Tetris taught me that when you try to fit in you'll disappear

Oh, dear Tetris—what a wise message you’ve taught us."Fitting in" seems harmless, but it can creep into even the most self-aware and well-therapized minds.

It’s not just about the classic story of parents who expected a different career or life path from you. It’s about trying to fit into someone else’s idea of a perfect partner. It’s forcing yourself to enjoy wine-and-paint nights with friends when you’d rather be anywhere else. It’s blending into a job that demands you be more aggressive when that’s just not who you are.

Fitting in—when it goes against who you really are—sucks.It sucks bad.

Because when you try too hard to fit in, you start to disappear.Just like in Tetris: the better the pieces fit, the faster they vanish. Poof. Gone.

But here’s the thing—fitting in is not the same as being flexible or open-minded. Exploring new ideas, growing, shifting—that’s all beautiful. But fitting in at the expense of yourself? That’s a slow erasure of your identity.

Every time you shrink yourself to match someone else’s expectations, you move further away from your truth—your dreams, your purpose.

Each of us came to this planet with a reason to be here. It might take a lifetime to find that reason—but the more you disappear, the less chance the world has to experience the real you.

And you matter. Your story matters. So please… don’t vanish.

How often have you reshaped your path?

My life has been anything but linear—and that’s what makes it mine.

I’ve worn a lot of hats over the years, each one a thread in the fabric of my creative journey. Here are just a few:

• Translator for a rock band on tour in Brazil

• Costume assistant for an American movie shot in Rio

• Fashion marketing manager

• Experience working at big companies like Nabisco and Sony Music

• Fashion blogger for 5 years

• Bar host at a vibrant gay bar

• Fashion producer

• English teacher in Rio

• Founder of a pop-up brand for emerging designers

• Fashion TV host

• Health coach

• Content agency owner

• And most recently: filmmaker, writer, coach, foodie, educator, and multi-business entrepreneur

  
  

Sounds like a lot, right?

But the truth is, each role helped me uncover a little more of who I am.

Reinvention became my rhythm. Every job, every pivot, every challenge taught me something new—about myself, about resilience, about creativity. And every step shaped the storyteller I am today.

Life isn’t always clean or predictable. It's full of plot twists. But there’s power in the mess, and beauty in the process.

I’m here to say that you don’t need a straight line to success. Your story—however unexpected—is worthy.

So I ask you:

Can you see a bit of your journey in mine? If so, I’d love to hear it. Let’s celebrate the twists, the reinventions, the heart-led choices.

Drop your story in the comments below or send me a message here.

Or I Stop and Rest, or I Stop and Rest

⚠️ Trigger warning: This post touches on sensitive topics and may stir deep emotions. Or simply can make you think!

People who know me—those who’ve spent real time with me, my friends, family, or even anyone who’s read my birth chart—would describe me as “energetic,” “passionate,” “a hard worker.”No one close to me would ever say “calm,” “cute,” or “zen.” That’s just not me.

Patience? I've been working on it since forever. Procrastination? Not in my vocabulary. I’m a doer. Always with a new project or idea. I feel like if I don’t create, I’ll explode from excess energy.

Meditation? I like it—for 5 minutes. Yoga? Love it—as long as it’s fast-paced. That’s just my nature. Denying it doesn’t help.

On top of that, I like to control things. Not people—just me: my schedule, my health, my routine.Annoying, I know.

Now mix that: high-energy + control-freak…Add physical limitations, being 95% at home, needing help for nearly everything I usually do, for at least five weeks, plus the looming fears: “Will my skin heal? “Can I still do the reconstruction? “How long until I get back to my active life?”“When will I be able to raise my right arm again?”

Simple questions with no simple answers. And the only thing I know for sure is: I need patience. Which, of course, is the one thing I lack.

I was doing really well with this second treatment, just like I did with the first. I was even recovering fast from the one-sided mastectomy. But then my skin (thanks to previous radiation) decided not to cooperate. Two unexpected surgeries within two weeks later, and here I am… deep in “WTF is life?” mode.

Yes, I’ve had my “poor me” days—they’re mostly gone. I’ve had (and still have) sad days. But I’m managing: therapy sessions, spiritual tools, and lots of venting to my mom and Alan (thank you and sorry!).

I know that in a couple of months, I’ll read this and think, “Why was I overthinking? Everything’s fine now.”But right now, riding this bumpy road is exhausting, and my butt is tired.I want to reach the final destination—with new boobs, good news, and full independence. Is that too much to ask?

Apparently, yes. But this time, there’s no other option.

Either I stop and rest, or I stop and rest. That’s it.

It may sound silly, but I wrote myself a Post-it note that says “REST” and stuck it to my laptop.I even set daily timers to remind me of this incredibly hard task: just relax. Ommmm.