Built to be Both

The double life of a creative: the brain behind the vision and the brand in front of it.

I used to think I had to pick.

I thought you were either the one building the thing, or the one everyone saw.

The one making the magic happen, or the one people gave the credit to.

Somewhere along the way, I realized I was never going to be satisfied being just one.

Because my work is too personal for me to stay hidden, and my presence is too intentional for me to be dismissed as just a face.

So I decided I would be both.

“They gave me two options. I took both and doubled them.”

The Invisible Hours

The truth is, the majority of my work happens when no one’s watching.
Late nights squinting at a deck until the words click into place.
Reworking a creative concept for the third time because the client still doesn’t see it.
The endless details; from picking the perfect Pantone shade, the typeface choice, the way a sentence lands in the ear that add up to something most people will just scroll past in seconds.

Those invisible hours aren’t glamorous. There’s no applause for the production schedule, no DMs for the contract you spent months in negotiations for. But that’s where the real work is; the kind of work that keeps things from falling apart.

I’ve been the one patching holes in a plan minutes before showtime. I’ve been the one catching the detail that no one else saw and knowing it mattered.

That’s the side of me that’s a builder. A protector. A quiet architect.

“The beauty you see is built on the grit you don’t.”

The Face in the Room

Then there’s the other side.
The one people see.
The one they photograph, interview, tag.
The one whose presence carries the weight of everything she’s built.

This version of me steps onto a stage knowing every person in the audience is deciding if they trust me, if they believe me, if they see themselves in me. She shows up at dinners and events where the conversations at the table could change the next chapter of her career.

It’s not just “showing up.”
It’s showing up with intention.
Every look, every word, every handshake is another page in the story I’m telling about who I am and what I stand for.

Being seen is work, too.

“Presence is currency. I spend mine wisely.”

Why Both Matter

For a long time, I thought being behind the scenes was safer. Less pressure, fewer eyes, more control. But I learned that staying in the shadows too long can make you invisible in ways that can potentially hurt your future. Especially in this industry. It’s a harsh truth I had to come to terms with.

And I thought being in front was thrilling until I realized how shallow it could feel without the weight of substance underneath. Without the BTS version of me, the front-facing version would be empty. Without the front-facing version, the behind-the-scenes work would go unnoticed.

Both roles sharpen each other.
Being behind the curtain gives me the perspective to show up with substance.
Being in front gives me the platform to protect and champion the work I’ve poured myself into.

“The two roles don’t compete. They conspire.”

The Cost & the Gift

Being both isn’t easy.
It’s exhausting, honestly.
It’s leaving a shoot at midnight and still showing up fresh the next morning for a panel.
It’s switching from boss mode to brand mode in the backseat of my car.
It’s learning how to carry your personal life in a way that’s authentic but still protected.

But it’s also the most fulfilling way I know to exist as a creative.
Because I’m not just telling stories. I am one.
And every room I walk into, every campaign I shape, every look I serve is a reminder to myself:
I built this life of mine brick by brick. And I belong here.

“Being both means double the work, double the stakes and double the reward.”

Built to Be Both

This isn’t balance.
Balance implies halves that are separate, measured, switching in and out. Balance suggests compromise, a see-saw where one side waits quietly while the other gets its turn.

What I’m talking about is something messier, more demanding, more alive.
This is fusion. A full merge. Duality. A refusal to pull myself apart just to make other people comfortable.

The builder and the brand? Same woman.

The quiet worker in the corner and the one commanding the mic? Always, always the same woman.

People will tell you to pick a lane. They’ll call it “focus” or “clarity” like it’s practical advice. But what they really mean is: be smaller, be simpler, be easier to understand.

I tried that once. I shrank myself into one dimension and told the other versions to wait their turn. And you know what? I lost my spark. The work felt flat. The rooms felt colder. I was there, but I wasn’t present.

But during my recent trip to Cabo, I stitched myself back together.

I’m committing to walk into spaces carrying all of it: the deck-building, budget-wrangling creative director and the woman in the power lip and fire fit with the kind of presence that makes people turn their heads. The one who knows how to orchestrate the vision and how to embody it.

It’s not easy. Being both means double the energy, double the stakes. You can’t hide in either role when the other demands your full weight. The public moments are charged with everything you’ve built in private, and the private work carries the pressure of everything you’ve promised in public.

But being both is also the most honest way I know to exist.
Because I’m not interested in living a half-life. I’m not interested in slicing myself into parts to make the world more comfortable.

If you’ve ever been told you’re “too much” or “doing the most,” I hope you hear me clearly:
The most is exactly what’s needed.

Here, we don’t choose.
We don’t apologize.
We take up the whole damn space and create more when we feel we don’t have enough.

We claim both in all its beauty and brutality. We claim the cost, the reward, the exhaustion, the thrill. We claim the version of ourselves that runs the room and sits quietly in the back taking notes, knowing exactly how she’ll rearrange it all tomorrow.

This is the work. This is the art.
This is the life.

We were built for it. We were made for this.

I’m built to be be both and I wouldn’t have it any other way.