Welcome to My Workbench

Hi, I’m Esterina—and I’m so glad you’re here.

This is my first blog post, and like any good beginning, it’s both simple and layered. I’m not launching anything. I’m not selling anything. I’m just making space. A digital workbench, if you will—where ideas, routines, and even identities can be shaped and reshaped over time.

A few years ago, I turned on a miter saw for the first time during a shop class, and something in me clicked. I had signed up because I couldn’t find the right cutting board during our kitchen remodel, and my therapist had gently nudged me to try making one. At the time, I was postpartum, overwhelmed, and trying to hold together more than one version of myself.

That cutting board was never just a cutting board. It was a beginning. And it wasn’t perfect—but it was mine.

Since then, I’ve built dozens of things: charcuterie boards, furniture, routines, boundaries, habits. I’ve also unbuilt quite a few—expectations, old careers, limiting beliefs. Somewhere between the sawdust and the stillness, I realized I wasn’t just trying to make beautiful objects. I was trying to make a more intentional life.

This blog is part of that life.

I’m writing for women—especially those in their 40s—who are busy, burnt out, or maybe just quietly wondering, Is this it? I want this space to feel like a pause button. A soft place to land. A reminder that you don’t have to be wildly productive or endlessly self-optimized to live a good life.

Here, I’ll be sharing tips and tricks that help me live slower, spend less, and feel more grounded. You’ll see routines that calm my nervous system, the tools I use in my woodshop, and the ways I create beauty and order in the middle of real life. But more than that, you’ll find encouragement: to try something new even if it’s messy, to dream even if it feels impractical, and to start again—at any age.

Because I believe in community over competition.
I believe in showing the mistakes.
I believe in small, brave steps.
And I believe women deserve spaces that feel like home—even if we’re still figuring out what “home” means.

So get comfy. Settle in with a cup of tea. You’re welcome at my workbench, exactly as you are. Let’s build something meaningful, together.