Lately, I’ve been spending more time outside. Not in any elaborate, planned way. Just… one chair pulled into the sun. A journal in my lap. No setup, no expectation.

And I keep thinking:
I didn’t know how much I needed the sky until I started looking up again.

There’s something about this time of year—early spring, when the air is still unpredictable and everything feels halfway between seasons—that makes my own in-between feel less lonely. The trail near my house is slowly coming alive, piece by piece. Buds hesitating, blossoms testing the air. The ground still soft from snowmelt.

It feels familiar.
It feels like me.

There’s a blue mason jar on my desk, filled with pastel slips of paper—mint green, blush pink, soft blue.

Each one holds a quiet invitation.
A small rebellion.
A reason to step outside the loop of “work, errands, survive, repeat” and back into my life.

They’re not tasks.
They’re not productivity hacks.
They’re side quests—tiny adventures and soft nudges meant to pull me closer to joy, curiosity, and the kind of life I’m trying to build on purpose.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been on the receiving end of raised eyebrows and pointed questions when I’ve shared my decision to remain childfree. The reactions have run the gamut from genuine curiosity to open disapproval, often peppered with a common refrain: “You’ll regret this one day. You’ll change your mind.” Despite society’s persistent doubts, I stand firm in my belief that I won’t regret being childfree. For many childfree women, this conviction is deeply rooted in our understanding of our lives, needs, and aspirations—an unwavering faith in our own instincts.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been on the receiving end of raised eyebrows and pointed questions when I’ve shared my decision to remain childfree. The reactions have run the gamut from genuine curiosity to open disapproval, often peppered with a common refrain: “You’ll regret this one day. You’ll change your mind.” Despite society’s persistent doubts, I stand firm in my belief that I won’t regret being childfree. For many childfree women, this conviction is deeply rooted in our understanding of our lives, needs, and aspirations—an unwavering faith in our own instincts.

When I first started My Best-ish Life, it wasn’t meant to be a movement. It was a quiet space, a reflection of where I was—trying to figure out how to live a life that felt good enough in a world that constantly demands more. It was about rejecting perfection, about making peace with the messiness of self-growth, about finding joy in the almost.

I started this as a 30-day personal rebrand experiment—a quiet, private check-in with myself. No big declarations. No public updates. Just a way to recalibrate as I stepped into a season of massive life changes.

I used to think stepping into my rebrand would be some big, dramatic shift—some obvious transformation where one day, everything clicked. But the truth is, it’s already happening. It’s happening in the way I move, the way I think, the way I show up for myself in ways both quiet and undeniable.

This isn’t just a rebrand—it’s a reclamation. A return to the woman I was always meant to be. And becoming her isn’t about waiting. It’s about choosing—every day, in big ways and small, to live unbound.

At the start of this year, I set out to build a life that feels like mine—one that is steady, fulfilling, and aligned with who I truly am. A life where I don’t just exist, but thrive. Where joy isn’t something I chase, but something I live.

If I could see my future self right now, the woman who has fully stepped into her power, her autonomy, her untamed life—she wouldn’t be waiting. She wouldn’t be holding back, questioning every step, wondering if she’s ready.

Stepping into my rebrand isn’t about waiting for some grand transformation. It’s about the daily rebellions—the small, intentional acts that remind me, every single day, that I am living life on my own terms.

There was a time when I thought freedom meant learning to live inside the life I was given—adapting, making the best of things, shrinking myself to fit. I softened my edges, quieted my voice, made myself small so I wouldn’t take up too much space.

A personal rebrand isn’t just about changing how the world sees me—it’s about changing how I see myself. It’s about stepping into the identity I’ve been circling for years, the one I’ve always known was mine but was too hesitant, too exhausted, or too conditioned to claim fully.

For too long, I carried the weight of labels that were never mine to begin with.

I want to show up in the world as a woman who is rooted—in herself, in her power, in the life she is building. A woman who walks into a room and doesn’t shrink, doesn’t soften herself to make others comfortable, doesn’t hesitate to take up the space that is already hers.

Self-expression isn’t just about what I wear—it’s about how I show up in the world. I want my words, actions, and creative outlets to reflect who I am and what I value.

My core values have remained steady, but as I reimagine my future, some have deepened in importance. Authenticity, creativity, balance, community, inner harmony, and adventure still define who I am, but the way I embody them is evolving.

I want my home to feel like a sanctuary—a space that reflects my personal rebrand with warmth, depth, and intention. It should feel moody yet cozy, layered but uncluttered, creative but calming.

My ideal wardrobe is built around effortless, layered pieces that feel lived-in, expressive, and uniquely mine. Instead of a cluttered closet, I want a curated collection of staples that make me feel put-together without overthinking.

Right now, my wardrobe is halfway there. I’ve done a great job curating a collection of linen pants that feel effortless and aligned with my style, but I haven’t quite figured out tops yet. I want pieces that feel intentional but easy—structured yet comfortable—without feeling too plain or unfinished.