March, I didn’t expect you to teach me this much.
I didn’t expect you to feel like both a breaking point… and a turning point.
Because when I look back at you now, I don’t just see the stress or the uncertainty.
I see clarity.
I see growth.
I see decisions I didn’t know I was ready to make.
And maybe the most honest thing I can say is this:
March felt like the month where I stopped negotiating with my own life.
There’s a memory I keep coming back to.
It’s that Kiambu design I had mentioned before—the one that stayed with me longer than I expected.
That space… the quiet luxury of it… the openness… the greenery… the way everything felt intentional and calm.
There was something about being there that made me pause.
Not just as a decorator.
But as a person.
Because I saw what life could feel like when things are aligned.
When people value beauty.
When intention meets effort.
When a space is treated like something worth honoring.
And in that moment, something in me softened.
I thought:
“This… this is what I want my life to feel like.”
Not rushed.
Not chaotic.
Not constantly fighting to stay afloat.
But intentional.
Grounded.
Beautiful in a quiet, sustainable way.
And March… you started bringing me closer to that reality.
Not all at once.
But piece by piece.
You gave me something I’ve been praying for, even when I didn’t always have the words for it.
You gave me aligned clients.
People who know what they want.
People who respect timelines.
People who value my work.
People who pay on time.
And I won’t lie…
That shift alone changed something in me.
Because when you spend too long working with people who are uncertain, inconsistent, and draining…
you start questioning yourself.
You start over-explaining.
Over-giving.
Over-adjusting.
You start trying to prove your value instead of standing in it.
But this month…
March reminded me what it feels like to be received properly.
To be understood without having to fight for it.
To have my work appreciated without resistance.
And that alone… restored something in me.
But before that clarity came…
There was a moment.
A moment of stress.
A moment where things felt tight.
Where I didn’t feel like I had enough.
And in that moment…
I almost went back.
Back to settling.
Back to taking on a client who didn’t know what they wanted.
Who was inconsistent.
Who needed constant reassurance.
Who created more confusion than clarity.
Even though I had already given more than enough information.
Even though I could feel the misalignment.
Even though something in me was already saying,
“This is not it.”
But I almost ignored that voice.
Because I needed money.
Because I was stressed.
Because I didn’t want to feel like I was losing an opportunity.
And that’s the part I need to be honest about.
Sometimes, when pressure rises…
we don’t rise with it.
We reach for quick fixes.
And quick fixes often look like saying yes to things that are not aligned.
Things that will give you immediate relief…
but long-term burnout.
And I’ve lived that cycle before.
Busy… but with nothing to show for it.
Exhausted… but not fulfilled.
Working… but not growing.
So this time…
something was different.
I paused.
I sat with the discomfort.
And I reminded myself:
“I don’t want quick fixes anymore.”
Because quick fixes don’t build a life.
They delay it.
They stretch you thin.
They pull you into spaces that drain more than they give.
And sometimes… they cost you the very opportunities that are meant for you.
So I chose differently.
Even though it was uncomfortable.
Even though I didn’t have everything figured out.
Even though I didn’t have immediate certainty.
I let go.
And what happened after that…
still feels like a quiet miracle to me.
Because one opportunity came through.
One that didn’t require me to compromise.
One that didn’t drain me.
One that aligned with my energy, my value, and my work.
And with that one opportunity…
I was able to cover my April bills.
With ease.
Not with panic.
Not with scrambling.
But with clarity.
And that moment taught me something I won’t forget.
That when you stop settling…
you create space for alignment.
And alignment provides more than settling ever will.
But it doesn’t just stop at business.
March also opened my eyes to something deeper.
Something about life… and love… and the choices we make when we feel pressure.
I’ve been observing people this month.
Watching how they show up for the ones they love.
And I saw something beautiful.
Something intentional.
Something that reminded me that love, when it is right, is not passive.
It’s expressive.
It’s thoughtful.
It’s intentional.
I watched a man go out of his way to make his wife’s birthday something extraordinary.
Not because he had to.
But because he wanted to.
The effort.
The attention to detail.
The willingness to create something meaningful.
It stayed with me.
Because it made me reflect on how we often reduce gestures like that.
How some people call it “wasting money” or “doing too much.”
Or worse… “simping.”
But what I saw was not that.
What I saw was care.
Expression.
Presence.
And it made me think…
sometimes what people call “too much” is actually just a reflection of what they don’t understand… or can’t afford… or don’t value.
And that led me into a deeper reflection about my own life.
About love.
About what I want.
About what I’ve tolerated before.
Because if I’m honest…
there was a time I settled.
Settled for people who didn’t fully see me.
Who didn’t fully choose me.
Who were present in parts… but absent in intention.
And sometimes…
we don’t even notice we’re settling.
Because the fear of being alone feels louder than the discomfort of being undervalued.
Or because we’re told that something is “good enough.”
Or because we think that’s all we can get.
But March challenged that in me.
It reminded me:
Never settle.
Not in business.
Not in life.
Not in love.
Because what you tolerate becomes your standard.
And I don’t want a life where I have to constantly question where I stand.
I want clarity.
I want intention.
I want reciprocity.
But I also had to be honest with myself…
even though I crave love…
even though I think about companionship…
even though I imagine what it would feel like to be known and deeply loved…
I’m not in that season right now.
At least not actively.
Because this is a season for building.
For growing.
For stabilizing.
For becoming.
And I had to make peace with that.
Not because I don’t desire love.
But because I respect my process.
And I understand that sometimes, the right thing to do is to focus.
To grow.
To build a life that doesn’t depend on someone else to feel complete.
So I made a quiet decision.
To pause.
Not forever.
But for now.
To focus on my business.
On my stability.
On creating a foundation that can hold the life I want.
And if love comes later…
then it comes.
But I won’t rush into it out of loneliness.
Or pressure.
Or fear.
Because I deserve something intentional.
Something that doesn’t require me to shrink or settle.
Something that matches the life I’m building.
And March… you helped me see that more clearly.
You reminded me that love should feel like expansion… not compromise.
You reminded me that I don’t have to accept less than what I desire.
And you also reminded me of something just as important:
That I can create safety for myself.
At first, that felt overwhelming.
Because safety used to feel like something external.
Something dependent on circumstances.
But now I see it differently.
Safety is something I can build.
One layer at a time.
Starting with one month of stability.
Then two.
Then six.
Then twelve.
Until eventually…
I’m not just surviving.
I’m living sustainably.
And that idea?
It excites me.
Because it means I’m not at the mercy of instability forever.
It means I can grow into the life I want.
Slowly.
Intentionally.
With structure.
March, you taught me that.
And for that, I’m grateful.
You showed me the gap between where I was and where I want to be…
and instead of overwhelming me…
you showed me how to bridge it.
Through boundaries.
Through clarity.
Through better decisions.
Through choosing myself.
So this is my gratitude to you.
For the lessons I didn’t ask for…
but deeply needed.
For the discomfort that led to clarity.
For the opportunities that showed me what alignment feels like.
For the quiet reminders that I am capable of building something stable.
And for the gentle but firm push toward the life I actually want.
I’m not there yet.
But I’m closer than I was before you.
And that… is enough to be thankful for.
Thank you, March.
You changed me.
