This is the first time I’ve written in more than a month. A break-up will do that to you. Separating my life from someone after nearly five years has been a life-altering experience, to say the least. And amidst the process of moving out, moving in, not having access to a personal computer, and crying on the shoulder of my mother . . . I felt like I lost it. I felt like I lost my drive and eagerness to communicate to the world. I felt like I lost all of my readers and fans, and that everyone would forget about me—the “Talking Chic” columnist and the “Good Girl Gone Shopping.”

And then one Sunday, I woke up. I decided to create a bulletin board collage, featuring all of the pics of me alongside this celebrity and that designer, at this LA event and that event . . . and I realized that my passion still exists. I felt enlightened and giddy again. I looked at my old college press pass, from when I was a reporter for the Daily Titan at California State University, Fullerton, before moving on to studying my current business card from PlasticSurgeryStudios.com (my 8 to 5).

All of the memories flooded back. Ten years ago, taking the student photo, I was dealing with the stress of a full-time school schedule, a part-time work schedule at the mall, and an internship. Sometimes driving a car and sometimes taking a bus. But I smiled in the photo and knew then that all of the challenges were just moments in time. A few years ago, taking the business card picture, I remember the unhappiness I experienced when dealing with financial hardship and trying to manage too many freelance gigs. But I smiled once again in the photo. Yet, another time to put on my professional face.

And then there is me, now. I am 30-year-old writer, editor, and personal shopper. Proudly, I am also a granddaughter, daughter, sister, auntie, cousin, friend, boss, neighbor, and roommate. Every role I have, be it professional, familial, or social, holds a responsibility. I vowed to myself that one Sunday when working on my bulletin board, I would no longer slack in the areas that I deem important in my life.

My passion for writing started at 7 years old, on the widely spaced lines of a Hello Kitty journal. Writing keeps me alive. It allows me to breathe. In surviving this break-up—a  rough time in my life—what  I’ve learned thus far is that the simple act of persevering means to succeed. The act of continuing on your path amidst adversity is, I believe, far more noteworthy than simply arriving. Whatever your passion is, hold on to it tightly.

Remember the past, embrace the present, and build yourself a bright future. And wearing a pair of hot, red heels while in the process ain’t too shabby.