On Ghosting

Modern dating is akin to surviving The Hunger Games – it is not for the faint of heart. It requires confidence, patience, trial and error. Dating is an investment – when playing the game one must be all in, emotionally exposed and unafraid of rejection. We put ourselves out there in hopes of connecting with someone who can satiate our innate desire to love and be loved (or at least laid.) A true journey is nothing without a few challenges along the way  – managing expectations, following “rules”, navigating societal practices/norms, breakups, the dreaded “what are we” conversation, dodging f*ckboys, and most recently ghosting – which for those unfamiliar is exactly as scary as it sounds.

Ghosting is the act of literally leaving a dating prospect hanging. One party (the ghost) decides that they are no longer interested in moving forward and proceeds to eliminate contact with the other (the ghostee). The ghost is the decider: he/she is in charge of making the executive decision to cut communication via a method of their choosing, be it a slow fade – a steady and mysterious decline of interaction – or an abrupt, unprecedented end to all communication (rude!) The ghostee, often blindsided, is subsequently left to sit and wonder many things, the main one being “what the actual f*ck just happened.” There is no closure, except for the closure you create to get through such times – I personally recommend journaling and hitting a punching bag or two, while others may prefer drinking a liter of Yellowtail and venting on Twitter. In this sensitive time, you are encouraged to do you.

Being ghosted could actually be quite funny if it wasn’t so maddening. There is something particularly cruel about being forced to acknowledged that while there are a million and one ways to get in touch with someone, you are being ignored on single one of them. This level of rejection is enough to drive even the most laid-back person to absolute insanity. Rejection stings no matter when it occurs – be it after one date, several months of seeing each other or perhaps at some point in a long-term relationship (yes, this does happen!) For the weeks following said ghosting there is often a full-blown period that spans the full five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance).  How long this mourning lasts depends on the ghostee – more experienced daters may appear to bounce back quickly, licking their wounds and chalking it up to part of the game. The first cut is definitely the deepest, so one’s first ghosting experience will definitely warrant a few weeks of wallowing in self-pity and talking lots of shit about how big of a douche said ghostee is, regardless of whether or not its based in fact (screw facts, this is about you!)

In reality, having someone ghost you is for the best as it frees you up to explore other, more compatible prospects – you know, those people who actually like you. Yes, you  will move on. But in the mind of a millenial, being ghosted leaves an interminable sting of rejection, a painful reminder of a near-fatal blow to the ego – which, for many of us, is worse than death. More often than not, the pain comes from the loss of potential of a relationship that was never actualized, of not being someone’s type. It triggers our deep-seated insecurities, ranging from body image issues, our level of intelligence, to our personalities – as if a flat ass or a penchant for profanity are legitimate reasons why someone disappears. All of this blinds us to the fact that there was nothing that could have been done differently to change this outcome – so no, do not go back and retrace every text, call or interaction to see where you messed up. The only closure that brings any satisfaction cannot be given by anyone else but us, and more often than not the reasons for said disappearance has little to do with you. However difficult it may be to believe it, your ghost is likely not an evil person, just an extremely cowardly one. Refrain from angrily throwing darts at their photo or wishing them a lifetime of unhappiness. You are, however, welcome to rip them a new one via text, as my friend Jess* did in the recent past:

“I had a few great dates with this guy, and after one night I left my portable charger at his apartment. I shot him a text letting him know, and he said he would get it back to me. A week later, I hadn’t heard from him so I reached out again – letting him know that if he doesn’t want to see me again and no hard feelings but that I really wanted my charger back. He immediately answers – saying he’s sorry, he’s getting back with his ex, of COURSE he will send me my phone charger. Three weeks pass and still nothing – I message again. No response. At this point, I’m LIVID. I go full on crazy – send him a novel cursing him out and shaming him for not being truthful.

In reality, I just wanted him to be honest with me. Needless to say, he never answered my crazy message, but I got my phone charger in the mail shortly after, so it was a win for me!”

Lesson here: If venting to your ghost feels good, do it but make it a one and done type of thing . Do not expect a response – Remember that a ghost is trying to avoid any and all confrontation via cutting contact with you, so the best move after getting things off your chest is ghosting them right back. Also, for the love of god give back people’s stuff in a timely manner. A girl needs her portable charger!

I had to ask some of my eligible lady friends – is there any time when ghosting is okay? It was generally agreed upon that if you have been on less than 5 dates you are allowed to ghost, noting that “it is especially hurtful to tell someone you don’t want to date them anymore when you don’t know them very well.” In this case the ghostee will likely be pissed, but not wounded. Ghosting is also acceptable after a particularly awful first date or when dodging a creep/stage-5-level stalker who is giving you serious vibes (the bad kind) or anyone who comments negatively on your appearance (#boyBYE). As for someone you’ve been seeing consistently for a month or longer, out of courtesy you need to bite the bullet and tell them its a wrap. “Not that it’s ever easy to end things with someone, nor is it ever easy to hear,” one friend said, “but I think after you’ve been dating for a while – like a month or 5+ dates – it’s just good manners to tell them you want to end it.”

My friend Natalie, who has a strict “no ghosting” policy regardless of how many dates she has been on with a guy, takes the high road and has had positive results. “You’re not always to mesh with people – especially when you meet them on social media it can take a couple of dates to really decide if you are into them.” She continued with, “early on some guys fall faster than I do (within 1-2 dates) and I don’t want to deal with the fallout, but its mortifying to reach out to someone and not get a response, so instead of ghosting I tell them ‘hey, I don’t feel the romantic chemistry I’m looking for. No hard feelings.'” She says the men in question have responded well, despite being a bit disappointed (rightfully so, she’s a catch!) But being truthful is key, so do not say that you will reach out again when you know you won’t and for the love of god do not set up a next date and then disappear. Also, eliminate “I’m just not looking for a relationship right now” from your vocabulary – because everyone knows that is B.S.

And there you have it – ghosting is pretty much never okay, unless its very early on in the process or after a painfully awful Tinder date with a creep or asshole. While ghosting may seem like the best strategy to temporarily avoid emotions and confrontation, be considerate of the person on the other side – however painful this may be for you, being ghosted is much worse on the recipient’s end. If you are ghosted, ride out your feels however you see fit and then keep it moving to someone that fully reciprocates your affections – this is an infinitely superior and rewarding use of your energy. If you feel the need to ghost, let them down easy. I recommend this one-liner from my friend Carly: “I enjoyed getting to know you, but I don’t see this working out. Good luck, and I wish you the best.” Telling someone they are not for you is never easy, but completely disappearing is a surefire way to become haunted by ghosts-of-dating past – or at least deserving of some bad dating karma. Who wants that?

The Practice of Self-Care

New Yorkers are always on the go, seamlessly moving from the office to after-work events, endlessly searching for the next best restaurant, apartment or gallery opening. The opportunities are endless, leading us to fill our calendars with as many concerts, trips and dates as we can manage. Surrounded by ambition, we never cease to find inspiration from our co-workers, partners and friends who keep us on our toes. In a city where we are always moving to create the absolute best version of ourselves, it can be easy to get lost in the midst of it all – particularly when it comes to practicing presence, gratitude and self-care. The concept of self-care is simple: find something you love and make time to practice it when needed, consciously working it into your daily  life in order to restore and recharge. As a generation that expends an incredible amount of energy interacting, sharing and comparing with others, it is critical for us to take a moment for ourselves.

One of the best parts of self-care is that there is no right way to practice it, and how its carried out depends solely on the desires of the individual doing it. Extroverted people may find that being around people in a social setting is soothing for them, and therefore they seek out opportunities to be in groups, be it volunteering or taking a language or dance class. For others, rest is an important component of self-care, and they ensure to get at least 8 hours of sleep each night. I typically find myself most at peace when I am solo, writing in a journal, reading or tuned into an amazing playlist and therefore I carve out at least an hour daily to do so – I can sense a negative change in mood when I go a day without music. I also find joy in working out and pushing myself physically, especially in small group settings led by women – which explains my obsessions with Pop PhysiqueY7 and DanceBody. Whether you value silence and solitude (solo meditation, sleep), group settings (concerts, fitness classes, book clubs), creative forms (music, writing, cooking, learning a language) or a physical expression of yourself (running, dancing, yoga, etc.) make it a priority until it becomes habitual.

Self-care also relates to protecting your mental state by developing and strengthening your boundaries, which includes learning to say yes or no and standing firmly in your decisions. This is particularly relevant in dating where we can get so wrapped up in another individual that we forget to take a step back and look at the situation objectively, asking ourselves the important question: Is this person adding to my life (and vice versa?) Is this dynamic (casual or otherwise) working for me? Do I feel good with this person? Self-care demands that you scan your relationships and make sure you are feeling fulfilled and secure within them. It also means abandoning fear of perception, trusting your instincts, and walking away if you have articulated your needs and they are still not being met. Possessing a strong sense of self and wants/desires is extremely powerful and pretty sexy, too.

It is more important than ever to focus on what drives us as we make our way through this world so we can take our newfound energy and use it to bring selves forward every single day. Know that is is perfectly fine to unplug and allow yourself let yourself go. Be good to yourself and know that you are allowed to change your mind, to run the emotional gamut from ecstatic to depressed and back again. As with all practices, self-care is not about achieving perfection. Find what fuels you, embrace it and trust the process.

Click here for the basics on the self-care movement and how to get started.

A (Feminist) Rant

I am naturally reserved, patient and submissive – qualities often associated with femininity. I am also a no-nonsense, in-your-face feminist that does not play games. Let me explain.

I am all about women doing whatever the hell they want, today and always. I am of the mindset that unless they directly harm myself or others, a woman’s choices are hers to make and hers alone. So long as she is not endangering the world around her, a woman can dress, act and behave in any way that makes her happy and should not be subjected to the ridicule of the outside world. Point blank.

I have not always been this way nor I am I fully healed from years of conditioning – I have been guilty of making hasty comments about a woman’s appearance or behavior from promiscuity, blind ambition or a hair style. It took me years to see that competitiveness and resentment towards other women in American culture is both supported and ultimately expected in all aspects of life from the workplace to romance, and breaking free from this destructive habit is no simple task. There are other women who prefer to adhere to the damning way of thinking that she needs to put others down to succeed (see: corporate hierarchies everywhere.) I often still find myself slipping back into judgemental tendencies from my teenage years, promptly forcing myself to stop before the words slip out and I revert back to my old ways.

Personal growth requires definitive change. As a result I am much quieter, though no longer out of fear or insecurity but to ensure my words are contributing constructive and positive value to this incessantly negative world. Though generally laid back and slow to anger, I have become more sensitive – particularly towards people who offer their opinions on women without being asked for it or get themselves off by bringing women down (a la Donald Trump’s presidential campaign.) I am a supporter, and therefore will not tolerate any degrading bullshit from men or women who insist on delivering their self-righteous critiques on an individual’s appearance or actions. This is not to say that people are not entitled to their beloved opinions but, contrary to what many milleinials believe, not every opinion is necessary or valid. Before speaking them into the universe, I recommend that we all take time to be more mindful of our criticisms, especially when it comes to things that do not personally affect us. I promise that you will find that when you expend less energy on useless things that do not concern you and more so on what actually matters, you are free to dealing with your own shit – of which I am sure there is a lot.

See list below of items that, unless requested, do not require your validation or input whatsoever:

  • A woman’s appearance (clothes, hair, makeup, grooming, etc.)
  • A woman’s behavior and character (introvert/extrovert/ambivert, loud, soft-spoken, profane, timid, secure/insecure, religious/spiritual/neither, independent, social, family-oriented, party girl, homebody etc.)
  • A woman’s sexual preferences (LGBTQ, promiscuous, monogamous, chaste or born-again, submissive/dominant, poly, asexual, etc.)
  • A woman’s decisions (single/married, employed/unemployed, children, abortion, birth control etc.)
  • A woman’s past (we all have one)
  • A woman’s feelings (for fuck’s sake just be quiet and let us speak)

 

 

On Anxiety + One World Trade

Two weeks ago I started a new role at Conde Nast as assistant to the Editor in Chief of BRIDES. In a short amount of time I have learned the fundamental ins and outs of the leading wedding magazine and the editorial world – a realm that I always admired but did not think I could enter as I spent the bulk of my post-graduate life in the music industry. Though still new in this space I feel very much at home – with a boss that is inspiring and supportive and surrounded by women who create as easily as they breathe. Conde Nast is an international media powerhouse and BRIDES is the ultimate women’s magazine. Every day I wake up grateful to be involved in this space of endless creativity, and that is feeling is priceless.

Conde Nast is located at One World Trade – the main building of the former World Trade Center complex in lower Manhattan. The building, also known as the “Freedom Tower,” was completed in 2013 and has become a symbol for the resilience of Americans and particularly New Yorkers in the wake of 9/11. While it has been 16 years since the tragedy, I know that the pain still lives with most New Yorkers regardless of their individual closeness to the attacks. The memory holds us together, and One World Trade – which at 1776 feet can be seen from anywhere as far as New Jersey and out to Long Island – stands as a reminder of our resiliency.

While I was anxious about starting a new career path, I did not anticipate the anxiety of working at One World Trade. I was nine on September 11, 2001 and living an hour from Manhattan. While I heard stories and saw video footage of the attacks, I did not lose any acquaintances, friends or family members.  From childhood through college I was notoriously laid back and rarely anxious about anything. This changed after moving to the city, though I never thought I was any different than other New Yorker – taking my regularly heightened sense of worry and paranoia that comes from living in post-9/11 America as normal. While I am not in a constant state of panic I have always kept my eyes and ears open for suspicious behavior, as I am constantly reminded to do by NYPD’s “if you see something, do something” campaign.

Until the recent attacks abroad in London, Paris and Germany I was not fearful for my life. Perhaps I have been coddled by a safe childhood, the privilege of living in a nice (re: painfully gentrified) Manhattan neighborhood and eight years of Obama (if you’re reading this – I miss you very much!) Now more than ever I feel on edge, with news outlets constantly churning out reports of extremely volatile international relations and the election of the reckless and dangerous new President man-child in the White House. There are police throughout the subways in full-body armor and machine guns. Military personnel line the surrounding area of One World Trade, consistently on high alert and ready for attack. All of this, combined with working in a building that was once targeted for representing our nation’s strength, is truly eating away at my own.

I have been working on combating these fears, mainly through seeking the highs of exercise-induced endorphins and detoxification of hot yoga. I practice conscious breathing daily and diligently take my adaptogens. I make sure to call my parents every day and visit my grandparents at least once a week. While I value my alone time and need solitude for at least an hour every day, I actively make time for friends and things I love, including writing and margaritas. Conversely, I have tried to remove toxic people from my orbit. I try to complain less, which is incredibly difficult because I like to talk shit.  All of this helps, though it takes determination to stick to such practices. I may seek out a group of people who are equally worried about the state of the world, but for now I am determined not to let fear take control of my life. I have found that it helps to give thanks daily, carving out a few minutes every morning before social media and starting my day to express gratitude for the life I have been given. And for being able to live in the greatest damn city in the world, which is not up for debate so don’t @ me. To anyone struggling with any type of anxiety in this day and age, I urge you to try and do the same because its one of the few things keeping me sane.

Online Dating: A Love/Hate Story

My longest relationship to date has been my on and off again relationship with online dating apps. Between Tinder, Bumble, something called Coffee Meets Bagel and countless others, the options at our fingertips are seemingly endless. While the whole notion of finding love online likely weirded most of us out in 2009, to meet a single millenial today that does not have a profile on one or more of these apps is shocking. We are addicted to the rush – the instant gratification that comes from being “liked” by a hot stranger. I am no exception here, being the first to admit that during the summer after my college graduation I was so caught up that I often swiped through potential matches while my date for the evening was in the bathroom. Sometimes I double-booked. Other times I swiped at work and while out to dinner with friends. By midsummer I was averaging 3-4 dates per week, constantly searching for someone smarter, taller or more exciting to stroke my overly inflated ego.

Dating with such ferocity is, of course, unsustainable. My desire to meet new people gradually waned, making small talk tedious and first-date jitters scarce. The once exciting process of doing my hair and makeup before walking out the door felt more like prepping for a job interview. While it would make sense for one’s self-esteem to go up with more and more dates, for me it was the complete opposite. With each guy that did not blow me away within the first few moments of us meeting I lost complete faith in finding someone that fit all of my requirements which in hindsight were absolute bullshit. For a guy to not call me back was not simply a rejection but a mortifying personal attack on my appearance, intelligence and personality that I could not shake. Despite this negativity I continued through the remainder of that year, succumbing to the unwritten social obligation for the single girl to eventually stop being single and find someone. I had no vision of what my ideal relationship looked like and therefore received from the universe exactly what I put out: a mixed bag of fuckboys ranging from emotionally inept to emotionally suffocating, rich and narcissistic to creative and overbearing. I tried to make dead-end situationships work with guys who I saw potential in. I promised to kick my habit, but within 24 hours of a breakup I would be back online trying to find the next best thing, swiping blindly on subways and on lunch breaks. I kept doing so regardless of high or low I felt, going out with guys even when I was clearly not ready. There were many attempts to stop, but I always came back.

At the top of this year, three weeks into my resolution to swear off online dating completely, I relapsed. Right away I matched with a guy and went back and forth, exchanging numbers soon after. We met up for drinks and I felt an instant vibe, which never happens because out of every 2,000 profiles about 90% of them are rejected and then the 5% of dates that do end up panning out are usually awkward and/or boring as all hell. He was a nice, funny guy with a bit of edge who you could tell loves his mom a lot. He was creative and witty, with a personality completely unlike the showy finance bros that lead with their salaries. He was also hot – not in the way where I wanted to jump him but I knew after a few minutes (and later, a few cocktails) that I wanted to know more. While we only dated briefly, I noticed a shift in my mindset as I did not feel defeated that it did not develop further. I am moving forward with restored confidence in the existence of hot-but-also-nice guys and also in myself to put myself out there without fear and expectations. And for me, that is progress.

Online dating has afforded us the opportunity to meet people that we may not have encountered otherwise, and that is absolutely incredible. We have opportunities created for us and available at the push of a button – a luxury our parents never had. Tinder is certainly not the problem when it comes to modern dating – it is the mind of the user that needs a shift as to not get so deeply attached to the ego. I do not want to get so wrapped up in finding a partner that I forget to live consciously in the present. I do not ever want to be the girl swiping at a bar on a Friday night or writing a guy off for being corny or “not my type.” I want to be excited about a first date, filled with stupid small talk about hometowns, hobbies and a moment or two of awkward silence. I want to connect with people, thinking of nothing outside of enjoying someone’s company for a couple of hours. Meeting someone that I think is interesting and who I also want to make out with rarely happens, but when it does (on or offline) I will aim to enjoy the experience for what it is and take my ego out of it.

 

 

Y7 Yoga Studio

If you have been following me for even a short amount of time you know that I am admittedly a fitness junkie. A good sweat session is one of the few things I genuinely get excited about when I wake up every morning outside of tacos. After graduating from college I fell in love with high-intensity interval training (HIIT) as a way to kick off mornings before heading into the office or sweating it out after a stressful day. HIIT, while extremely effective, is also incredibly taxing on the body. I found it difficult to recover after back to back classes, my body sending signals that I needed to care for and stretch my muscles outside of the brief warm ups and cool downs that were offered during these sessions.

Yoga was something that I had never tried but I had preconceived notions about – mainly that everyone sits in silence in a room playing Caucasian elevator music for an hour or more while pretending to be zen. The idea of straying from my routine and the fast-paced nature of HIIT and bootcamp was unsettling, and anything that was not going to help build muscle and/or burn hundreds was not of interest to me. I was also on autopilot everyday beginning my career at a top talent agency with no desire or perceived need to slow down or recharge. While I was physically fit, this was likely one of the unhealthiest times of my life.

Around this time a friend of mine introduced me to Y7, a hot vinyasa yoga class founded in New York. I was terrified at the idea of yoga itself, even more so of doing it in a room heated to 90 degrees. My prayers were answered when I discovered that Y7 is a first of its kind hip-hop yoga studio, featuring a specialized hip-hop ONLY playlist each session and a themed playlist every Wednesday and Sunday. It was almost love at first sight: immediately upon entering the studio I was greeted with calming aromas and Nas playing over the sound system.The room itself was pitch black with candles scattered throughout the space and, as advertised, hot as hell. Instantly I was calmed, having finally found a refuge high above the bustling streets below.

Y7 has put a modern shift on the ancient practice of yoga, and it is not difficult to see why people are hooked. The 60-minute session consists of a savasana (rest) and three separate guided flows which are practiced twice with the instructor followed by once on your own. Now if my mentioning of “savasana” had you confused AF, please note that going into my first formal yoga session my knowledge of yoga terms started at child’s pose and ended at downward dog – aka I knew nothing. I followed as best as I could while being the least flexible person ever and also dripping with sweat, but I left with an understanding of the fundamental positions (not to mention feeling extremely badass!) This is not a intro-level class but it is as basic or advanced as you need it to be. Bonus: the room is black so you can worry less about looking like a clumsy literal hot mess and instead focus on you and your practice, which why you came.

It is a luxury to be able to take the time to focus inward and block out the many thoughts running through our minds each day, but it is incredibly important that we make that time even if it is for five minutes each morning. Since starting my practice at Y7 and studying yoga closely I have noticed a complete positive shift in my mindset – I am conscious of my breath and use it daily to keep myself grounded and present, I have uncovered a mind-body connection that I did not know was possible and my flexibility has improved beyond my wildest expectations. It has taught me me that my body is an amazing force that can be challenged and stretched, but above all must be taken care of. For so long I associated yoga solely with white elitists of the Western world (a community that I did not belong to) but the welcoming nature of this studio feels safe and inclusive. Having a judgement-free zone to come to that fosters self care is invaluable to me and worth every penny. Thousands of dedicated clients around the country agree.

I urge everyone, particularly women of color, to try yoga at least once. I say at least once because it may take a few tries to find the teacher and style that works well for you. There are various styles of yoga that are offered so you can find your fit. You do not have to be thin, “in shape” or adorned in expensive workout gear – and if you feel that way going into a space, find a new community ASAP. While many classes carry a price tag, there are just as many donation-based classes out there for you to explore. Men and women alike can reap the benefits of yoga, so bring your boo. (Does your man think he’s too macho? Let him know Ace Hood and his partner do yoga too!)

My friends never hear me shut up about Classpass, so see if Y7 is available in your city. You can also try one month of Classpass to discover other yoga and fitness studios in your area. You will not regret it.

Renewal

It has been a year since my last post. This morning, in attempt to break my hiatus, I found myself in front of my computer and absolutely terrified. When did I become so fearful of having my words read by my friends and acquaintances? This fear of judgement contradicts every single piece I have written so far and everything I want to be as a person and a writer. After a full year days of hiding away from being vulnerable and transparent through writing, I have decided its time for a renewal – not only of this site, but of my true self.

To catch you up, the last 365 days have been eventful: I turned 24, left one job for another, moved from uptown to downtown, I struggled with an eating disorder, got let go, and got hurt. I traveled, dated men (some better choices than others) and spent lots of time alone. I struggled with self-love. I began mediating, hitting the barre and practicing yoga. I found love in others. I began actually taking care of myself. I felt euphoria along with lows that confined me to bed for days. Sometimes I wondered if something was actually wrong with me. I questioned my sanity and the wide range of my emotions. Why was I so often unhappy and why was I not as joyful as everyone else seemed to be? I am sure my parents worried a lot after dozens of phone calls. I began to wonder if it was me or New York, my job, my diet or being single. Then Trump came along that definitely made shit worse. I sunk deeper into my sullen attitude, breaking my vow to write regardless of what was going on in my life and refusing to try.

Much of the past year has been spent in denial. I have tried to alter my personality for the sake of others, forgoing my kindness and vulnerability for arrogance, cynicism and judgmental tendencies. I have been disingenuous to the heart of who I am, trying to emulate qualities that I admired in others and fitting into niches of others. I chased dreams that were not my own. For months I regressed into insecurity and fear of not belonging somewhere, attempting to be like other women, not realizing that my complexity and fluidity is what makes me who I am, that being anyone else is simply impossible. I am far from one dimensional, existing as a series of dualities: strong and emotional, alpha and beta, introverted and extroverted, artistic and athletic, ditzy and brilliant. All of this may make my journey a bit less traditional than others but it will certainly make for an interesting story, which I will share here with you.

It is important to understand that your pain is a part of your progress. Despite what you may think as you scroll through social media, all of what we see is an illusion. Your strengths and weaknesses are your own, and they must be embraced or misery and self-doubt will not be far behind. We should practice seeing the beauty of the world every day but we are also entitled to feeling low and discouraged when life’s bullshit strikes. Now more than ever we need to renew our sense of hope, self-worth and faith in the goodness of those around us. While I am no saint and will never be completely free of judgement, I am consciously trying to get back to a place of openness and kindness in a world that is clearly lacking. I hope to do this through writing here, teaching wellness and focusing inward on a daily basis through meditation and my yoga practice (which I highly recommend if you find yourself in a rut.)

Breathe deeply. Be selfish. Be proud of yourself even if you are still figuring things out. Do not engage with trolls/misogynists/racists/ ignorant white people. Do not judge your fellow woman, unless they voted for Trump in which case judge away. Do what you love whether other people think its corny or not because who the fuck cares. Wake up with gratitude but know that there is work to be done and it will not be easy. And above all else, know that you are not alone.

With that, I promise you and myself that I won’t disappear again.