There are two types of people in this world: Those who can pack for a two-week trip in one carry-on suitcase, and those who truly believe it’s impossible for them and check their luggage every single time, without fail. I am firmly in the former group, and I am passionate about it. Sure, I can […]
When I decide I want to do something, my first instinct is always: all in, right now. An idea or a thought or a goal plants itself in my brain and roots itself in there in a way that feels like I have to address it immediately with full force, or it will simply go away forever. For a long time I felt like unless I was all the way committed to something — anything — I was already giving up on it.
I love a good routine. Love.
It’s not that I’m not flexible or can’t deal with not being in a solid routine when it comes to my day-to-day life (although I have my moments), but more that I know I am generally better, happier, more relaxed when I have routines figured out that work for me. This doesn’t mean I do these things every single day, or that every morning, noon, and night is exactly the same. In fact, I probably only do these routines in their entirety maybe 60 percent of the time. Contrary to popular belief, it’s not really about consistency at all as much as it is about creating a place to go back to when things start to feel overwhelming, or stressful, or just simply off. It’s not that doing my morning routine every day will revolutionize my happiness, but that the comfort of knowing that if I start to feel stressed or off or unlike myself, I can go back to all of these steps and start to feel a little more centered is priceless.
For as long as I’ve had money to buy things, I’ve loved giving gifts. I love picking out the perfect item and spending way too much money on cool wrapping paper. I love finding clever cards. I love finding things people will be surprised by or have wanted for a long time. But when it comes to buying gifts for my dad, it’s always been difficult. He’s both very particular (a trait I inherited) and one of those people who doesn’t really need anything. Unlike my mom, for example, I can’t just go to LUSH on a holiday where I’m not quite sure what to get and buy 10 bath bombs and be done with it.
While I do love a good podcast (especially if I have a long drive ahead of me, or am looking for some non-musical background noise while I work), I’m not a podcast person per se. I don’t listen to all of them, or spend all my free time listening to my favorites that I missed. I have a true crime favorite (The Vanished) that I listen to every Monday at lunch, and I’ve listened to most of the big ones (Dirty John, Serial, S-Town, etc.), but other than that.. I am not a podcast aficionado.
This is a long overdue post that people seemed very interested in. I was so busy in April that I kept putting it off, but it turns out the gap between gauging my followers’ interest in a ‘things I never do on Instagram‘ post and actually writing it gave me a chance to reflect on an idea that I’m trying to bring into every part of my life this year (and not just social).
This post kicks off my Just One More Thing series, where I’ll be talking about one more thing I think everyone needs in their lives — all things I love completely and totally. No exceptions.
Last weekend I had my bi-annual closet clean out. You know, the thing where you begin by dumping everything you’ve ever owned (and some things you’re fairly certain you’ve never really owned, but there they are anyway) on the ground, determined to go through it all and get rid of the stuff you don’t use. It’s also the thing where you eventually end up laying like a starfish on a four-foot tall pile of clothing in the middle of your room with zero desire to finish what you started. I love this kind of closet clean-out, but since we’ve moved to our new apartment, it’s been harder than ever to make peace with my closet.
Have you ever found yourself in the middle of the English countryside, slightly tipsy from wine, sobbing hysterically, having accidentally locked yourself out of your iPhone and having to delete all 40,000 photos on your phone in order to get yourself back in? No? Just me. OK, that’s fair. But that moment was, weirdly, unexpectedly the moment that defined my slightly messy April.
One of the most bizarre things about losing someone close to you is that it simultaneously touches nothing and everything. Beautiful things may seem different after, but they’re still beautiful. Funny things are, horrifyingly, still funny. Joy is still out there, wrapping its fingers around all the same things it used to. When one of my best friends died suddenly in November 2017, I felt the weight of this idea instantly. Every time the grief bulldozed over me, there was also the realization that one day I would feel happy again.
March was one of the best months I’ve had in a long, long time. But to be honest, even coming off of a good February, this surprised me. I wasn’t expecting it mainly because my 25th birthday was in March, and birthdays (especially “big” ones) always makes me kind of emotional, leaving me with a week or two of that childhood day-after-Christmas feeling. Birthdays force you to reflect on the passing of time in a very real way. Most years, I’ve spent the weeks after my birthday reflecting on the inevitability of not achieving certain goals. The weight I didn’t lose, the workouts I missed, the money I didn’t save, the trips I was supposed to plan but didn’t. But this year was markedly different. I was different.