Pretty, Persistent, and Slightly Unsupervised

Sneakers & Stilettos™

There are two kinds of women in this world.

The ones who read the instructions…

…and the ones who accidentally build an entire life without them.

Hi. I’m the second one.

I have been described as determined, resilient, ambitious, independent, intimidating, inspiring, “a lot,” and once—by someone who clearly had no idea what to do with me—“too much.”

Fair enough.

When life handed me a broken ankle, a broken career path, a broken heart, and enough plot twists to fill twelve seasons of a Netflix drama, I didn’t exactly respond with grace.

I responded with…

“Well… let’s see what happens if I keep going anyway.”

Which, in hindsight, explains about 97% of my life choices.

I’m pretty.

I’m persistent.

And I am just unsupervised enough to think, “Maybe I can pull this off.”

Sometimes I do.

Sometimes I accidentally end up crossing the border into the wrong lane and convincing a Mexican police officer that I genuinely wasn’t trying to smuggle myself into another country.

Sometimes I apply for jobs I’m probably underqualified for…

…and somehow end up getting hired.

Sometimes I buy one pair of sneakers…

…and somehow convince myself they needed fifteen friends.

Sometimes I tell myself I’m only stopping by HomeGoods for candles.

Thirty-seven decorative pumpkins later…

Apparently I now live in an autumn-themed Airbnb.

The point is…

I’ve never really known how to quit.

Maybe it’s because I came to America with a suitcase full of dreams and an accent nobody understood.

Maybe it’s because surviving a life-changing accident taught me that tomorrow is never guaranteed.

Or maybe it’s because somewhere deep inside me lives a tiny Romanian farm girl who honestly believes almost anything can be figured out with enough stubbornness.

That little girl has gotten me into trouble.

She’s also gotten me through every impossible chapter of my life.

People often mistake persistence for luck.

They’ll say,

“You’re so lucky.”

Lucky?

No.

Persistent.

Lucky people stop after one rejection.

Persistent people collect rejection letters like Pokémon cards.

Lucky people get discouraged.

Persistent people cry in the shower…

…then update their résumé before bed.

Lucky people wait for permission.

Persistent people accidentally become the permission.

I won’t pretend persistence is glamorous.

It’s answering emails nobody replies to.

Showing up when nobody notices.

Starting over at forty.

Walking into interviews after hearing “no” twenty-seven times.

Going to the gym when your body hurts.

Believing in yourself on days when your own reflection looks unconvinced.

It’s exhausting.

But eventually…

Persistence starts looking a lot like success.

Here’s the funny part.

For someone who appears so put together, I spend an alarming amount of time improvising.

I Google things.

I YouTube things.

I call my mom.

I ask strangers at Home Depot.

I accidentally fix things.

I accidentally break other things.

I somehow survive all of it.

There is no grand master plan.

Just a woman with good eyebrows, decent sneakers, questionable decision-making, and enough faith to keep saying,

“Let’s try one more time.”

Because that’s really what life has become.

Not perfection.

Participation.

Trying again after disappointment.

Laughing at yourself after embarrassing moments.

Getting your heart broken…

…and somehow still believing good people exist.

Falling.

Getting up.

Adjusting the crown.

Retightening the sneaker laces.

And walking forward.

If my life has taught me anything, it’s this:

You don’t have to have everything figured out.

You just have to keep moving.

Preferably in cute shoes.

So yes…

I’m pretty.

I’m persistent.

And I’m slightly unsupervised.

Which, if we’re being honest…

Has made life infinitely more entertaining.

And I wouldn’t have it any other way.