Building a Life in Real Time

One minute I was in Paris. The next, I was elbow-deep in a Sydney storage unit filled with old lore, dust, and decisions I hadn’t made yet. Everything moved fast—too fast. I blinked and found myself stretched across three time zones, three versions of myself, and no real landing. Nothing felt linear. Nothing made sense. But in the middle of jet lag and cluttered thoughts, I realized: maybe change isn’t meant to be graceful. Maybe it’s meant to flip you upside down, shake the loose pieces, and reveal what’s truly meant to stay.

For context: it was mid-April, and I was still in Paris. My time there was running out—I didn’t have a place to stay past the 15th, and no real plan beyond that. I wanted to stay. I wanted to stay for love, for life, for all the quiet in-betweens I was starting to build. But I didn’t have a choice. The day before I left, I booked a one-way ticket to Sydney and then would eventually be heading back to Seattle. Aussie and Hometown semi put together but not put together at all plan, by default.

Now, on LinkedIn or Instagram, it may have looked like a dream: the beaches in Australia, the sunsets, the international lore, jet skis on the lake, mountain views, cozy boats by the seaside. A breezy but still warm Australian fall turning to winter and then a Pacific Northwest summer fairytale. But behind the scenes, it wasn’t mine in the way people assumed. My dad works in renewable energy—that doesn’t mean I am renewable energy or have renewable cash flow every month. He invested in my startup once. That money’s long gone.

I stepped back from my company during my senior year in 2024. I needed to. I wanted to graduate, be present, breathe without panic attacks. Luckily, my mentors—some like godparents, some with kids my age—understood. They knew I was still a kid myself. I had just turned 20 when I founded the company, fresh out of 19. Taking a pause didn’t mean giving up. It meant surviving because I wasn’t surviving in the way I am now I was surviving mentally and trying not to drown. Now I’m happy but surviving and willing to survive and try but then there was so much going on I was trying to do so many things at once. It was worse when I first started the company with half a clue waking up at 4 am everyday and working on my company until 9 when classes started. Continuing to work on them in class and getting in trouble… our dean told me he thought I should drop out. I didn’t because I only had a year of college left at that point when things were moving. (This was pre company break my sophomore year) (I only did 3 years of college because I did college in the high school so was ahead of all graduating classmates of my age group and graduated in 2024 instead of 2025) 

During that year in 2024 my senior year, I also met someone. An Australian. That story’s layered (and one for another time), but it led me to Sydney. And for better or worse, I stayed.

I bounced between Sydney and Paris for a year—my heart in two cities, my stuff in a long-stay Airbnb and a storage unit. When I left Paris this past spring, I didn’t want to. But I returned to Sydney one last time, partly to find closure, partly because I had no idea what else to do. And honestly? I’m glad I went.

Sydney gave me everything I never got from college: messy house dinners, chosen friends who were like family, long walks home on summer and fall nights, late-night convos that felt like therapy. When I went back recently I stayed with someone who felt like a sister to me—until one day, she just… ended it. No warning. Just said she didn’t see our friendship going where she wanted it to. It still stings. I don’t know why. Maybe I never will. I don’t know if she felt jealous, overwhelmed, or felt like I was leaving her behind. But when someone cuts you off without a word, you start to question if you ever really meant anything to them.

Still, there were so many beautiful memories. And even though I left Paris heartbroken, feeling like I was leaving behind someone I deeply cared about (Mr. Paris), I couldn’t afford to stay. Air b and bs we’re 1,500 a week, I was more full time on my company at this point but if I didn’t go back to sydney I wouldn’t have the connections or option to expand to sydney for pilots and such someday soon… anyways I know I needed to say goodbye to Sydney—at least for now when I left early may. I don’t know when I’ll be back, but I know it carved a piece of me I’ll never forget and a proimisinrg market and pilot test site. 

It’s where I learned how to be soft and strong. I boxed. I meditated. I got still. I got well.

It’s also where I stored more than just belongings. That storage unit held moments, identities, versions of me I wasn’t sure how to keep or let go of.

There’s about 17 side stories in this blog and post and I promise I’ll get to all of them but before I left for Paris in March I again had to suddenly leave due to housing because my Airbnb ended, the job I thought I had fell through (because I wasn’t “Australian enough” for their HR standards—discrimination? who knows), and I was suddenly $17,000 in debt. I was living like I had a six-figure salary. I didn’t. And the job that was supposed to fund it? Gone. If I didn’t have my parents support for that 17k I’m not sure what I would do. But thank your parents because they’re your life line sometimes. While I was back home and not in seattle for start up events— they gave me a job 20 dollars an hour to garden with them. It was a sweet time actually getting to spend with them in the garden in spring. At any rate, just tell your parents that you love them because they love you more than anything and will do anything to help you succeed. They also saved my credit score… dear god.

So I left. Again.

Back to the Paris and then had to leave suddenly again. My parents sometime ask me how I keep it together. I barely was at some points but I know I’ll miss those times of not knowing and being spread across continents. After sydney and staying with that friend I dropped off my stuff in my hometown pre Paris. It’s good that I went back because I got to see my parents and my kitty. I tried to get it together. I told my parents I’d get a 9–5 if the company didn’t work out. But deep down, I knew—I wasn’t done with Paris hence the 1 way ticket I’m currently on. 

I came back in June, after doing everything in my power to make it happen. I arrived with no job, a suitcase, and a dream.

Now I’m here, figuring it out, hoping for that check from Silicon Valley, building my company full-time again, with better habits this time. With wellness. With clarity. With softness and structure. It’s different now because I’m different. What pushed me from being half time to half looking for a 9-5 was Mr. Paris. On the balcony one day telling me why wait this doesn’t have to be perfect. He was right perfection is cold, lifeless. So I’m breathing life in the imperfection and I can never thank enough for those small words that felt so big. 

Sometimes I spend less than €4 a day. Sometimes I can’t even afford bread or cheese. But I have Paris. I have friends. I have a vision. I’ve been connecting with venture capitalists, government advisors, people I would’ve never met if I hadn’t shown up—to Vivatech, to life, to this dream. The beginning of being here was rocky but it’s smoothing out and that’s but for the next story. 

So no, this isn’t a story of certainty. It’s a story of momentum. Of showing up. Of saying yes when you have no idea how it’s going to work out.

It’s not linear. It’s real.

It’s building a life in real time.