It feels like I was just turning 30 in Hawaii wearing a palm printed romper, bright lipstick and a gold statement necklace- determined to feel excited about the future. I was going through a breakup at the time, and the stress (plus the heat) triggered a shingles breakout.

In a few days, I’ll turn 40 in Cabo with the same best friends. This time in a floral dress but with no big expectations. Just a clear heart and gratitude for health, love and all that’s stayed and changed.

Big birthdays have a way of offering perspective. They ask us to zoom out and notice the invisible thread that’s been weaving it all together. For me, the story of my 30s is one around learning how to trust both massive expansion and crushing disappointment.

If you’re reflecting on a big life chapter, maybe this will meet you in the right place.

THE HIGH HOPES ERA

When I turned 30, someone gave me a book on the Enneagram, and I read it on the flight to Hawaii. Without knowing it, that moment planted a seed for a whole new chapter. It was the beginning of my personal development journey and something I now teach in my work with clients.

At the time, I mis-typed myself as a 7—The Enthusiast. A lover of adventure, excitement, and focusing on the positive. It fit the person I thought I had to be- someone who could make everything look fine. In hindsight, that was my ego’s voice: upbeat, ambitious and full of dreams. She meant well, and her optimism carried me through a lot.

But underneath, I was heartbroken. I’d just ended a relationship with someone I lived with, someone I thought I’d marry. That loss cracked me open. I’d never cried so much in my life. But I didn’t yet know how to hold that kind of grief.

So I did what I knew, I stayed in motion. I woke up early to watch the sunrises, put flowers in my hair, danced the nights away and smiled big in every photo like I had it all figured out.

Maybe you’ve been there, too—bright on the outside, unraveling quietly underneath.

Everyone says your 30s are for finding yourself, following your passions and taking risks. And for me, that was true- and I wouldn’t change a thing.

I poured myself into the business I started in my 20s: built around sparking joy, individuality and beauty with one-of-a-kind vintage pieces.

I borrowed money. Took on a business partner. Opened two brick and mortar stores. Expanded into apparel and luxury vintage. Hired a team. Traveled the country on buying trips. Went to Paris for fun. Grew the business to 7 figures. Oh, and I fell in love again (and then again) too.

The real gem of those years? My business partner. She moved with such presence. Being around her helped me feel what I didn’t know I was missing: a life that wasn’t built around the next thing, but anchored in a devotion to the now.

But that clarity didn’t fully root until life asked me to let go of what I’d been holding onto.

THE COLLAPSE + AWAKENING ERA

Sometimes, you give something everything — your heart, your hope, your effort — and it still ends. What once felt like the dream, or the one, eventually reveals itself not as a final destination, but as a sacred assignment. A necessary chapter in your becoming- because only in contrast can we recognize what’s real.

The business closed when I was 36. It was the turning point of the decade.

I lost my sense of purpose. My spark dimmed. I went through bankruptcy. Faced health issues. There was no stopping the crumbling, the only option was to surrender.

With the help of a naturopath, a therapist and a somatic bodyworker I started learning how to be more kind to myself. Slowly, I began to build a life more aligned with who I actually was—not one around who I thought I needed to be.

It’s one thing to let go of a dream. It’s another to let go of who you thought you had to be in order to be worthy of it.

There were days I couldn’t get out of bed. I’d stare out my apartment window at the busy city below and wonder, who am I now? Can I really just…rest? Turns out, you can when you need to. Life has seasons, it’s not meant to be constant go, go, go.

Eventually, I discovered I wasn’t an Enneagram 7 after all. I was a 4- a deep feeler, a romantic and meaning maker at heart. It made so much sense! I’d spent years chasing joy, when what I truly craved was depth, presence and truth.

Has your story ever had a similar pivot—where you were forced to learn a new way of being?

THE REBUILDING ERA

The beautiful part about endings is that they always make way for new beginnings. But rebuilding from truth—not fear—is an ever-evolving, non-linear process.

I planted new seeds- falling in love with systems, principles and frameworks like manifestation, Human Design, Gene Keys, nervous system work, and energetics. I didn’t just study them—I wanted to live them, to move through my grief, shame, doubts and fears with honesty. To create from wholeness, not perform from survival.

These last four years have been slower, more intentional. I’ve started a new business, entered a new industry, and focused on what lights me up: honoring my own rhythm, curating beauty, and guiding others through their own becoming.

THE RETURNING ERA

Disappointment is a painful teacher but she always shows up right before a breakthrough.

As I enter this new decade, I feel excited—in a steady, clear and anchored way. I don’t have it all figured out, but I know what I care about most: helping people build lives and businesses with intention and heart.

I’m writing this to remind us that hope doesn’t disappear when things fall apart. It just softens, waits and asks you to listen. There’s always more- but you can’t chase it, you have to become it. Because purpose isn’t something you find. It’s something you embody.

So here’s to 40 and…

To devotion over ambition.

To resonance over recognition.

To softness over survival.

And to the hope that keeps choosing us, even when we forget to choose it.