LIVE WELL
There is a particular confidence that comes with realizing you are no longer the new girl.

I felt it at work this week.

That period where I could reasonably say, Well, I’m still learning is coming to an end. I know the people now. I understand the rhythms. I can see where I can contribute and, perhaps more importantly, where I can lead.

And something interesting has happened in that transition.

I’m remembering how much I know.

Not in the résumé sense. I know my experience. I know what I’ve accomplished. But there is knowing what you’ve done and then there is trusting yourself to do it again in an entirely new room.

I’m finally doing the latter.

I’m getting active. I have two open roles on my team, and I’m excited about the possibility of bringing some new flavor into the building. I’m learning this new environment while also thinking about who else I can bring through the door.

There is something deeply satisfying about getting your footing and immediately looking around to see who else might belong in the room.

But work wasn’t the only place asking me to trust myself this week.

KAP officially launched on HSN.

Three airings.

A four-hour commute.

And by show number two, my social battery had packed its little bag and gone home without me.

I worked for my money, okay?

But somewhere between the lights, the clothes, the conversations and the exhaustion, I kept thinking about 2024.

Because I turned this opportunity down.

At the time, I had my reasons. Good ones, probably. I had an idea about what I wanted KAPHILL to become and how I wanted to get there. KAP wasn't on the vision board.

Then, a year later, I had a simple conversation with an old boss who essentially helped me get out of my own way.

Sometimes you need people in your life who can see the distance between where you are and where you are capable of going.

Not people who push their vision onto you.

People who recognize yours before you are brave enough to fully claim it.

So I said yes.

And now we’ve designed almost four collections and launched the first one.

The thing that wasn't on my vision board has somehow created more room for the vision.

Funny how life does that.

We spend so much time trying to make sure everything happens according to plan that we forget the plan was created with the information we had at the time.

Sometimes we don't know best.

I've been thinking about that a lot lately because apparently this is also the season of yes in my house.

Avery's Yes Day has commenced, and she chose the slime factory.

Naturally.

My version of Yes Day looks a little different.

I finally stopped saying I'm not pressed to get engaged.

For a long time, that sentence felt important to me. I'm not pressed. It communicated independence. I wasn't waiting around. Marriage wasn't some finish line. I had a full life that belonged entirely to me.

All of that is still true.

Except now I'm willing to admit something else is true too:

I'm ready.

So yesterday, I tried on some very special rings.

And that experience confirmed at least one thing I already knew about myself: I am not a traditional girl.

I don't want something because it is what I'm supposed to want. I want something that feels like me.

Maybe that is also why partnership once scared me.

There was a time when the idea of "belonging" to someone made me deeply uncomfortable. I had worked too hard to belong to myself.

What I understand now is that the right love doesn't ask you to surrender that.

I don't belong to another person.

I belong to myself.

And I've found someone who celebrates that because he belongs to himself, too.

That may be the most beautiful thing about the life we're building. Neither of us is asking the other to become smaller so we can fit together. We're just down for the ride of becoming ourselves — alongside each other.

So maybe I can stop pretending I don't care.

Maybe wanting something doesn't make me less independent.

Maybe I can actually be excited about finding the person I want to celebrate this life beside.

Imagine that.

Even tennis has been trying to teach me the same lesson, although tennis is considerably less gentle about it.

When I grip the racket too tightly, everything gets harder.

When I'm frustrated with myself, I play worse.

When I'm thinking about every movement and trying desperately to get it right, the thing I know how to do suddenly feels impossible.

But when I loosen my grip?

When I relax into what I already know?

Everything flows.

There it is again.

The lesson.

Stop gripping so damn hard.

I don't need to rush the new job. I don't need KAP to be perfect before I enjoy what we're building. I don't need to pretend I'm indifferent to something I actually desire. I don't need to punish myself every time a tennis ball doesn't land exactly where I intended it to.

Life isn't out to get me.

I'm trying to stop behaving as though it is.

Maybe trust isn't believing everything will happen exactly the way I want it to.

Maybe trust is knowing I'll be okay when it doesn't.

Because some of the best parts of my life right now came from plans changing.

From conversations I wasn't expecting.

From opportunities I initially rejected.

From saying yes when I could have stayed safely inside the life I had already imagined.

This week, I don't have a long list of recommendations for you.

Chile, I am tired.

Tomorrow, I want comfortable clothes. I want to get back into my workout routine. I want my favorite meal at Hillstone. I want a little quiet after a very loud week.

And I want to keep practicing this new thing I'm learning:

Holding my life with an open hand.

Apparently, it knows where it's going.

xo,

Krystal