One day into no social media and it is clear to me that I never truly knew what it’s like to be alone.
Happy February, loves!
I love me a new month. Yes, the month started last Thursday BUT I also love me a new week. So, as we start this new week, I’d like to commemorate this month of Valentine’s day and love with a personal practice of Self-Love. Feel free to join me if you wish!
I think we need to get away from this model of success porn. That success is sexy and perfect! It’s an image of success that men have put on us, in a way. It can’t be that the only way that you can show up to a professional situation is if you spend four hours getting ready that morning. Men don’t have to do that! That is not equality. That you have to pay $300 for a glam squad to get you suitable for public consumption is garbage! And we have to get away from it.”
– Jenn Romolini on Why You Should Embrace Being Awkward AF In The Workplace
It’s so hard to forgive because we think that once we forgive, we’re making ourselves vulnerable to getting hurt again.
We face roadblocks and resistance when we look outside of ourselves for solutions or reassurance or validation
A little over a year ago, I wrote a blog post reflecting on my 23rd year of life as it came to a close and I turned 24. I shared the struggles that I encountered around my 23rd birthday a year ago along with the activities, organizations, and people that helped to re-center me after a rough emotional time. While they each played an important role in bringing me back to my normal self, the authors and teachers of different motivational books and podcasts (who I refer to as my virtual mentors) were some of my most treasured resources.
I turn 25 tomorrow.
25 on the 17th of 2017. That’s golden right?
This boggles my mind so so so much. There aren’t enough so’s that I’m willing to type to accurately express how much.
In a way, I’m in shock. A lot of my life is in blanketed in a fog of surreal-ness at the moment.
As of this time last week, I have added a new facet to my being-ness. I have gone from a person who lives in Maryland to a person who lives in Los Angeles, California. I am officially an Angeleno – as they say.
It was just past 2pm on a Tuesday in late summer, and the crowd walking onto the Southwest flight from Baltimore to LAX was a mix of majorly White-American families and middle-aged singles. I had forgotten to check-in for my flight 24 hours prior, as recommended, so my C-36 position self had the high-esteemed luxury of taking my pick of the remaining middle seats that no one ever wants on the mostly full plane.