There are those rare heart-shattering moments in life that truly put everything into perspective. Moments where you’re forced to come face-to-face with loss. When you realize what your true priorities are and the people that mean the most to you. I recently had one of those moments, and I was completely unprepared for it.

Nobody ever expects awful things to happen to them until they do. Nobody is expecting those gut-wrenching phone calls to come, but they do. Life can hit us with the most extreme and unfair circumstances at any given moment when we least expect it. All it takes is one second to change everything. One moment where you know you’ll never be the same after the fact.

These defining moments also always seem to slap you in the face when you least expect it. Everything seems so stable and perfectly fine. Things are going your way, joy is radiating out of you. Maybe you have a once-in-a-lifetime event coming up that you’ve been excited about for months. Maybe you just got a promotion or a new opportunity that feels very aligned. Maybe things have been really good for a long time and you think it just might last forever. Then, in the blink of an eye everything can change. You lose someone and grief takes control of you, uninvited.

I believe grief is one of the most complex human emotions we can have. Grief isn’t linear and it changes constantly. One minute of grief looks like reminiscing over old photos and laughing about beautiful memories you have. The next it looks like uncontrollable sobs that shake you to your core and feel like they will never end. The next is confusion over how this person is really gone and isn’t coming back. The next is anger toward God and the universe for taking this person away when you weren’t ready for them to leave. Then there’s a moment of regret for not being able to spend more time with that person or say I love you one last time. Grief takes many forms, all are valid, all are part of the healing process.

There can be momentary comfort in knowing they are going to a better place. Comfort in knowing that they loved you and knew you loved them back so deeply. Comfort in the memories that will live on in your head forever. But that comfort can quickly slip away. That temporary peace washes away, leaving you feeling scared, alone, disoriented, and heartbroken. There is no timeline for grief. Even years later when you think you’ve moved on and can’t shed any more tears over that person, it hits you again.

These emotions aren’t to be shamed. They are beautiful reminders of the love that existed. Humans are built for connection. We crave relationships with other humans and life would be meaningless without people to share it with. Although grief can be uncontrollably painful, it is also proof that love is real. Our hearts mourn over the people we’ve lost because we loved them so deeply. How lucky are we to have people that mean so much to us that we miss them more than anything when they’re gone. It may not ever make sense, but it doesn’t have to, and it’s not supposed to.

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It was a Wednesday night at the end of August in Phoenix, Arizona, where I finally got to experience what I think it must have felt like for people to attend The Eras Tour.

I felt a kind of overwhelming euphoria that I’ve heard people describe countless times when they saw our show. The full-body chills, the unwavering smile, the feet that won’t stop moving, pure joy coursing through my soul.

On August 19th, I saw one of my favorite artists, Noah Kahan, live at Chase Field. From start to finish, I was truly transported to an alternate universe. One of my favorite things about live music is how it can make you forget every single worry you have and hijack your attention for a few hours of your life. For that one night you feel invincible. Nothing can shake that joy.

I’ve been going through a lot lately in my personal life and carrying an immense amount of stress. Listening to Noah’s music is one of the things I love to do to take my mind off of everything. But hearing him sing these songs live was such a fulfilling moment. It was a night that I won’t forget and one that had a lasting impression on my heart. Not just because I got to see one of my favorite artists live, but because I had the ultimate full-circle moment on the floor of that stadium.

As a dancer on The Eras Tour, I got to experience the show from a perspective very few had. I got to see thousands of beautiful faces from up on the stage and make people feel pure happiness. One of the best parts about being a dancer on that tour was knowing how much love and positivity we were spreading across the world. Having a lasting impact on people and helping take away their pain is a gift I’ll never take for granted. Being partially responsible for how the fans felt was an honor.

But selfishly, I always used to say I wished I could experience The Eras Tour from the audience. I wish I could’ve been on the floor feeling the energy in those stadiums as I screamed my favorite Taylor Swift songs at the top of my lungs with thousands of strangers who are all connected by their love for the same artist. It was a cultural phenomenon that I’m so lucky to have been a part of, but would love to know what it felt like from the other side.

Last week, I think I got pretty damn close to that feeling. Seeing thousands of people with light-up bracelets swaying in sync to Noah’s songs with immense feeling was deeply moving. It was so unbelievably hot in that stadium, but it didn’t even cross my mind as I was sweating, dancing, and singing as loud as I possibly could. I had an out-of-body experience that was unforgettable.

At one point during the show, Noah climbed on top of a log cabin in the woods and sang “Willing and Able.” Seeing this immediately transported me back to the Folklore set of The Eras Tour. I used to watch backstage as Taylor sang “the 1” (one of my favorite songs out of her whole discography) with admiration. Watching her command the audience while she sat on the roof of that cabin, suspended in the air, used to give me full-body chills. That feeling came rushing back as I watched Noah sing.

It brought me to tears as I scanned the audience and saw thousands of people passionately connecting to the same song all at once. It felt so special to experience what everybody talked about for years, but I never got to feel from their perspective. Now I can confidently say I get it. I think I finally understand what millions of people felt at The Eras Tour.

Even though it’s been a few years since we wrapped that tour, I still have a hard time processing the gravity of it and what it meant to so many people, including myself. Last week, as I watched Noah Kahan live, I think I finally got to process a lot of those emotions. I got to feel a sense of pride knowing I used to perform for sold-out stadiums like that every week for two years. I also got to feel the pure joy that comes from singing your favorite songs in a stadium full of people. The exhilarating rush of running to our floor seats from the merch line as the concert begins. The connection to complete strangers that you feel when you make eye contact in the middle of a song and smile. The exhaustion in your body from standing for hours but the unwillingness to move because you want to experience this moment to the fullest. The pure magic of live music.

Thank you, Noah Kahan, for pouring your heart out on that stage and giving us all the energy you had to give that night and then some. I experienced a sense of closure that night at the End of August that I didn’t even know I needed, but I will be forever grateful for.

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The other day I went to a training session with my weight lifting coach. He runs small group sessions, so I’m usually working out with 3-4 other girls at a time. One of the girls set up a tripod because she wanted to film her workout. Another girl asked, encouragingly, if she was finally going to post a video on her page. The girl responded hesitantly: “I don’t know... I want to post, but I feel like everybody is doing it.” I immediately interjected: “DO IT!”

This is a conversation I hear often, especially as a girl working in three saturated, booming markets: dance, content creation, and podcasting. Every day somebody new is starting a podcast, wanting to become an influencer, or setting their sights on becoming a professional dancer. But why should that hold me back? My mom used to talk me through this growing up, saying there is room for everybody in the dance world; you just have to figure out where your niche is. Easier said than done, granted.

I’ve been hearing a lot of chatter lately about how we’re losing individuality, how everybody is starting to blend together. This gets said a lot about influencer culture, and I agree with it to some extent. But I don’t think it’s because there’s a lack of room in the industry for everyone — I think it’s because there’s a lack of authenticity. We’ve forgotten that authenticity is the key to influence. People don’t follow someone who’s trying to copy somebody else, or who’s curating a version of themselves that doesn’t fit their one identity. The influencers who succeed are the ones who stay so true to themselves that they create their own lane. Those are the people I want to follow.

There’s also a difference between being inspired by somebody and copying them. You can let someone else’s work inform your own content, but you shouldn’t copy it word for word — it’s not yours, and people can sense that. This happens a lot in the professional dance world too. People steal choreography from others all the time without giving credit where it’s due. But just because a formula worked for somebody else doesn’t mean it will work for you.

This is also true within the podcasting space. My business partner/best friend Lauren and I have had many conversations dissecting what makes Gin & Chat stand out among thousands of podcasts. We’ve studied the podcasts that have blown up and even though we admire their work we know that we can’t replicate them exactly. Nobody will want to listen to us if we’re not bringing our own individual personalities to the mic.

There are so many people writing on Substack these days. I could’ve easily shied away from the platform, thinking my voice would get lost, that I had nothing new to add. But I do have a fresh perspective.

Nobody else has lived my exact life or had my exact experiences — the ones that shaped me into who I am today. I also love to write, and diving into Substack has helped reignite my creative spark.

There are over 8 billion people in the world. It would be pretty hard to find something brand new that nobody has ever done or thought of before. But even with 8 billion people out there, there’s only one you — one person with your exact life, your timeline, your thoughts, your experiences.

We need to remind ourselves that even in industries that feel oversaturated, we can still bring something new to the table. And we shouldn’t start something with the intent of becoming the greatest at it. You shouldn’t become an influencer because you want to be the next Alix Earle. I didn’t start a Substack hoping for the most subscribers on the platform. I didn’t become a professional dancer thinking I’d book one of the most successful world tours of all time. But it happened, because I honored my authenticity.

I know that what’s meant for me will find me, and if something doesn’t align with who I am, then I’m glad it didn’t work out. Unplanned redirection can be the best thing for you even if you don’t see it in the moment. Find the qualities that make you you.

Be a whole milk girl in a sea of oat milk lovers. Be a natural girl in a world full of filler. Be optimistic in a world clouded by negativity. Make choices and take chances because they align with who you are at your core, not because somebody else is doing it and you want to fit in. But never be afraid to choose a path that others are already on, because there’s always space for your version.

I’m a professional dancer, podcast host, content creator, and aspiring entrepreneur. Some of you may know me from my time dancing behind the biggest pop star of our generation on The Eras Tour (peep the title).

It was an accomplishment beyond my wildest dreams — an experience that changed me for the better and altered the course of my life.

You may be wondering why I’ve started a Substack. Besides my never-ending need to achieve things and stay busy, I truly love to write.

It all started when I was a little girl. During family trips to Barnes & Noble, my family members would pick out a new book to read while I was always in the journal section picking out a fresh one to fill. I was the kid who wrote my dad short stories while he was at work instead of drawing pictures. I’ve always loved journaling — you’d know this if you ever peeked into my Notes app (it’s a scary place). I even chose Public Relations/Advertising as my second major in college instead of Business because I thought it would allow me to write more. I figured I could trade math for creative writing, which played to my strengths. These days, one of my favorite places to write is on planes — which I spend way too many hours on — hence the overflowing Notes app.

With this Substack, I aim to rediscover my love for writing and hold myself accountable to posting weekly. I don’t know if anyone else relates, but in this age of social media it sometimes feels like I’m doing the opposite of getting older and wiser. As a content creator whose income depends heavily on brand deals and posting, I can’t live without it. But I sure do know the feeling of being stuck in a doom scroll all too well. The brain rot is real and I’m over it.

Even if nobody reads this or subscribes, my hope is that I can use this platform to energize my brain, think creatively, express my unfiltered thoughts, and share my wisdom on paper (digitally of course).

If you connect with any of the following — dancer, performer, high achiever, Type A, goal-setter, sister, dog mom, girlfriend, girly girl, abuse survivor, Christian, coffee lover, jet-setter, foodie, Swiftie, live music obsessive, hopeless romantic, delusional optimist (and many more) — then this Substack is for you.

I chose “Dancing Through the Eras” as the title for many reasons — most importantly, to pay homage to what is arguably the most pivotal chapter of my life so far. Although I am so much more than just a dancer, dance will always be my first love and greatest passion. It’s what motivated me throughout my entire childhood and what I dreamed of doing for as long as I can remember. It is the one constant through line in my life outside of my faith.

Eras represent chapters of life. As humans, we are constantly evolving and moving through new seasons. With this Substack, I plan to write not only about dance and advice for young dancers, but also about all the other eras of my life: the toxic relationships that shaped me, my best travel tips from jet-setting around the globe, my internal struggles of feeling lost in my twenties, and all the beautiful, messy chaos that makes up life.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you. I look forward to dancing through these pages with you.

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