of this, it is this:

·      Growth can happen quietly, even when it looks like nothing is changing

·      Healing is not linear and does not always look like moving forward

·      Trusting yourself means continuing to choose yourself, even when the path is unclear

Sometimes growth, healing, and trusting yourself again looks like staying. Like rebuilding quietly. Like taking small steps when big ones feel impossible. Like choosing yourself on the days it would be easier not to.

I lost a lot. I lost plans. I lost versions of myself I thought I would become. And for a long time, I lost trust in myself. But through showing up in small ways, through doing the hard things and the gentle things, through learning to keep promises to myself, I found my way back.

Back to trust. Back to purpose. Back to myself.

If you are reading this and feel stuck, lost, or behind, please know that where you are right now is not a reflection of your worth or your potential. You are not broken. You are becoming. And every small step you take matters more than you realize.

Trust yourself enough to begin. Trust yourself enough to keep going. Even when the path is unclear. Even when the progress feels slow.

You are still here. You are still trying.

And that means everything.