v.15 Dear Society: I Am More Than My Resume (and the Boxes You Put Me In)
Welcome to Life, Created—a new [old school] blog for modern times. This twice-a-week(ish) dispatch is a space for us to dig deeper, share ideas, recognize microjoys and build community beyond the mindless scroll.
Let’s talk about boxes—not the kind you use for moving or the ones your cat claims as soon as you pull out your new Instapot, but the figurative ones people use to define us. Those neat little labels: speaker, teacher, doctor, admin, plumber. For years, I stayed within tidy definitions. I followed a traditional path—I worked in fashion from the time I was 16 years old (hey GapKids, miss you!). I got a Bachelors degree and then a Masters degree, and launched into what was, by all accounts, a very successful career in the NYC fashion industry. By the time I was 28, I was making six figures (in the early 2000s). I traveled the world, worked with talented people at interesting brands, and checked every box that society told me would equal success. And then, when I turned 35, I let it all go. I walked away from the industry I had built my entire identity around—without a plan—and started over.
Looking back, I see that moment as the start of something much bigger than a career shift. It was the beginning of me breaking down the boxes I had allowed myself to be placed in—boxes that others had built and I had willingly stepped into. I spent years being defined by titles, stories, and labels, some of which I created for myself, by the way: fashion executive, product developer, child of poverty, disadvantaged, author, success story. No matter how factually true, these are still just stories, titles, and the expectations that come with them.
When I walked away from my career, I was forced to confront an uncomfortable truth: I had spent years compartmentalizing who I was to fit into a professional mold—a very limiting box, indeed. It wasn’t until I stepped away that I realized the truth: the parts of me that didn’t fit into those tidy categories—the contradictions, the messiness, the seemingly unrelated pieces, and the very unsexy parts of my lived experience—these weren’t weaknesses. They were my strength. And letting go of those boxes wasn’t just freeing—it gave me the space to finally live so much more fully.
The things I once worried might make me “less serious” or “too much” are the very things that have opened doors for me.
Today, I write books that invite people to think deeply about positive thinking or the way joy and grief can co-mingle, breaking down complex emotions into something simple and relatable. But I also bring hard-won lessons to stages and workshops as part of my daily work. One of the most popular talks I give is called, simply, How to Be More You. It’s about showing up as your full self—the good, the bad, and yes, the messy parts too. It’s a message I live every day—and maybe you’re finding ways to do the same in your own life.
A few years ago, I founded Dear Grown Ass Women, a community for women 35+, with the intention of creating something entirely different from anything else that existed. It wasn’t about following trends or fitting into a mold—it was about building a space where real women could show up as they are and connect meaningfully. If you’ve ever felt the pull to create something that reflects your full self, you know how fulfilling—and challenging—it can be to build something that stands apart. Though I chose to quietly sunset the community in late 2023 to rest, I’ve always held space for the possibility of bringing it back someday.
I share this because I, like you, am made up of all my lived experiences—the good, the bad, and the weird in-between stuff. These parts don’t cancel each other out; they add depth. The more I embraced every part of myself, the more aligned and successful I became, both professionally and personally.
Releasing those boxes didn’t just change me personally; it shaped everything I do. When I wrote my first book, A Year of Positive Thinking, I leaned into the wisdom I’d gained from growing up in poverty and reinventing my life from a young adult forward. When I followed it with Microjoys: Finding Hope (Especially) When Life Is Not Okay, I didn’t shy away from the hard truths of loss and joy existing side by side. I brought my full self to the work, and that’s why it resonates. And maybe that’s the lesson for all of us: when we allow every part of who we are to show up, it creates space for others to do the same.
When I step on a stage now, I don’t just bring my successes. I bring the years of uncertainty, failures, loss, breakdowns, reinvention, and rediscovery that got me here. I talk about the fear of starting over—again and again—often without a plan. I share the lessons I’ve learned from creating something new and how stepping outside prescribed roles led me to build a life that feels expansive and true. And here I am in 2025, reinventing yet again. And isn’t that the story of all of us? We’re always evolving, whether by choice or necessity, and it’s both terrifying and deeply human.
Of course, I know there are spaces—like corporate environments—where the world still expects boxes. In those moments, I start with the context that makes sense: author, speaker, founder. Titles can be helpful to establish credibility and create quick connections. But even then, I don’t let the titles do all the talking. I weave in my full story. And maybe that’s the thing—we can show up as professionals without erasing the humanity behind the titles. It’s not about rejecting professionalism; it’s about expanding it to include all the complexities of who we are.
Here’s what I’ve learned over and over again: success doesn’t always come from fitting into a box. It comes from embracing the fullness of who you are and allowing others to see that. The things I once worried might make me “less serious” or “too much” are the very things that have opened so many doors for me. Wild hair, too much pink, cuss words dropped at just the right moment, or using the word ain’t in casual conversation—these quirks haven’t held me back. They’ve helped people connect with my work on a deeper level and made my voice stand out in spaces where sameness is the norm.
If you’re feeling boxed in, consider this: What parts of you are you leaving out—and why? Maybe it’s because the world told you those parts don’t belong, or maybe you’ve convinced yourself that you have to fit into a certain mold to succeed. Let this be your reminder to reclaim those parts in ways that feel possible, even if it’s just baby steps. Whether it’s in how you work, how you show up for others, or even how you see yourself, give yourself permission to be more than one thing. You’re not just a title or a role. You’re layered, dynamic, and endlessly fascinating. And if someone doesn’t know how to handle that? It’s not your job to shrink—it’s their job to expand.
Every essay features a section called “One Fine Microjoy” – an experience, place, or thing that brings me joy, grace, and hope amidst life’s ups and downs. I hope it invites you to recognize and appreciate the delights that ground, inspire, and enrich our journey.
These are the photos I could (easily) find from my days in fashion—a past life that feels worlds away. What a microjoy it is to look back and see how far I’ve come. Growth is a powerful thing, and so is honoring the path that brought me here.
Welcome to Life, Created.
With love, wisdom [and small mercies] from Montclair. xx
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