I spent a lot of time in August thinking about how fucked-up and traumatizing the past year of my life has been. August is always a rough month for me, as the two most difficult things I’ve lived through both happened the first week of August, in different years. But taking inventory of what I’ve dealt with over the past 12 months has been a different beast altogether.
In the past year I’ve gone through two job changes, four months of the most toxic professional experience of my life, and the person I loved breaking up with me basically out of nowhere. Beyond that, there’s trauma around the good things that have happened. Continue reading “September”
Photo by Ethan Robertson on Unsplash
- Reads The Economist and the Sunday New York Times cover to cover each week
- Reads Harvard Business Review every month instead of just paying for the digital edition and letting it sit unopened on her iPad
- Always has a perfect manicure
- Runs five days per week and goes to five yoga classes per week
- Is using all six domains registered to her
- Travels abroad at least once a quarter
- Has been to Palm Springs
- Is conversant in French
- Writes every day
- Always has champagne and sparkling water in the fridge
- Never wears an outfit that isn’t exactly right
- Subscribes to Women’s Wear Daily
- Goes to plays more often (read: ever)
- Always sends thank-you notes within a week
- Hasn’t killed all the plants in her apartment
- Lives every day like it’s a fucking Mary Oliver poem
- Enjoys the music of Pitbull ~13% less (JK not happening)
- Wakes up at 5:30 a.m. to meditate/goes to bed at 10 with no screentime after 9:30
- Has an espresso machine and a cupboard full of Stumptown
- Knows how to program her Roomba
- Has unwavering faith that everything will work out just fine
Note: I wrote this three years ago, but after rereading I wouldn’t edit much, though I think I probably value simple companionship a bit more these days. (Originally published on Medium.)
When I was in college, I attended a Take Back the Night Rally where an adult survivor of child sexual abuse spoke about writing a list of everything she wanted in a partner, down to his height and eye color, and then finding that person. It was a story about healing from trauma and the recognition that she was deserving of the things she desired, so I hate that it sticks with me most as an example of a successful visualization exercise. But a few years later, I sat down and wrote my own list of what I was looking for, and a month later I found him. Continue reading “On not settling”
I don’t know what kind of year this is.
On February 1, I lost my job after four months of knowing I’d made a mistake in taking it.
I crushed my job search and ended up with three offers. I chose one, then turned a surprise equity check from my previous job into a trip to Copenhagen.
Last week my 95-year-old grandpa fell, sustaining a serious injury. He’s in good spirits; he’s lived through worse. I don’t know how worried to be. Continue reading “I don’t know what kind of year this is”
To cope with dry winter skin, stare pensively into the mountains. Or, check out the list below.
As I’ve mentioned, I have what my mom calls “lousy Irish skin like [my] father’s.” During warmer months, this works out OK, but I live in the Northeast, where we have this thing called winter (the occasional warm spell notwithstanding). No matter what I do, my winter skin is bright red, extremely dry, and susceptible to becoming more of the prior two descriptors at the slightest provocation. Sound familiar? Below, a few pieces of advice on how to look vaguely normal (the best I can hope for) in even the harshest weather: Continue reading “How to look vaguely normal when you have the driest winter skin on the planet”
Sometimes, as Rose tells Sue Ellen in Don’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead, “I really need to get away.” Unfortunately, that need doesn’t always coincide with periods of my life in which I can actually skip town — or the country. Work, volunteering, and social obligations may keep me tied to NYC, or my bank account may not be in the ideal condition for an impromptu jaunt around Eastern Europe.
What I love most about traveling is the feeling of being taken out of my daily routine. The good news is that even when I can’t get away, this feeling is something I can replicate — often without even leaving my neighborhood. Below, a few ideas for how you can do the same: Continue reading “5 ways to fake a vacation (when you can’t take one)”
One of the few concepts I (barely) remember from the calculus class I took junior year of high school, while recovering from what felt at the time like a terrible breakup (you sweet summer child), was that the limit approaches — but never reaches — zero. Until a few minutes ago, when my friend Google led me to the Wikipedia page for Asymptote, I had no recollection as to the circumstances under which said limit approaches zero. (Dated calc; married algebra.) Continue reading “The limit approaches zero”