For as long as I can remember, I’ve always expressed myself best through writing. In my earliest days, I can remember a small diary—with a lock and key no less—that was gifted to me by a family friend. In it, I would complain about some atrocity that my so-called best friend committed or swear that I’d never go bowling ever again after that one time my younger brother beat me. I tend to shy away from drama now, but oh boy was I that dramatic kid once upon a time. And my diary heard about ALL OF IT.
From there, I came to see writing as my ticket into life. On occasion, words would come to me like a spontaneous present.
I remember bolting out of bed at close to midnight late in my senior year of high school and jotting down what came to be, with minimal editing, I might add, my graduation speech. In college at Boston University, I discovered the magic of journalism by signing up to write for the campus paper, The Daily Free Press. For my first assignment, I had to interview the then-governor of Connecticut, Jodi Rell, regarding a student who had won a Fulbright scholarship.
While I loved writing, I was weaving my way out of a painfully shy early-life existence that had my blood pressure skyrocketing with each ring of the phone. I made it through that piece unscathed—and quite satisfied—and I’ve been riding the high of a journalistic life ever since.
In the depths of the recession of the late aughts, I found myself desperately unhappy in an admin job where my boss would send me emails with the subject line: “You Failed.” True story. I turned to blogging, which was in its nascent existence at the time, and that was great for me because there were zero expectations.
Over close to six years, I used my NYC blog as a vessel to gain me entrance into exclusive events, score free Broadway tickets and multicourse dinners, and connect with a network of like-minded individuals who also liked to see what unique coins they could shake out of the piggy bank of life. Through one of these people, who became a good friend, I met my now-husband.
Allow me to tell you a quick story. When we met at our aforementioned mutual friend’s fundraiser in the Village, I was about to press pause on a whirlwind chapter of online dating. The time I spent crafting my OkCupid profile—see, writing can help you in lots of ways—weeding through some obscene messages, doing internet deep dives to try and learn everything possible there was to know about these gentlemen, scheduling meetups, and debriefing with friends over said meetups was taking its toll.
After the night we met, I scoured Google and Facebook for information about him, using many of the tactics I learned in a journalism research class. To my dismay, I came up almost empty-handed. To this day, one of my husband’s proudest accomplishments is his very narrow digital footprint, and it’s also one of our biggest differences.
For the last almost 15 years, I’ve been paid to write about cardiology news online. I host video segments, appear on podcasts, report on international conferences, and promote my team’s work on social media. It’s a niche field in which I’ve worked hard to specialize, and I thrive on being at the top of my game. But that’s the professional version of me.
Since becoming a mom to my son in 2020 (what a year to become a mom, am I right?) and then my daughter in 2023 (a much better year to have a baby), there’s been a real shift in how much of my personal life and goings on I’ve wanted to share with the masses.
Time with young babies and toddlers is so magical and taxing and messy and beautiful and dynamic and utterly exhausting and fleeting. I’ve wanted to absorb every moment, and press fast-forward more times than I can count. I turned my Instagram private a few years ago, and I enjoy sharing photos of, let’s face it, mostly my kids and the occasional rainbow pic nowadays with friends and family.
I still write daily for work and my side gig as a wedding officiant, as well as some freelance assignments I’ve picked up for local magazines. But I really miss writing about my life and my personal experiences.
So that brings me to where I am now, as the newest contributor to Fairfield County Mom. I’m not sure where exactly this journey will take me, but I’m so happy to be here. I’m looking forward to connecting with you, whether it’s over my lobster roll recommendations or serious introspection remains to be seen.
