Building Into the Unknown

I’ve spent the last few weeks rebuilding my website—a process I’ve been avoiding for years.

Not because I didn’t want to do it, but because I didn’t know where to begin.

And honestly, I didn’t know who I was building it for.

The last time I made a website for myself, it was 2017. I designed it in a single day. And then I didn’t touch it again. It felt easier back then—more impulsive, maybe less layered. But this time, it felt like sitting down with my own reflection. All of me. Every version I’ve been in the years since.

And that’s where the stuckness lived:

Do I niche down? Do I try to explain everything I do?

Do I make it easy to digest for others, even if that means flattening myself?

I’ve always had a wide range—tech strategy, somatic work, design, alignment, intuition, healing. It’s not a straight line. And for a long time, I thought I had to choose. That clarity meant narrowing. That the “right” website would lead people neatly from point A to point B.

But that’s not how I work. And it’s definitely not how I live.

So instead of leading with content, or offerings, or clarity—I led with feeling.

I asked:

How do I want people to feel when they land here?

Can I build a space that feels as calm and grounded as the work I offer?

Could my site actually invite people to slow down—not speed up?

That question changed everything.

I chose to keep it really simple. One beautiful image. A few soft invitations. A little space to breathe. It’s not packed with details or sales copy or polished frameworks. But it feels honest. And for the first time in a long time, I feel proud of it.

I’m sure I’ll expand it. I’ll write more. Build more. Tweak and stretch and refine.

But starting felt like the hardest part.

Because starting meant stepping into the unknown—publicly.

It meant claiming space for all the pieces of me, even the ones that don’t always make sense side by side.

And maybe you’ve felt that too—if you’re multi-passionate, or evolving, or trying to create something that actually feels like you.

This isn’t a finished product. It’s a beginning.

But it’s a beginning I’m excited about. And that’s something.