This year my birthday fell on Mother’s Day, followed by a new moon in Scorpio. So yeah, quite a time for reflection. But nothing I write feels right. No reflection feels complete. I wanted to write something about my last year in tech, but none of it felt true to the whole. When I look at the past year, it feels like a year of refinement. Expanding on values I already had. No major breakthroughs. No Saturn return. Thank god. Like, it’s crazy to think all this is happening while Lauren is gone…she has no clue.
Listen, I place a lot of value in my career, and I was laid off again this year. Twice in two years. But this time, I didn’t panic the same way. I felt the anxiety, sure, but I also felt a strange kind of certainty. I know I’m good at what I do. I’ve built systems, led teams, shaped how entire companies show up online. I’ve navigated crisis comms. I’ve worked for global brands. I know how to track perception and how to make a brand feel human. I’ve built those skills piece by piece.
Because of that, I feel confident. Maybe more than ever. It’s like a thousand doors are open, and each one could lead to a thousand more. For once, I don’t know what the future looks like, but I’m certain it’ll be good. It’ll be beautiful. Partly because it has to be. Partly because I won’t accept anything less. And partly because I’m ready to build, even if it means building something entirely my own, far from what I thought I’d be doing. Like Big Brother, I expect the unexpected.
And I do love to build. To build is to test, to iterate, to play. That’s where I find my energy. One of the most impactful conversations I had this year was with the CTO at my last company. We were talking candidly about building careers and mistakes and perfectionism, and he shared how he had built things in the past that weren’t perfect. Far from it. But they had to be shipped anyway. You build it, you ship it, and then you make it better. That stuck with me. It forced me to look at the ways I was holding back. I’m learning to fix things as they evolve. I also have to thank the engineers I worked with. They really changed how I think. They gave me the gift of learning and adopting an agile workflow. Sorry to any engineer who had to read this cringe ass sentacne. Whatever.
I’m genuinely thankful for having worked there. It gave me something I’ve always craved: legitimacy. And I’m still trying to redefine what that means. For a long time, I was chasing external markers. How impressive did I seem on paper? How many awards? What did my title signal? How well did people respect my opinion? Because I want to be respected. I want my thoughts, especially about social media, to be valued. Hyped, even. And yes, I’ve had some of that. I’ve been in The Verge. I’ve won Webbys. And still, I want more. I don’t think that’s a problem. But it becomes one when I get stuck in my own head and can’t move forward.
A lot of this year was about accepting that I’m not for everyone. I spent years trying to make something that resonated with everyone. To be seen. To be liked. But that’s just not possible. A conversation with another creative helped reframe that. We talked about how trying to control people’s perception of you is counterproductive. It’s exhausting. And pointless. People will project whatever they need to. That really came into focus with the whole Lucy Dacus music video situation. It’s literally not possible to make something for everyone. No matter how thoughtful or well-intentioned you are, someone won’t like it. I’m done worrying about that. I just want to make what I think is cool. Say things that feel worth saying. Let go of the rest.
I don’t know what the next year holds. But I’m hopeful. That might sound naive, maybe even tasteless given the state of the world. But I believe in turning fear and frustration into something. I refuse to let it drain me. So whatever happens, I’ll keep playing. Keep building. Keep moving my pieces forward. I’m incredibly thankful to continue aging, to experience love and beauty and creativity. I don’t take that for granted. And I’m thankful to everyone who reads what I write, who gives it energy, who shares their time with me. That’s an honor. Truly. Thank you. And hey, try living like an overly abundant Taurus. You might like it.
