Sessi. Dancing Corners

Come in, sit down…there’s coffee, memories, and stories waiting in every corner.

  • The Little Things Holding Me Together This Summer

    Summer always has a way of making everything feel louder.

    The days are longer, the sun feels stronger, the plans start filling up, and suddenly life feels like it is moving faster than I can sometimes keep up with.

    But this summer, I have been paying more attention to the little things.

    Not the big milestones. Not the perfect plans. Not the moments that need to be posted right away or explained to anyone else. Just the small things that have been quietly holding me together when life feels busy, emotional, or uncertain.

    A walk outside.
    A good iced coffee.
    A song that finds me at the right time.
    A workout that reminds me I can keep going.
    A family moment that makes me laugh harder than I expected.
    A quiet night where I get to come back home to myself.

    I think sometimes we wait for life to feel completely figured out before we let ourselves enjoy it. We wait for the answer, the healing, the closure, the next chapter, or the sign that everything is finally okay.

    But lately, I am realizing that maybe the little things are not just distractions from the bigger things.

    Maybe they are the proof that I am still being cared for in the middle of becoming.

    This summer, I am learning that being held together does not always look dramatic. Sometimes it looks like showing up for yourself in tiny ways, even when your heart is tired.

    For me, that has looked like giving myself weekends with some crafts, seeing my people, making more memories, and finding small ways to feel present again.

    It has also looked like writing in my journal and calling it a brain dump when I need to get everything out of my mind. There is something comforting about putting my thoughts somewhere safe. Even when the page is messy, it still feels like a release.

    I have grown to appreciate those little things more. The quiet routines. The simple plans. The moments where I laugh without expecting to. The people who show up for me without making me ask twice.

    Sometimes we think being held together means having everything under control. But this summer is showing me that maybe it means letting the little things carry you when the bigger things feel heavy.

    Maybe it is the iced coffee before a long day.
    Maybe it is the walk that clears your head.
    Maybe it is the song that says what you could not explain.
    Maybe it is family, friends, movement, writing, or a quiet night in.

    This summer has reminded me that I do not always need one big thing to save me.

    Sometimes, I just need a collection of small things that remind me I am still here, still growing, still becoming, and still allowed to enjoy life in the middle of it all.

    And honestly, those little things have been holding me together in more ways than one.

  • 4th of July: Family, Fireworks, and Full Hearts

    4th of July: Family, Fireworks, and Full Hearts

    On my dad’s side, everyone takes turns hosting the holidays.

    My Titi Belen hosts Thanksgiving. My Tio Carlos hosts Christmas Eve. My Uncle Spooner hosts the 4th of July. I started hosting my cousin’s Christmas photoshoot and hanging out before all the Christmas activities. So yes, in my family, holidays are not just dates on the calendar. They are full blown family events.

    Back to the 4th of July.

    In Casa Rivera, my Uncle Spooner buys fireworks, my Titi and Tio get the food ready for the afternoon and dinner, and everyone brings their own kind of energy. There are drinks, food, music, kids running around, and family everywhere.

    Casa Rivera

    The kids play in the pool. The adults talk, laugh, joke, and catch up. Then once it gets dark, everyone gets ready for the fireworks.

    My Uncle Spooner does not play when it comes to fireworks either. We have ground fireworks and aerial fireworks. Everyone gathers outside, watching in awe, recording videos, taking pictures, and holding onto the people they love.

    Some family members are talking loud, some are laughing, and my Uncle Spooner is usually somewhere shouting about the fireworks like he is the official mayor of the 4th of July. And of course, Spanish music is playing in the background because what is a family function without music?

    Honestly, my Uncle Spooner made me fall in love with this holiday.

    He brought the family in during the summer. He gave us a reason to gather, eat, laugh, and make memories. Everyone has a good time with smiles, food grilling, and love all around.

    There is always something happening in my family. A graduation announcement, a pregnancy announcement, a birthday, or just another reason to celebrate life together.

    Last year, I brought my forever friend with me. She had fun, and she is coming again this year. That meant a lot to me because I do not bring just anyone around my family. I do not want temporary people in my life, especially around the people who mean the most to me.

    The day I bring a man to a family function, please know it is serious. My family means a lot to me. I am very family oriented, and my family is full of roasts, jokes, stories, chaos, and love. We talk about anything and everything.

    So happy 250th birthday, America. I hope we remember that we are still a melting pot, and that we all deserve to get along, live comfortably, and lead with love.

    And for me, the 4th of July will always be about more than fireworks. It is about family, memories, music, food, and those little moments that remind me how lucky I am to be surrounded by love.

  • 3 Lessons My Dad Taught Me

    3 Lessons My Dad Taught Me

    I grew up with divorced parents, so both of them taught me different things. Almost the same lessons, but not in the same way.

    My parents grew up together too, but they did not have an easy life. They were both in survival mode in their own ways. My dad taught me resilience, never quitting, the value of hard work, discipline, and staying true to my values.

    The first lesson my dad taught me was hard work and discipline.

    He taught me the importance of consistency, whether it was working out, reading a book, or doing the things we say we want to do. He showed me that discipline is not always loud or glamorous. Sometimes it is just showing up every day, even when you do not feel like it.

    I still carry that lesson with me. I still try to stay consistent with my body, my goals, and the things that matter to me.

    The second lesson my dad taught me was resilience and never quitting.

    He never gave up, even when life threw challenges at him. He went through the Marines, life changes, childhood lessons, and things that could have made him bitter, but instead, he learned from them. He passed that strength down to me and my brother.

    Even my uncle was like a big brother to him, and I think those relationships shaped him too. Because of my dad, I do not quit on the things I love. I fight for my dreams, my family, and the life I want.

    The last lesson my dad taught me was staying true to my values.

    This one might be the lesson I understand more as I get older. My dad showed me how important it is to stand your ground, especially when it comes to family and the people you love.

    He also taught me that not everyone deserves access to you. People show you who they are by how they treat you, and you have to pay attention. He used to explain it with animals and how they move — basically, always be aware, stay ready, and do not be surprised when people act exactly how they have already shown you they can act.

    That lesson stuck with me because it taught me to love people, but also protect myself.

    I thank my dad for every lesson he taught me. Because of him, I know how to work hard, keep going, love my family, and stay true to myself. I appreciate him and love him so much. Happy Father’s Day to the man who taught me strength by the way he lived. 🤍

  • My Body Needed the Pause: Yoga at Bryant Park

    My Body Needed the Pause: Yoga at Bryant Park

    I’ve been working nonstop lately with extra Saturdays because work is very short-staffed. Helping people get the right things done is important, but if you don’t give yourself the same care, burnout will come faster than you expect.

    No one wants to feel burnt out and do the same thing over and over again.

    I’m all for breaking the daily routine because I rarely use my PTO, and I almost never call out of work unless I’m really sick. So on June 3rd, 2026, I took a free yoga class at Bryant Park in New York City.

    The class started at 6 p.m., but I left right after work and headed straight to the bus. First stop: Juice Generation for the Blue Beauty Smoothie . It was delicious, and I’ll always support them.

    After that, I headed to MoMA to see the Frida and Diego exhibition. But, you know me your girl got lost before finding the location. Classic side quest behavior.

    I was on a time crunch, so I told myself I would go next time because I wanted a good spot for yoga. This year, Halara sponsored the event, and they had KeVita drinkable yogurt and Solely organic mango and guava fruit gummies. I got both and found a good spot for class.

    It was hot in New York, but I was able to relax during the class, and honestly, I needed it. I still think it’s interesting that they had influencers at a free event. New York has so many influencers now that it sometimes feels like they randomly pop up everywhere, telling you about the next viral restaurant or place to go.

    Anyway, it was a beautiful summer day to do yoga in the park, and it was exactly what I needed. I love a city reset.

    The next day, I was so tired at work and honestly, that told me everything. The reset worked. My body needed the pause, my mind needed the city, and I needed one small reminder that I’m allowed to step outside my routine and come back to myself.

  • Why I’m Done Explaining My Softness


    I still believe in grace. I just finally believe I deserve some too

    I used to think being soft meant I had to constantly prove I wasn’t weak. That if I cared too much, forgave too easily, or tried to understand people before judging them, I somehow had to explain myself. I had to make sure people knew I wasn’t naive, wasn’t blind, and wasn’t letting things slide because I didn’t see them.

    But the truth is, I saw everything. I felt everything. I just chose grace more times than people deserved it.

    And lately, I’ve realized my softness was never the problem. The problem was thinking I had to defend it to people who only understood kindness when they could benefit from it.

    My experience with softness has always been complicated. I’ve always been someone who feels deeply, listens closely, and tries to understand where people are coming from. I give people room. I give second chances. I try to see the good before I assume the worst.

    But over time, I started realizing that not everyone knows how to respect softness. Some people mistake it for permission. They think because you’re kind, you won’t get tired. Because you’re forgiving, you won’t notice patterns. Because you understand them, they don’t have to understand you back.

    I’ve made excuses for people who stopped showing up the way I needed them to. I’ve overlooked being dismissed, being treated like an afterthought, and being asked for more than I should have had to give. Whether it was someone not making time, constantly needing something from me, asking for money, or not caring about my position in it all, I kept trying to understand.

    I told myself maybe they were overwhelmed, maybe they didn’t mean it, maybe this was just temporary.

    But when something becomes a pattern, it stops being a one-time thing.

    That’s the part that changed me.

    I started realizing that some people get too comfortable with your grace. They assume you’ll always be there. They assume you’ll always understand. They assume you’ll keep bailing them out emotionally, mentally, or even financially, while barely considering what it costs you.

    And that hurts.

    It hurts when you value the friendship or connection more than they do. It hurts when you keep extending understanding while quietly feeling unseen. It hurts when you’re giving grace to people who can’t seem to give you basic consideration in return.

    That’s when I started learning that softness needs boundaries.

    Being soft does not mean shrinking your hurt so someone else can stay comfortable. It does not mean translating disrespect into “they didn’t mean it.” It does not mean overextending yourself just because you have a good heart.

    Sometimes, the softest thing you can do for yourself is stop explaining, stop overgiving, and let people meet the version of you who still has a heart but finally has a line.

    I still believe in grace. I just finally believe I deserve some too.

    I’m not less soft now. I’m just less available to people who confuse softness with weakness.

  • Being Too Understanding

    Being Too Understanding


    Learning that grace should not cost me myself.

    I’ve always been the kind of person who tries to understand everyone.

    Their silence. Their distance. Their bad timing. Their moods. Their excuses. Their “I didn’t mean it like that.” I can see ten different sides of a situation before I even let myself feel my own.

    And for a long time, I thought that made me kind.

    Maybe it did. But lately, I’ve been realizing something uncomfortable: sometimes when you’re too understanding, people start forgetting that you have feelings too.

    They get used to your grace. They assume you’ll always make room for them, even when they stop making room for you. They expect you to understand why they couldn’t show up, why they didn’t call, why they were too busy, too tired, too overwhelmed, too whatever.

    And because you’ve always been soft about it, they forget that softness still gets bruised.

    That weight gets exhausting.

    People really do forget about you altogether when they get used to you being the one who always understands. I’m talking from experience, and I still don’t change easily. I know life is lifing. I know everyone has things going on. I know people are tired, overwhelmed, distracted, and doing the best they can.

    But I also realize I’ve been too soft about myself for too long.

    I’ve let people pick other people over me and stayed quiet. I’ve watered myself down so I wouldn’t seem like too much. I’ve done the work in friendships, love, and even some family matters where I kept giving people the benefit of the doubt while ignoring how much it was hurting me.

    And here’s the thing: I don’t think those people are always bad people.

    I think sometimes people get comfortable taking from the person who never makes it hard for them. They get comfortable with the person who always says, “It’s okay,” even when it’s not. They get used to the person who forgives quickly, understands deeply, and rarely asks for much back.

    But being understanding should not mean being forgotten.

    Being kind should not mean being available for emotional leftovers.

    Being patient should not mean waiting forever for people to realize you matter.

    I can be understanding and still have boundaries.

    I can love people and still expect effort.

    I can know life gets hard and still admit when someone has hurt me.

    I can give grace without abandoning myself in the process.

    That’s the part I’m learning now. I don’t have to become cold. I don’t have to stop caring. I don’t have to turn into someone I’m not just because people didn’t know how to appreciate the softer version of me.

    But I do have to stop making excuses for people who keep making me feel small.

    I have to stop confusing empathy with self-abandonment.

    I have to stop carrying the weight of relationships where I’m the only one trying to understand.

    Because the truth is, I deserve the effort too. I deserve to be considered. I deserve people who don’t just assume I’ll be fine because I’ve always found a way to be.

    I’m still going to be understanding. That’s part of who I am.

    But I’m learning that understanding other people should never come at the cost of losing myself.

    And maybe that’s the real lesson: I can have a soft heart without being easy to overlook.

  • 3 Life Lessons My Mother Taught Me Without Even Trying

    3 Life Lessons My Mother Taught Me Without Even Trying

    My mother is one of the most selfless people I know.

    She loves with an open heart and giving hands, and in return, she has taught me what it means to love other people. Not just when it’s easy. Not just when life is perfect. But through the hard parts, the sacrifices, and the moments where you have to keep going even when you’re tired.

    Even though my mom did not have the easiest childhood, she never let that stop her from raising my brother, my sister, and me differently. She gave us what she never had, but in her own way. My mom made sure we went on vacations. She made sure my brother and sister stopped being bullied. She made sure we went to good schools. She fought for our education so we could learn better and not feel stuck.

    She did all of this while going to school to become a nurse and working. That alone taught me resilience. Watching her work hard, push through, and still show up for us taught me that I can have a lot on my plate and still reach my goals.

    I admire that about her. I admire her strength. I admire her heart. I admire the way she kept going.

    My mom also taught me gratitude and positivity. She taught me to appreciate what I have because tomorrow is never guaranteed. She taught us manners and all the little things that come with being kind, respectful, and thoughtful.

    She also taught us the importance of family.

    Growing up, we went to two different churches. On Sundays, my titi would come over, or we would go to her house. Both sides of the family showed me what it means to stay connected, to show up, and to value the people who love you.

    The last lesson my mom taught me is kindness and empathy.

    She taught me to choose kindness when I can. To forgive others. To help when someone needs it. To understand that life is too short to carry every heavy thing forever. You never know what life will take from you, give to you, or teach you along the way.

    I thank my mom, and I adore her.

    I hope she never feels underappreciated. I hope she gets to live her life fully and know how much she has given to us, not just by what she did, but by who she is.

    Because the truth is, my mother didn’t just teach me lessons.

    She became them.

  • The View Was Worth the Detour

    The View Was Worth the Detour

    I booked The Edge with my friend because I wanted to see everything New York had to offer from way up high. And honestly? The view was amazing.

    But let me rewind to how we even got to that moment.

    On Saturday, I had to work my usual Saturday shift, but I got to work with my brother, which always makes the day more fun. After work, we went home for a bit before heading out to meet my cousin and her boyfriend. They balance each other very well very cute together and it was nice getting to spend a little time with family before the city adventure officially began.

    Then came the rain.

    And New York has a full blown love affair with rain. I swear I am always there when it’s raining. There’s this saying about “rain writes stories sun could never tell,” and that stuck with me as I stepped into my new decade and made my way through the city.

    I took the walk to my friend’s apartment while it was still raining, slightly lost in the process, but somehow enjoying it anyway. There’s something about New York in the rain that feels chaotic, cinematic, and weirdly comforting all at once.

    Finally, I made it to my friend’s apartment after Google Maps decided to send me on a little detour before actually letting me arrive. Classic. We grabbed soup dumplings and fried rice at Nan Xiang, which is one of my favorite spots in New York.

    Because nothing says “rainy city adventure” like getting a little lost, finding your people, and rewarding yourself with dumplings.

    Saturday was the detour. Sunday was the view

    The next day was when the real Edge adventure happened.

    On Sunday, we went to Starbucks Reserve before heading to The Edge. And let me just say: espresso martini flights? A dangerous little blessing. We tried different flavors from ube to matcha, the original, and more and it felt like the perfect pre adventure stop.

    We sat, sipped, laughed, and had one of those good conversations about life that makes you realize how much you needed the moment. Sometimes the best part of a day isn’t even the big plan itself, but the little pockets of honesty and connection before you get there.

    After Starbucks Reserve, we headed to The Edge to finally take in the scenery. Seeing New York from that high up was unreal. The city looked endless buildings, lights, movement, stories everywhere. We took pictures, talked to some of the people who worked there, and just let ourselves enjoy being tourists for a little while.

    And honestly? Sometimes that’s the best way to experience New York with a friend, a loose plan, a little caffeine, a little chaos, and a view that reminds you how big life can still feel.

    After that, we headed home, tired but happy, with pictures, memories, and another New York story added to the collection.

    Maybe that’s what I loved most about the weekend. It reminded me that even when the plan shifts, the rain starts, or the map takes you the long way, there can still be something beautiful waiting at the top

  • 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