I think I accidentally entered a Mattress Portal 
(aka, one of those metaphors that slaps you mid-to-do list)

So I ordered a new mattress. It arrives today.
Not for my main bed—for my backup bed.
Yes, I have one.
For reasons mostly spelled:
S-N-O-R-I-N-G.
The one I retreat to when the snoring reaches:
aggressive bear in an echo chamber levels.

It’s been my little sanctuary.
And technically, it worked.
Not perfect. Not new.
Not mine.
It used to belong to a teenage boy.
And it smelled like it--
like a locker room footnote no amount of spiritual bypassing could fix.


So I:

• scrubbed it
• saged it
• Febrezed it within an inch of its life
• disguised it with blankets
• accessorized it with throw pillows

Like it was an HGTV dorm room detox—trauma edition.

And for a while, I convinced myself it was fine.
Until I thought- maybe it’s time for an upgrade.

So I finally made the call.
Ordered the same mattress we have in the main bedroom.
Didn’t overthink it.
Didn’t spiral for two weeks.
Just clicked “Buy.”


And then…
​
Suddenly the old one felt:
⊹ supportive
⊹ familiar
⊹ kinda comfy

It was giving:
“Maybe this isn’t so bad after all?” energy.

That’s when I realized:
This mattress was a portal.
A perfectly squishy, faintly scented, energetically-laden metaphor for my life.

The part of me that gets this close to real lumbar support--
Then panics…
And clings to the old out of fear the new might not deliver. Because what if they haul it away and the new one is worse?

The:
“Maybe-I-should-stay-where-it’s-safe-even-if-it-smells-like-a-boy’s-old-socks” pattern.

And the truth is:
I don’t have to fall in love with the new mattress overnight.
I just have to trust the version of me who bought it--
The version who knew she was ready for better.

Even if it’s just a mattress.
(It’s never just a mattress.)


#MattressPortal
#EnergeticUpgrade
#VisualAlchemy
#TrustYourTaste
#NoGoingBack

Full disclosure: This isn’t my actual spare bedroom.

It’s from a High Point Market showroom—one of those dreamy, trade-only portals where design meets possibility.

And yes... you can come with me.
​
✔ Fine Lifestyle Design: In the Wild™ — Market Edition
Signature Experience – A VIP immersion day for the woman ready to live, shop, curate a corner of her world and embody her next-level lifestyle, normally reserved for interior designers, but accessible to my clients through me.

(And maybe test a few cloudlike mattresses along the way.)
​
❤︎ Inquire privately to join me.​

Madame de Crème has lived a long and sedentary life on my counter, her pump no longer able to reach the remaining lotion stuck to her glamorous bottom. What remains smells less like lavender and more like “expired spa fantasy.” But the container? Still divine.

And so begins Operation Lavender Lazarus™.

Next up?

​Operation Vintage Leather Meats™
Because once you’re done resurrecting antique lotion, the only logical next step is confronting the frozen archives of Thanksgivings past—those noble feasts that never got to live to their fullest potential.

Stay tuned as we clean out the freezer and face the fowl truth about what’s been aging in the icy shadows.
​
Will the Duchess of Decay be joined by the Countess of Cold Cuts?

We’ll find out—freezer drawer by freezer drawer.

🌱 Generators
Steady, radiant, satisfying energy. You’re designed to do what lights you up and brings you joy.
​
Colors that support you: Rich, energizing tones—earthy reds, warm golds, vibrant greens. Think cozy, grounded, and alive.
Spaces that make you want to move.


🔄 Manifesting Generators
Fast-moving, multi-passionate, here for what’s next. You pivot naturally—and need spaces that let you.

​Colors that support you: Saturated, playful colors—corals, deep teals, burnt orange.
Your energy likes stimulation, but with style.
Think eclectic, not chaotic. Layered, not cluttered.


🌫 Projectors 
Seers, guides, and energetic refiners. Your aura is focused, and your energy needs care.

Colors that support you: Cool, airy tones—misted lavender, soft gray, refined neutrals.
Projectors thrive in environments that breathe.
Clarity, space, and beauty that feels earned, not loud.
(Also… hi. That’s me.)


⚡️ Manifestors
Bold, independent, and meant to initiate. Your energy clears paths—and needs space to move.

Colors that support you: Strong, anchored hues—midnight blue, black accents, jewel tones.
Not too stimulating. Not too subdued.
Think “statement with intention.”


🌕 Reflectors
Lunar beings—mirrors of their environment. Sensitive, fluid, deeply attuned.

Colors that support you: Ethereal tones, shifting light, softness—pearlescent whites, sky hues, candlelight warmth. What matters more than the color itself is the quality of energy it carries.

Human Design didn’t give me a new identity.
It offered language for what I already knew.
It’s helped me understand why some places feel like clarity and others feel like noise.
Why my energy needs space.
Why certain choices feel good in theory but wrong in the body.
Why beauty, for me, is frequency—felt, not forced.
​
So no, this won’t become a Human Design blog.
But it will become a space where the lens of Human Design weaves into what I already do:
Art. Fine Lifestyle Design. The Art of Space. The Art of Life.
Design that feels like home—on the inside and the outside.

You might see me speak about centers. Or energy. Or maybe two very different dogs named Blondie and Moose.
But the thread will stay the same:
​
Creating a life that feels aligned, intentional, and deeply your own.
If that resonates, you’re invited.
The experiment begins.

​Let’s go.

A New Era of Growth: Beauty, Alignment, and Receiving
​
I want my work to stand as proof that transformation can be beautiful.

🜃 I curate spaces that elevate your energy.
🜁​ I create art that activates something deeper in you.
🜄​ I guide people into alignment without force, trauma, or struggle.

Because I believe in a different way.

A way where you expand through ease.
A way where growth is magnetic, not painful.
A way where you don’t have to break yourself to become yourself.
​
And if you feel this truth in your bones, you already know--
This is the way you were meant to grow, too.

When you're ready, I'm here.
Explore my art, space refinement, or lifestyle offerings—each one designed to bring beauty, alignment, and ease into your world.

Recently, someone I admire said that the phrase “having it all” feels triggering to her. That it speaks to never being satisfied, to a hunger that’s never fed. And I understand that lens—deeply. Especially in a world obsessed with more, more, more.

But that’s not what having it all means to me.
To me, it’s not about endless striving or proving something.
It’s not about chasing some elusive version of success.
It’s not about accumulation.

It’s about and.

It’s about undoing the conditioning that says you have to pick:

• Purpose or prosperity.
• Love or freedom.
• Beauty or depth.
• Magic or mastery.
• Healing or luxury.

​It’s about refusing to gaslight yourself into believing that joy must be earned through sacrifice.

Because for so long, we’ve been told that choosing ourselves comes with a cost.
That we should settle.
That “enough” is only what fits in someone else’s comfort zone.

But for me, having it all is a reclamation.
Not of everything, but of everything that’s true. Everything that’s mine.

And maybe I’ll never be satisfied—because I wasn’t made for maintenance.
As a Projector, I was designed to evolve.
To guide.
To hold the vision of what’s possible—not what’s practical.

So no, it’s not about more.

It’s about not less.
​
Not less than what I deserve.
Not less than what’s aligned.
Not less than the fullness of what I came here to live.
​

The Road to Success
(Part 1: The Choice)
 
I realized that doing the work of alignment then
Would bring ease to me later--
A life free from the grind of 9-to-5,
Free from living someone else’s plan.
 
It might have seemed “easier” at the time
To skip the work of healing,
To avoid becoming self-led,
To sidestep trust, blocks, and resistance.
 
But that work became light to carry
When I knew what waited ahead:
Aligned clients, authentic expression,
And rewards too great to count—not only monetary,
But the freedom to be fully me.
 
And now, I know this path is the only one.
I could quit, go get hired,
Choose the familiar over the unknown.
I could return to Phoenix,
Because Yuma doesn’t look like San Diego.
 
But my internal GPS is set.
It whispers, “The beach is yours.”
And though the road is paved with faith
And built on small aligned actions,
I will arrive—by hook or by crook.


​ 
The Road to Success
(Part 2: The Unfolding)
 
But there was no real choice, was there?
I wasn’t going back to Phoenix.
Why would I, when everyone knew
I belonged to the ocean?
 
And I didn’t go back to what wasn’t terrible,
But wasn’t working either.
Not to the art shows or to the burnout,
Not to the fear disguised as safety.
 
Instead, I trusted the unfolding,
Even when the evidence denied my becoming.
Eliminating what didn’t fit, I yelled:
“Not that! Not that!”
Until I found the shoe that was meant for me.
 
Because that was the path that felt alive,
The one that I blazed exclusively for me,
And it didn’t matter if no one else could see it.
I found my San Diego,
My freedom, my ocean, my truth.
  
​ ​
 
The Road to Me
(Part 3: For The Very First Time)
 
For the first time in my life,
I didn’t choose the easy road.
The one where everything worked,
Where I floated with the current
And pleased the outside world.
 
For the first time,
I didn’t care how it looked from the outside--
Didn’t let the whispers of fear
Weave their lies around my choices.
 
For the first time,
I invested in me,
In what couldn’t be seen,
In what only I could feel.
 
For the first time,
I chose the long game,
The one that was slow to reveal,
But promised everything real.
 
For the first time in my life,
I chose trust over ease,
Faith over fear,
And made the choice to trust in the unseen.
 
For the first time in my life,
I chose me. 

​I’ve been trying to get back in the studio forever.
It was just not happening.
My studio was ugly. So I redid it last July.
That wasn’t it.

Maybe I was scared to tie my passion to external validation again.
The moment art stopped being for me, the moment I opened the door for sales,
​it started being about the clients.
“The business.”
It stopped being fun.
Maybe that’s why I kept finding other things to do. I tend to do that.

But my first First Friday in years is coming. Fast.
Like, in two weeks fast…
And I still haven’t started painting again.
So in a last-ditch effort to shake things (and my hands) up, I booked a little beading class at a cute shop in town.

Not because I love beading (I don’t).
Not because I have patience for tiny little knots (I don’t).
But because I had a strand of tourmaline I bought in Italy and a strand of turquoise I bought in Israel on my last trip there in November, and I wanted to learn how to turn them into necklaces.​

​And Then… Chrysocolla Found Me.
The instructor suggested something bigger—easier to work with for this particular technique.
And that was tough because I don’t like big, I like dainty.
But then I remembered Chrysocolla.

I asked.
She showed me.
I picked up the strand.
A stunning blue-green necklace that looked like it belonged on a tropical beach.
(Just like me).
​

​The Bead, The Knot, and the Shift I Didn’t See Coming.
I sat down.
Watched the demonstration.
It looked super complicated.
But to my surprise, I immediately picked it up.
And I started inserting beads and tying knots.

I don’t have patience for tiny knots.
I don’t find repetitive tasks meditative.
I didn’t even think I’d enjoy this class.

But somewhere in the middle of tying those knots… something shifted.
I dropped out of my head and into my body.
Into my hands.
Into the rhythm.

​Finally.

After months of trying to force myself back into creating…
After all the overthinking, the “why am I not in the studio yet?” mental loops…
It took a beading class—something so not my thing—to break the resistance.

Maybe it was because…
This wasn’t something I was learning in order to sell.
This wasn’t about an offer, a collection, a price tag.
It was just for me.

☆ No pressure.
☆ No expectations.
☆Just beauty, intention, and the simple joy of creating with my hands—making something I wanted to wear.
​

Once upon a time, Soul and Human set out on a journey together.

Soul always knew the destination. She saw the big picture, the why, the magic of it all. She walked with confidence, trusting every twist and turn.

Human, on the other hand, was more cautious. She wanted to see the map, double-check the directions, and make sure they weren’t making a mistake. She carried a heavy backpack full of what-ifs, second-guesses, and past regrets—just in case.

At first, Soul walked ahead, while Human hesitated. “Are you sure this is the right way?” Human asked. “What if we should have taken a different road?”

Soul smiled. “This is our path. We’re exactly where we need to be.”

But Human wasn’t convinced. She kept looking at other travelers, wondering if their route was better. She stopped often, adjusting the straps on her backpack, making sure she was “ready.”

One day, they reached a clearing with two paths. Human froze. “What if I choose the wrong one? What if I mess everything up?”

Soul sat down under a tree and laughed. “You can’t get it wrong. No matter which path you take, I’ll be right there with you.”

Human sighed, dropping her backpack onto the ground. For the first time, she noticed how heavy it was. She had been carrying doubts that didn’t belong to her.

She looked at Soul—so calm, so certain.

And then it clicked.

They weren’t separate. They weren’t on two different journeys. They were walking the same path, together.

From that moment on, Human stopped hesitating so much. She still had questions, but instead of stopping to overthink, she asked them while moving forward.

And for the first time, she felt it—the joy of the journey, the ease of trusting, the magic of simply being.

Because the truth was, Soul and Human always wanted the same thing.
It was never Soul vs. Human. It was always Soul + Human.

And together, they walked forward—lighter, freer, and completely aligned.

I never believed growth had to be painful.

For most of my life, I actually thought the opposite. That life was meant to be beautiful, full of ease, joy, and adventure. That challenges would come, sure—but they weren’t the requirement for transformation.

Then, as I dove deeper into consciousness and personal growth, I kept hearing the same message over and over:

“Pain is the greatest teacher.”
“You have to break down before you break through.”
“Transformation requires suffering.”

At first, I wondered if I had been naïve. If maybe I had it wrong all along. Because yes, I’ve grown through challenges. I’ve been shaped by hardship. But what if that was just because it was the path I had unconsciously allowed, rather than the only path that existed?

Because here’s what I now know:

Transformation doesn’t have to be painful. It can be intentional.

We don’t have to wait for breakdowns or crises to expand.
We don’t have to learn through suffering.
We don’t have to let life force us into evolution when we could just as powerfully choose it.

And this is what I have been rediscovering—remembering—through my own work.