Sessi. Dancing Corners

Come in, sit down…there’s coffee, memories, and stories waiting in every corner.
  • Lost & Found on the Concrete Playground

    Lost & Found on the Concrete Playground

    The Version of Me in NYC 🗽

    2017-2019: Chaos in Heels

    Steam curled up from subway grates as I power-walked Broadway in rain-soaked stilettos crying, under eating, sleepless, yet still nailing every lecture, two internships, and endless dance classes. Friends saw a grin; Mom and my brother saw the cracks. It was heartbreak + feeling “behind” + “not good enough” the full quarter-life cocktail.

    Dorm-Room Floor Confessions

    Alone in my tiny single, I’d face-plant on cold tile, sob, then yank myself up for heel workshops with Ksyn, The Dollhouse, Aisha Francis all queens who slowly reignited my spark and reminded me my body could still live inside the music.

    Walk, Breathe, Repeat

    I skipped the subway, clocking miles instead earbuds pumping therapy playlists. When panic spiked, I’d duck into a bathroom, plunge my hands under icy water, inhale four counts, exhale four counts, and keep it moving. That trick saved more nights than I can count.

    The Night Tank DMed

    One evening, fresh off work, I caught Tank’s Sex, Love & Pain II tour at BB King’s. He joked about me filming (“Sis, you making a bootleg?”), then slid into my Instagram DMs after the show “ All love, just playing.” Serotonin unlocked.

    Dating While Unhinged

    Funny truth: rock-bottom energy is apparently magnetic. My DMs overflowed, dates lined up like taxis at Penn Station. Healed me gets crickets; chaotic me got invites. Therapy sessions became weekly deep dives into self-worth, love, and why attention ≠ affection. Wednesdays blurred into late-night hangs with Uncle Carlos Tommy’s crew life advice served with greasy diner fries.

    The Quiet Turning Point

    Between 6 AM lifts, heel bruises, and those frost-breath city walks, I stacked accomplishments I was too anxious to celebrate. Only later did I realize NYC had held both my breakdown and my breakthrough.

    2026: Same City, New Nervous System

    Anxiety? Basically ghosted thank you, weekly therapy, journaling, lifting, dance, and miles of fresh air. My blog the dusty side project from eight years ago is now a thriving home for intentional stories on healing from anxiety and creative purpose. Mind, spirit, body: healthier than ever, and the goals keep stacking.

    I’m living proof you can chase a dream, shatter, glue yourself back together, and still hit publish glitter everywhere, stilettos on.

    Call to Heart

    💌 Share this with your favorite mess in progress

    Because if you’re knee-deep in your own concrete jungle spiral, remember: the cold water resets, the midnight walks, and the sweat-drenched studio lights are carving the stronger version of you right now. Keep breathing. You’re not lost you’re under construction.

  • What Cherry Blossoms Taught Me About Life

    What Cherry Blossoms Taught Me About Life

    I’ve loved cherry blossoms for as long as I can remember but I didn’t realize why until life got hard.

    Since I was 18, and even into my mid 20s, I’ve always had a thing for cherry blossoms.

    To me, they represent beauty, new beginnings, and the importance of living in the present moment. Their bloom is short and sweet, and maybe that’s what makes them so special. They remind me that life is fleeting, and that there’s something sacred about appreciating what’s in front of you while it’s here.

    Even though I don’t always get to see them in person as much as I’d like, when I do whether I’m on a run, out for a walk, or just passing by I really take them in.

    Because before you know it, they’re gone.

    And honestly? I think that’s part of why I love them so much.

    There’s something about seeing cherry blossoms when life feels heavy that just does something to you. When you’re spiraling, doubting yourself, or feeling like you’re not enough… and then you look up and see those soft pink blooms, it feels like a little glimpse of hope staring back at you.

    Like life is quietly saying:

    You’re going to be okay.

    There was a point in my life where I really needed that reminder.

    I was spiraling.

    I wasn’t feeling good enough.

    I felt like no one was willing to take a chance on me.

    And on top of that, life just kept piling on.

    I was grinding through so much and carrying it quietly because I didn’t want to burden my family or friends. So instead, I found little ways to pour back into myself. I went to New York. I took dance classes. I walked through parks. I found small moments that made me feel grounded again.

    And oh boy… did it work.

    It gave me confidence.

    A new perspective.

    A little spark in me that I thought I had lost.

    Just like cherry blossoms symbolize, I had to shed a little of myself to come back to life. Not lose who I was just let go of what was weighing me down so I could find my way back to me.

    Now, whenever I see cherry blossoms, I don’t just see something beautiful.

    I see hope.

    I see growth.

    I see perspective.

    I see a reminder that life can still surprise you in soft ways.

    And every single year, they bring me back to something I always say to myself and to anyone I end up talking to about life:

    Every year is an upgrade.

    Because you are not the same person you were last year.

    You are who you are in this moment.

    And that version of you matters too.

    So appreciate the moment.

    Take it in.

    Let yourself bloom while you’re here.

    Just like the cherry blossoms

  • Your Bills Are Paid Go Live Your Life

    Your Bills Are Paid Go Live Your Life

    When I opened TikTok first thing in the morning, a video stopped me.

    This guy was talking about how people start shaming others for going out, for what they wear, for what they buy… once they hit a certain age. Then he said something so simple but so real:

    Who cares?

    Your bills are paid.

    You have a job, a home, a car.

    Go do what you want. Life is already stressful enough why wouldn’t you enjoy what it has to offer?

    That hit me.

    I used to think growing up meant becoming quieter.

    Now I know it just means becoming more myself.

    Because people do judge you as you get older. They expect you to shrink, to quiet down, to become… predictable. But at the same time, a lot of people aren’t even doing the emotional work on themselves. And you can tell. You can always tell the difference between the people who are healing, growing, and learning themselves and the ones who aren’t.

    And me? I’m choosing to live.

    On March 14, I went into New York City to see Lithe in concert with my forever friend. Before anything, I did my homework I listened to his music, got familiar with his vibe. Because if my friends, my family, or even my future man loves something… I’m going to meet them there. If they like it, I love it too.

    Before heading to her apartment in Brooklyn, I stopped at TacoBee’s Mexican Grill to grab us food. I got a steak burrito and chicken birria tacos because priorities. Then it was just me, a bag full of food, and the city around me.

    When I got there, we split everything, started chatting, laughing, and getting ready for the night. And let me just say the food? So good.

    We got dressed with music playing in the background, putting together outfits inspired by Lithe’s album Euphoria greens and blacks, matching the energy.

    The venue was Elsewhere in Brooklyn intimate, packed, and alive. Disco balls hung from the ceiling, lights flashing everywhere blue, red, strobes, smoke it felt like stepping into a whole different world. My forever friend knew every word. She was dancing, singing, living in it. And me? Right there with her.

    After the show, we went out for a bit longer, just soaking in the night. No rush. No pressure. Just living.

    The next day, we slowed it down and explored. We went to find the giant chrome evil eye sculpture at Flatiron Plaza by Charlotte Colbert. It was 10 feet tall, reflecting everything around it. Blue and brown eyes, layered behind each other. Honestly? Beautiful. I love art in all forms whether it’s in a museum or just out in the street.

    Then we walked into the largest Barnes & Noble I’ve ever seen literal heaven. After that, we grabbed sandwiches (the best ones, obviously), and just enjoyed the day before I headed back home to New Jersey.

    Another weekend. Another memory. Probably another page in my junk journal.

    And the funny thing is… that TikTok was right.

    Go out.

    Wear what you want.

    Do what makes you happy.

    Your bills are paid.

    So go enjoy your life.

  • I Choose to Show Up

    In my mid 20s, I read a book called 101 Essays That Will Change the Way You Think. In one of the chapters, they talked about showing up for the people in your life. It doesn’t matter what title they have friend, best friend, family, significant other. You’re not showing up because of the title. You’re showing up because you want to.

    That stuck with me. And I’ve held myself to that ever since.

    Even when people make excuses about why they can’t show up. Even when it hurts. What can I do? Literally nothing. Life be lifing sometimes.

    But me? I hold myself accountable when it comes to showing up. And that matters to me.

    Recently, my titi told me I hold her accountable with making time and showing up. She appreciates that I do that. My tio Carlos said the same thing to me two years ago. That means a lot because they noticed. And their opinion means a lot to me.

    Fast forward to now, I thank my friends, my family, even the man I like, for spending time with me especially this summer (and more). Because it really does mean a lot. And it’s one of the standards I hold myself to.

    Showing up isn’t about obligation.

    It’s about intention.

    It’s about choosing people on purpose.

    It’s about being present when it would be easier not to be.

    It’s about making time when time feels limited.

    And maybe the real lesson is this:

    You can’t control who shows up for you. But you can control who you choose to be.

    I choose to be someone who shows up.

  • Miguel’s Chaos Tour

    Miguel’s Chaos Tour

    Before Miguel sang “Simple Things,” he paused and spoke about why he writes.

    He talked about wanting to be seen. Wanting to be heard. Wanting the simple things something he’s wanted since he was a little boy.

    And standing there at Radio City Music Hall, I realized that’s why I write too.

    But let me rewind.

    The first time I saw Miguel was during his Wildheart Tour on August 2, 2015. I went with my forever friend Brittany, and we turned it into a whole staycation moment. We stayed at my uncle’s apartment, rode bikes across the Brooklyn Bridge, and explored New York in a way that definitely cost less than it does now.

    Then on March 24, 2018, I went to his War & Leisure Tour with my cousins. We stayed at the apartment again and had another chill, fun New York weekend. Both nights at Terminal 5 became core memories for me. It was just a short walk from my uncle’s place at the time, which made it feel even more magical.

    Fast forward to February 24, 2026 Miguel’s Chaos Tour at Radio City Music Hall.

    Different venue. Same feeling.

    He performed a mix of old and new music. I’ve noticed lately that at concerts, many people don’t really know the newer songs. My forever friend who I went with this time too put it in perspective for me: some people just want the nostalgia. The hits. The familiar.

    But me? I love singing the new songs just as loudly. I want the artist to feel that the evolution matters. That the growth is being received. That the hard work didn’t go unnoticed.

    Miguel sang songs like “The Thrill,” “RIP,” “Sure Thing,” and more. And he can sing sing. The mic stays on. The playback drops. It’s him and the band. No hiding. Just artistry.

    But it was that speech before “Simple Things” that really got me.

    On the internet, everything can start to sound the same polished, filtered, almost copy-and-paste. Sometimes it feels like originality gets drowned out by performance.

    His words didn’t feel like performance.

    They felt human.

    And I realized that’s my “why” too. I blog to be seen. I write to be heard. Not to be perfect. Not to be viral. Just to be real.

    That night wasn’t just about the music. It was about remembering why expression matters in the first place.

    Miguel has carved out his own lane in R&B one that blends vulnerability, sensuality, and soul in a way that feels timeless.

    He’s still on tour. And if you ever get the chance to see him live, go.

    Not just for the hits.

    Not just for the nostalgia.

    But for the reminder that the simple things being seen, being heard are sometimes the most powerful of all.

    This city keeps holding my memories in the most unexpected ways.

  • Love Is Where You Pour It.

    Some people say Valentine’s Day is just a Hallmark holiday. Others go all out for their significant other. And single people? We usually fall somewhere between pouring back into ourselves or spending time with friends. Or honestly treating it like any other day. And all of that is valid.

    In my mid 20s, I started pouring into myself. I’d write love letters to myself, pour some champagne, run a bubble bath, and even do a little DIY photoshoot to end my self love day. It sounds simple, but it made me feel really good about myself not just that day, but for weeks after.

    In my early 30s, Valentine’s Day started to look different. I leaned into Galentine’s Day with my friends and coworkers drinks flowing, games playing, matching PJs, lots of laughing, and of course pictures at the end. And really good food. I can’t forget the food.

    That phase taught me the importance of community watering friendships, loving your people, and appreciating them while you have them. Life is too short not to.

    I’ve never actually done Valentine’s Day with a man yet. And honestly? That’s because I know myself. When I love, I love fully. I would make sure he felt appreciated, seen, and deeply loved. In the past, I’ve invested in men physically, emotionally, and spiritually that’s just how I show up in this thing called life. I’m extremely picky about who I let into my world and I should be. We get one life. One chance to do it right, to grow, to experience the good, the bad, and the ugly with someone who’s worth it.

    What I’m really saying is this:

    You can pour into yourself.

    You can spend the day with friends.

    You can pretend the holiday doesn’t exist.

    It’s your life.

    You get to decide how you love yourself, your people, and one day, maybe a partner too. Spread love where it feels real. Pour into what pours back into you.

    Happy Love Day. 💘

  • Burlesque & Brunch: When The Dollhouse Came Back Hotter Than Ever

    Burlesque & Brunch: When The Dollhouse Came Back Hotter Than Ever

    The Dollhouse Experience returned this year with a whole new kind of fire this time, wrapped in mimosas and glitter at Burlesque & Brunch. Their latest show, “The Real Hot Wives of NY,” might be their best storytelling to date. And trust me I don’t say that lightly. I’ve been a solid supporter from the jump, and this show? Whew. They snapped.

    Legacy in Motion: From the Originals to the New Generation

    For over a decade, The Dollhouse and The Ken Project have held it down in NYC. From the OG dancers who laid the foundation to the new generation who just stepped up and made it their own this is a legacy you feel when you walk into the room.

    And on January 4th, 2026, the new crew showed exactly what they’re made of. They came in hot, bold, and unapologetic and the energy was electric. I was hyped from the moment the lights went down.

    Burlesque, But Make It Brunch

    This was the first time I’ve seen The Dollhouse flip their format into a daytime show and honestly? It worked. Most of their shows I remember were at night, but this brunch version hit different in the best way.

    Between the sunny atmosphere, the energy of the crowd, and the sheer sass of the show it felt like a full-blown celebration. Madama Sonia kicked things off and brought all the charisma between numbers hilarious, fearless, and the perfect host.

    Every single dancer brought their own unique flavor to the stage. From the costuming to the choreography, it was clear: this wasn’t just performance. It was expression. It was art. It was power.

    Inspired? Always. Awkward First? Also Yes.

    I say this every time I leave a Dollhouse show:

    “Okay… I need to tap into my sensual side in my next dance class.”

    But let’s be real I will be awkward first. I will second-guess the mirror. But that’s the point: they inspire that stretch. That desire to step into your sexy, your softness, your soul.

    That’s the Dollhouse magic.

    Next Show: Don’t Miss It

    I don’t want to give away too much because this is something you need to experience for yourself. But if you’re thinking about going?

    GO.

    The next Burlesque & Brunch is happening on March 22, 2026, and I already know they’re about to raise the bar again. From the performances, to the food, to the dancers who pour their soul into every number this is a full-body yes.

    Follow & Book:

    Follow them on IG: @thedollhousexperience

    Hit the link in their bio to grab your tickets — and prepare to be obsessed.

  • Breakdown to a Breakthrough

    Breakdown to a Breakthrough

    On February 17, 2017, I had a bad anxiety episode you know, the kind where you can’t eat, can’t sleep, and feel completely trapped in your own head. I needed to get out of the apartment.

    At the time, my uncle Carlos was my escape. We used to make time to see each other sometimes Wednesday into Thursday and head into the city. He was my go to. Funny, grounded, a great listener. Our time together always centered me.

    That night, after work, I headed to New York City to see him. We talked in his apartment before walking over to Playa Betty’s to meet up with his best friend Dom. The three of us sat over chips, dip, and pitchers of sangria, just talking about everything life, love, work, the usual chaos. The energy was good. The laughter was loud. And in the middle of it all, I got some advice that stuck.

    Eventually, my uncle had to head home, and I was left alone in his apartment. That’s when it started the spiral. The overthinking crept in. The apartment was dark, and I couldn’t stop tossing and turning. My mind wouldn’t shut off.

    Panic mode hit. I tried calming myself by running water in the bathroom and holding my hands under it that usually helps. Not this time. I started texting friends and family, but only the ones I felt safe reaching out to. Then, full panic took over and I did what panic does I called Mount Sinai Hospital thinking maybe they could talk me through it. (Spoiler: they couldn’t. It doesn’t work like that.)

    Eventually, I passed out from exhaustion.

    When morning came, I left his apartment and made my way to Central Park. I didn’t care that it was freezing. I had Wildheart by Miguel playing from start to finish in my headphones. There’s this hidden spot in the park where you can see two tall buildings across the water. I found it. I took it in. Of course, I took a picture if you know me, you know I never let a view like that go undocumented. It felt rare. Sacred. Especially in the dead of winter.

    Then I started walking from Central Park to 42nd Street with music still in one ear (because obviously, one headphone stays out. Gotta be aware). Songs like What’s Normal Anyway, Leaves, Face the Sun ft. Lenny Kravitz, Destinado a Morir, and Damned carried me forward.

    And somewhere along that walk, I had an epiphany. I was coming home to myself.

    Not all at once, but slowly. Gently. In my own time.

    Years later, I can say this: I don’t just feel like I’m surviving anymore. I feel alive. I take in the little moments. I stay present. I’m forever grateful for the people in my life who held space for me and for the version of me who kept going even when she didn’t know how.

    As a fellow overthinker, and someone who used to try to control everything… guess what? You can’t.

    But the best feeling is when you finally stop trying to escape yourself… and you come home.

    Your breakdown will lead to your breakthrough.

    And that, my love, is where the beauty begins

  • Aunt Jake’s Pasta Making Experience

    Aunt Jake’s Pasta Making Experience

    I was still riding the high from my birthday everyone was celebrating me, taking time out of their day to send love and make me feel special. The next adventure? A trip into the city with my cousin and my forever friend. We were all set to kick off the new year right.

    It was early January, which basically means you roll the dice on the weather could be negative two, could be snow, could be rain. Of course, we got rain. I grabbed Ubers both ways because I didn’t want anyone getting sick just for coming out to celebrate me. That was love.

    We arrived at Aunt Jake’s for the pasta-making class, and let me tell you it was a vibe. We made four different types of pasta (I’m pretty sure it was rigatoni, noodles, spaghetti, and…something else, but I was sipping, okay?). The two instructors were funny and easygoing, and the whole class was just full of good energy. Everyone had their drinks, people were chatting it up, and we were all learning how to roll, shape, and cut pasta like pros.

    After the class, the three of us sat down for our three-course meal. We each picked different appetizers, mains, and of course dessert. Our conversation flowed so naturally, filled with laughter, more drinks, and plates of food that just kept coming.

    What made the night even more special was how my cousin and my forever friend instantly clicked. That matters to me family is everything, and now my forever friend is family. I’ll always remember that night. I’ll always appreciate the way they showed up for me. And I already can’t wait to plan the next outing with them.

    The Aunt Jake’s pasta-making experience? 10/10. Highly recommend date night, girls’ night, solo night…whatever your heart desires. Just go.

  • 35 and Becoming

    35 and Becoming

    I’ve lived 35 years, and I’m still becoming.

    Not in a rushing, fixing, dramatic kind of way but in a quiet, rooted way.

    A way that stays.

    I don’t need to be more.

    I just need to keep becoming more of myself.

    This birthday doesn’t feel like a reset.

    It feels like a return.

    A return to the parts of me I abandoned when I thought I had to be perfect to be loved.

    A return to softness after years of survival.

    A return to beauty not the curated kind, but the real kind.

    The unmade-beds kind. Morning coffee. Laughing somewhere with friends.

    I don’t have all the answers, but here’s what I do know at 35:

    Life is messy.

    You’ll cry while working out at the gym with your friend or at the bar.

    You’ll laugh in the kitchen during deep conversations on nights you stay in.

    You’ll forget your worth, then remember it like a firework.

    You’ll lose people who swore they’d never leave only to realize you were doing all the heavy lifting. And yes… it’ll happen more than once.

    But then, you’ll find peace in unexpected places.

    New York.

    A dance class.

    South Carolina while visiting a friend.

    Mexico.

    Mexico City while visiting your uncle.

    Italy

    Spain

    And somewhere along the way, the glow-up happens but it’s internal.

    It shows up in how you respond.

    How you pause before reacting.

    How you protect your peace even when it would be easier to self-destruct.

    It shows up after two years of therapy.

    After learning how to communicate better.

    After choosing healthier bonds with friends, family, and whoever is brave enough to take a real risk on you.

    Now, I find joy in the small things.

    Coffee runs.

    Slow mornings.

    Loud dinners.

    Spontaneous photoshoots.

    Walking aimlessly through New York because I don’t want to go home just yet.

    I’ve also learned this:

    You can love your life and still long for more.

    You can be grateful and still hungry.

    You can be more than one thing at once.

    You don’t have to follow anyone else’s timeline only your own.

    If it feels right to me, that’s what matters.

    I met the most down-to-earth dancers, entertainers, and creatives in New York during my mid and late twenties. It felt community based. Real. Appreciated. And I’m grateful I experienced that because now, I know what genuine connection looks like.

    Thirty five isn’t the finish line.

    It’s the soft middle.

    It’s where I stop performing and start embodying.

    Where I hustle less for love and trust it more.

    Where I know who I am just a little less shy, and a lot more hopeful.

    Here’s to not apologizing for who I’ve become.

    To loving louder.

    Resting deeper.

    Laughing easier.

    Letting things unfold naturally.

    I am so ready for you, 35.