If we were sitting together face to face, I’d honestly tell you: I almost didn’t go.

Booking a week of professional training at New Approach School for Jewelers in Tennessee sounded exciting—and also a little terrifying. It felt easier to stay in my familiar rhythm, keep making, keep moving. But there was an internal nudge I couldn’t ignore: if I want my work to grow, I have to grow too. So I said yes, packed my bags, and walked into a new classroom with an open mind and a hopeful heart.

Day one started with that fluttery feeling like when you were a kid on the first day at a new school. A week later, I came home with the biggest mindset shift. Structure, feedback, and the chance to ask questions in real time did something important: it turned down the volume on imposter syndrome and turned up trust in my own instincts.

I’ve always believed in slow, intentional craftsmanship. What this week added was clarity. Tiny adjustments stacked into real progress. Tools I’d used for years felt friendlier. And the little voice that used to ask “Are you sure?” began to ask a better question: “What if you let yourself be proud of this?”

Why stepping outside the comfort zone matters

You and I both know comfort zones are cozy for a reason. They feel safe. They keep us from failing in public. They also keep us from the growth we quietly crave.

Saying yes to professional training didn’t erase what I’ve learned on my own; it honored it. It said, “This matters enough to invest in.” That decision was less about skill and more about identity—choosing to treat my craft like the meaningful work it is. I think you’ll recognize that feeling in your own life, even if your “bench” looks different than mine.

What I’ll carry forward into the studio

• Patience as a practice. Taking time to understand why something works makes the doing feel lighter.

• Asking for help is a strength. Guidance is not a shortcut; it’s good stewardship of time and energy.

• Confidence grows with evidence. Repetition, small wins, and honest feedback create the kind of courage that sticks.

The pieces I’m making now are finished with more care, with details that hold up beautifully to everyday wear. My hope is that they’ll be worn often, loved well, and one day passed down with a good story. The difference is subtle but real: pieces that feel good, look timeless, and are made to last.

A note for the part of you that’s waiting for a sign. If you’ve been standing on the edge of a dream, I hope this reads like a hand on your shoulder. You are wildly capable. The thing you’ve been thinking about—booking the class, starting the project, asking for support—doesn’t need perfect timing. It needs a small, brave yes. Maybe that looks like putting a date on your calendar. Maybe it’s sending the e-mail. Maybe it’s telling one person what you want so it doesn’t have to live only in your head. Whatever it is, I’m cheering for you. Truly.

Want to see what my week of training looked like?

I put together a short video to share a few glimpses from the studio and the moments that made me smile. If you’d like to peek behind the scenes, you can watch it here:

Thank you for being here—for supporting handmade work, for caring about the story behind each piece, and for reminding me that this little corner of the world can hold both beauty and purpose. I’m back at the bench with steady hands and a softer heart, ready to create what’s next for you.