There is a kind of beauty that only grows in the rubble.
When the world cracks open, when the ache is too big to name, I often turn to my keyboard, my spreadsheets, my frameworks.
To escape, to steady myself.
To control something—anything—when everything else feels like it's falling apart.
Sometimes, I use work as therapy.
Other times, if I’m honest, I use it as armor.
But lately, I’ve been dancing with a deeper truth:
That heartbreak and hard work are not opposites.
That they don’t need to cancel each other out.
That what we build with broken pieces still counts as architecture.
I didn’t set out to turn pain into process.
But that’s what happened.
What I kept reaching for became the thing that carried me.
Because if you’ve ever thrown yourself into your business when your heart was barely beating—
If you’ve ever found clarity in a ClickUp board while crying in between Zooms—
If you’ve ever felt like the only thing holding you together was the thing you were building—
You’re not broken.
You’re building from the inside out.
There is magic in the making.
✨ The kind of magic that doesn’t gloss over the grief but channels it.
✨ The kind that honors the ache but refuses to let it have the final word.
✨ The kind that says: I am still here. Still showing up. Still creating beauty out of what remains.
And, there is medicine in the melting.
✨ The kind of medicine that lives at the bottom of a pint, eaten straight from the freezer.
✨ The kind that comes with mascara-streaked cheeks and a RuPaul marathon on loop.
✨ The kind that says: rage nap if you must, darling—this is healing, too.
This is what it means to find harmony.
To know when to pause the hustle and let your heart be held.
To know when to pour that ache into something exquisite.
To know when to cry. To know when to create. To know when the act of building is the balm.
And sometimes, that building isn’t just survival—it’s sublime.
Grief sharpens the edges. Softens the falsehoods.
It makes the work more honest. More needed. More you.
Because even in heartbreak, you are not fragile.
You are fertile.
And your business can hold both your grief and your greatness.
Your business doesn’t need you to be fine.
It needs you to be real.
👉 Reflection Prompt
Where have you been building from heartbreak?
Where might it be time to rest instead of reaching for the next task?
And where might you permit yourself to melt a little?
👇 If you’re building through heartbreak—or resting inside it—I’d love to hear what this sparked for you.
🔥 Daily Affirmation
I honor my heartbreak without making it my whole story.
I trust that beauty can bloom even here.
I let my work be both a sanctuary and a song.
I am allowed to create even when I am still healing.
PS: Profit is protest. Especially when it’s born from heartbreak.
Let your work be your protest.
A protest against disappearing.
A protest against staying silent in the face of sorrow.
A protest that turns pain into purpose.
🎧 Song of the Day: Train Wreck by James Arthur