Not long after, I got let go. It threw everything off, causing me to take a little hiatus from writing on here. Between figuring out what my business direction was going to look like, and health stuff, let’s just say that Substack took a backseat.

Now that changes. But I want to make it clear what this new era actually brings.

First of all, the obvious piece. The name. Soca stories.

Soca, in Catalan, means root and foundation. The whole idea is to find the root, the real story, of why and how brands in beauty and wellness work. In my client work, that shows up through soca studio, helping founders translate their core story into authority. On here, it shows up via soca stories.

Soca stories exists because within this industry we already have a various places covering what’s launching. What I want to share is why. The root of a brand. The decisions, the belief, and the moments that make someone choose to build a brand in this space.

Be prepared for interviews with founders I admire, my own thinking from LinkedIn (with a little extra space to go further), and developing my opinion on the conversations happening in the industry right now.

If this sounds like your kind of space, I’d love to have you here.

Subscribe now

I built my personal brand on LinkedIn to 12K followers in 12 months by talking about all things beauty branding, social media, and sharing how I’d grown my account. I’d say everything I’d achieved pretty damn good—especially with the algorithm update from this past year. The thing is, between physical health issues and pivoting to using my LinkedIn to sell services, something changed…

It felt like I was now competing against the LinkedIn personal branding “gurus” that give you tips, show you how to post better and generally focus on how to post on the platform.

When I first pivoted to personal branding, I thought I had to do exactly what they were all doing. That to be a “successful” personal branding strategist for founders in beauty and wellness, that was the content I needed to put out.

I would sit for hours consuming this content, connecting with others doing the same, comparing myself to them. Thinking why is my content not doing as good as theirs (they have audiences twice my size), what am I doing wrong etc.

Reflecting back, I lost myself. And in losing myself, I lost my audience. The audience I spent an easy 9 months building.

People followed me because they bought into my thinking, my industry takes, my brand breakdowns. They enjoyed my content because they enjoyed my way of thinking, of writing and of seeing the world. In trying to become what I thought the market needed, I lost myself, and I unfortunately lost (part of) my audience.

So when a client asked me if it was okay if they didn’t consume any LinkedIn content, it really got me thinking…

I told her, honestly, that it’s the best thing she could do. Obviously I was there to help her out with content, how to shape it so it worked etc (aka making sure the hook is top-tier and the storytelling too).

But if you want your content to be reflective of you, following what others in the same space are doing can lowkey be detrimental. Especially if you’re doing your own content (I would know).

Of course sitting and consuming content to find outliers, or focusing on what others are saying has its upsides, I’m not saying it doesn’t. It just also means we can begin to sound like others because we know that content “works”.

Speaking to her made me realise I had to take a step back. For my own sanity, and to find myself again.

It’s already something I was doing (beginning to do brand breakdowns again etc), but taking that step back is truly something I need to find my voice again. Especially if I want to become unmissable.

Tips and tricks, the basics etc always matter. But maybe sometimes we need to switch off from that specific area of work for a while, to reflect, understand and be truly creative once again within it.

At the end of the day, we create best when we’re in tune with ourselves, as art is a reflection of us. Therefore, we must be aligned with what we put out there, or it will never be “good enough”, or “authentic”, or “aligned”.

Just a little food for thought.

P.S. They always say create more than you consume, so maybe this is your sign too ;)

Subscribe now

Almost 5 months ago I was laid off and decided to go freelance. About a month in, I ended up with chronic severe migraines…

Read more

I’ve been a bit quiet on here lately, and honestly, it’s been intentional — even if not entirely by choice.

The past few w…

Read more

And yes, there is that. Last weekend I was sitting around with family eating paella, talking about what this new chapter could become. There’s something deeply validating about saying out loud: I’m building this on my own.

But what I didn’t anticipate was the quiet grief.

It wasn’t a strong sense of grief or regret. It was more like a subtle disorientation that came from no longer having a structure that, for better or worse, shaped my days, my rhythm, even my identity.

When you leave a 9–5, you don’t just leave a job. You leave a version of yourself that existed inside that container.

This past week and a half has been good. Objectively good. I’ve had exciting conversations. I’m in talks with a collective in Barcelona that feels aligned and creatively expansive. I’m signing paperwork. I’m setting things up properly. On paper, it looks like momentum.

Internally, it has been a lot more complex.

When you’re inside a company, your standards are held up against something external. Whether it’s deadlines, team expectations, or even deliverables. When you step out, the only benchmark is your own vision. And that’s both liberating and terrifying. Because I believe deeply in what I’m building. I believe in positioning, in founder authority, in doing strategic work with depth instead of chasing surface-level output. But believing in something doesn’t make the uncertainty disappear.

I think we romanticize the idea of “being ready.” We tell ourselves that once we have the perfect offer, the perfect clarity, the perfect runway, then we’ll jump. The reality is less cinematic. I jumped without everything being perfectly formed. And now I’m building while standing in it.

That’s uncomfortable.

There’s a specific kind of second-guessing that comes when you no longer have institutional validation. Every decision feels heavier. Every move feels visible. You’re suddenly hyper-aware that you are responsible for the direction, the pacing, the energy.

And yet, I also know this is the only way I was going to grow.

If I had waited until I felt fully ready, I would still be waiting. Growth rarely feels elegant while it’s happening. It feels messy, cognitively demanding, occasionally lonely. Especially when you care about doing things properly.

Today, signing more paperwork felt symbolic. Not because it’s glamorous, it isn’t, but because it’s a commitment to the long game. To building something boutique, thoughtful, strategy-led. To trusting that clarity compounds over time.

I don’t think I gave myself space to grieve the old structure before stepping into the new one. Maybe that’s what this post is. A pause. An acknowledgment that excitement and doubt can coexist. That expansion often comes with contraction first.

What I do know is this: I’d rather feel stretched by my own ambition than contained by comfort.

My role ended last week.

For a few days, it didn’t fully register. It felt like something I needed to sort out rather than something to feel.

For the past week, I’ve considered next steps, had initial conversations, updated practical things. It’s only now, that the quiet has settled in enough for it to feel real.

What I thought it would look like

If I’m honest, this wasn’t how I imagined leaving my 9–5. I always assumed that when I left, it would be deliberate and carefully timed. I would have secured the next role, mapped the transition, prepared properly.

Instead, the chapter closed sooner than I expected.

It all came down to structural, priority and budget shifts. I guess that’s part of agency life.

Honestly, what surprised me most wasn’t the shock I felt. But rather, it was the relief.

It’s not that I didn’t care about the work. I’ve always cared. I’ve always performed well, moved quickly, taken on responsibility early. In previous roles, I stepped into positions that typically required years more experience. Ambition and capacity have never been the issue.

Subscribe now

Why relief makes sense

I’ve always known that my brain works differently.

I have ADHD, and that affects how I operate inside structured environments. It’s not that I resist structure. I just don’t thrive inside rigid environments. In agency settings, you can often see exactly what needs to be done, but the distance between insight and execution can be long. Over time, that distance becomes frustrating.

For a while, I told myself that the only way I would realistically go freelance at this stage was if something external forced the shift. I had been looking for other roles. I had considered freelancing on the side. I was thinking about independence, but cautiously. I wasn’t going to jump without a push.

In some ways, that’s exactly what happened.

The timing, right before the lunar new year, felt abrupt at first. But looking at it now, it also feels aligned. This was always something I intended to build towards. The difference now is that there isn’t an alternate path competing with it.

What unsettles me isn’t the lack of a title or a company behind my name. It’s the risk of being perceived as “just another freelancer”.

What this looks like for me

The market is saturated with people offering execution. And once you step outside an institution, the shorthand credibility disappears. You have to define yourself again, clearly and intentionally.

I don’t want to build a career around endless execution. What has always interested me most is positioning — the structural decisions that determine whether a brand blends in or builds memory. The thinking behind why something works, not just how it performs.

Beauty and wellness have made that tension especially visible to me. Over the past few years, the category has stabilised around certain aesthetic and emotional codes. Those signals worked, so they spread. And once enough brands adopt the same codes, differentiation weakens.

It becomes easier to participate in the category than to stand apart within it.

That’s the space I want to work in. Helping founders clarify what makes them distinct before they default to what feels safe. Showing that alignment with the category isn’t the same as building something memorable.

This transition feels similar on a personal level. Staying inside an established structure is safe. It signals credibility.

Leaving it removes that signal, at least temporarily. But safety, extended for too long, can quietly limit growth.

I don’t yet know exactly what this will become. A small agency? A strategist-led practice? Something larger over time?

What I do know is that I’ve never thought small. The goal has always been to build something big — something that reflects how deeply I care about strategy and about this category.

For now, that starts here. With the intention.

And if you’re reading this, you’re early. My goal is to build this in real time, and I’ll be sharing exactly what I’m learning as I go.

Share

Have you noticed how similar beauty and wellness brands have started to look over the past few years? At first, it feels l…

Read more

Ever wonder why one brand connects with you more than another?

It’s easy to assume it comes down to visuals or aesthetic co…

Read more

Wellness and beauty have become more prescriptive the deeper you get into them. The more informed you are, the more there …

Read more

A while back, I saw someone say that the reason you can’t truly show up online authentically is because it requires allowing yourself to be seen. What does this mean? Being understood, being raw, and being observed by others across the full spectrum of your personality.

What really drew me in about this point of view was the take that those who fear this are the ones who don’t truly know who they are yet. An interesting take, yet one that feels grounded in reason. See, if we don’t really know who we are, how can we expect others to see us in our entirety? It’s a reality that’s too hard to face. Hence, we hide behind a façade that looks “perfect” and “put together” on social media.

Subscribe now

This past week is when I began to feel this to its fullest extent. I posted something that I would consider pretty vulnerable—sharing how I felt about deleting several posts due to the disconnect I felt from them not being as high quality as my usual content.

I honestly even considered deleting that very post as soon as I published it. It meant people could see a bit into my head and how I think. It meant people seeing my “failure” to churn out high-quality, value-adding content on a consistent basis.

Despite the intrusive thoughts, I kept the post up and received the best response. People shared how they’ve been through the same thing, how these moments happen, and how they get out of ruts. It’s safe to say it connected—and added a deeper level of connection with my community there. I also had someone reach out privately to tell me that she couldn’t even feel the disconnection I was talking about.

What this goes to show is that being vulnerable—showing who you are, how you think, and what goes on in your head—can have a huge positive impact. This also ties back to the fear of being seen. Being seen means taking the leap into vulnerability, even if it feels strange and scary. I always say that we, as humans, crave connection. To truly connect, we need to see emotions and characteristics that we share with others. Sure, by showing only the positives, we can still connect. But when you share hardships and everything in between, a deeper connection is built because you feel the multidimensionality of that person.

I’m not sure if anyone else feels the same, but I’ve hidden behind a flexible persona and personality for the longest time, especially adapting to the friends and people around me. It’s not inherently a bad thing; it’s just been a way of coping. For a long time, I’ve wanted to share more of my life online but one thing that’s held me back is this fear of not knowing who I am and being seen for that.

What if… what if that is my exact strong point? See, if we accept the elements of ourselves that we’re scared to be seen as, we can either learn to love them or take them as things to build on and change. Building toward change (when it’s within our control) can also be something we share with others. We all love following transformations, challenges, and “series” that others take us on.

I think that within all of this there is also a fear, among most, of being misunderstood. We crave being understood, but fear that in trying to achieve this, we might end up achieving the opposite.

In both cases, we face contradictions. We can’t achieve visibility without risking being seen. We can’t achieve being understood without risking being misunderstood.

The issue is that if we don’t show vulnerability or multidimensionality, we risk disconnection, misunderstanding, and flattening ourselves down to one or two traits. When we try to do everything to avoid the one thing we fear happening, we actually begin to push those very outcomes into existence.

Like everything in life, we have to risk one thing to achieve another. So why don’t we try accepting the challenge of being seen, even when we don’t yet fully understand what that might look like?

I’ve been seeing a lot about the new era of messy girl or the new bold makeup era, especially with the return of 2016, and…

Read more

Recently, the topic of doomscrolling and AI’s impact on the brain have been at an all high both in my own brain and on my …

Read more

During the last months of 2025, I started to notice a shift in the beauty and wellness space.

The lines between the two beg…

Read more

Subscribe now