I disappeared because living as a first-gen Latina in Chicago this past month has been terrifying, and I couldn't figure out how to write about joy when I'm crying on my way to work. But I realized this space doesn't have to reflect my daily fear—it can be my resistance, my breath of fresh air, my choice to create light even in darkness. I'm still figuring out the balance, but I'm choosing to come back.
The real talk: Joy in hard times isn't toxic positivity—it's an act of defiance.
Hey {{first_name}},
I know it’s been almost a month since you’ve heard from me, and I want to be honest about where I’ve been and why.
Labor Day weekend? I intentionally skipped that one to give our inboxes a little break (porque honestamente, don’t we all need that sometimes?).
The other weeks though? That’s a different story.
The Story I Haven’t Been Telling
A few weeks ago, I dropped my bag at a desk and ran into the bathroom. I picked the last stall, locked it, held my sweaty back against the door and began to cry. Quietly because, obvio, couldn’t risk being heard.
An unmarked vehicle had pulled up onto the street I was walking on and there was no one else in sight. My entire body went into fight-or-flight mode. My hands gripped my purse. My breathing got shallow. Tears started streaming down my face, and I discreetly tried getting my sunglasses on. All I could think was: “Am I safe? Are my people safe?”
I finally walked past the vehicle without any issue, controlled my tears the rest of the way to work, smiled at the security guard in my work building, and made it to my desk before completely breaking down in the bathroom.
That was the day I realized: I’ve been paralyzed by fear.
What Fear Looks Like From the Inside
As a first-gen Latina built and uplifted by an incredible immigrant community, my heart is breaking right now. I don’t feel safe to exist in this world—not with the color of my skin, the native language I proudly express myself in, or the many beautiful souls I surround myself with.
If you’re walking out of your house without second-guessing your wardrobe, your accent, your accessories, your destination, or grabbing a copy of your passport (porque you never know!) —friend, I’m genuinely happy for you. Because this nightmare I’m living? I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
I’ve cried on my way to work more times than I can count. I’ve jumped at the sight of certain vehicles. I’ve obsessively checked my phone, dreading the day a check-in text from a loved one goes unanswered.
And then there’s this newsletter.
The Conflict I’ve Been Sitting With
How do you write about joy when you’re crying almost daily? How do you talk about progress when you’re afraid to leave your house? How do you inspire hope when most days you curl up in a ball just to gather the strength to brave a smile and get through life?
I even shut down my website for a while, fearing what it could bring—especially as I contemplated travel. Every draft I started felt wrong. Too heavy. Too light. Too disconnected. Too raw.
It’s so important for me to write from a place of authenticity, and sharing weeks of never-ending fear and gloom just made me dread writing altogether. But I also couldn’t bring myself to write about my usual topics when my reality looked nothing like that.
Así que tenía que hacer una decisión: I could force myself to create content that felt hollow and disconnected from what I was actually experiencing, or I could step away until I could show up authentically—for you and for me.
I chose to step away.
What I’m Learning in the Messy Middle
Perfectamente in Progress was created to celebrate progress, prioritize our wellbeing, and dream big. Lately, all of that has felt nearly impossible, especially as I consider how to navigate this world in my skin.
I’ve been asking myself: Do I have the courage to keep going? Do I give in to the fear and shut down? Or is there a middle ground I haven’t considered?
Here’s what I know: I can’t change who I am—a proud first-generation mujer with Mexican roots—and that will always be reflected in my content. What’s real right now is that I’m having tough conversations in private, finding manageable ways to stay informed (check out my friend’s great resource for staying informed!), and safely contributing to my community.
But this space? This is where I’m choosing to focus on joy, growth, and the possibility of a brighter future.
Last week, something shifted. As I lay on the couch struggling with a fever, shallow breaths, and an awful cough (yeah stress messes up your immune system- take your vitamins!) I got an email about another sponsorship opportunity. Like, what?! In the middle of all this fear and uncertainty, something I built is growing. Something I created matters to people beyond just me.
And I realized: maybe that’s the middle ground I’ve been looking for.
The Choice I’m Making
I’m still learning how to balance my current reality with this newsletter, so yeah, I might step away again (sorry pero not really). But I will always come back.
This space has meaning to me—it’s a corner of joy, something I’m genuinely excited to build. Rather than feeling disconnected from reality because I’m choosing to write about joy or peace or self-care, I’m viewing this space as a small breath of fresh air. A place where I can unplug from my day-to-day fear and feel hope, create light, and resist the fear that’s attempting to define me.
Because after all, choosing joy when the world feels heavy? That’s not denial. That’s resistance. That’s survival. That’s saying: “You don’t get to take this from me too!”
I sincerely hope you’ll stay on this journey with me. It’s a work in progress, and there’s so much messy middle left to navigate.
P.S. I know this newsletter looks a little different. Figured I could try something new, especially as I gently rebrand (see my new site). Open to your thoughts, so hit reply and let me know! And if you think a friend could use this - send it their way and invite them to join!
¿Qué dijo? / What did she say?
porque honestamente - because honestly
obvio - obviously (slang)
porque - because
Así que tenía que hacer una decisión - So I had a decision to make
pero - but