a break from writing

I took a break from writing for a while.

When I write, I write from the most analytical part of my brain, and it’s exhausting. I really enjoy piecing together my deepest thoughts in case anyone else can relate. I love that feeling—the feeling of someone who completely understands. 

After a while though, I start to get dragged down by my writing voice. When I write often, my brain talks to me in paragraphs. Even with this, my brain started typing this all out, and I had to grab my notes to keep up. 

It’s great to analyze, and I love to discover the why behind my feelings. I love talking about the nuances of thought and where they came from. I think writing is a talent that I sometimes wish I didn’t have because it traps my brain more than other types of thoughts. When I envision a future me, she’s a person who wouldn’t write because she couldn’t care less about all the things I enjoy writing about. She doesn’t need to analyze her life because she’s too focused on living. 

When I realized these things, it made me initially sad. I just rediscovered writing and discovered what I wanted to write about, and now I don’t like the way it keeps me buzzing with my past, with the possibility of the future, with the need to stay present. I turned a blind eye to it and forgot. I haven’t written in a while because I feel like a hypocrite.

I don’t want to think so much. I want to simply be. So why share my thinking brain because it reinforces that brain and reinforces it in others. 

I miss writing, but I like myself better when I’m not a writer. I love writing so much, but I love the me much more when I’m not writing.

inner-child work

On a recent episode of our podcast, Joe and I talked about inner-child work and the benefits we’ve felt from practicing these exercises especially from the standpoint of growing up in an evangelical home. 

Regardless of the kind of home you grew up in, this kind of work can be super healing! So I want to share a little more about my experiences from it. 

Inner-child work has to do with reconnecting with your childlike self or essence in an attempt to heal or nurture her now as your current, adult self. The first time I heard about this, it sounded super trippy and weird. What?! I have an inner child self who needs to be comforted and has unresolved wounds?!

Yes. 

Once I got over my initial reaction to the concept, I saw the truth to it. If you stop and think for a second, you can easily recall times recently where you behaved like a child. We all have times when our inner child controls how we view things and how we react to things. 

Understanding the value of this work comes with trying it out. So let’s begin. 

Find a quiet room, play some calming music, and get into a comfortable position. Make your dog lay down and stop staring at you in that creepy way and close your eyes. Imagine yourself outside in nature and visualize your current self walking up to your child self playing. You can choose any age. Choose the age that you immediately see. Sit down and talk to that child. Listen to her, play with her, hold her in your lap. What would you tell her? What would you say to her? What does she say to you?

This exercise can be very powerful. The first time I did this, I started crying merely at the sight of little me playing under a tree. I took this to mean, my child self needed some love and attention from my adult self. 

Another thing that I took away was how weird this was. The first time I experienced this, I was half in and half out. It was cool, but it was strange to imagine talking to my younger self as if I were a crazy person. “I can never tell anyone how transcendental I’m getting…” (oops)

Because of this, it was a little while before I tried it again. About a couple months later, after a particularly relaxing evening where I was laying on the floor listening to spa music, I felt the desire to talk to my inner child again. I was feeling great and indifferent to how strange such a conversation would seem to anyone else because after all, it was silently occurring in my own head. 

I thought, “what if I revisited some uncomfortable memories of myself when I felt shy or unworthy?”

Instantly a memory popped into my head. I was 11 or 12, and I was at a small-town hair salon shadowing a hairstylist for Shadow Day. Did you have that at your school? You were supposed to think of a career you might enjoy, reach out to someone who already had that career, and see what it was like. It’s actually a really cool concept. I was into fashion, makeup, and hair at the time, and the career I came up with was a hairstylist. Here is my memory of it:

(Welcome to the deepest, most insecure corners of my brain)

I got to the salon early in the morning before everyone’s shift had started. I don’t remember the name of the woman I shadowed, but let’s call her Diane. One of the stylists was drinking a can of Pepsi and said, “I need to get this taste of toothpaste out of my mouth” which even as a 12 year old, I thought was a dumb thing to say. “You want to replace the fresh taste of clean teeth with the taste of chemical syrup?!” I remember feeling super shy, awkward, and in the way the whole day. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do there. I was so worried about being quiet, shy, and not having any questions to ask that I was quiet, shy, and didn’t have any questions to ask. Soon into the day I realized I didn’t want to do this job. I have to be honest here, even as an insecure child, I had a lot of judgements of people. I could sense that the people working at this salon were small-minded and ambition-less so became uninterested in it as a career. I didn’t want to grow up and be them. I still had to be there through the whole day, and I hated it. In the afternoon, a girl who was a little older than me came in to get her hair done. She was cool. In my memory she was popular and everyone thought she was so pretty. She was wearing a denim jacket and had beautiful long, thick brown hair. As the stylist cut her hair, I remember her looking at her phone (did cell phones exist then?) and looking effortlessly calm and chic. At the end, her hair was even cooler (can you believe it?!) with layers and volume. I remember her looking at herself in the mirror completely satisfied with the way she looked as everyone around her cooed and complimented her. And I stood behind feeling like a loser with stringy hair, round Harry Potter glasses, crooked teeth, and yesterday’s style. 

“There she is!” I thought in real time. There is that little, insecure girl. And that’s how I still view myself, even though I know it’s not true, even though I have changed so much. There was still a part of me that uses that to define myself today!

In my mind, I entered this memory again. I stood by my child self and talked to her all day as if I were her older sister.

“Okay, don’t worry about a thing. I’m here with you now. You can talk to me. You’re not alone.”

“Yes, you don’t realize it yet, but you live in a small town. You probably don’t want to work in a place like this, but that’s okay that these people do.”

“It sucks that you had to feel so small and awkward; nobody wants to feel like that, but I’m sure everyone experiences it at some point. You don’t have to feel like this your whole life, though; there are ways to learn how to be comfortable in your own skin.”

“That girl is really pretty, but that doesn’t mean she’s better than you. She has confidence and you can learn to have that, too.”

“Come with me! We’re going to go get some fun things. I’ll help you with your style.”

And then I visualized my adult self taking my younger self shopping, styling her, painting her nails, talking to her about confidence and being there for her. 

Self care on a deeper level…

It sounds so simple, but in the moment, picturing my older self talking to my younger self was profound because my younger self felt such a deep connection and felt fully understood (because it’s me, duh!) and therefore, felt way more cared for than if it was anyone else comforting me. I needed attention from myself! 

I entered another memory. This one wasn’t as significant, and I’m not really sure what brought it to my mind. It was the day after I had picked out my first pair of glasses in fourth grade. My mom had helped me pick them out. I tried on a metal-rimmed, round pair that my mom thought was cute. I remember not being sure about them, but my mom kept saying, “You look so cute! You look so cute!” I didn’t want to look cute, but was too easily influenced to choose this pair. The next day at school, I remember walking down the hall, around the corner to my locker, setting my books on the floor, and a friend excitedly asking me to show her my glasses: “Let’s see!”

I took them out of the case quietly and showed her. I don’t remember the reaction, but I remember I felt so self conscious. 

This time, with adult me by my side, I told my child self that I’m allowed to choose what I want. I let myself pick out the pair of glasses I thought I looked best in. I helped myself not pick one that was too cutsie because I knew that was the opposite of what I wanted. Once we picked the best pair, I styled my younger self again. I gave her a really good pep talk, treated her like a best friend—an adult and not a child—and walked her down the hall. I told her how proud of her I was and sent her off to class with a wink. 

I’m not sure what made me think of these two memories, but they popped into my head at the time, and I lightly followed them along replacing the bad bits of memory with encouragement from myself. I may not have remembered these past events accurately at all (in fact, there is a good chance I didn’t), but they were still being used to inform my current self and life for better or worse. 

I forgot about this exercise and a couple days passed. To my surprise, when I thought back on the memories, they no longer existed in the same way. I didn’t have the same feelings attached to them; I didn’t feel a pang in my stomach thinking back on how insecure of a child I was. I remember my adult self with me the whole time. WHICH IS CRAZY! I didn’t intend to produce this effect, but it makes sense to me. What is a memory? It isn’t concrete; it can be altered apparently. And altering it can affect your future. My memory was telling me a story about myself. But if I go back and reframe past memories, I can change the way I remember them, and alter my current story.

Trippy.

phases

“She’s going through a phase.”

I have always been self-conscious of people seeing me as a drifter from phase to phase. But recently, as I come to terms with myself, and who I am, I find myself asking “what’s wrong with phases?”

If we only make it to Phase One, we’re not developing and growing.

I think a lot of this comes down to my upbringing in a conservative, religious area where hard work, dedication, never-quitting, seeking “the truth”, and being consistent were regarded as the most admirable qualities. Something as simple as being into fashion and changing your style based on new trends garnered a lot of attention and questions. You start to develop a complex as people constantly note out loud the differences in your appearance or how you differ from them haha *uncomfortable laughter*

I used to dread a relative commenting on the fact that I changed my look, my interests, or college major even if they were benevolently asking about it. I dreaded being Phase Girl. And I dreaded the attention as I became more and more insecure about changing. 

It’s true. I have gone through many phases and many changes in my life. I have changed my mind a lot. The reaction I received from others must have affected me enough to cause this insecurity. Although I don’t remember many specific conversations, I once overheard a family member talking about something I was newly into: “Katie only cares about being cool...” implying I was chasing after this new interest for the sole purpose of being cool. It’s hard to be vulnerable in this way right now since I feel so far from that memory (and since it’s such an intimate memory to admit to strangers online), but it obviously affected me very strongly. To be seen this way by someone who is supposed to know me and accept me really hurt. After that point, I was self-conscious about all the decisions I made. I was self-conscious of change. Was I just trying to be cool? Was I just chasing something? What was I chasing?

I haven’t thought about this in a while, but it was an unhealthy obsession to be so focused on other people’s judgements of my motives. This isn’t the only area of my life where I place too much weight on the perceptions of others, but it’s an area I recently uncovered. You can have many things hiding away in your subconscious from other people (or yourself) who had no intent of affecting you in that way (…so, in other words, forgive).

Moving to Oregon, switching from wedding photography to fashion photography, leaving my childhood faith, changing my look, finding new music, moving to NYC, starting a podcast, beginning to write—in all those shifts, I tiny voice in the back of my head still clouded these otherwise exciting and normal events—does everyone discount all that I do because they see me as “just in a phase”… “just trying to be cool”?

When we first announced to our bible study leaders that we were moving away from our lifelong hometown to live in Portland, Oregon, their first response was: “you’ll be back.” These words cut me and reinforced everything I’ve been explaining above. I felt discounted.

When you focus on other people discounting your story and your path, you begin to discount it yourself. 

So what now? My old self is balled up, slouched down, and timidly saying, “you’re right.”

“I am fickle…I am only chasing my image…I am selfish…blah blah blah.”

My new self says, “change.” It’s time to reframe. 

I’m realizing that I am subconsciously and automatically seeing my decisions through the eyes of everyone else. I don’t need to view change negatively because deep down, I don’t actually believe change is negative. That belief was somehow lodged in my brain by other people, and I’m not them. I don’t have to hold onto the perceptions of other people and realizing this was half the battle. It’s time to see myself through my eyes alone.

Becoming aware is the key.

How about I try renaming my phases, and instead call them times of exploration, growing, experimenting, or trial and error?

The new words make all the difference to the brain. 

I get really into certain books, movies, music, diets, art forms, information and then I move on. It’s completely normal. We change and grow. We move on from things. Life is too short to pick one thing and do it until you die. And it’s not as if we really leave anything behind. It becomes a part of us. It compounds to form who we are in this moment. Every person deserves the space to change their mind.

I’m not suggesting that you shouldn’t honor your commitments or give things a fair shot. But I am suggesting that you take the shame out of change.

Consistency and things like working at a job for 30 years may be admirable to some people. That’s okay; you can’t change what other people see as valuable. What I’ve had to learn, though, is to be confident in what I value, and furthermore not be too insecure or embarrassed to explain what I value.

I value change.

I don’t necessarily love change. It’s hard. It’s scary. But I value it. When it happens, I always look back and see growth. This is satisfying to me.

If I really think about it, I LOVE PHASES! I am a very passionate advocate for change—a passionate advocate for phases :) This passion was buried by my fears of what other people will think. If it was just up to me, I would advise you to change your career every few years, to move, to read a book you never thought you would like, to go to an event you never tried, to wear an outfit that is not your style, to try a new religion, to learn a new skill, to travel to a different country, to lurk on a weird subreddit, and more! I have seen so many benefits from trying different things (and I haven’t even tried that many things!).

The longer I live, the more I understand that I don’t understand anything. The more changes I make, the more I realize that there are so many different ways to live your life. And this makes me so skeptical of any person claiming to know “the truth.” It makes me skeptical of listening to a person who hasn’t changed in 30 years. 

I’m very conscious of the fact that what I’m currently interested in, what I enjoy writing about, and what I enjoy doing is only temporary. What’s working for me now won’t work for me forever. I’ll look back and see myself as a level down, but that’s okay. That’s how we grow. We’re not at the destination already and that’s something I want to continually remember.

I look back on blog posts I’ve written, and think, “That’s not me anymore.” I have already moved on. That was “a phase.” And I am becoming better at allowing my past self to exist imperfectly. She knew what she knew then and nothing more, so I can’t judge her. I can only judge “have I grown from her?”

Love your times of change and embrace them unapologetically. 

---

As I write this, I am already ready to release it. No more caring about this. It served me well, and I had to learn how to be comfortable with it. Goodbye to the girl who wrote this :) I love you.

grasping onto stress

Honestly when I started writing this post, I was only interested in expressing a certain amount of exasperation and humor that my mind (and I’m sure others’ minds) love being stressed so much. But since starting this, I’ve read some things that have helped me move beyond the annoyance of desiring stress and have given me an extra boost of hope to change. It turned out being a lot more positive than I thought which surprised me because I am (use to be?) a very cynical, jaded, pessimistic, sarcastic person in every area. But now am somehow becoming annoyingly positive haha (but let me keep some sarcasm tho). Hope you enjoy. 

Lately I have been noticing how annoyingly attached I am to stress, worry, and anxiety. A bunch of times over the last few months I have found myself wanting to come back to and remember a previous thought spiral. I’ll sit down to relax, and think, “now…what was I just worrying about? I need to think about it a little more…”

NO!

It’s almost laughable. Like I said, I’ve caught myself doing this multiple times already, and that just means I was probably doing it unconsciously before! 

My mind is trying so hard to grasp onto thoughts and memories that make me feel stressed/upset/embarrassed. Recently I was peeling the sticker off of a nectarine and tried to throw it into the trash. It was almost like slapstick comedy—it kept sticking on another finger; I couldn’t get rid of it! It’s like my brain and stress. I’m trying to shake this stress sticker into the garbage, but it keeps getting stuck on me again. I’m addicted to feeling this way.

It makes sense. Now that anxiety is more widely talked about and happens to be such a hot topic in the self help industry, I’ve read more and more about it. You can be and probably are addicted to anxiety. You can get addicted to any emotion for that matter.

The first time I realized I had a problem with anxiety was a year into our move to Portland. Every day I was waking up with an “anxiety belly” as I liked to call it. Maybe you would call it a “pit in your stomach.” I would wake up with the pit almost every day, but at the time, I didn’t think it was unusual. I was going through a career change, going to meet new people, and be a part of new photo shoots. So on meeting days, conference call days, and shoot days, I would get an anxiety belly right away in the morning simply anticipating the discomfort of those things. This seemed normal. It’s okay to be nervous, right? Nerves just mean you care, right? Hmmmm.

It became a problem for me when I would wake up with the pit on days that nothing was happening—on a weekend or an off day. I didn’t understand it then, but it was definitely a learned reaction by repetition and association. What is happening to me most mornings? I’m waking up with anxiety in my same bed, my same home, my same mind. So why wouldn’t I wake up every day with that same pit in my stomach? My body was used to it.

I finally went to see a doctor—a naturopath. She probably told me I was addicted to anxiety, but I wasn’t ready to hear and understand that yet. 

(Does that ever happen to you? You look back and realize you “heard” something long ago, but it didn’t “take”?)

I do, however, remember my blood test results came back showing very overworked adrenal glands. I had never heard of adrenals before, and I’m about to give you some googled wisdom about them. Adrenal glands produce hormones that help regulate your body’s metabolism, immune system, blood pressure, and response to stress. I think they are best known with regards to the stress response because they are in charge of secreting adrenaline and cortisol which, put simply, gets you ready to take fast action in a stressful situ. In this scenario, your body is is fight or flight mode. But instead of running from a bear, we are running from the stressors of our modern life. Money, work, deadlines, social situations all can cause the fight or flight response. 

Okay so what happens if your body doesn’t calm back down from that fight or flight response? What happens if you are stressed all the time? To put it simply, your adrenals are constantly producing adrenaline and cortisol, your body thinks those hormones are the priority, and so it neglects the other important processes in your body.

At this point, I get it. Yes, long term stress is bad, but now I’m stressed that I have long term stress. I don’t know how to react to this other than being stressed because I’m addicted to being stressed. 

I’m looking back at this right now and thinking… “I’ve known this for so long; why has it taken me so long to take it seriously?” Learn from me.

As you may know, I have a small meditation practice. I’m not in the habit of doing it every day, but I have seen dramatic improvements to my headspace from regualr meditation. I’m very interested in the mind and what makes us who we are and what we do consciously and unconsciously, so naturally I was interested when my husband started reading a book called Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself.

The book is along a similar vein to what I’m talking about now. There are chemicals secreted when you think a thought that signal your body to match your thoughts with a feeling. If you think an anxious thought, your body will feel anxious:

“You do not think in a vacuum. Every time you have a thought, there is a biochemical reaction in the brain—you make a chemical. And as you’ll learn, the brain then releases specific chemical signals to the body, where they act as messengers of the thought. When the body gets these chemical messages from the brain, it complies instantly by initiating a matching set of reactions directly in alignment with what the brain is thinking. Then the body immediately sends a confirming message back up to the brain that it’s now feeling exactly the way the brain is thinking.”

In turn, a repeated process of thinking anxious thoughts and producing matching anxious feelings can result in a chemical addiction to your stress. 

(In this next quoted block, I substituted the author’s example emotion of ‘guilt’ with our example emotion ‘stress.’)

“It’s like living for years near an airport. You get so used to the noise that you no longer hear it consciously, unless one jet flies lower than usual and the roar of its engines is so much louder that it gets your attention. The same thing happens to our cells. As a result, they literally become desensitized to the chemical feeling of [anxiety]; they will require a stronger, more powerful emotion from you—a higher threshold of stimuli—to turn on the next time. And when that stronger “hit” of [anxiety] chemicals gets the body’s attention, your cells “perk up” at that stimulation…And when each cell divides at the end of its life and makes a daughter cell, the receptor sites on the outside of the new cell will require a higher threshold of [anxiety] to turn them on. Now the body demands a stronger emotional rush of feeling bad in order to feel alive. You become addicted to [anxiety] by your own doing.”

An initial response to learning that you may be addicted to an emotion—or that (like I learned before) prolonged bad emotions such as stress can be very unhealthy for you—could be more of that same emotion. When I found out I was too stressed, that caused me more stress.

But if you think about it, stress is an emotion I have memorized so well that it has become my reaction to almost any news, so why would I feel any differently? When you see your unwanted emotional reaction as simply a learned response because of years of repetition, you can better understand that it’s not you. It is only a part of you. If you can learn this emotion, then you can unlearn it. 

Once I realized stress was not an integral part of who I am, it made it easier to see hope for change. I think one of the biggest lessons I have learned over the past few years is that there is hope for change. If you believe—like I used to—that “I am this way, and I can’t change,” change becomes almost impossible.

It’s a very simple message but can be difficult to truly apply to your life. It took me while to get it, and there are still some things I’m struggling to believe can change. I’m still working on it, too.

I am continuing “breaking the habit” of stress in my life. I no longer want to grasp onto it when my mind tries to relax and rest. And the first step to that is waking up and becoming conscious to what is ruling my life. When you start to separate yourself from your stress, you can start to practice different reactions and responses, and reframe the way you view the world. 

I’m not an expert yet in changing my emotional addictions, but I believe change starts with awareness!

For more practical purposes, there is a meditation practice at the end of the book quoted above designed to break you out of unwanted habits. I just started this process, so I’ll let you know how it goes!

Here are some extra quotes I loved from Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself if you are interested in reading a little more! 

“There’s a certain synchronicity that takes place moment by moment between the brain and the body. In fact, as we begin to feel the way we are thinking—because the brain is in constant communication with the body—we begin to think the way we are feeling. The brain constantly monitors the way the body is feeling. Based on the chemical feedback it receives, it will generate more thoughts that produce chemicals corresponding to the way the body is feeling, so that we first begin to feel the way we think and then to think the way we feel.”

“…years of thinking certain thoughts, and then feeling the same way, and then thinking equal to those feelings (the hamster in the wheel) creates a memorized state of being in which we can emphatically declare our I am statement as an absolute.”

“It is one of the many masks of your personality that you have memorized. It started from an emotional reaction to an event in your life, which lingered into a mood, which developed into a temperament, which created your personality. This emotion has become the memory of yourself. It speaks nothing about your future. Your attachment to it means that you are mentally and physically bound by your past.”

“…that seems normal to you now. You don’t even have to think about feeling [anxious]—you just are that way. Not only is your mind not conscious of how you express your [anxious] state by way of the things you say and do, but your body wants to feel its accustomed level of [anxiety], because that’s what you have trained it to do. You have become unconsciously [anxious] most of the time—your body has become the mind of [anxiety].”

“The body becomes addicted to [anxiety] or any emotion in the same way that it would get addicted to drugs. At first you only need a little of the emotion/drug in order to feel it; then your body becomes desensitized, and your cells require more and more of it just to feel the same again. Trying to change your emotional pattern is like going through drug withdrawal.”

i don't know

Indecision is a problem. I used to think I was just an indecisive person as though it was a personality type. But then I realized I had simply made indecision a habit.

Saying “I don’t know” to yourself every day starts to become your mantra until you are actually lost.

“Sometimes we can pretend that we’re really confused, but that’s because we don’t believe we can have what we want.” — Jen Sincero

I see a lot of truth in this quote. It’s why my habitual indecision grew. I generally do know what I want, but I’m embarrassed to say it at the risk of someone making fun of me. “Oh you want that?! Well, that’s unrealistic!” Or “You’ll never be able to get that.” Or “That isn’t good for you.” Etcetera, etcetera.

It’s really hard to decipher what you want when you are not aware of how many things are clouding and programming your own decisions. There are other people’s judgements, other people’s fears, your fears, your perceptions of what other people think or judge, your insecurities, your past held beliefs, your conditioning. No wonder it’s hard; no wonder you would rather say “I don’t know.” It’s so much easier that way. But the truth is no one else can possibly know what you want or what’s best for you, except YOU.

When I feel like saying “I don’t know…”, I get out a notebook and write down all the things I do know. This helps me to realize that I’m not completely lost, but there might be some insecurities blocking me from seeing that. For me, it’s mainly because at my core, I don’t believe I can have what I want. That’s my problem, I admit. And I need to work on my confidence rather my indecision.

To end this quick little post, I would like to quote Heath Ledger as Patrick Verona in one of my favorite movies, 10 Things I Hate About You:

“…don't let anyone, ever, make you feel like you don't deserve what you want!”

a diary entry to myself

I was reading through my journal the other day, and found this entry to myself. I keep this notebook full of only uplifting things with good reminders on who I want to become and where I want my life to go. I wrote this to remind myself that there is light at the end of the tunnel whenever I feel depressed or hella anxious because when you feel like that, your brain forgets that you’ve gotten out of those situations before. It’s unedited, taken straight from my notebook.

3/13/19

Joe and I have taken a month to reset our minds after reaching a low earlier this year. We were so filled with anxiety and chaos and negative feelings in part from all the pressure we’ve been putting on ourselves this past year. Go go go…make more money, market yourself better, move to New York to truly become a “real” fashion photographer. All these pressures of course were not healthy and really took a toll on us—not only mentally, but physically. Add to that our growing fear of having to tell our parents about leaving religion…

After having a lot of fights, outbursts, and cry-fests, we decided we needed a change. Luckily Joe had planned to go on a short retreat with a friend in Palm Springs. He planned on meditating and laying in the sun. I got sick :) which looking back, gave me an initial excuse to relax guilt-free in order to heal. I didn’t know how much my mind needed to heal, too.

I decided to watch a video by Jen Sincero that I had seen in the past, but that I knew would inspire me to get my shit together. I took some good notes, all of which are in the beginning of this notebook, and decided to set some goals. Most importantly, I would meditate every day for one month. I succeeded in meditating 24 times during that month which is something I’m very proud of. I never would have meditated near that many times without a goal. It changed my mindset, and it changed Joe’s mindset as well (he was meditating, too). It led us to read books together, have great talks, better establish our priorities, and become closer.

The transformation was gradual, but the person I was at the beginning of the time was night and day. We cut out all photography as well which greatly healed our creative brains. We were putting so much pressure on our photography that we were stifling our creativity.

We can feel healing happening and feel life re-entering ourselves and each other. I want to always remember this (it’s why I’m writing it down). If I need to heal, do it. Nothing else is more important than my mental health. When I have it, I can be creative, give love, and it spreads into every area of my life.

To myself: Whenever you’re feeling down, depressed, pathetic, anxious, like everything around you is falling apart, STOP and get healthy. Meditate, read books, focus on Joe, watch funny movies, go on hikes. Your mental health is more important than you know.

I can’t stress enough (to myself) how important mindset is. When I started learning about it, and how you can change your reactions, perceptions and frequencies, it changed my life. I am still working on it, but being aware of it is half the battle. Joe and I are reading a book called Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself and this quote jumped out at me.

“…many people spend their waking days in a sustained high-frequency Beta state. To them, everything is an emergency. The brain stays constantly on a very fast cycle, which taxes the entire system. Living in this thin margin of brain waves is like driving a car in first gear while simultaneously stepping on the gas. These people “drive through” their lives without ever stopping to consider shifting gears into other brain states.”

It’s clear to me that I was living in first gear with the pedal floored to the ground. Simply realizing this and “stopping to consider” changed my reality and my life.

i don't want to be a perfectionist anymore

I used to think being a perfectionist was one of the most commendable personality traits. It was one of my favorite compliments. 

“You’re such a perfectionist!”

That would make me feel great. I would gravitate towards people who had extremely high standards because I felt they could understand the core of who I was. They were the only kinds of people I could trust. 

However I started noticing that identifying myself this way and then acting out this identity hurt me more than it helped me. I’m talking about severe perfectionism here. Not just, “I want to do my best!”

It started to wear me down, and so below are the reasons I stopped idealizing the trait. 

It’s never enough

Anyone who is a perfectionist experiences this. All your efforts are never enough; the road to perfection never ends, and some may say this is a good thing. It can be very motivating. 

But you can also get extremely obsessed with perfection and realize you’ll never get there and the thought of that drives you insane and into a spiral of self doubt and criticism. Which leads me to…

You’re critical of yourself

You’re never enough. When something in your life isn’t enough or isn’t working out like you thought, it can often come back on you.

“Maybe this a reflection of me? Am I not enough? Is it my fault?”

These thoughts lead to terrible self-esteem. Not only do you think you’re letting others down, but you’re constantly remembering that you’re letting your own self down. Thinking this day after day, month after month, year after year, will really mess with your head.

You’re critical of others

You start projecting your perfectionism on other people around you. You already berate yourself for falling short, so what’s stopping you from harshly judging others? The ones you love never measure up to your high standards, and you become continually disappointed with them. This creates a rift in your relationship and you are unable to enjoy the good things about them.

It wastes your time

Trying to be a perfectionist was wasting my time on worry and insecurities. I would (and often still do) get into an insecurity spiral.

It’s a time-suck. You’re spending time and energy worried, when you could be spending time and energy problem-solving and doing.

It’s paralyzing 

You’re paralyzed by the fear of not being perfect. Even as I write this, I’m so paralyzed by perfectionism. “Is this good enough? Do I write well? Is this making sense? Will someone chime in with a random and annoying comment on how I’m wrong?”

And still…

“Are these questions good enough to demonstrate how stuck in the perfectionist loop I am?!”

Being a perfectionist stops you from getting out there and doing your thing, whatever it is. I need Nike to repeat their slogan to me every 15 minutes.

I come up with a lot of ideas I’m excited about - things I want to write, businesses I want to create, photo shoots I want to do, places I want to go, art I want to make, food I’d like to cook - And over and over again, I’m paralyzed by the fear of that thing not being perfect.

“What’s the point of starting it? It won’t be perfect.” 

Yes, it won’t be perfect. This is too true because no one is perfect when they are first starting a new endeavor. But when you hold yourself to such high standards, you believe you’re the exception and therefore you, of all people, should know how to make it perfect.

“Try B minus work”

Some of the best advice I ever heard about perfectionism was from a life coach. She told me, “Try doing B- work.”

I was like, “Lolwut? Excuse me? You want me to do average work?”

She gave me an example: She tried out this theory of giving a B- effort while she was creating her new website. She didn’t spend too much time worrying about the look and feel of it, but made sure it had a sense of organization and was useful. That way if someone told her they didn’t like it, she didn’t care because she hadn’t poured her heart and soul into it. And if someone said they loved it, it was a bonus because she hadn’t tried to make anyone love it. 

I understood the point. If you are too paralyzed by perfection, you might not get your site up and running, or your article published, or your podcast started. 

There are things you can give an A+ effort, she explained, but there are many things we give too much attention to when they deserve an average amount of attention. This was a good way for me to reframe the way I think about new projects. I could be less paralyzed using this attitude. 

No one had ever told me that being less than perfect was ever beneficial. It’s definitely beneficial if it gets you moving forward. 

Baby steps

There are good things about wanting to do well and be your best. But you don’t have to be perfect. If you take it to the extreme, it can hurt your chances of experiencing life to the fullest. At least this is what it did to me. Letting go of super high standards and truly settling into the phrase “go with the flow” has been a game-changer for me. I really hurt myself being too rigid in my goals and expectations. This doesn’t mean I stopped “dreaming big” or wanting to pursue huge goals; on the contrary. I believe in myself and my abilities more now. And I see that taking one small, imperfect step forward makes all the difference compared to being stuck forever worried about making the perfect leap.

I’m not “perfect” at this (ha!), but I am still leaning into it and changing every day. 

I’ll probably never stop giving my all and my best. But I would love to slowly start giving myself and others a break, and slowly start loving and accepting things that are not entirely perfect. 

i’m not a fan of personality tests

Yes, I’m the personality type that doesn’t like being typecast. You can go ahead and typecast me that way before we start :)

It all started in high school when my dad became obsessed with this one personality test that used colors to define four types of people. It was called Dr. Hartman’s Color-Code Personality Test. You could be a Red, a Blue, a Yellow, or a White. I think it was possible to be some of each color, but the focus wasn’t “how many colors did you get?” It was “which color are you?” Before I had even taken the test, I was told I would be a Blue because that was the color my mother had gotten, and I was “just like [my] mother.”

I did a quick google search to look up the different types for you, so see the below list for the personality types that correspond with each color (This information was found on colorcode.com)

Red (Motive - Power): Red are the power wielders. Power: the ability to move from point A to point B and get things done, is what motivates and drives these people. They bring great gifts of vision and leadership and generally are responsible, decisive, proactive, and assertive. 

Blue (Motive - Intimacy): Blue are the do-gooders. Intimacy: connecting, creating quality relationships and having purpose, is what motivates and drives these people. They bring great gifts of quality and service and are generally loyal, sincere, and thoughtful. 

White (Motive - Peace): White are the peacekeepers. Peace: the ability to stay calm and balanced even in the midst of conflict, is what motivates and drives these people. They bring great gifts of clarity and tolerance and are generally kind, adaptable, and good-listeners.

Yellow (Motive - Fun): Yellow are the fun lovers. Fun: the joy of living life in the moment, is what motivates and drives these people. They bring great gifts of enthusiasm and optimism and are generally charismatic, spontaneous, and sociable. 

Which one seems like the best one to you? I wanted to be Yellow. My brother got Yellow, my sister got White, and I got Blue. 

The Blue was the worst one to me. It was all the qualities I didn’t want or all the ones I was embarrassed of. In my mind it seemed like the weakest color, and I was so tired of being shy, weak, and emotional. I wanted to change. Now the description above doesn’t make it sound all that bad, but my dad had a book or something at the time, and we were all able to read more in depth about our types. Here’s more about the Blue-type:

ABOUT BLUE

“Blues have distinct preferences and have the most controlling personality. Their personal code of ethics is remarkably strong and they expect others to live honest, committed, lives as well. They enjoy sharing meaningful moments in conversation as well as paying close attention to special life events (e.g. birthdays and anniversaries). Blues are dependable, thoughtful, and analytical; but can also be self-righteous, worry-prone, and moody. They are “sainted pit-bulls” who never let go of something or someone once they are committed. When you deal with a BLUE, be sincere and make a genuine effort to understand and appreciate them.”

The truth of the matter is, “eh, it’s not that bad.” But being typecast based on my mother was restrictive for me. I think it is rather common to not want to become your parents, and at the age of 16, it’s especially unappealing. 

Another truth of the matter was that yes, I was mainly Blue, but Red was a close runner up in the results of my test with small percentages of Yellow and White. Being almost equal parts Blue and Red wasn’t a surprise to me since my dad was a Red and my mom was a Blue. I was simply a mix of the both of them just as you would expect. But everyone always called me a Blue after that or would point out when I was being a Blue (luckily this favorite pastime has passed). 

However like I mentioned before, I was always interested in changing and growing and so didn’t care to “learn” what my personality type was (because I knew myself pretty well) and because I strived to be more fluid. 

My mother struggled with worry and anxiety at the time. And she always said, “that’s just the way I am.” If she ever had a catch phrase, that would be it. She believed you couldn’t change the way you were. You were born with a personality with all its strengths and flaws. And I began to believe that as well. 

By the time I met my husband, “that’s just the way I am” had become my new catchphrase. I wanted to change certain things about myself, and he would tell me I could! But I would tell him he didn’t understand and that I couldn’t. Seems like someone needed to read The Little Engine That Could (i.e. me).

When the Myers Briggs test came out, I shrunk away again for fear of putting myself in a box once more. People proudly announced their types in the form of the four letters on their facebook or instagram profiles. I tried doing the test multiple times over the course of a few years and got a different combination of letters each time. I was never satisfyingly or starkly one type. I was always one point off from being another personality type. It made sense to me that that would be the case. “I’m more complex than these four letters,” I thought. 

Not only are we as people complex, but we are fluid and changing, a truth I didn’t know to be true until I unlocked the capability to change myself.

It turns out when you tell yourself over and over again that you “can’t” do something, it becomes your truth. You can’t! If you believe you will never change, you won’t! Once I realized this and started searching for resources to grow and change behaviors of mine that I wasn’t very fond of, I grew and changed! Through all my growing and changing, I really learned who I was as a person and learned not to stereotype myself. Sure, I say and do stereotypical “me” things because I’m still “me” after all. But I also surprise myself from time to time. I’m trying to have that as a personal goal - the surprising myself thing. I don’t want my relationship with myself to get stagnant :)

Not too long ago the enneagram test came out, but this time I knew myself well enough to not get too annoyed by it (although I still really dislike personality tests). I have heard a lot of people have been helped by this test and prefer it over others that came before. I took it a few times and got different answers. The results didn’t tell me anything I didn’t already know about myself. 

How many boxes can we put ourselves into? If you do every personality test, your box might just get smaller and smaller as you hone in on who you are by letting internet tests define you based on 30 questions. And putting yourself into a box isn’t only the fault of personality tests. We define ourselves by our likes or dislikes, our politics or religion, or by the way kids in school defined us 20 years ago and which are still subconsciously affecting us. We carry many labels. 

I am trying to be very conscious of the limitations I put on myself. I’m not going to be perfect in this, but it helps me to live a freer life. If personality tests help you, by all means continue to allow them to help you! But in case you’re a little bored of yourself, remember you don’t need to stay a Red or an INFJ or a 7. You can change. 

I am a woman.

I am an artist.

I am a writer.

I am a photographer.

I am a fashionista.

I am a Blue.

I am a wife.

I am.

harriet: chapter two

Read chapter one here.

Harriet didn’t like meeting people because it always took too long to get to know them, and the beginning conversations and time spent together was always so boring. “What can we talk about besides how many siblings we have and where we grew up?” So she tried to avoid it at all costs. At least to keep the boring and the bother out of her life.

She continued to run all the way down to the bottom of the hill to her house. It was a sweet little home with a garden and french doors overlooking the back yard. She never kept them locked and so hopped inside with Captain through the back entry.

“Bark, bark!” Said Captain for a treat and Harriet obliged.

Creeping to the front of the house, she spied out the front windows to check if her neighbor was skulking around outside, but no trace of her could be seen. So Harriet took advantage of her apparent absence to take out the trash. Yes, characters in books have to do menial tasks, too. It isn’t all love and fighting dragons, is it?

I like taking out the trash, in a way. It is a good feeling to rid your living space of garbage, and satisfying to start an empty, clean trash bag.

Harriet began to drag her trash cans to the curb and had not taken three steps when she heard the voice of Grace. A pang struck her stomach at the thought of being confronted while she was unprotected by the shelter of her house.

“Was that your trash that was out early last week?”

Grace was an older, stocky woman who always wore her hair in two buns on top of her head. She had lived in the house next-door for 20 years and made sure you knew that fact. She loved knowing about the garbage schedules and telling you how to correct your recycling organization. Her name did not match her personality as she was a stickler for the rules. The kind of woman who enjoyed being the hall-monitor in her elementary class. She allowed no grace. Not when it came to the garbage at any rate.

“No, it wasn’t mine.” Said Harriet continuing to drag her trash to the curb.

“Whose do you think it was? It was sitting out far too long. The raccoons might’ve got to it and spread trash all over. Who could it have possibly been? Maybe Harvey?”

“I’m sure Harvey knows the garbage collection schedule; he’s lived here for years.”

“You’re right; maybe it’s the new neighbors on your side.”

“It probably was them as the trash is in the front of their house.”

“But I told them the trash comes on Wednesday morning, so they should know.”

“I think everything will be okay, Grace. It’s Tuesday now, so tomorrow morning everything will be taken away. Also they’re new; give them time to adjust to a new collection schedule.”

“I think maybe I should tell them about the garbage schedule again.” And she scurried off across Harriet’s lawn to knock on the neighbor’s door with very important garbage information they surely did not want to know.

Harriet hurried back inside, feeling a little sorry for the neighbors, but not enough to distract Grace from the garbage sermon they were about to receive.

It was 2 o’clock in the afternoon, and the rain still hadn’t come, so Harriet decided to walk down to her favorite place with Captain for a coffee and a read. She only pretended to read, and instead eavesdropped on other people’s conversations to compile funny stories for her own amusement later on.

She grabbed a bag and book and called Captain to follow her into town. The walk to the cafe was very peaceful. It was quiet today because the weather looked ominous, so not many people were out walking. Sunny days are nice, but they always draw everyone outside to the cafes, shops, and restaurants. If only everyone didn’t like the sun and the warmth so much.

Harriet’s favorite cafe was called The Southern Sea.

It was in an old corner building with latticed windows and tiny bistro tables. The walls and window trims were ivory; dried flowers in chipped vases sat on the shelves, and paintings of stormy seasides hung on the wall. Yes, it was very ideal and quaint. This is my story after all, so I can make anything be whatever I want.

Alan was the main barista there; he was a skinny, awkward, yet kind kid who hid behind glasses and film references. Harriet loved that he wasn’t very chatty but remembered Harriet’s regular drink and loved to give Captain a pet. Drink in hand, Harriet sat at her favorite window spot, and looked around for someone to listen to. Unfortunately, the place was quiet today; every other customer was solitary and either reading or working. She pulled out her book and began to read, too.

It was not long before the rain finally broke through the clouds - at first a drizzle and then the downpour. The sound on the sidewalks and window panes was heavenly, and just as Harriet suspected, it drew a couple of wanderers inside — a man and a woman by the sound of their voices. Harriet’s nose remained stuck in her book, but she stopped reading. They took a moment to wipe their feet and shake out their umbrella, then tentatively walked up to the counter while staring at the menu to order.

“I’ll have a latte, but can you make it extra hot?” Said the man.

“And I’ll take one of your pumpkin spiced lattes with extra whipped cream.” Said the woman.

They turned around to scope out a table, and once settled, decided to select a game from a cabinet nearby.

Harriet didn't look up at them because they didn't acknowledge her dog as they went by, and she didn’t care about people who were indifferent to dogs. After a while of listening to their boring conversation, she knew how their relationship was and could form a picture of what they must look like in her head. The man seemed condescending. He was teaching the woman how to play a game he already knew.

"I'm really good at this game," she heard him say to the woman. They then started talking about the colors they should choose as game pieces.

"I chose red, white, and blue because of the colors of the flag and then, green, because of Christmas" he announced as if it was something profound, and a pause ensued as he waited to be acknowledged by the woman. Harriet heard her say something quiet and unremarkable. She ventured a look out of the corner of her eye at the woman. She's wearing light pink — of course. Short brown hair, mid thirties, gets pumpkin spice lattes every Tuesday morning with Tiffany…or so Harriet assumed. And she amused herself with this picture of her female eavesdropping prey.

They seemed like the kind of couple that had been married for 15 years but still didn't know each other. Each spoke very carefully and politely to the other, as if they were trying to heal their broken relationship at the suggestion of a therapist.

Her ears perked up as the man picked up a new game. He asked the woman, "want to play? It takes two minutes to learn."

"Sure,” she said tentatively.

Fifteen minutes later they were still reading the directions together, very confused by the sound of their voices. Harriet still hadn’t looked at the man. She saw his shoes and baggy jeans out of the corner of her eye. By the sound of his voice, he seemed like a boring guy in his late thirties. Loves Sunday afternoon football and golf, is on some committee at a church, likes to talk about how he's a loving and respectful husband, has to meet Josh on Saturday morning for breakfast where they'll talk about "holding eachother accountable."

They had given up on the new game, and sat in silence, looking around and sipping their coffees. The rain continued.

Do you ever wonder at the consciousness of other people? How are they walking through life? Are they awake or just going through the motions? Do they think complex thoughts? Do they wonder about other people’s lives or how they could be more present?

Harriet day dreamed about this for a few minutes when the door of the cafe opened and another wanderer came in. She kept her nose hidden in her book, but waited for a conversation to listen to. By the sounds of it, this stranger was a young man who seemed to know Alan. Harriet had never heard Alan sound so excited to see any person before.

“Jack! How have you been?”

What kind of person is allowed such a warm welcome from shy, pessimistic Alan? Unfortunately she could not risk a peek at the counter without Alan and the stranger, Jack, noticing. Eventually Jack took a seat at a table behind her and was quiet.

The boring couple began to talk again, and Harriet listened for more details of their life. Surely she would one day fill a novel with eavesdroppings. Perhaps this would be her claim to fame. She listened closer when all of a sudden a voice whispered in her ear, “You’ve been on that page since I came in; Are you really that slow of a reader?”

Absolutely appalled and startled, Harriet turned to this personal space intruder only to find him to be that young man with the longish blonde hair who she had tripped on earlier that day.

This was ‘Jack.’

Of course it was him - who else would I write in here?

Recognizing her, too, he quickly added, “Hey…you’re that girl who stepped on my stomach and then ran away.” He was not at all mad, but somewhat amused.

Completely flustered and terribly angry that this person kept forcing himself into her story, Harriet managed to squeak out, “Yes, I am, but that doesn’t mean you can just butt your way into my space.”

“Your space? You stepped on my stomach. If that isn’t invading of personal space, I don’t know what is.”

“Look, that was an accident, but I need to go. It’s hard for her to write long conversations with people. I’m not supposed to talk that long. I was promised this isn’t a love story, and as I’m assuming by both of our comedic meetings that you’re my masculine lead, I need to get out of here.” And with that Harriet threw her things into her bag and ran out the door.

Completely dumbfounded because he hadn’t broken through the fourth wall of his own story or hers, Jack sat still for a second with his mouth agape, but then ran out the door himself.

“What are you talking about? What do you mean by ‘her’? And who promised you this ‘wasn’t a love story’? Are you crazy?”

“Yes, yes I am, so please leave me alone!” She turned and started quickly walking back home again, shouting over her shoulder as she went, “I’m psycho! I might do something crazy at any moment. I’m dangerous, so stay away!”

We all know that Harriet is far from psycho, but Jack doesn’t. Also if the warning “stay away” doesn’t intrigue you and call you to do the opposite of that, you may actually be psycho.

So Jack walked back to The Southern Sea, wondering how he could find out more about this “dangerous” person.

should i get bangs?

“Should I get bangs?” The question of every girl late at night as she looks at herself in the mirror. She’s a little bored with her hair. Maybe bangs will add some extra zest to her life? Or perhaps bangs will somehow transform her into a rockstar? She wants to be a little more edgy. She’s looking for more risk and spontaneity. Bangs are clearly the answer. 

Three years ago I was sitting on the back patio of a favorite bar in Portland, Ore making my husband promise to never let me cut bangs again. I had recently had the aforementioned conversation with myself, questioning my life and “needing a change.” I had heard the cautionary tales of bangs being high maintenance, etcetera, etcetera, but threw caution to the wind and decided to YOLO myself away from the nay-sayers. 

After doing some very thorough research and watching educational videos on YouTube and being supported and cheered on by my husband (who is always supportive when I want to make a change, sometimes to a fault), I cut my own bangs in the bathroom of our apartment. They were cute, but I cut them too wide. I had taken too much hair into that V that you take when you cut your bangs, and they sort of flayed out to the sides. I also suffer from cowlicks along my frontal hairline (is this a term?), so the wider bang didn’t look great. I also suffer from regretting my decisions, and the regret came. Oh, it came. 

They were cool at certain times, and I got a few flattering selfies, but they were mainly a-n-n-o-y-i-n-g.

Since they were so wide, they required a lot to keep them from floating out to the sides constantly. When I would walk, one piece in the middle would fly straight up; I don’t know why. It was a struggle to keep them clean, since I suffer from naturally oily skin and hair (what a blessing), and I hated having to pin them out of the way every morning and night to wash my face. Looking back at pictures at the time I wondered, “did they ever look good?”

About three months into my relationship with Bangs, I decided to end it. I was ready to begin the arduous task of growing them out. A quest that, I was told, could take up to two years to complete. 

And so, that night in the bar after deciding to grow back my front hairs, I made my husband promise to never let me cut them again. I begged him to stop me. Even if I was super excited about them or made an amazing case for them in the future, I gave him strict instructions to keep me away from the scissors. I made him promise so many times. But I knew I couldn’t trust him because he had a twinkle of reluctancy in his eye at the time. After all he always liked when I spontaneously changed my look. But he still promised nonetheless…

Fast forward to two weeks ago. “Should I get bangs?”

There I was again, asking the same question I had warned myself and Joe about. 

“I think I need bangs…for the change…my hair is so boring…what do you think?” The unsurprising answer from my audience of one was “YES!”

Because of my distrust of hairstylists and people in general, I decided to cut them myself once again. “Just do it; don’t overthink it,” chanted my husband.

“Gee thanks for upholding your part of the promise.”

Standing in the bathroom with a (smaller) triangle of hair sectioned out and saying a few what-the-heck-am-I-doing’s under my breath, I finally managed to bring the scissors up to my hair and chop it off. With the help of my husband the cheerleader (“Why are you letting me do this? It’s you job to stop me!”), I managed to cut some pretty nice bangs. 

The whole time I was cutting my hair, I was so mad at myself for succumbing to the Bang Question, but after they were done, I was unexpectedly pleased with them. 

I haven’t wanted to give up on them yet, which is a good sign considering they’ve only been around for less than two weeks. Just like you would hope when making any kind of change, I felt like a new person, and I liked the new me.

I know they’re going to take some maintenance, but when they’re styled, I love the look of them! And to end this story with a cheesy life lesson for me and anyone who cares to attach meaning to a story about fringe:

Sometimes things that are worthwhile take a little extra care. 

The End. 

one roll of film: paris

Okay, so this is maybe two rolls of film, but I needed to keep the name of the series the same for some kind of consistency.

We spent a week in Paris to celebrate the wedding of our best friends, Sara and Phil. It was one of my favorite trips ever. We ate tons of croissants with butter and tried every kind of pastry. They got married in the courtyard of some, seemingly random, and little-known palace, and it was magical. We found the sweetest coffee shops that I wish I could walk to every day.

This is the second year in a row we’ve been in Paris around our anniversary and my birthday, and I’d love to make it a tradition.

We explored the Royal Palace gardens.

Drank coffees.

Acted weird.

Photographed a million streets.

Checked out another palace.

Sat on the hill below Sacré-Coeur.

Visited a sweet flea market where everything was very French and very expensive.

Walked around a lot.

Married Sara and Phil.

Napped and posed.

And had more coffee.

You could say l’amour was in the air.

Fin.

just make a decision

Everybody goes through those stages in life where they say, “I don’t know what to do.” You can go through them at any age or your whole life - and how fun is that?

I have been in the “I don’t know” position many times. And there are a lot of things you can do to figure it out. 

Take a personality test. Read some books about career paths. Read other people’s inspiring stories. Meditate. Visualize. 

These are great, and I have effectively used many of these as helpers to figure out my next steps in life, but in all reality, the best way to move forward is to make a fucking decision. 

Every day you put one foot in front of the other, and it miraculously leads you to the pastry shop on the corner. Win. I had to learn that a decision is not a be-all and end-all. It’s one foot in front of the other. It doesn’t need to be the perfect answer to your life’s purpose. It just needs to move you away from where you are now. 

I have been through many career changes, and many “I don’t know’s.” I have changed my mind a lot, and to some people, it looks like I’m just bouncing through life without a fucking clue of what I’m doing. Well guess what. I don’t know what I’m doing, but I don’t care anymore. I’m getting closer. 

Making decisions is a great way to learn about yourself. You can learn what you like or dislike, learn what’s really important to you, or learn about who you are as a person by making one decision.

Making that decision will also allow you to make other decisions that were not previously available to you.

During my life I’ve decided to become a missionary which somehow led me to become a wedding photographer which made me realize two things: that I’d rather live on the West Coast, and I’d rather be a fashion photographer which led me to move to New York which made me realize I’d rather be a writer and rather live on the West Coast again.

I never really had a clear picture of my perfect life. And I don’t think you ever need to have that. But right now, I know myself so much better. I have a clearer picture of how I would like my life to look, and I owe it to sending myself through a myriad of careers and states. This means my decisions are getting more and more precise. 

I used to be paralyzed by making the right decision and paralyzed by worrying about regret. I hear people say “no regrets” (or “no ragrets” if you’re that tattoo guy), and my first thought is “are you a pychopath?” I never understood how that could be a serious possibility or a serious philosophy of life. I mean of course you must regret something!

I have a lot of regrets and that used to make me feel hesitant to make decisions. Until I recently reflected on my life and realized that the only reason I am where I am is because I made a lot of regrets. My regrets have led me to where I am now. And I love it. 

Recently I have been trying to look at these failed decisions not as failures, but as information on where I really need to go. These regrets are valuable hints while I figure out the maze of my life.

One imperfect decision at a time leads to your perfect life.

“the karen chronicles” chapter ii

This encounter with Karen is not as shocking as the first, but if I write it well enough, it should be worth reading.

Some of you may remember my first story detailing the characters that live in our apartment building and especially our dealings with Karen (Karen is not her real name - also I wish I would have given her a more creative pseudonym, but what’s done is done). 

We recently had another “situation” with her that I’d love to catalog on my blog. 

It all started one night at 9pm while Joe and I were cleaning up the kitchen. We got a text:

Karen: “Hi Guys: are either of you home tmrw during the day? I have a favor to ask. 🙃”

If you’re like us, right now your initial response is: “tell me what the favor is, and I’ll tell you if I’m home tmrw.” But you can’t be that honest with a stranger. Also I don’t like that upside down smiley face. Seems ominous, right? So we said…

“Hey Karen what’s up?” …trying to fish it out of her. 

She wasn’t budging… “Can you give me a quick call and I can explain. Thx”

We decided to tell her we were in the middle of something and could talk tmrw because we were a little annoyed and just wanted to relax for the evening. Also don’t text us at 9pm at night, ask if we can help you with a mystery favor, and then ask us to call you about it. Bad form. 

The next day, she texted: 

“Are you guys home just now?”

Yes, we were home. We are home most of the time. Both of us work from home. So we told her:

“Yep we are here working. What’s up?”

“Nevermind got it figured out. Thx.”

The suspense! Karen, please tell us what you need without us having to ask!

That evening, Joe and I were eating dinner and watching a really intense documentary called “Heal” on Netflix. It was about the power of meditation, the drug industry, and why placebo works, etc. We were really into it and very engaged, when we heard a timid knock on the door. 

We were completely thrown off guard because no one ever knocks on our door, but we both immediately knew it was Karen. 

“Sorry to bother you guys. But I wanted to come over and explain what I was texting about because it’s too confusing to put into a text…”

She then went on to explain that her laptop is very slow, and she has a very slow operating system. Also she’s having new Fios internet installed in a few days. She’s been needing to check her finances a lot lately, and has to make multiple trips to the bank to do so, and she was just wondering if she could come over one day soon and use one of our laptops. 

Right now, you’re thinking this is an obvious ‘no’. So many red flags here like “why don’t you update your computer?” Or “Don’t you do graphic design for a job, and so shouldn’t your computer be fast enough already?” “We know you have a new iPhone, so why not check your bank account on that?” “If you need to use a computer, why not go to the library a block up the street?” Not to mention all the security reasons for not letting a stranger use your personal laptop containing every important work and personal document. And so on. 

But in the moment (especially the moment after just finishing dinner and a glass of wine, being spread out on the couch dazzled by a new Netflix documentary) you’re not that quick on your feet. 

We must have been watching her explain this with our mouths wide open, visibly confused. And after that we just said, “…uh okay, sure. Can we figure it out tmrw?”

After she left, we regretted not asking some more questions, but the next day we decided to text her about it to see if she wanted to come over in the afternoon to use our laptop. We were just going to open a new private window for her to use. It would be a little weird to have her in our apartment, but we were a tiny bit interested in what other stories we could accumulate because of it. 

Joe: “Hi Karen, do you want to stop over this afternoon to use our laptop? Or would you like to use our WiFi for a bit until yours gets installed?” 

Karen: “So it’s not the WiFi it’s my actual computer OS. It’s out of date as is my computer and my online banking is only on the latest browsers. I’m actually not feeling good just now can we try Tmrw? Much appreciated. 🙏🏼”

Tmrw. Always tmrw.

We didn’t know how to respond. We were a little annoyed that she seemed to think she could just reschedule her computer time at our place for whenever was most comfortable for her. In the meantime, we had searched reddit for a similar situation and even posted our story for advice. We had a number of people tell us not to let her use it and just refer her to the library, so this text felt like a way out.

She never texted about it again. Until three weeks later this text came in:

“Hey do either of you have a iPad I could borrow Wed?”

We kind of laughed. We don’t have any kind of relationship with her or know each other very well at all. Would you ask a neighbor you didn’t know to borrow their personal computers? I’m actually curious. This felt so strange to me.

Luckily we don’t have an iPad, so the answer was easy. 

“We don’t have one sorry!”

“Ok thanks for coming back and letting me know.”

Thanks for coming back and letting me know. A nice response? Or a polite way of saying “thanks for responding to my texts again, you punk kids!”?

The world may never know what is truly going on in the mind of Karen. It’s fascinating, and I can speculate and ruminate and make up crazy narratives. But we may never truly know. 

Until next time.

a poem about moving

I’m scared if I stop moving, I will cease to grow.

If I settle down or plant roots, I’ll become old and dull.

The world is so big. It never ends.

There’s so much to do. So much to see. So much to conquer.

I need to move again.

I’m addicted to moving forward, moving on, moving up.

Whether it’s to a new place or to a new mind space,

each step has to be a little more challenging then the last.

When do I stop? When can I rest

harriet: chapter one

I decided to try my hand at fiction writing. It’s really fun and freeing in a lot of ways. Here is what I’ve written so far. Enjoy.

Chapter One

I’ve always disliked the beginning of a story. The opening sentence can sound quite trite or you can be dropped into a scenario, left with so many questions. It gives me anxiety. Let’s say, this isn’t the beginning of a story.

I suppose we can talk about our protagonist in the meantime. I will call her Harriet. Harriet isn’t very pretty, but she isn’t very ugly. She’s neither incredibly smart nor incredibly dull. In fact there’s not much to note about her. But she’s normal, and Normals deserve to be written about, too. 

Harriet lives in a small house in a small town in a place that’s not real. She doesn’t have any particular habits, but she loves to go on long walks in the countryside and loves not being bothered.

It was a terribly windy day in the place that wasn’t real, and Harriet thought she’d walk up to the large house on the hill. The house on the hill was where her father and brother lived. She didn’t feel any strong connection with them, but nevertheless enjoyed the walk and enjoyed that she didn’t need to pretend to be nice around them. After all, what is family for if not to offer you unconditional “love” while you are being your unequivocal horrible self.

So, out the back of her house she went with her black and white dog, Captain. 

“Don’t run too far ahead, Captain.”

“Don’t worry; I won’t,” he said.

Through some meadows and picturesque fields they walked. You know the types. Something like the English countryside with wild flowers and creeks. Although don’t forget today was a very windy day and so the landscape was briskly moving back and forth in an ominous way. The sky was turning gray as clouds pushed themselves overhead. She knew it would probably rain, but she had no emotion and neither welcomed nor feared it. 

Captain bounced above the grassy meadow hunting chipmunks and snakes. He ran too far ahead; after all he’s a dog and doesn’t understand human conversation.

Nearing the large house on the hill, Harriet could see a dark cloud brewing over the roof. She thought if she believed in bad omens, it would worry her, but she didn’t. 

The house was very old and the remains of a garden could be seen on the side. Dead vines climbed over some of the windows and a sign with the words “no solicitors” hung next to the door. In she went with Captain, into the cold, large entryway. The smell of leftover spaghetti and cigars hung in the air. Her father could always be found sitting in the room to her left, but she decided to head to the kitchen to see if there was anything besides spaghetti to eat.

Captain was already there, sitting at the feet of her brother, begging for stray noodles. 

“Is this all you eat, Adam? These worms?”

“Hello, Harriet. Are you here to spoil our day like usual?”

“I am. Where is your Evelyn?”

Evelyn was Adam’s small and bony wife who carried around an equally small and bony dog, a whippet named Persephone, which as Harriet thought, and you may, too, is an incredibly pretentious name for a dog. 

“She should be coming down soon.” Said Adam as her served up a hot plate of worms for himself and his bride. 

And soon was correct, for Evelyn lightly and quietly appeared in the room. She wore a pale green dress which did not at all suit her pallid skin. Her hair was short and thin, and she wore a constant scowl on her face, a fashion accessory which unfortunately could not be removed. Persephone was perched in her arms, shaking. It was a dreadfully fearful and insecure dog. Harriet often found herself pitying it because it was so obviously trapped by a terrible mother. 

“Hello Harriet, I need you to do a couple of things for me today.” Evelyn said in her shrill and obnoxious voice. “There are some problems with my computer, and I need you to help me take a picture of me and Pers for my new profile.”

“I can’t today; I’m only stopping by for a few minutes. Adam can help.” And she left the room to find her father after receiving two very perturbed looks for different reasons. 

Her father was sitting in his room in his chair facing the window at the front of the house. Paper in hands, his head was buried quite far into it as he scoured for bad news to share: his favorite hobby. Multiple glasses of partially drunk water were assembled on the table next him. The fire was smoldering and an old cigar butt was smoking on the bricks in front of it. He had clearly intended to toss it into the flames and missed. 

“Harriet! We haven’t seen you in a while. There’s been more attacks on the country; I blame the lefties and there’s a child missing in the next town over. Mrs. Higgins just found out her brother has cancer, and Mr. Temple just had a stroke last week. I think it’s because he meditates too much. It’s bad to slow the brain down and leave it unprotected.” 

“Father, why do you read all this stuff? It’s only making you crazy with anxiety.”

“We need to know what’s going on in the world, Harriet.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think we need to fill our minds with a constant stream of awfulness.”

“Oh Harriet, will you bring me a glass of water?”

“No sorry, I have to run. Just wanted to check in for a minute.” 

And with that, she turned, whistled for Captain, and rushed out the door. A few steps out, she took a deep breath. There was heaviness inside the house that choked her. It felt so good to be out in the balmy air again. The wind continued to blow and the clouds followed her down the hill as she ran.

Running down a hill is always a gamble. When does the hill stop so you can stop running? The momentum builds until you think, “I better keep running or something painful will happen to me.” Well what if you suddenly tripped on a large unexpected object? Your logic of running along with the momentum didn’t account for that, did it?

Harriet tripped on a heavy object and flew forward accompanied by her yells and the yell of another person. Annoyed and recumbent, she turned to see what had caused the fall. At the same time a young man was getting up out of the tall meadow grass clutching his ribs. 

“Ouch. Are you all right?” He asked Harriet. 

“I’m fine, but why on earth were you lying hidden in the weeds? You’re lucky I didn’t stomp on your head!”

“This is my favorite kind of weather. I was watching the clouds pass overhead.” Said the stranger.

This isn’t a love story, but I have to describe him so you can see what I’m seeing. He was tall with a medium build and longish blonde hair. He had a pleasant and open air about him, the kind of person who risks attracting all kinds of outcasted people because of his natural disposition to listen to anyone. He was covered in grass and had a half empty beer near his nature bed. Beside it was a book called, “The Personas of Clouds.”

“Oh, well, I’m really sorry I tripped on you. Maybe next time put up a flag, so people know where you’re laying. Goodbye!” And Harriet turned and cautiously hurried down the hill in case she might encounter another stumbling block. 

be a little lighter

“It’s dark because you are trying too hard.

Lightly child, lightly. Learn to do everything lightly.

Yes, feel lightly even though you’re feeling deeply.

Just lightly let things happen and lightly cope with them.

I was so preposterously serious in those days, such a humorless little prig.

Lightly, lightly – it’s the best advice ever given me.

When it comes to dying even. Nothing ponderous, or portentous, or emphatic.

No rhetoric, no tremolos,

no self conscious persona putting on its celebrated imitation of Christ or Little Nell.

And of course, no theology, no metaphysics.

Just the fact of dying and the fact of the clear light.

So throw away your baggage and go forward.

There are quicksands all about you, sucking at your feet,

trying to suck you down into fear and self-pity and despair.

That’s why you must walk so lightly.

Lightly my darling,

on tiptoes and no luggage,

not even a sponge bag, completely unencumbered.”

— Aldous Huxley

This quote is one of my favorites and has become very relevant to me this year. It was first introduced to me by Joe who discovered it in Aldous Huxley’s book Island. 

It seems an inadvertent theme for me this year is “lightening up.” I say inadvertent because it sort of cropped up by accident, and I wasn’t planning on taking it seriously or even seeing progress because of it.

I started a tradition of making a note in my phone for every year and filling it with random thoughts, feelings, and memories chronologically ordered. It’s been a really cool habit because I can track my feelings or see what my interests were at the time or save funny quotes Joe says. This year the first thing I wrote was on New Year’s Day.

“This year I’d like to get less angry about things; learn to shrug stuff off, and be a little more easy going (Jan 1, 2019).”

overthinking

I’m not naturally an easy-going person and am not able to shrug things off when it comes to myself. I tend to overthink a lot of things, and as I was (over)thinking about this post, I skimmed through my notes to find examples of how overthink-y I can get.

Here is an entry from Summer 2018:

“Day 2: operation “stop overthinking things” is not going well. Try again tomorrow.”

And another from Fall 2018:

“I’m an overthinker. I always have been. It’s a habit I’m not very proud of, and I’d like if I could just chill sometimes. But other times, it seems kinda funny. Like I have this crazy person commentary in my head all the time. It helps me write. Like right now, I was overthinking and thinking about how I overthink, and then I started thinking of this exact commentary and had to write it down. It’s been quite an interesting experience.”

It is kinda funny and interesting, and it does help me write. Also I know how important it is to just accept yourself the way you are, but for some reason at the beginning of the year I casually decided I wanted to change that about myself…but I didn’t overthink it ;) and put it in the back of my mind. 

Into the year a lot of things started happening, and I got very depressed (more details in my last post). I had to make a lot of changes, but now and then I would think about that first thing I wrote in 2019, and I’d repeat to myself using Aldous Huxley’s phrasing, “be a little lighter.” Now and then when I would notice Joe overthinking or if I was getting dramatic or heavy about something, we would remind each other to “be lighter.” It became a running joke in our family. We didn’t think it would actually change anything, but we would always remind each other with a little smile.

I didn’t really believe those little jokey reminders would change anything long term, but they did.

Going back to the quote at the top, I can see why making this little “break” in my thought process to remember to “be lighter” stopped my overthinking brain which was dragging me deeper and deeper down into the darkness. “Quicksands” were definitely “sucking at [my] feet” and by quicksands I mean my old ways of thinking that were addicted to fixating on every negative passing thought and stringing it along for as long as possible. My brain loves it! It loves to be in despair! When I read the part “I was so preposterously serious in those days” I really relate. I noticed how I felt like a victim and took everything and every feeling I had so seriously. I got “sucked[ed] down into fear and self-pity and despair.” Simply recognizing this, breaking those streams of subconscious thought, and reminding myself to be light in a light, humorous way, started changing some habitual pathways in my brain remarkably.

It’s hard to put into words the changes I’ve seen in myself. I was talking to some friends the other night about it, and I’ve noticed myself feeling less inhibited and less self-critical in the past month and a half - these are things I’ve wanted to change for years, but I wasn’t even actively focusing on them. 

“It’s dark because you are trying too hard.”

 I realized it boils down to my decision to overthink less, be lighter, and stop trying so hard. 

“Throw away your baggage and go forward.” It’s such a burden to ruminate on every negative thought that enters your brain, and it’s terrifying to know that those thoughts are there but have no idea how to cure yourself of them. Recently I’ve noticed that a lot of my issues have been resolving themselves when I simply refuse to put up with them anymore and let them control me. Instead of focusing on them and over-analyzing the crap out of them, I lightly set them aside for a minute.

I end up at a tipping point where I say to myself, “I’m sick of being dragged down further into the depths of my brain and fighting it so hard.” As soon as I notice myself overthinking, I say out loud, “STOP. Be a little lighter.” 

One of my best friends once said, “Stop over-analyzing everything and just fucking live.” It wasn’t even meant for me, and yet it was so hard hitting and poignant, and I can still hear her voice in my head when I begin to overthink. 

I don’t want to minimize anyone’s problems or mental illnesses by saying you can just “stop” feeling that way. I know that mental illness is serious, and it’s very debilitating. I’ve been depressed several times, and the only way I’ve made any progress is by getting fed up living that way, which is a necessary precursor for change. You have to desire change.

I’ve realized how automatic we are. This involves the things you do, the things you think, the ways you react, the things you think about yourself and the world. Once you become conscious of your automatic patterns, you can break them and experience change. But before I knew they were automatic patterns, I thought they were just “who I was” and thought I would always be that way. That’s, thankfully, not true. 

I can’t say all this as well as Aldous Huxley, so before you go, go back up to the top, and read his quote again. Read it daily, and remind yourself daily to walk on tip toes so you guard yourself from getting dragged into the quicksands of a spiraling mind. 

Overthinking ain’t never helped nobody.

“Lightly, child, lightly.”

getting out of a slump

Joe and I experienced a particularly rough winter this year. Not because of worse weather or darker skies. We just moved to New York in October, and to be perfectly candid, we let a lot of anxiety from that decision and from the move build up inside us.

Every winter, I feel a slump from being stuck inside on cold, snowy, or rainy days, from long nights, and not enough light, but this year was the worst. The absolute worst. Joe and I had been fighting a ton which was unusual for us. We’ve been together for 10 years, and I’m not saying that fighting is unhealthy in a relationship, but it was becoming to constant. We felt so disconnected from each other. Hindsight is 20-20, and looking back, it’s obvious we both were dealing with problems within.

I had a really bad week in January, where I just about cried every day and felt so confused and worthless. This is super hard to write about now because it’s hard to be this vulnerable or even remember myself like that. It was the most depressed I had ever felt and the most depressed Joe and I had felt collectively. We didn’t tell anyone because we were embarrassed. Also, we thought, who could really help and who could really understand what we were going through? I know someone could have understood, but when you’re depressed, you feel so isolated. As if no one else could possibly feel like you do. The other side of that is the worry of being a “drag.” I’m so scared of dragging people down.

(Side note: this is a classic example of adding emotion to your emotion. I’m adding feeling “embarrassed” or “pathetic” to my already present emotion of “depression” which makes everything worse. I talk about this a little more in my post about self-awareness.)

After reaching a peak of negative feels, we decided something needed to change. Serendipitously, Joe was leaving for Palm Springs the following week to have a little hang-time/retreat with a friend. At first I was so so jealous of the desert sun he would soak up, but then we talked about how the trip couldn’t have come at a better time. His plan was to meditate and read books and chill. We thought of it as a reset. I was left alone in New York with Pilot and a cold which I used to my advantage to watch multiple seasons of Downton Abbey and eat large amounts of chips and salsa (the spiciness helped unclog my nose). One of the nights, I remembered a course we had bought by Jen Sincero (an author I like) that was supposed to help you achieve a goal in 8 weeks. Like any good online course, it had captured our attention for about a week or so before we forgot about it heh.

But, I remembered one of the initial videos had been really inspiring to watch and I thought, “Why not watch it again?” so I pulled it up on my laptop.

It was a good idea, as it turns out, because it sparked the following.

First of all, I realized I was carrying so much stress. Every day since I moved to Portland, I had an anxiety pit in my stomach because I always felt that I had to be doing more and building more contacts and moving forward and working on new projects. I recently found a journal entry from October 7, 2015 where I talk about how stressed out I am about freelancing and not having any money. It was really shocking to realize I’ve felt the same way for the past 3.5 years.

I’m sure you can understand as a fellow freelancer. Moving to New York, as it happened, was a culmination of feelings and emotions. It was the biggest “doing more” we had done yet and the pressure was on. I learned I was way too attached to my anxiety, too addicted to feeling inadequate and constantly forcing my mind to search for more and more things to do. I had turned things I loved into things I hated. I was terrified to look at my email or answer messages. I never rested my thoughts. Sure, I had glimpses of peace and even meditated sometimes, but I never understood just how much was building up inside me.

Here are the notes I took from that video and other thoughts I wrote down that night that led me to get out of my way, slow down, and heal.

High Vibe, High Five

• Get in touch with your feelings. Really feel it, breathe into it, identify where on your body you feel it, and then let it out.

• Create a ceremony for yourself. Put aside time every day to connect with yourself. Meditation/walk/coffee/etc.

• Pay attention to your surroundings. Surround yourself with high energy people and if you don’t know anyone, find a therapist or a coach. Also keep your surroundings at home or work nice and clean.

• Give something, do a good deed every day (as simple as a compliment).

• Remember that you are always learning; constantly be studying or reading something.

• Pay attention to what “raises your spirits.” For me it’s listening to upbeat music, watching a funny movie and ordering pizza :), going for a walk in nature, calling a friend, going out to eat at a favorite restaurant, reading a good and uplifting book.

Next I felt like I should think about my goals again. What do I really want? So I came up with this list.

Goals

• To be happy

• To be confident in myself

• To have fun

• To have freedom

• To have an amazing relationship with Joe

• To have friends I love and trust

• To be successful financially

I read this list to Joe over the phone while he was still in Palm Springs, and he said, “those sound so pure.” I knew what he meant. They were simple and so many of them were going back to the basics. Honestly I could do without the last one if all the others were true, and for the first time, I really do mean that.

Now it came down to the changes that needed to be made, and so I made a pact with myself.

Pact: For one month I will…

• Take things a little less seriously and be lighter

• Meditate every day

• Write every day

• Read my goals every day

• Read this list of high vibe things every day and try to incorporate it into my life

I didn’t trust myself to be completely perfect in this, but I followed through. From February 5 to March 5, I meditated 24 times. That’s 22 more times than I normally would do in a month! I read my lists and focused on my new goals. I read uplifting and encouraging books almost every morning with Joe over breakfast and coffee (always be learning and reading). I began to put my phone on airplane mode and set it in another room around 9 or 10 at night, and left it this way until after I had started my day - have you ever tried this? It’s soooo nice. I started to write again, and it felt so good. Joe and I made sure we were doing at least one thing a day for our mental heath, and healing our brains became our top priority.

After a week, I noticed a physical and mental difference. The anxiety pit in my stomach was smaller, and I didn’t feel so terribly worthless. In fact, spending all this time on myself had made me less concerned with myself. My mood swings lessened, and Joe (who made a similar pact) laughed about how different we felt so quickly. We grew closer and closer and our relationship mended. After the full month, neither of us could remember how badly we felt in the beginning. I had so much more energy and life within me. We actually felt happy - I’m not promising this to anyone, but the possibility for this change is real. It was seriously a laughable change, a life change. I am committed to protecting my mental health from here on out.

I see now how I was the only one who was standing in the way. My mindset was shaping my experience of life, and I was speaking horrible things to myself. Negative thoughts were going past me completely under the radar. I had let it get completely out of hand, and it was destroying me. I’m not saying this to blame myself. It’s actually quite empowering to think that you do have control over a lot of your life. But if you stop being vigilant, you can get carried away by yourself.

I used to think being positive was corny, but the opposite is not helping you. You can’t go all the way to “Yippee, I’m actually so loved and everything will be alright!” when you’re depressed. First you have to go to a place where you can just “be” and breathe.

We are miles better now, but are continuing to meditate and read daily. I’m not going to pretend I’m some sort of expert in this stuff, but if my experience can help someone, that’s amazing. If you are interested in helpful resources, I’m going to list our favorites below as well as books we’d like to read next. Books are so cheap, and they offer so much wisdom!

Resources

Headspace: this is the meditation app I’ve been using. I like the little animations it has to help you visualize certain meditation techniques, and I also like that it has 30-day courses that are based on a certain theme you may want to work on. For example I was just listening to the “managing anxiety” course.

Psycho-Cybernetics (Updated + Expanded) by Maxwell Maltz: this is one of our favorite books at the moment. We’re reading it through a second time. Broadly speaking, it’s about the power of thought and how your beliefs about yourself or the world can drastically hinder or help you.

Mind Platter by Najwa Zebian: this book was recommended to me by my sister-in-law, and it’s filled with one-page-long inspirational writings. It’s good to wake up and read one page before you start your day or read one page during a tough moment.

You Are a Bad Ass At Making Money by Jen Sincero: this was the first book that sparked off my craving for mental improvement. It’s a very easily digestible book, fast to read, with down to earth explanations, stories, and humor. It boils down to the power of thought and mindset.

Breaking the Habit of Being Yourself by Joe Dispenza: This is one of Joe’s favorites; I have only read the end (I know; I’m weird). This one has a 4 week meditation as a practical application to what you learn in the book. Joe is on week 4 and says he has never experienced such direct results from a book/guided meditation before. I’m excited to read it and try it!

When I Say No, I Feel Guilty by Manual J. Smith, Ph.D.: we listened to this book on a road trip and realized how much we were afraid to say “no” and how much emotional manipulation is casually used in day to day life to keep you from saying “no.”

The Magic of Thinking Big by David J. Schwartz, Ph.D.: This one is also about the power of thought. It’s written from a very old perspective, so you have to take some of it with a grain of salt. The author loves using anecdotes about traveling salesmen. (1950s gangster voice) Salesmen, see?

Leaving the Fold by Marlene Winell, Ph.D.: We’re reading this book through a second time as well. It’s about healing from indoctrination and learning to trust your own intuition.

Choose Your Self by James Altucher: I haven’t read this book, but it is one of Joe’s favorites. It’s about power of thought/believing in yourself and putting yourself first. He says he likes it because it’s very practical.

The Acne Answer by Marie Véronique Nadeau: this one was really good for my skin care knowledge. I actually went to see the skin care specialist who helped write this book and now I use a ton of the Marie Véronique products. My skin has never been better. I’m planning on writing about my skincare once I’ve consistently used it for 6 months or so.

Heal: this is a Netflix documentary we recently watched and then watch again. Super recommend! It’s about the power of the mind.

Up Next

Freedom: The Courage to Be Yourself by Osho: found this by chance at Barnes & Noble, and I’m super excited to read it!

The Body Keeps Score by Bessel Van Der Kolk, M.D.: this was recommended by a friend on instagram. Hi, friend!

The Four Agreements: A Practical Guide to Personal Freedom by Don Miguel Ruiz: A couple people have recommended this book to us on instagram. I don’t know much about it, but the tagline’s got me interested.

self-aware

This morning, Joe and I were reading a book together and somehow the topic of self-awareness came up. I suddenly had the realization that whenever I think about self-awareness, I think about it as it pertains to other people and what they think of me. I love when these bolts of lightning strike my mind and cause me to say, “I can’t believe I’ve been seeing X in this way for so long!”

Whenever someone talks about a person being self-aware, I immediately think it only means that they are very conscious of how their actions affect other people. For example, if you had little self-awareness, you wouldn’t have a problem talking loudly and obnoxiously on the subway (in my eyes). Let’s call this type of self-awareness “outward” self-awareness. When I truly think about it, I know that self-awareness has another side which involves looking more inwardly, but my automatic perception of the term goes to outward self-awareness.

Realizing this was another level of “oh, this is why I’m a person that cares so much what other’s think of me.” Not only do I simply care what other’s think of me, but I think it is super impolite to not care. When I try to look at why this is my go to understanding and meaning I’ve attached to self-awareness, I think of Michael Scott talking to the cameras about Andy when he’s hidden behind his office door:

“I don’t understand how someone can have so little self-awareness.”

To me, the opposite of this is obliviousness. If you’re oblivious to how weird/annoying/loud/hurtful you’re being, you’re not self-aware; and obliviousness has always annoyed the hell out of me. I think it stems from my dad. Growing up I witnessed him doing things that other people would get upset about, but he would never notice he was upsetting them. One time as a teenager, I witnessed a man who was sat in front of him on a plane repeatedly ask him to stop kneeing the back of his chair, and then after throwing my dad a dirty look, he left to find a new seat... When I got up to go to the bathroom, I saw the man sitting in the back, able to work on his laptop in peace. I was mortified. My dad never noticed nor apologized, and I guess you could say that scarred me in a way. I decided to try very hard to be conscious of other people. This was self-awareness to me, and it set the definition in my head: don’t be oblivious. I then took it to a new extreme where I could not relax lest I inadvertently bother another person.

Being self-aware enough to be conscious of other people isn’t a bad thing. In fact, it’s a positive Thing, but only to a certain extent. I started to regard my version of self-awareness as one of the highest personality traits you could have, and I judged other people based on that.

Sitting on the couch this morning, I slowly realized it had gotten completely out of hand for me and caused me to go above and beyond self-awareness and into extreme self-consciousness - and into extreme self-consciousness on behalf of the people around me. I laughed this morning as I told Joe that’s probably why I get so mad at him for taking up too much sidewalk on our walks (the sidewalks here are very narrow). I realized (and isn’t it funny how you “realize” things that you already know in some sense, but don’t really know know?)…I realized that there is another very important part of being self-aware and half of my attention should be shifted from the outward kind to the inward kind.

I felt like this shift in my personal definition of self-awareness gave me some freedom from my own brain, and opened up a door to be “lighter” about small situations where I was beating myself up with self-consciousness.

I looked up a couple of definitions of self-awareness and felt like they couldn’t encompass what it truly is, but I’ll tell you the basic google definition: conscious knowledge of one's own character, feelings, motives, and desires.

First of all isn’t it crazy that we as humans have the ability to look inward, know we are alive, know we are thinking and then examine our thoughts, judge them, and feel bad or good about ourselves based on internal motives or desires?! When was the last time you realized how weird it is that we ponder our own existence?

Recently my husband and I have been into learning about the brain, mindset, and automatic thought patterns and how they affect your experience of life. When I was looking up a definition about self-awareness, I stumbled upon an article with a few interesting points that tied back to this stuff. This quote really struck me, “The non-judgmental quality is an essential component to self-awareness. As we notice what’s happening inside us, we acknowledge and accept them as the inevitable part of being human, rather than giving ourselves a hard time about it.”

The “non-judgmental quality” is something I was missing and something I never knew existed when I encountered my own inward self-awareness. I was all too aware and yet all too judgy.

Lately I’ve been discovering so many things about life that leave me feeling, “I had no idea you could live life like this or think in this way!” It is so insane that you can have thought after thought, subconsciously popping in and out of your head, and then judge yourself for thinking that or for doing that. When I feel sad or depressed, I judge myself as weak or pathetic, when I feel angry or annoyed, I get more angry and annoyed at myself for feeling that way. When I feel tired and want to rest, I call myself lazy. When I want to say no, I call myself selfish.

“Hey can I get some air traffic control over here?!”

Joe and I have both been struggling with this in part due to our very religious upbringing and deeply ingrained shame and guilt. My takeaway from this and my journey through mindfulness, is to accept myself more and not add emotion to emotion or judgement to feelings. Being self-aware is a gift if used carefully.

Somewhere in the middle of our discussion about this, I said to Joe, “I wish I was simple minded and didn’t think about how I’m thinking,” but then I quickly realized that is not true.

Self-awareness gives me the power to learn how to stop my automatic thoughts and rearrange them for my benefit.

things that feel right

Things that feel right, that feel right in my gut… what a lovely feeling:

Joe.

Portland.

Sara and Phil.

Reading books with Joe and stopping every other sentence to talk about it for 20 minutes which makes any book last way longer than it should. And we love it.

Writing. Writing this write now (typo).

Riding motorcycles through the city going to pick up film. Coffee shop stop along the way. Riding motorcycles through the city after a movie on a summer night with Sara and Phil next to us on the loudest scooter.

Going to sit outside at a cafe. Getting the sunny spot and then having to move to the shade because you got way hotter than you thought.

Traveling. A new memory.

Clothing. Style. Pulling on the right thing and suddenly…a mood shift for the better. A day to day armor.

Thrifting. The smell of old people. The thrill of the chase. The victory of a new, cool, unique, thing you didn’t need and no one else will ever have (unless depop).

Taking pictures. Seeing a thing and liking it so much that you want to capture it forever.

Looking at pictures. Seeing a thing you liked so much and now can remember and see again.

Paris. The most beautiful city I have ever been to.

Eating out when you find an amazing new restaurant that sets a new bar. Discovering a flavor you never knew existed, but now you can’t live without.

Smoking, ordering a pizza, and finding a dumb movie or a parental control to watch.

Being in a beautiful nature spot.

The ocean. The colors, the salt, the smell, the sand, the seashells. A picnic on the beach with friends and a fire at night.

Improving. That feeling when you look back and you’re further along in some area of your life without you even noticing.

Self love. Whenever I remember, it feels so right.

i hope i never make you feel...

One of social media’s greatest talents is making you feel inadequate in some sort of way. I feel it, too. And if you use any avenue of social media frequently, and don’t feel it, congratulations. You’ve escaped some sort of psychological, slow and subtle torture (enjoy the semi-serious sarcasm). I know I don’t have much influence, but I’ve probably made someone out there feel slightly inadequate at one time or another. Maybe we’re all guilty. So here’s this:

I hope I never make you feel like you need to buy more clothes.

Yes, I post about clothes, but please don’t feel like you need to buy more. If you’re feeling bad, new clothes won’t help you. I know. I’ve tried. I don’t often shop/buy new clothes - at least by today’s instagram standards. A lot of my clothes are thrifted or really old or I went momentarily mad and dropped a lot of money on a special piece. Because I’ve been consistent with posting outfits made up of thrifted clothing, some brands do decide to send me clothes to photograph. But guess what, if you think getting to this point will solve all your problems, it won’t.

I hope I never make you feel like you need a cuter apartment.

Our apartment is awesome, but that’s because I’m choosing to look at its pros. Every place and thing and person has pros. Our apartment has about three angles in which it looks sweet. The other part I’m not showing you is a nasty kitchen and a nonexistent other part because our apartment is so small that if I backed up one more step while taking some of my cute photos, I would back into a wall. It’s on a busy street, and we frequently hear sirens and honking horns (c’mon it’s New York). Someone downstairs is a chain smoker, and it gives me a headache. At least once a day, Joe and I bump our hip or shin on something squeezing into the kitchen, into the closet, or around the bed while making it.

I hope I never make you feel like you need to eat out at nicer places.

One of my favorite things is going out to eat. And when we go out, we’ll pick a fun, trendy looking place, and I’ll share it. Only sharing your good/beautiful/curated times on instagram is completely fine. It’s when you start to believe it’s a person’s entire life that does some damage. Joe and I love ordering domino’s, dumplings, and frequently cook at home. But you know what, domino’s is really beautiful and trendy, and I can’t wait to post about them more #ad #jk #iwish #dominosplzhalpme

I hope I never make you feel like you have to have more money.

If you ever wonder how we have money to live our lifestyle, I’m right there with you. hahahahaha. But remember like I said above: I thrift for clothes or don’t buy them, we’ve compromised on the size of our apartment to get a cheaper rate on one with a photogenic corner, and we eat on the cheap usually. That way we save up money to spend on some fun things like trips, coffees, pastries, nice dinners, thrifting etc. I end up feeling poor a lot because instagram makes it seem like everyone is so rich. I’m not poor, but I am not wealthy. Maybe wealthy in sarcasm AAAYOOOO.

I hope I never make you feel like to need to find a perfect life partner.

Joe and I are very happy together. But we aren’t perfect; it may look that, but we have been together for 10 years and have had our share of fights. Find someone who you can fight with and who will listen to you. If you can’t find that, stay single. A relationship takes a lot of work to maintain. It comes with pros, but it’s not all peaches and cream. Joe, if you’re reading this, I love you.

I hope I never make you feel like you need a more interesting career.

A while ago, Joe and I started to pursue fashion photography and now I’m pursuing blogging/writing whatever. It’s going well, but it’s always slower and a lot more work than it looks. There’s not an hour that goes by that I’m not thinking of new ways to improve our businesses or thinking I should be working harder or feeling guilty when work is slow. Having a freelance career, while exciting, can feel like a constant stress. It’s not all rosy.

I hope I never make you feel like you need more followers on Instagram.

While I don’t have that many followers at all, I have sat back at some point and said, “if only I could just reach 5k…” and on our photography account I’ve thought, “if only we could get past 10k…” While I have reached both those goals, I’m surprised to find that no magically fairy has come down to shine favor on me with more collaborations or more work or exposure. As I look forward with the same attitude of “if I only I could reach (fill in the blank) number of followers…” I can only surmise that the feeling will inevitably be the same no matter what number I reach.

I hope I never make you feel like you need to be happier.

I am not happy all the time. And sometimes I pretend like I am happier online because I am self-conscious of being a “downer”. I have a bad day three times or more a week. YAY! I really hope you appreciated this “downer” post :)

Do you see the point? Things don’t make you happier. An instagram perfect life doesn’t make you happier. And while you all are probably thinking, “duh, Katie, we know that,” I’m sure you could use the reminder as could I.

I am working towards becoming who I truly am and loving that girl regardless. I am working towards being secure in what I already have. I’ve worked really hard to get to where I am, and it’s important to stop, look around, and appreciate your life even when it’s not perfect. It’s totally fine to have goals or things you want, but don’t waste any time thinking you won’t be happy until you have them. When you can accept yourself now, the goals and achievements will be all the sweeter.

I know this is corny, but

“I like corny. I’m looking for corny in my life.”

10 points to Gryffindor for naming who said that last quote.