The Shift Inward

From a visible creative career to invisible healing — and what’s now emerging

I led marketing and communications at a design studio, shaping how our work was seen, understood, and shared. My job was to capture innovation and beauty, and spread it as far and wide as possible.

The healing work I’ve undertaken since stepping out of that role has been of an entirely different nature: deep, internal, largely invisible.

I’ve had to reckon with that shift — honoring its necessity while grieving the loss of my polished professional identity.

On leave, I still found beauty, though it was closer to that of a phoenix rising.

Now, I’m beginning to create it visibly again.

Going forward, I hope to weave together the many facets of my recent and distant experience into something newly creative — even mesmerizing.

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The Breaking Point

When I left my job last January, I was 101 pounds. I’m 5’11”, so that’s pretty thin. Dangerously thin, my doctor told me.

I chose to believe her. I wasn’t sure if my life was actually at risk, as she said it was, but I knew my body was crying for help — and her words gave me the push I needed to email my company and ask for a leave.

It wasn’t easy. Looking back, it was likely years in the making.

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Beautiful, External Work

My ambitious spirit had taken me to big, bright places — photoshoots with world-class photographers. Stories placed in Forbes and Fast Company. Spreads in Architectural Digest and Interior Design. Thought leadership and podcast features on Monocle Radio and the BBC.

The work wasn’t just shiny — it had substance. I was proud to capture it and share it, and I was encouraged to keep pushing boundaries.

The more work we shared, the more we secured. It was an endless feedback loop: win the project, complete it, document it, share it — and win again. Each project stretched our creativity — for clients like Google, Figma, Roblox, and CNN. Visionary brands doing exciting things.

As a creative person with an entrepreneurial streak, the role played to my strengths. I was capturing color, space, and form — across interior design, architecture, branding, and strategy. I’d studied art, and I’ve always believed in the power of beauty — and this work was beautiful. I believed in it, and that belief was palpable.

My colleagues were some of the brightest people I’d worked with, and I loved earning them new canvases. It felt energizing — intoxicating, even. The work propelled me forward, each win fuel for the next.

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Breaking the Cycle

When I’m inspired, and when I believe in something, I keep going. Movement comes naturally to me, and I ride the momentum, tuned to my own enthusiasm.

But at my last job, I went too long without pausing.

Over nearly six years at the company, I worked hard. Much of it felt effortless — but I also pushed past physical symptoms that urged me to stop, take a beat, and reassess. I didn’t take those signals seriously enough — until I had no choice. That December, I came to a screeching halt.

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Deep, Internal Work

In response to my email to the company, I received compassion: “Your health is the most important thing, Camille.” I believed it — but I also believed I was meant for more. That my body was the vehicle for the work I really wanted to do in the world.

Now I had to step away from everything I loved — and tend to my body?

Just my body?

It felt crude — especially in a body that wasn’t working. Especially for someone who prided herself on intellectual and creative work.

But there was no way around it — I was too depleted to keep going.

So I turned toward healing.

I turned toward another type of work — deep, internal, and vast.

Instead of capturing beauty — in images, words, videos, graphics — and sharing it across platforms, I dug deep inside myself and waded through an enormous mess.

My own canvas became my body, my apartment, my time.

I had nightmares; I sat in the San Francisco fog through long, slow afternoons; I endured excruciating physical pain. I broke old patterns and watched them unravel. I walked endlessly, thinking about identity, wondering what it all meant.

All that work was worthwhile — and incredibly difficult to reckon with, as a woman who’s naturally ambitious, intrinsically creative, and thrives in community.

From the outside, it appeared silent, invisible to anyone but me. A far cry from all that captured and curated beauty.

An eon away from the work I once did — just a short mile from my apartment, and the site of all this healing.

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Watching, Noticing

In those early days, I walked the neighborhoods at lunchtime. I watched workers step out to pick up iced coffees, or gather in small groups for a quick lunch. I saw people with their AirPods in, probably listening to some podcast about optimization.

That used to be me — and I loved it. But I had crossed an invisible line.

Sometimes, I still wish I were one of them — resilient, with a work life that felt sustainable. I wish I hadn’t burned out and had to step away.

But those early days gave way to something else — something valuable.

I’ve made peace with the distance this stretch of time required.

And slowly, things did shift — not just inside me, but on the outside too.

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Healing & What’s Next: Weaving the Threads

People say I’m glowing — that the beauty radiating from me is the visible trace of the work. That beauty is energy.

Eighteen months after I stepped away, I’m so much better. I’ve gained 20 pounds. My hormones have steadied. My period — and fertility — have returned. I wake up with more energy, feeling brighter and more connected. I feel inspired to share and be of service in a more significant way.

I’m also more self-aware: I watch my energy levels throughout the day and meet my needs in real time, instead of waiting until they become impossible to ignore — even when it’s inconvenient to be listening.

This past year, transformation has been my work. Not visible output, but deep internal change.

I carry my lived experience forward. I know what it means to transform from the inside out — to craft a new body, a new home for the spirit.

I want to blend my insights, skills, and lived experience in the next chapter — and I’ve learned that transformation is its own kind of art form.

As for what’s next?

I’ll keep listening, writing, speaking, creating — and I’ll see where it leads.

If this piece resonates, I’d love if you’d tap the little heart at the bottom of this message. It helps others find this work. Thank you, as always.