anxiety, healing heartbreak, the future is female, three things

Three things.


Man Repeller had a pop-up shop this week in NYC & I so wish they’d do one in Europe. I love this mug. But really, as MR always poignantly points out, it goes beyond the beautiful stuff, it’s about gathering together to learn, share, and love.

But most importantly, all the time, I hope we’ll provide safety. My mom tries to tell me that pregnancy is not all its cracked out to be. She recalls the memory of being 23 and seven-months-pregnant as a new immigrant in New York, married to my dad, an insensitive boy at the time, with her parents thousands of miles away. “I was scared and self-conscious and alone,” she often tells me. “I needed something like Man Repeller, but didn’t have it.” It reminds me of how I felt when I was 14 and heartbroken and didn’t understand if friendship was supposed to be painful and full of deceit because it was. That’s when I needed Man Repeller.

So this place, really, beyond the wifi and the books and the boob lamp, is a physical reminder that even inside the depths of darkness that is so black we lose our balance, we are soooooooooo not alone.

Leandra is just everything, right?


Emma Stone did an interview with The Talks and talked openly about her anxiety and struggles as a sensitive person. (So rad to hear her talk openly about it.)

“For a long time I thought being a sensitive person was a curse.”


Who knew a balloon could show you so much? (Original source unknown.)

adulthood, anxiety, brilliant reads, healing heartbreak, life, read it love it, write it out, writing from the heart

Broken but hopeful

Life can be really hard.

I’m writing this during my lunch break; a break I haven’t taken in some weeks so as not to drown in to dos. My apartment’s a mess. My clothes scattered around, as though about in a fury. My refrigerator is empty. My cabinets sparse.

A month ago it wasn’t like this. I had a full fridge and even hosted my first dinner party. I had a hand to hold regularly and looked forward to the weekends.

But life just happens. And things get heavy, fast. No matter how much you think you have everything under control the truth is that sometimes you have no control. Being OK with that fact is half the battle, I suppose.

So here I am, surrendering to what is. Accepting what may be. Holding on tight to what I know to be true.

In the meantime, I recommend this piece from “Ask Polly.” Because it chewed me up and spit me out and put me back together all in the course of 5 minutes. Now I reference certain lines as reminders. As hope. As a grace to get me through.

Until my fridge is full again. Until my laundry is done. Until my to-do list is finally completed.

I have two daughters, and this, for some reason, is my biggest fear when it comes to them, that they’ll waste their lives chasing men in circles instead of recognizing how much sunshine and genius and expansive, outrageous possibility they carry around with them everywhere they go. But this anxiety of mine isn’t just about young women and their tendency to ignore their own value and worth and potential. It’s also about 30-something men and 40-somethings and 50-somethings and everyone under the goddamned sun. We are all so completely poleaxed by our own longing, by our own magical thinking, by our own physical resistance to hard work. We put our faith in prefabricated fantasies instead of reality; we believe in easy answers and short cuts instead of craft; we admire popularity instead of originality; we find ourselves reaching for shiny dreamworlds and ignoring human beings. The world tells us that we should be disappointed in ourselves, every single day. The best party is across town. The best party is across the universe. We should be fucking a ghost that looks like Chris Hemsworth, gently, in some galaxy far away. 

Let’s just be ourselves instead, broken but hopeful, and let’s be right here, right now. Let’s look around and see the scrappy, mediocre, mundane details of our lives and proclaim them exalted and glorious. Imagine for a moment that I can see you clearly for the first time. I can see you clearly, and you are radiating pure, lusty, brilliant grace and divinity. Feel it. Believe it. Carry it with you.


growing up, hamburg 2015, healing heartbreak, moving on, november 2015, vulnerability, write it out

When nothing goes unsaid.

Have you ever puked on the subway? Well, not on the subway, exactly — or the Tube, in my case — but gotten that feeling of utter nausea, the kind that starts in your heart and the next thing you know you’re running off the train to find the nearest trashcan, bush, whatever?

I have. This past weekend, in fact.

I went to visit some friends in London. London and I have had a lot of interesting moments together. Mostly brilliant. Some rather sad. London isn’t a city where you have a mediocre time. It’s really not. You either have the most magical time on Earth, or you end up puking on the Tube from sadness, or maybe you experience both in a mere 12 hours span, as was my latest adventure.

I could go into details. Give you the play-by-play of what happened. But I think there are some things that should be reserved for my personal memories… or until I’m a little bit less fragile.

But here’s what I do want to say: if you have something to say, something near and dear to your heart, say it. I know my saying that probably comes as no surprise, I’ve had a pretty strong track record of doing just that.

This weekend I did it again.

And it wasn’t pretty. It was full of ugly tears, confessions of love, and utter rejection. A lost friendship to boot.

(And some puking on the Tube.)

But I walked away with not a single regret, well, aside from wishing i hadn’t done that type of sob where you can’t catch your breath; the one that takes you back to when you were 3 years old and your mom wouldn’t buy you that doll you had to have.

But ugly tears be damned, I regret nothing.

When I’m 40 or 60, I’ll never have to wonder “What if I would have just said how I felt?”

I said how I felt. And that’s all I can do.

That’s all we can ever do.

Love, love, love. I’ll keep on if you promise you will.

“I hope one day 5 years from now you stumble across me when I’ve grown out of you and finally then after not seeing me for all this time it will break your heart.”

adele, fall 2015, favorites, healing heartbreak, heard it loved it, october 2015

Adele’s ‘Hello’ & how I haven’t stopped crying since its release

You guys. It’s been nearly a week and I haven’t stopped listening to Adele’s new single… much to my coworkers’ dismay. It’s so good. You’ve heard it, right? And you’ve seen the video, right? RIGHT? Here. I’ll wait.

I told you so!

So not only are her cheekbones, voice and eyeliner perfection, but she absolutely kills it in interviews, too. Oh, Adele. You’re too good to us.

Maybe I also love her because we’re nearly the same age and her songs are about life stages we went through around the same time? Maybe I’m reaching here, but naja.

She slayed me with this. (I want to print it off and tape it all over my apartment as inspiration.)

Adele also blessed us with this recent interview in i-D magazine. It’s definitely worth a read. Here’s a part that especially stood out to me.

When she was ready to start work on the record, Adele walked down to the local shop (“I do actually walk,” she says, laughing) and bought herself a brand new notebook. “I do it every album. I buy a new pad, sniff it – ’cause smell is important – and then I get a big, fat sharpie and write my age on the front page. 25 has five exclamation marks after it ’cause I was like, ‘How the fuck did that happen?!’ 21 to 25.” The record is about getting older and becoming nostalgic, she says. It’s about what was, what is, what might have been. It’s about missing things that you had no idea were so precious, like being 18-years-old and drinking two litre bottles of cider in Brockwell Park with your mates. “Those were the most real and best moments of my life and I wish I’d known that I wasn’t going to be able to sit in the park and drink a bottle of cider again.” Not because she’s famous, but because her life – and the lives of her school friends – has moved on. No one is a teenager anymore. “I think the album is about trying to clear out the past,” she says slowly. 

And woo boy, that’s exactly what I’m trying to do right now. Kon Mari Methoding my past. 

Less than a month until we’re graced with her entire. new. album. I’m dying over here! 
healing heartbreak, heartache, read it love it

When Anger and Love Walk Together.

I’m angry, I’m angry at the boy who said he would love you till the day he died, but I guess he died when he left you. I’m angry at the boy who made you think your innocence could so easily be taken, when it was never his to take. I’m angry that he made you vulnerable, and now you regret ever being so open. I’m angry, because he was a lesson you never signed up for, and we were never meant to learn from the class of heartbreak. I’m angry, and I can’t do anything about it, but say that you’re worth more than what he gave or took, you’re worth more than late nights full of tears and early mornings filled with silence. You are the warmth in a hug, and the beauty in a sunrise; and I’m sorry that he made you feel like the cold in an empty room and the smoke of a blown out candle. I can only hope that you’ll love yourself again, because a star may feel alone and unwanted, but the world lays in wonder of the beauty that star gives. Your soul is endless, it would be a shame to think anyone could steal that truth.— T.B. LaBerge // I’m Angry

healing heartbreak, heartache, heartbreak, words from my heart

Your worth is not determined by someone else, and other thoughts.

Three of my dear friends are currently in the throes of bitter heartbreaks. And, more than anything, it makes me weep for their ever thinking it has anything to do with their worth

What a ludicrous idea! 

These are three of the kindest, most brilliant, loving people I have ever had the privilege of knowing. The fact that they are hurting kills me. I wish I could take their hurt and make it mine. They don’t deserve such sorrow. 

And the truth is, their exes never deserved them, full-stop. 

In a way, what a favor their exes did, letting these beautiful souls go, allowing them to venture on to the loves they deserve. 

But the cost is what can almost blind us all. 

When you’re mid-battle of heartbreak warfare, you think of giving up time and time again. You question the point, feel as though you’ll never find peace again. Recovery seems like a mythical place you only hear of people reaching.

But you have to keep on, keeping on. Not to prove to everyone that you can (because you can). Not to prove to your ex that they will miss you and regret their ways (because they will). And not because you feel the need to show your worth (you’re already worth more than rubies, dear one). 

But because you are going to come out on the other side. Thriving.

You’ll find a love that never makes you question your worth. Only one that reminds you of it daily. 

Someone breaking up with you does not diminish your worth.

It never does. 

In fact, sometimes it can prove that your worth was merely too much for someone to handle. 

Did you ever think of that? 

april 2014, healing heartbreak, hope, life changes, life lesson, post-degree, post-munich

Fate Is Wild.

Royals Game. 4/18/14

Hi friends!

I’m here! I really am alive and doing quite well. Albeit rather hum-de-dum. But I’m here!

Easter was lovely, as usual. Such a great time to ponder the big things and be drawn back to what matters. I’m thankful for those moments spent among the sea of people at Mass, a mere being among the masses, sharing in His great love. It’s rather remarkable, when you think about it.

It’s taken some oompf to get going these days. But with some lows always come a few highs, and that’s what helps me keep on, keeping on.

When I caught myself on the brink of weeping last week, over the usual things–things I should know by now that I have absolutely no control over…–I told myself to snap out of it. Get on with life. Things happen. Life changes.

Then I skipped the weeping and went right into the full on sobbing instead. You know the kind: big, slobbery tears, chest heaving, glasses foggy. 

It’s amazing what can seemingly be lifted as a result of such cries. You feel refreshed. As if you’ve let out all the chaos and are somewhat able to comprehend it all a bit clearer.

Give it a day. Any sense of control you thought you had will vanish soon enough and you’ll be back wondering where to go from here…

But enough about my tendency to break down as a result of my not being able to control my future to the extent which would make me most comfortable… I’ve been embraced by the important parts of life and been cared for in a way I never realized I needed.

Old friendships have been reignited, past hopes reevaluated, and new dreams born. It’s truly up in the air where I may go from here. I guess that’s what keeps it most exciting, the not knowing.

But for a gal like me, oy. That’s a feat. Stepping back and letting go.

So I just put the brilliance of Cheryl Strayed on repeat in my mind…

“How wild it is, to let it be.” 


P.S. This slays me..
P.P.S. I miss the tour already.