There’s this idea that resilience looks like grit, like pure stubbornness, like standing tall no matter what. But real resilience? It looks like getting shit done even when everything is falling apart. It looks like rewiring your house while also running a business, making space for people in your life while reclaiming your own, and never letting anyone see just how many moving parts you’re balancing at once.
Because let’s be clear: I am functional as all hell. And loving life more than I can properly express. I have survived things that should have shattered me. And not only did I survive—I have built something really special out of it.
On Top of Everything, By Design
There’s a reason I talk about design as something more than paint colors and trendy furniture. Design is control. When life spun out—when I was drowning in a house packed with people, when I lost track of time, when I came hours from dying—I took back control one room, one corner, one decision at a time.
My home is now designed where real life and personal inspiration collide seamlessly. My business is built on function, strategy, and an unshakable understanding of what truly works. I don’t just help people choose colors—I help them create homes that push them forward, support their lives, and reflect their evolution—just like mine does for me.
The Power of Getting It Right
I don’t mess around with half-measures. I know what it’s like to be desperate for a space that works, for a system that makes life easier instead of harder. I built The Dionne Studio not (only) because I thought design was pretty, but because I know what it feels like to need a home that holds you up.
So, yeah—it’s been a journey. I’ve seen firsthand what happens when everything teeters on the edge, and I’ve rebuilt from it. Now, I know exactly how to design spaces that don’t just look good—they work, they support, and they make life undeniably better.
What Comes Next?
We’re done talking about survival. Now, it’s about preparing to thrive. This is going to probably touch some nerves, because it does for me. Next topic: “Letting Someone Into Your Home: The Emotional Side of Starting the Design Process.”
My intestines just did a pirouette and deep curtsy at the thought.
When I came back from physical rehab and was reorientating myself to my home with weird limbs akimbo, the idea of letting a single human into my house was horrifying. I was personally horrified. Everything was horrifying. I spent so many months imagining my spaces’ potential, I forgot it hadn’t happened yet. I just needed time.
PEOPLE WOULD BE IN MY HOUSE. SEE MY HOUSE. SEE MY MISTAKES AND LAPSES. THIS WAS UNACCEPTABLE.
It kept me paralyzed for a long time. I’ll share more along the way, because I don’t know anyone in my life who hasn’t gone through something similar.
Spending time to mull this one over.
Until next time—when we leave the past behind and start building forward.
Stay weird, stay wonderful.
Steph
