Sessi Dancing Corners

Come in, sit down…there’s coffee, memories, and stories waiting in every corner.
  • Somewhere Between the Rooftops and the City

    Somewhere Between the Rooftops and the City

    Rooftop at hotel indigo

    There’s something about seeing New York from a rooftop that makes everything feel a little different.

    Down below, the city is doing what it always doe moving too fast, honking too loudly, rushing somewhere important. But up here, everything softens. The noise becomes a hum. The buildings stretch out in every direction, and for a second, I’m not thinking about where I need to be next.

    I’m just here.

    Somewhere between the rooftops and the city, between the life happening below me and the one I’m still figuring out, I realized how much I’ve changed.

    I used to think becoming meant having some perfectly mapped-out version of what life was supposed to look like. Now, I think becoming looks a lot more like this: standing above a city I’ve loved through so many versions of myself, letting the wind mess up my hair, looking out at everything still waiting for me, and realizing I don’t need to know exactly where I’m going to know that I’m moving forward.

    And maybe that’s exactly what I needed from this weekend. Not answers. Not some huge revelation. Just a change of scenery and a few days to enjoy the city from a different point of view.

    So, I packed my bags and headed to New York for a weekend that somehow included a little bit of everything: rooftop views, getting ready with my forever friend while singing and dancing between makeup steps, wandering around the Lower East Side, and checking out a rage room that we thought had an opening.

    It didn’t.

    But somehow that worked out just fine, because instead we ended up having some delicious sushi.

    One minute we were singing, dancing, and getting dressed, turning the room into our own little mini concert. Honestly, that might have been one of my favorite parts of the night. My forever friend and I also had our own mini photoshoot, taking turns pretending to be each other’s photographer. And every time I look back at those pictures, I’m reminded of how much fun can exist in the smallest moments.

    Mini photoshoot

    Then the real fun started.

    My forever friend’s crew came through, my cousin Hannah showed up, and from there, it was nothing but fun. There was no perfectly planned itinerary or pressure for the night to become something extraordinary. We were simply together, laughing and enjoying the city.

    And somewhere in the middle of all of it, I realized that maybe that was the point.

    Sunday slowed everything down in the best way. After all the singing, dancing, getting ready, and going out the night before, we spent part of the day at the rooftop pool. Sitting above the city, taking in the skyline and just enjoying the moment felt like the perfect way to end the weekend. There was nowhere to rush to and nothing I needed to figure out. I could just be there, soaking it all in.

    On the ride back to New Jersey, I found myself thinking about the weekend differently. I thought about my forever friend, my cousin Hannah, and the people who showed up simply because they wanted to be there.

    It made me appreciate everything a little more.

    Sometimes it’s easy to look at our lives and focus on what we think is missing the things we haven’t accomplished yet, the relationships we don’t have, the plans that haven’t worked out, or the version of life we thought we would have by now.

    But maybe having everything was never the point.

    Maybe we just need the people who show up. The people who turn getting ready into a concert, take a hundred pictures until we get the one, change plans when the original ones fall through, and make an ordinary weekend feel like something worth remembering.

    I went to New York thinking I needed a change of scenery.

    Instead, somewhere between the rooftops and the city, I was reminded to appreciate the life that is already happening around me.

  • August Feels Like a Deep Breath

    August Feels Like a Deep Breath

    Some months arrive with fireworks.

    Some months ask us to keep running.

    Others invite us to slow down long enough to notice the life we’re already living.

    That’s what August feels like.

    A deep breath.

    July was full in all the best ways. Time with family, girls’ nights out, afternoon runs, little adventures, and coffee dates with myself reminded me that life doesn’t always have to be extraordinary to be meaningful.

    Now August is here, and instead of rushing toward fall, I’m giving myself permission to simply enjoy where I am.

    I think that’s what this month is teaching me.

    To slow down.

    To breathe a little deeper.

    To appreciate the ordinary moments that often become the ones we remember the most.

    One of my favorite parts of the weekend is slowing down enough to make my iced coffee exactly how I like it. During the workweek, mornings move too fast, so I save this little ritual for Saturdays and Sundays. I froth my favorite creamer with flavored syrups, make myself breakfast, and spend a little time writing in my gratitude journal or working on a craft before the day really begins.

    Homemade coffee

    Maybe that’s why I’ve been loving my weekends so much lately. Before errands, plans, or responsibilities start pulling me in different directions, I get a little pocket of peace that’s completely mine. I’ve learned not to take those moments for granted.

    Then there are the days when work is…well…work.

    Whenever I have a stressful day and can feel my body slipping into fight-or-flight mode the tingling sensations, the tension, all of it I know exactly what I need.

    If it’s not unbearably hot outside, I lace up my running shoes, turn my music all the way up, and head out for a run.

    Sometimes I even find myself tearing up while I’m running.

    Have you ever read The Body Keeps the Score? My body definitely keeps score. Running has become one of the ways I let all that stress leave my body. Every mile reminds me that movement isn’t just good for my health it’s also how I find my way back to myself.

    The slower weekends have been just as meaningful.

    On the Saturdays I don’t have to work, I look forward to sleeping in with Chloe. Even though she somehow manages to take over the bed, stretch across my legs, or steal my pillow, I wouldn’t trade those mornings for anything. They’re peaceful in the sweetest way, and they remind me that happiness is often found in the simplest moments.

    This summer also reminded me how incredibly grateful I am for the people in my life.

    One weekend, my forever friend and I spent the day exploring Hoboken before heading to Jersey City to watch the soccer final together. Another weekend, we went axe throwing, grabbed dinner, and laughed until our stomachs hurt. Those outings weren’t extravagant, but they became memories I’ll carry with me for a long time.

    Then there was one of my favorite moments of the summer.

    My family from Puerto Rico came to New Jersey for a brunch my mom hosted. The house was filled with laughter, conversations, delicious food, and the kind of jokes that only family understands. Watching everyone catch up, encourage one another, and simply enjoy being together reminded me how lucky I am to have them.

    For once, nobody seemed to be in a rush.

    Everyone was simply present.

    And honestly, I loved that.

    Looking back, I’ve realized this summer wasn’t about checking destinations off a list.

    It was about collecting moments.

    The slow weekend mornings with coffee.

    The evening runs that helped me reset.

    The Saturdays spent cuddling Chloe.

    The laughter around the brunch table.

    The afternoons exploring with friends.

    The little routines that quietly became the heartbeat of my summer.

    I’ve spent a lot of time reflecting lately, and I don’t want to rush into fall just because the calendar says it’s next.

    I want to enjoy August for exactly what it is.

    A month to pause.

    A month to breathe.

    A month to notice everything that’s already beautiful before chasing what’s next.

    Because sometimes life doesn’t ask us to do more.

    Sometimes it simply asks us to be present.

    To look around and realize that a meaningful life isn’t built only through milestones or big adventures.

    It’s built through ordinary Saturdays.

    Shared meals.

    Morning coffee.

    Evening runs.

    The people who make us laugh.

    The family who reminds us where we come from.

    The little moments that become our favorite memories before we even realize they’re happening.

    And maybe…

    that’s what a deep breath feels like.

  • What July Taught Me: Finding Growth in the Little Things

    What July Taught Me: Finding Growth in the Little Things

    July didn’t change my life overnight.

    It changed the way I looked at it.

    Somewhere between long summer evenings, family gatherings, city adventures, and quiet mornings, I realized that growth doesn’t always arrive with fireworks. Sometimes, it quietly shows up in the moments you almost overlook.

    The Fourth of July has always been a big event for my family, and it’s something I look forward to every summer. This year reminded me not to take those moments for granted. Making memories, laughing together, and simply being present meant more to me than I expected. Sometimes we spend so much time looking ahead that we forget how special it is to enjoy the people right in front of us.

    Then there were the adventures with my forever friend. Whether we were spending a girls’ night out in New Jersey or taking the train into the city, there was never a dull moment. Every outing reminded me that saying yes to experiences creates memories you’ll smile about long after the night is over.

    At the same time, I never forgot about myself.

    The quiet mornings became just as meaningful as the busy days. Some mornings it was just a cup of coffee, my journal, and the quiet before the world woke up. Other days it was sitting outside, crafting, or simply taking a deep breath before work. Those moments reminded me that slowing down isn’t wasting time it’s how I reconnect with myself.

    One of the biggest lessons I’ve carried from therapy is that everything is connected. The way I care for myself affects every part of my life. When anxiety creeps in or I find myself feeling overwhelmed, I’ve learned that I don’t have to fight those feelings. I can acknowledge them, let them pass, reflect on them, and remind myself that tomorrow is another opportunity to do a little better.

    Looking back, this summer has been really good for my soul.

    Between family, friends, city adventures, quiet mornings, and taking time to ground myself, July reminded me that growth isn’t always loud. Sometimes it’s found in ordinary moments that slowly shape the person you’re becoming.

    As August begins, I’m not chasing some dramatic transformation. I’m simply carrying these lessons with me, continuing to say yes to the moments that matter, making time for the people I love, and remembering to always make space for myself along the way.

    Because sometimes, that’s exactly where the biggest growth happens.

  • 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.