05/23/2026
How my love for design truly started.
When I was six years old, I was adopted. Like many kids who experience major life transitions and early trauma, I felt an overwhelming sense of powerlessness. The world felt massive, unpredictable, and completely out of my control.
But I found my sanctuary in my bedroom.
I distinctly remember sitting on the floor, bracing my back against the wall, and using the strength of my legs to push my heavy wooden dresser across the room. I’d slide the bed to a new wall. I’d re-center the desk. Every couple of weeks, without fail, I would completely rearrange my space.
Back then, I didn’t realize what I was actually doing. It was a somatic coping mechanism. In a world where I couldn’t control my circumstances, I could control my immediate environment. Moving that furniture was my way of pushing back against the heavy weight of trauma. By changing the layout, I was rewriting the energy of the room, creating safety, and proving to myself that I had the power to shape the world around me.
Unknowingly, those afternoons spent rearranging my bedroom were the exact moments my love for design was born.
What started as a survival instinct quickly evolved into a deep, passionate calling. I realized early on that spaces aren’t just collections of walls and furniture—they are containers for how we feel.
Over the years, that childhood need for comfort has grown into a lifelong obsession with transformation. I’ve learned how a thoughtful layout can bring peace to a chaotic mind, how the right texture can offer comfort, and how an intentional design can make a person feel truly seen, safe, and at home.
Looking back, I’m so incredibly grateful to that fierce six-year-old girl on the floor pushing heavy furniture. She wasn’t just rearranging a bedroom; she was building the foundation for my entire life’s work.💫🤍💪
