It’s my birthday. A milestone one. A big one. You already know — a lady never tells. 😉 I am back in Chicago. MY city. The one that built me. The one with architecture that makes you stop mid-stride on the sidewalk and just look up. The one where the wind is pushy and doesn’t ask permission, where Garrett’s popcorn hits you from half a block away and your feet just start moving toward it like you have no choice whatsoever.
Growth is not color-coded. It does not arrive organized. Transitions are messy. Ambition and doubt like to show up at the same time, same place, wearing the same outfit. Rest and drive are constantly negotiating. For a long time I thought I needed clarity before I could move. Like I had to have it figured out first.
Chicago gave me range. Elkhart gave me receipts. One taught me to think big. The other taught me to build real. And honestly? That combination is everything. Because it is so easy to be all vision and no follow-through.
Here’s what I’ve come to understand though: we don’t actually hate waiting. We hate not knowing. There’s a difference. Waiting with clarity is manageable. You can breathe inside it. You can plan around it. But waiting inside uncertainty? That’s where the anxiety lives. That’s where you start checking your phone every 11 minutes. That’s where a small inconvenience starts to feel like disrespect.
That’s the thing nobody talks about. When systems break, we break with them. And then we turn inward.
I’ve been thinking lately about what it means to be the person in the middle. Not the loudest voice. Not the big visionary. Not the one with their name on the final product. Just the one who made sure everyone understood each other long enough to actually finish it.
My path into design didn’t start with pixels. It started with a Crayola 64 box, Prismacolor pencils, watercolors, and sketchbooks filled with ideas I was trying to bring to life with my hands.
Not because it’s beautiful — it’s not. Not because it’s innovative — it’s fairly standard. But because every time I use it, the transaction is so smooth, so predictable, so forgettable that I never think about it.
There’s a kind of design work that doesn’t make it into portfolios. It doesn’t get featured on Dribbble or celebrated in design awards. Most people outside the team will never even know it exists.
I was obsessed with composition, symbolism, and making every frame feel intentional. And then, somewhere along the way, I found myself drawn to something else: product design.
