You know how some people say “I’ve always loved doing this ever since I was a child” and that kindling of an interest miraculously manifested into their adulthood careers? I am not one of those. I’m in my early thirties and I no longer read books from an entire section of a school library, paint six hours a week, or wear patterned pants. For nearly a decade, I’ve been in search of a way back to myself because I had let go of it in my transition to adulthood.

A couple of summers ago, I took a sabbatical from my work as a CPA and I gave myself permission to observe only: who is going to emerge if I dropped all my “should”s? For the first time in my adult life, I started to embrace spontaneity as a way of life, and test my theories of the nightmares that would befall if I were to just be.

Unexpectedly, this experiment arranged a rendezvous with my old self: I found myself staying up nights drawing our dream backyard garden with color pencils and rearranging furniture and art all day, every day, to the beat of the music I grew up listening to. I felt exhilarated because the process of design was fluid and organic, very much unlike my previous approach to life, yet the results naturally reached a point of balance and intrigue. The spaces that I created vitalized life more than I’d ever imagined.

Through design, I am reminded there’s beauty in adventures and details; it is now the philosophy I now try to live by in building a life for myself as a full-time interior designer.