When the rent went up $200, the house of cards collapsed. I had no savings. I had no backup. I had a closet full of shoes I couldn't walk in and a fridge full of condiments.

It wasn't one big crash. It was a thousand tiny cuts. The $12 cold brew every morning. The "splurge" dress for a wedding I couldn't afford to attend. The loan to a friend I never saw again. I was so busy playing the part of the "struggling artist who makes it work" that I forgot to actually look at my bank account.

Today, I am rebuilding. Slowly. Honestly. And for the first time, I’m not an amateur at being broke. I’m a professional at being real.