6 Years and still feel new !

Six years.

That's how long I've been doing this. Six years of posting, filming, chatting, building something I actually care about. And somehow I still catch myself feeling like I just started yesterday.

Not in a bad way. In the way where you're still excited to open the app. Still curious what's on the other side of the next scroll. Still learning that the thing I thought was "my thing" six months ago has quietly become one of about forty things I'm into now.

Here's the honest part: I don't think that ever stops. And I've stopped wanting it to.

When I first started, I had a very clear idea of what I was. One lane, one vibe, one version of me that showed up on camera. I thought "finding yourself" meant locking it in and never moving. Six years later I know that's backwards. The whole point is that you keep finding new corners of yourself you didn't know were there. New kinks. New ways of playing. New platforms that didn't even exist when I started, or that I was too scared to touch.

Every time I think I've seen it all, something new pulls me in. And every time, I get that same little jolt of oh, this is fun. Same jolt I had on day one.

I used to think being "new" was a phase you graduate out of. Now I think it's a mindset. The people who stay interesting in this space aren't the ones who mastered one thing and froze. They're the ones who stayed a little bit of a beginner on purpose. Still willing to look silly. Still willing to try the thing they're nervous about. Still asking questions instead of pretending they know.

Six years in, and I'm still asking questions. Still taking notes. Still finding new things that make me go "wait, why haven't I been doing this the whole time?"

If you're newer than me and feeling like you're behind, you're not. Nobody's ahead. We're all just poking around in the dark finding stuff we like. The only difference between year one and year six is that I've gotten more comfortable being lost.

So that's where I'm at. Still here. Still new. Still figuring it out. And genuinely, truly still excited about it.

If you've been around a while too, what's the last thing you found that surprised you? I want to know I'm not the only one still discovering stuff.

I Left the Studio and Somehow Ended Up With More Friends

For five years I worked inside a studio. One building, 70-plus models, more drama than a reality show, and a weird unspoken rule that you don't get too close to anyone.

And in five years, I never once went on a girls trip.

Not one. Not a weekend, not a night out that turned into a real memory. I had coworkers, sure. People I'd smile at in the hallway, people I'd split a mirror with. But friends? The kind that actually show up for you? That's a different thing, and the studio environment was never built for it.

Here's what I learned the hard way: when a place is designed to keep everyone competing for the same spotlight, kindness gets treated like a weakness. Being a genuinely good person in that environment is rare, and honestly, it's usually punished instead of rewarded. Everyone's watching everyone. Nobody's actually on your side.

So I left.

Eight months of freedom later, I'm sitting on a balcony in Hawaii with women who feel like home.

I don't even know how to explain the shift except to say that the second I stopped performing for a room and started living for myself, the right people just appeared. Hard working women. Like minded women. The kind who take their hustle seriously and their fun just as seriously.

We took spicy calls. We shot content. And we still had the time of our lives adventuring an entire island for a week.

I hadn't had a real slumber party in forever, and I ended up rooming with a woman I now consider a lifelong friend. Like, the kind you text at 2am. The kind you plan the next trip with before you've even unpacked from this one.

And the wildest part? I found all of this outside the place that was supposed to be full of people just like me. The studio had 70 models and gave me zero real friendships. Freedom gave me a whole crew.

If you're stuck somewhere that makes you feel like you have to compete with every woman in the room, hear me when I say this: that's not a you problem. That's the environment.

The right people are out there. They're just usually not in a place that profits off keeping you small.

Get out. Go find your girls.

Have you ever made a friendship that changed your whole life?

Streamate The Platform That Started It All (And Why I Barely Open It Now)

There's a weird thing nobody warns you about when you leave a studio.

You think leaving is the scary part. The contracts, the conversations, the "what if I'm making a huge mistake." And then you do it, and you realize the scary part was staying as long as you did.

I still love the platform that introduced me to this whole world. I mean that. It gave me everything. It's the reason I'm here at all, the reason I know any of you. I'm never gonna pretend otherwise.

But I barely use it anymore. And for a long time I felt guilty about that, like I owed it my whole day.

Then I actually looked at where my time was going. And it hit me.

I see my friends now. Like, actually see them. Regularly. Consistently. Not squeezed into whatever gap was left over after I'd given the studio and the platform everything it asked for.

I show up for my family now. The same way, every time, instead of being the person who's "so busy" and hoping they understand.

I have hobbies. Real ones. I cook almost every single day. I bake when I'm happy and I bake when I'm stressed. I bought my home over a year ago and it's finally starting to feel settled instead of just occupied. For the first time, I'm home-making. Not just living somewhere between obligations.

None of that was on the schedule before. Because before, my whole life fit around a thing I was obligated to, and I never questioned it. I never even noticed how much of me was missing, because I was so used to running on empty and calling it "dedication."

Leaving that studio was the best decision I've made in years. Full stop. Thank god I did.

It's a strange feeling to be grateful for something and also glad you're not in it anymore. Both are true. The platform opened the door. But walking through it meant realizing the room I'd been standing in was smaller than I thought.

I'm on new platforms now. New avenues. Trying things I'd have never had the room for. And yeah, my old favorite gets less of me these days. But the version of me that shows up anywhere now is a person who actually has a life to come home to.

If you're still in a situation that's eating everything, just know the exit is real. And the other side is quieter, warmer, and way better stocked with baked goods.

Have you ever left something you were scared to leave? How'd it go?