Three Years


Three years ago under the gloomy Virginia country sky, you married a wildly opinionated girl who would never want the same thing twice, and I married a boy so talented and brilliant that his mind becomes his own biggest hindrance. But three years ago, on that rainy Summer evening, we didn’t know anything about our shortcomings. In truth, we knew nothing about marriage, about struggle, about how selfish one becomes after they’ve just committed their life to being selfless for the sake of another person. All we knew was that we were solidifying a relationship 13 years in the making – a relationship based on the most true and pure form of love two people could have for one another: friendship.

This year has been our hardest year yet. It’s been filled with disappointment, exhaustion, stress and moments that felt like quitting this complicated reality would be easier than pressing on. New York is hard, ya know? But if I could amend one thing on our vows that we made back then, I would make us promise to not give up on our dreams. I would look you in the eye and vow to unwaveringly and constantly pursue my passions to the best of my ability and to keep you accountable to always pursuing yours. To not let the weight of life keep me from working on myself daily, making myself the best version of me, so that I can be the best version of a wife for you. This year of marriage has shown me that two becoming one doesn’t mean that the two gives up on everything they wanted before becoming the one. What one person does affects the other so greatly, that letting yourself go or giving up on that which you want to accomplish is detrimental to that which they want to accomplish. Does that makes sense? That is the two becoming the one. When one fails, we both fail, but a rising tide lifts all boats, so perhaps the greatest way we can love one another is to always be bettering ourselves.  I think that’s why marriages fall apart, because two people don’t want to work on themselves for the sake of someone else. They want the other person to be better, to work out more, to eat healthier, to make more money, and to pursue their wildest dreams, and yet they fail to require the same of themselves. They don’t realize that their partners success is dependent upon their ability to keep working on themselves. Through trial and fire, one has to know their way out in order to lead their partner out also.

You are my greatest joy. God blessed me greatly by allowing me to do this adventure with you. You make me a kinder, more generous, softer version of my extremely flawed self. The only person that makes me laugh just by being in the room. Year three has been harder than one or two, but I promise you in this next year to not quit. Not on my myself, not on you, not on your dreams or mine or ours. I promise to love you greater tomorrow than I do today. I vow to never quit becoming better. In sickness and in health, in Brooklyn and in happiness, through times of wanting and times of excess, through joy and sadness, I promise to build a life of faith and adventure with you for as long as I shall live.

Three years ago in the pouring rain, I said I would love you forever and I knew then that nothing could change my mind. You’re really stuck with me.

I love you to the moon and back,



Twenty Eight

Today I find myself in a place that I never imagined I would be: 28. It’s not that I thought I would die before today, I just had no fathomable way to imagine what life at 28 would be like. 21, yes – easy, 25- cool, great, I’ll be married and move to New York and have a sick job doing something enviable and chic, 27- passionately involved in the rise of my personal and professional life and be so cutting edge and cool, but 28? No, I’ve never envisioned who I would be now. (Also it’s worth noting that none of my expectations of 21, 25 or 27 were accurate.) I can even imagine myself at 30 and 35, but 28 seems like a weird in-between age where you aren’t young anymore but you aren’t yet 30. It’s the age where you are forced to come to terms with the fact that you might just be aging out of all the goals you set for yourself in your twenties; I might even say that twenty eight feels kind of sad. It’s probably not sad for Blake Lively or Shay Mitchell or even Lizzie McGuire (wow we’re old), but to me, 28 feels like life’s force majeure that is making me reconcile with the me of today and not the me that I thought I would be when I exited my 27th year of life, arriving at this awkward mid point of my late twenties.

Here’s who I thought I would be by this day:

  1. Rich (for SURE rich).
  2. Successfully running a career that I was the boss of.
  3. I would have a healthy relationship with my body, food, alcohol and fitness.
  4. Brunching every weekend with my best gals, eating dinner weekly at New York’s best restaurants.
  5. Debt free.
  6. Fluent in another language.
  7. Very close to getting on a 30 under 30 list, if I haven’t already made one of course.

Here’s who I am:

  1. Most definitely not rich. Like, MOST DEFINITELY not rich.
  2. Thankfully I have a job, but I’m definitely not the boss.
  3. Not working out consistently, drinking too much wine and eating far too many simple and processed carbs.
  4. Rarely eating New York’s best food (see points 1 and 5).
  5. Most definitely not debt free. Again with the emphasis on not.
  6. English speaking only and often confused on what a verb and adverb are.
  7. The only 30 under 30 list I’ll be on at this rate is a list of 30 people under 30 who have given up on succeeding before they’re 30.

In summation, I am a poor, overweight, almost 30 year old with no significant accomplishments to date outside of managing to (barely) stay afloat in one of the most expensive cities in the world and finding someone to marry me despite my obvious and pervasive shortcomings. Speaks one language, not very cultured, drinks too much wine and eats macaroni and cheese most nights because it’s 1. cheap and 2. always good. (Side note: do you think that has anything to do with point 3?).

Twenty seven felt hard, and in many ways that I am not proud of, it looked a lot like quitting. On many occasions, I chose the path most followed, rarely foraging my own way like I was so accustomed to doing as I started this year 365 days ago. But in truth, I feel okay about that. Twenty seven was a year that represented rest (more than I probably needed as it often bordered the line with apathy), a time where I allowed myself to just be — to not be constantly striving, to not beat myself up over every moment where I could have done more, to eat what I wanted and to sleep too much and to reset my priorities.

So while twenty eight isn’t starting with a penthouse in New York and a vacation to the Greek island of Paros, it is starting with a heart filled to the brim with gratitude for the life that I do have and for this past year that taught me perspective, painful growth and how to truly just rest.

Other things I’m grateful for:

  1. To be alive and breathing.
  2. For the grace of God that I simply do not deserve.
  3. To have a husband who feels it all with me. I am grateful that I picked a good teammate to do life with, and I am grateful to be his wife.
  4. To have a family that loves, cares and prays for me unconditionally and without question.
  5. To have friends that anchor me, that have done all the good and the bad of life with me and have yet to leave me.
  6. To have a job with co-workers that I laugh with all day, and to have a job that surrounds me with beautiful things and beautiful people day in and day out. I work with an living icon, and that’s something that most people don’t ever get to experience.
  7. To have the freedom and opportunity to evolve and figure out what comes next. To live in a country where I am free to be a woman who chooses her career and not have one forced upon me for survival — a privilege that I should not only be grateful for daily, but one I should fight for on behalf of those who are not born into a world with such immense opportunity.
  8. To have my health and a body that wakes up everyday and takes me where I need to go, despite my often abusing it with processed food and fermented grapes.
  9. That I live in the greatest city in America. I hate it, everyone does if they’re being honest with themselves, but it’s exciting and passionate and it’s a place that allows me to truly pursue something, anything, that I want.

I am starting twenty eight with a fresh perspective, a reinvigorated sense of purpose and a new confidence. To new things, new wine skins and new dreams.

Twenty eight, I’m so happy to be here.