Reset

Reset

/rēˈset/ noun · verb

Reset is the gentle return to yourself—

the clearing of what no longer belongs,

the remembering of what does,

and the quiet reorientation toward a life rooted in truth, steadiness, and self-honoring.

The story of Reset.

Lately, my soul has been asking for a reset.

Not a gentle one.

Not a “maybe later.”

A real one.

I’ve begun to notice how much weight we carry without ever questioning it—old roles, expectations, survival habits. Things that once helped us cope, but now quietly keep us from living fully.

I’m in a season of clearing.

Of choosing simplicity.

Of listening to my body and honoring what it needs.

Of releasing what no longer belongs on my shoulders—whether that’s objects, patterns, people, or ways of working that no longer feel true.

This is a year of rest for me.

From the root of my being.

Rest as devotion.

Rest as recalibration.

Rest as truth.

My work, my home, and my life are becoming more intentional—designed with care, beauty, and integrity. Love Notes to the Feminine is part of that devotion. It’s a place to remember who we are beneath the noise, the clutter, the conditioning.

If you’re feeling that same pull—to simplify, to purge, to begin again—you’re not alone.

This isn’t about becoming someone new.

It’s about coming home.

RESET

When I began imagining what Reset might look like in an image, I wrestled with how to visually express something so internal. Reset needed to feel like winter — a season of rest and stillness. Not darkness, but calm. A quiet that draws you inward, toward your body, your thoughts, and the conversations you have with yourself.

I was drawn to images that invited reflection — a woman catching her shadow on the wall, as if truly seeing herself, or a simple desk set before a window, free of excess, holding space for thought. But it was this image — sunlight softly filtering through lace curtains — that spoke to me most.

It felt like a brand new day.

Warmth arriving without urgency.

A moment of peace, with nothing on the agenda.

A reminder that stillness can be gentle. That clarity doesn’t always arrive through effort. That perhaps it’s time to remember — quietly — that you exist.

Let this image meet you however it does. Tape it to the wall. Frame it. Use it as a bookmark or a notecard for someone you love. You might even write on the back of it — a few words about how it invites you to reset, if it does.

A little RESET photo challenge: Let this image inspire you to document what reset looks like in your own life.

It can be anything — the tools you return to when you need to recalibrate: a journal, a favorite pen, a potted plant, a sound bowl, a window you love, your coffee cup resting just long enough to cool, or yourself in your most comfortable clothes.

The intention is simple: to see it, spend time with it, and give it your attention.

And if nothing around you feels like reset yet, let that be part of the invitation. Treat yourself to something small and meaningful — a new tea, a robe, markers, a coloring book — anything that encourages you to spend time each day exploring what reset wants to look like for you.

Place your photo in your journal. Sit with it. Notice what it brings up.

And if you feel called to share, do so in whatever way feels most at home to you. I’d love to cheer you on.

An invitation to see yourself. Truly!

There’s something I feel called to share — because I’m certain I’m not alone in this.

Somewhere along the way, I forgot that I existed.

I hold a camera for a living. I photograph women. I curate beautiful wardrobes. And yet, it wasn’t until recently that I realized I had never chosen a single gown, robe, or bodysuit with myself in mind. Not one.

At some point, it simply became easier not to notice myself.

Then something shifted.

An unexpected moment over the summer flipped a switch — not gently, but clearly. It was time to exist again.

I’m still practicing this. I still catch myself reaching for perfection. And I know you’ve felt this too — taking thirty selfies in the same pose because none feel right, only to come back to the very first one.

Here’s what I’m doing now.

I’m taking everything I’ve learned from photographing women for years — all that seeing, all that witnessing — and finally applying it to myself.

I want you to join me.

So this month, this is your invitation — to experience a moment like that, in your own way.

For some of us, this will remain a private journey. For others, it may one day be shared. Both are perfect. What matters most is that you document yourself — your presence, your growth, the subtle shifts that happen when you begin to include yourself again.

YOUR Selfie Assignment

As we begin a new year, I invite you to create a simple marker in time.

Take one photograph — or a few — that honors the woman you are right now.

This is not about comparison. It’s about presence.

A close-up.

A full length.

Standing in morning light. or sunset... any time of day. In front of your favorite window...

Maybe in a dress you haven’t worn in years. A robe... or slip or maybe in nothings at all.

An expression that simply says, I’m here. or admiration for yourself.

It doesn’t need to be fancy.

It doesn’t need makeup or the perfect angle.

This isn’t vanity.

This is documentation.

This is witness.

This is self-love in motion.

There are two things I invite you to do with the images you take:

1. Place your favorites in your journal.
2. Write one sentence — or more — about what you see in yourself today. What does reset look like for you?
3. Set one image aside.
4. This will be placed inside a love letter to yourself (the Love Note assignment follows).

If you feel called to share your image publicly, I would love to cheer you on. Tag me so I can hold that moment with you.

You are in the midst of a Reset.

It’s time to exist in imagery — and to meet yourself exactly as you are, right now.

A Love Note to Future YOU

There is something powerful about writing to the woman you will be one year from now — especially at the very beginning of a year.

This is a gentle encouragement. A small nudge to write a love note to your future self.

Who is she?

What did she let go of?

What did she choose to embrace?

What has she grown to love about herself?

Is she happier? Softer? More at home in her life?

What is something she did for herself that surprised her?

Write to the version of you you hope to meet at the end of the year — honestly, tenderly, without trying to get it right. Let it flow.

You can write this letter in your journal, on a loose page, or wherever you feel most comfortable. If it feels meaningful, include an image of yourself — one you took during this Reset — and place it inside the letter as a quiet witness of who you were in this moment.

When you’re finished, seal the letter.

Place it somewhere intentional — tucked inside your journal, your sanctuary space, or anywhere you know you’ll remember.

If you feel called and would like someone to hold this letter for you and mail it back at the end of the year, you’re welcome to reach out to me. You may send it sealed by mail, or email it to me and I will print it, place it in an envelope, and make it send-ready for you. If this feels aligned, simply reach out and I’ll share the details with you.

What better time to write to your future self than at the very beginning?

This becomes a ritual. The annual love note to the future you.

Something you return to one year from now.

A moment of reflection.

A moment of remembering.

This Love Letter nudge is an invitation to place yourself on the front burner of your life. To nurture yourself and to remember that YOU exist.

Where it all begins...

If you take away only one thing from Volume One — the rest portion of this journey — let it be the importance of establishing a sanctuary space for yourself.

This is going to look different for every single one of us. For some, it may be an entire room. A garage. A she-shed. For others, it’s a comfy chair by your favorite window or porch, maybe just a portable basket that holds the things that help you create.

Everything does not have to be perfect or in place right now.

The intention is crucial. Identifying the space itself is crucial.

You will curate the little pieces that inspire a return to yourself over time. Today we start with the basics. Maybe it’s a notebook and pencils. Later you add pens. Markers. Maybe even paint. A candle. A favorite tea. Small things that elevate the experience.

This is your space. Let it evolve into somewhere you can’t wait to step into.

Fun.

Calm.

Creative.

Reflective.

All about you.

And for my Queens who already have a practice space — perhaps this is your nudge to revamp it. Change one thing. Reset the energy.

I am without question guilty of not claiming space for myself. So guilty.

Recently, I took a junk room — the catch-all room — and carved out a corner. I placed an oversized round farm table beside a north-facing window. It’s still part junk room… I’m working on that.

I have a $5 temporary journal while I save for the journal of my dreams.

It’s imperfect. So much of it. But the excitement of curating the space makes my heart go pitter-pat.

So excited to build on it.

This space feels like the beginning of a new era — being comfortable in my own skin. Remembering that I exist. Getting to know myself again.

I could go on and on.

If this speaks to you, create a Pinterest board. Dream into it. What does your sanctuary space look like?

And if you feel called, share it. Post a TikTok showing your space evolving. Send it to a friend. Share inside this community.

Not for performance — but because when women choose themselves out loud, it gives other women permission to do the same.

Create a sanctuary space for you.

That is the root.

The base.

The beginning of this journey.