most jobs can’t love you back. nannying might be the exception. and more than just loving me back, my job takes me fun places. i’ve been in big sky, montana for the past week and it is exactly the change of pace i needed.

the sun rises just before 6am and sets shortly after 9pm providing an abundance of hours to hike, swim, and frolic about. the scenery is breathtaking; endless lines of green trees meet the mountains at every turn. being here has made it incredibly easy to unplug and be present in each moment.

some things i’ve noticed and loved:

grass under my toes. getting caught in the sporadic summer storms. accidentally stumbling into a rodeo. trying elk. the initial shock from jumping into the cold lake water. opting to paddle board around said lake. foot races. water balloon fights. a pink sky at 9pm. cartwheeling down a hill. and despite being surrounded by 3 kids 24/7, still being slid a note that read “ur beautiful” with a cowboy’s digits.

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calculated risks

my short-lived “break” from the dating apps came to an end last week as i re-downloaded hinge for the millionth time. it’s quite comical that i have been on these apps on and off for the better part of 7 years? and i swear, if i have one more older person give me a look of sympathy as they say something along the lines of ‘i am so glad those apps weren’t around when i was dating’ i just might lose my mind… but i digress.

in all honesty— i don’t see anything inherently wrong with the apps. just like most things, your approach and attitude determine your trajectory. i find it endearing that these apps help paths cross that otherwise might not– but i’ll always have a soft spot for paths crossing the old fashioned way too.

i’ve certainly dilly-dallied going on random dates and giving people chances that were interesting at best, but i’ve honed in on what i want. when i close my eyes i can picture exactly what i want, it’s the clearest image. and now, it’s like trying on shoes– dating to see who fits.

my gauge of a good first date is reaching a moment where i forget it’s a date; i feel comfortable, giggly, warm, and intrigued. i’ve chatted with a few guys while out and about with friends, and gone on a few first dates recently. as far as my gauge goes, i only felt really connected to one. he’s handsome, witty, comes from a good family— generally speaking he checks a lot of boxes. i found it easy to laugh in his presence. i think he was a great person to break the ice back into dating, a sweet reminder that the feelings of warmth come after heartache. though i can’t say i’m fervently passionate about his communication style and approach to planning, so once i get back to the city, we’ll see how this plateau plays out.

harsh reality:

i’ve just passed my one year of living in san francisco (wooo) and i’ve quickly realized how small of a world it is here—especially in dating. i can’t seem to turn a corner without running into my ex, which is equal parts amusing and humbling. and it doesn’t end there– i couldn’t figure out where i recognized a man who had sent me a like on hinge… until i pinpointed that he’s the man who ghosted a friend because things got ‘too serious’ and he just ‘wasn’t ready’ for that… he’s pushing 40 by the way.

yet another laugh-or-cry moment came when a 32-year-old man confidently asked me for my snapchat or instagram to keep in touch instead of my PHONE NUMBER at our big age. one thing that’s for certain is san francisco’s unofficial dating motto rings painfully true– the odds are good but the goods are odd.

the dream:

i want to be exceptionally wowed by the humor, wit, and integrity of someone. i want to giggle with him until my stomach aches. i want to explore small towns with him and befriend locals. i want to commit to memory a life map of him– all of his favorite things, early memories, names of parents and childhood friends, workplace drama– i want it all. and i guess that is the hardest part of dating for me… i don’t go into early dates with an agenda, but i’m not aimlessly wandering either. i stay curious and open, and i trust my intuition.

oftentimes dates fall short of the underlying hope and it’s easy to lose motivation, but i think my goal once i get back to sf is to go on more dates. though this may not be the most acceptable approach, it’s mine and i like it. my last relationship felt special because i went on countless other first dates around the time we went on ours but there was something about him that stayed with me. getting into the habit of going into dates openminded and leading with curiosity allowed me to see him for who he was, and intentionally choose him. it wasn’t out of scarcity or fear; i chose him wholly and with intention. i’m ready to do that again.

oh, and–

miscellaneous:

• to the guy who asked me if i’d write about him in my blog, here’s your moment to shine for all 14 of my subscribers (over half being family members and close friends)

• i’m attempting to embrace a what’s the worst that could happen mentality… so far it’s gotten me into a rodeo and free samples of a drink i’ve been wanting to try! highly recommend just asking!

other things that i’ve been loving:

• using my brick app blocker to limit screen time (not sponsored, truly just enjoying it!)

• doing youtube pilates workouts at home (recent fav)

• asking more questions

• cafe’s with outdoor seating to read and people watch

• renting a karaoke room to belt girly pop songs with your bff

• hydrangeas!!

• saving $80 by cutting my bob myself

• the earl grey latte from compton’s coffee house

• opting for game nights instead of long nights bar hopping

• a playlist of songs that make me want to dance– for burnt out days and fun mornings

go outside. touch some grass. ask the questions. take calculated risks. what’s the worst that could happen?

love and be loved, friends!

a sudden downpour
blending of thunder and blues
quickly passing through

every wednesday morning, i take myself on a date to my favorite breakfast spot during my split shift. rain or shine, i sit at the same corner table on the patio; i bring my kindle, a journal, and order a hot dirty chai with vanilla. i’ve made friends of the staff and other faces who pass through each week. it was gloomy when i walked in today. my hazy mind amplified this. but i stayed anyway.

to my amazement, when i exited the restaurant, i was met by a blue sky. like a hug from the universe, the sun kissed the few areas of exposed skin; warmth enveloped the tops of my feet peeking from my ballet flats, my forehead, my cheeks, my nose.

after a heartbreak, it is so easy to feel swept away by the intensity of emotion or overcome by the lingering cloud of angst. but the warmth on my skin cracked the shell of sadness, questioning, and grief that had completely closed around me. in that small crack of unexpected light, i could finally breathe.

each block i walked toward work, i felt a different revelation settle in. i breathed in a glimmer of hope, and breathed out the doubt.

it’s so natural to internalize a relationship’s ending as a fault of your own – to believe that if you’d lacked fault, it might have lasted longer. i felt the weight of that thought linger, and breathed it out, block by block. i recalled what i’d sought before i ever had an object of affinity: to let curiosity guide me in dating, to learn about myself and another – individually and together – as we bore witness to one another’s lives. as i fell more in love, i lost sight of that as my goal; i wanted time, instead, to validate what i felt. but holding too tightly to time as the measure of success obscures a deeper truth – there is still beauty in this aftermath. i won’t let the haze of heartache steal my joy or shadow my victory.

we once filled space and time together. that is no longer, but i remain – the same person, with the same gentle qualities. i still greet strangers with warmth. i still extend myself to others, the way he did, the way i always have. the qualities i loved most in him – i find in myself too. i am lovely. i remain.

and i had a witness to it all – someone who can attest to my stubborn, determined gait, my consistency of character, my insistence on showing up well and speaking nobly even when inebriated, even in the middle of the night when i could barely form a thought. i know the depth and sincerity of what we shared. so it will come again, and i must remain expectant and hopeful – keeping to my disciplines of noticing, and showing up.

and i will love again, not because i’ve proven i’m worthy of it, but because i already am. i pour love out, and it finds its way back to me. just like the sun this morning. and other simple joys i notice along the way. i practice this acknowledgement until it becomes reflexive, so that even when joy and love feel far, i remember they’re always closer than i think. i am so excited to experience it again.

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i make lists of questions to ask my future lover, so one day i too can move with a joyful cadence and the face of merriment that i observe everywhere i turn.

tell me everything about you, lover. the creak of footsteps down the hallway you memorized in your early years. where do you find rest when the world feels daunting? your greatest source of inspiration. what's special to you that you wish more people gave attention to? i want to know the story of every scar, don't spare any detail. i'll memorize the shape of your lips as you speak, where your skin dimples, the glimmer in your eyes.

is it possible to be haunted by future nostalgia? but in a beautiful way, of course. the warmth that envelops the entirety of my being feels like confirmation that some subsequent version of myself knows the answer to every question i've jotted down. and perhaps that explains the dull ache i feel in my chest when i sit with this idea too long. i don't know yet, but some day i will.

hope deferred makes the heart sick. so maybe i just feel sick because i am so full of love. and where shall i place it? it overflows, my dear. but maybe the overflow will form the path that leads us to one another. until then i'll keep trying on creative outlets like shoes because love is at the center of all creation. and i'll keep noticing gestures of love so i may become fluent in the language and be able to greet you warmly.

i thought it had fled my instincts, until i found it again on an afternoon run along marina green. i love playing catch, in fact, i have a football in my trunk at all times... but besides s, the 10-year-old i nanny, i don't have many friends who would voluntarily choose a game of catch. when i saw a group of people tossing a football, i jumped at the opportunity. i felt in tune with my 7-year-old self as i approached and asked, can i play?

it was lighthearted and almost felt silly, but my request was received warmly. for the next hour we tossed the ball, asking questions and cracking jokes – i nearly forgot that we had just met. the small act fueled by childlike confidence led to a lovely shared experience. and ultimately it's moments like these that have shaped my love for living in the city.

my work as a nanny shapes my experience with the world both on and off the clock. the littles reinforce the importance of presence, connection, and imagination. they live a life free of inhibitions, led by their interests and desires. much of my work revolves around embracing their passion while gently encouraging logical thinking in decision making. yet even with this, daily, i am reminded of the importance of discerning the battles you choose. as an adult, there's acceptance in minimizing discomfort across social situations – so we stick to predictability, leaning into courage only after a very refined thought process.

but on wednesdays as little miss g (the 4-year-old i nanny) and i parade around toting matching tiaras to her ballet class, as we skip and prance to cross streets, as we partake in daily dance parties, or on minimum days when we ride the carousel 'til we grow tired of spinning... in all of these instances – i'm reminded that the parameters adults decide to live within aren't essential, and more importantly, (and contrary to my anxiety's belief) strange glances from strangers aren't the end of the world. if anything, in embracing the absurdity of a child's requests, i've created more surface area for joy to enrich my life.

i'm not suggesting you tote a tiara around (though i've purchased one to wear while getting ready... because why not haha) but i will encourage you to embrace this joyful cadence in your life as much as possible. it keeps me in touch with the splendor of life hidden in each day. i feel lighter, more capable, and willing to extend myself across a variety of contexts that i previously shied from.

i'm thankful for my friendships, many of which exist because of small acts of courage not unlike my marina green afternoon. when i first moved to the city, i (accidentally) started a social group after posting on social media that i was new to the city and looking for other gals to connect with. i was astounded by how many people were either new to the city as well or just looking to expand connections outside of a professional context. each post felt very vulnerable, but i trusted that my message would resonate with, and attract the right people. it worked, and some of those who courageously showed up to each gathering have become some of my dearest friends.

what i've come to realize is that all of it – the social group, the game of catch, the tiaras, the approaching strangers – it's all the same impulse. it's seeing the world, and in turn others, through a generous lens. it's going outside to play. my friend lucie said it better than i could, after a day we spent together frolicking from sun up 'til sun down:

the city is the playground. we're all on it. so go outside. let curiosity lead your actions. and have courage – you never know what lies on the other side.

love and be loved, friends!

To be given life with conditional love
is the most tender of punishments. 

Pain is not proof of love.
It is not love
if a child learns to fear it. 

Somewhere, 
a child grows into a caretaker–
not perfect, 
but gentle. 

And in caring for others, 
they soften places
that were never held.

Because mothering
can come from many mouths,
many arms, 
many hearts–
and sometimes,
the most powerful kind
is born in the absence of it.

love is an intentional choice. nurtured through the acts of sharing moments, leaning into difficult conversations, and continuously building on the knowledge of their being. familiarity becomes a sign of a present love. in committing to memory the creases when they smile. the story of each scar embedded in their skin. the way their eyebrows furrow as a thought envelops their mind. crinkled noses and side eye gazes. tendencies and preferences. it's a wonderful privilege to have such intimate insight into one's life.

my younger self knew that this closeness would brighten my days eventually, but some days, it felt so far that my hope began to dissipate. romantic love has felt more present recently; my days are saturated with the warmth of laughter and growing sense of familiarity. it's intoxicating and beautiful.

the realization of the depth of my emotions settles in ordinary moments, and it scares me to my core because i don't know how long this will last. but there is acceptance; the joy of your presence makes the uncertainty feel small.

so,

for as long as this may be–

i will hold you close,

and melt into you,

and memorize how you take your tea,

and the books that rest on your shelves,

and your earliest memories,

and your best friends,

and early morning raspy voices,

and late night hearty laughter,

so i may never forget

the warmth of your presence

and the joy you have brought to my life.