Life’s a Mess, Let’s Overanalyze It Together

Is anybody listening?

Introductions are like a first date, and if I’m being real, I’m not a fan of either (although I certainly have a lotttt of experience with the latter). You want to seem smart, but not like you’re trying too hard. Funny, but not like you’re auditioning for a Roast. Relatable, but not so familiar that people think: Wow, she’s got a lot to unpack.

But I’m going to try my best because if I’m asking you subscribe to my newsletter, the least I can do is give you the impetus of how we got here.

I’m here because I have questions. Big ones. Small ones. Transformative ones. Useless ones. Questions I should’ve figured out the answers to years ago but haven’t, because life has a way of piling new ones on before you’ve even finished spiraling over the old ones. Questions like: Why do people feel the need to comment on someone else’s life choices? Why does “self-care” sometimes feel more stressful than the thing it’s supposed to cure? And why does adulthood feel like an endless practice swim of holding your breath and hoping you’ll break the surface?

(Yes, I’m vaping. Nobody’s perfect.)

This Substack isn’t about providing answers. If I had those, I’d probably be somewhere far more glamorous, pretending I’ve got it all figured out. Instead, it’s a place to dissect life’s chaos… the relationships that don’t quite make sense, the societal pressures that never let up, and the career paths that look great on paper but suck the soul right out of you. IYKYK.

I’ll be writing about it all: personal essays on the messiness of modern life, thoughtful takes on beauty and self-care, and, of course, my favorite products and treatments. After nearly 20 years of covering beauty, I have opinions—not the idealistic kind that promise quick fixes, but the kind that recognize beauty as a small way we stay sane in a relentless world. (That said, if a quick fix actually works, you know I’ll be covering it.)

For me, writing is how I make sense of things. It’s how I process the questions that don’t have easy answers. Some days it’s reflecting on what it means to build a life that doesn’t fit the traditional mold, and other days it’s wondering why I can’t seem to master a winged eye.

Both feel equally pressing… and valid.

A little about me since, after all, this is the preamble: I hold a master’s in screenwriting which, yes, may not be the most practical degree, but those two years were the creative epicenter of my existence, and I don’t regret them for a second. I’ve already had more careers than I planned: screenwriter, entrepreneur, OG beauty blog founder, beauty editor. With each career, I was convinced I’d finally found my thing… until I hadn’t.

I’m no stranger to doing “the work”—therapy, self-reflection, competitive Pilates (before it was trendy, tyvm), but I’ve also come to terms with the fact that life isn’t something you can hack into perfection (trust me, I’ve tried). There has to be a middle ground between relentless self-improvement and just being… kind of like how a good serum won’t fix your life, but it’ll help you fake it a little longer. Same goes for Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Balance, baby.

I want this space to be honest. And sharp. And hopefully make you smile, because if we can’t laugh at the absurdities, then what’s the point? I also want this space to explore the questions that keep us up at night, and the challenges we all face as we navigate life. And most importantly, I want us to do this together, sharing experiences and offering support. Let’s just admit that life’s a f*^&ing mess, and we’re all figuring things out as we go.

Like any good first date, I’ve probably talked too much and revealed just enough red flags to make things intriguing. But unlike a first date, I promise not to ghost you after. I’m here to write through the rumination and, hopefully, help validate both of our human experiences. Life’s complicated, but we can wing it together.

If you’re into overthinking disguised as a good time, subscribe. I can’t promise answers, just plenty of observations… and maybe a new party trick (or two).

I’d love to hear from you. If you enjoyed this piece—or have any constructive feedback—please leave a comment below.

Sharing is caring: spirals are best with friends. If you liked this, send it to someone who also overthinks.