Permission to Opt-Out: Fashion and Make Up

Let me give you a visual of my current look:

I’m wearing a floral wrap dress that I’ve worn at least once a week since I bought it. I’m also wearing my black Aldo booties I bought 2 years ago when I realized I needed some “grown up” professional shoes for my office job.

My hair has finally grown out enough to force it into a tiny bun, which has lovingly been compared to a brussel sprout in size and shape. My bangs are in desperate need of a trim.

My makeup routine consists of the same brand of foundation I’ve used for 4 years now, with a drugstore eyebrow gel and mascara.

This is the most effort I’ve put into my appearance for over a week, at least since I attempted to take a quintessential fall selfie on the first of October, like everyone else on the internet.

I hate all of those photos I took of myself that day, even though I had on my favorite hat and dress, plus I threw on my heretofore unchristened vintage leather jacket.

Frankly, my lack of selfies in the past few months has me feeling panicky.

I know that probably sounds silly to some people, but I have gone through phases in my life where I felt so good about how I looked, so confident and hot, that I wanted to show off regularly.

Lately, that’s not been the case. But it’s not that I think I’m ugly, not really. I don’t think I’ve let myself go or anything.

I feel detached from the majority of my makeup and fashion habits in a way that’s really baffled me into avoiding selfies, getting “dressed up” and attending any kind of even that might require me to get dolled up.

Below the Surface

I have been shedding layers of what was my personal style faster than ever over the summer.

As I looked at my shoestring freelancer-between-invoices budget and sorted through my clothes after an unexpected move, I started to wonder what the point of all of this stuff was.

I had multiple types of liquid eyeliner in my makeup case, I had piles of vintage clothes and dresses that I had only worn once, I was following multiple lingerie companies on Instagram.

Am I really this susceptible to consumerism? Have I internalized a bunch of stories about my body type and face shape that I regularly augment my natural state with “flattering” clothes and makeup?

Well, yes, but I also have had to admit to myself that it goes a lot deeper than just social media and the fashion industry.

Wardrobes of Past Lives

As I was moving, I ended up with piles and piles of business casual clothes I bought when I was working at my corporate PR job.

I’m not naive enough to think we can all break free of the status quo of business casual in a traditional sense, but the particular office culture of where I worked was in total contrast with my natural inclinations.

Bold colors, structured skirts and dresses, heels, full makeup, “statement” jewelry.

All of these things were supposed to make us unique in our field and create a positive impact on clients and media contacts. It was an extension of the agency’s branding.

But that brand wasn’t me. I never fully bought into it and I knew that dressing according to someone else’s ideal of a powerful woman was not helping me succeed in my role.

Towards the end of my time there, I began to default to “unflattering” shift dresses that I could hide away in, wearing my hair in buns and clips, skipping makeup altogether. The look was more harried church mouse than PR rockstar.

Meanwhile, the other half of my discarded wardrobe consisted of worn out Goodwill finds and eccentric pieces that fluctuated from fairy princess to wannabe punk rocker.

Lots of those pieces were too small, worn with too much eyeliner and eternally smelled like a bar at closing time.

These were the things I would wear to bars and dates and house shows. They represented many variations of my Tallahassee social life that allowed me to blend in with the crowds or appeal to whatever man I was chasing after that season.

I would adjust and course correct based on the reactions of my friends and dates, but nothing I ever wore or no makeup trick I tried made much of a difference in my love or social life.

Then there were a few aspirational vintage pieces I bought, with great zeal, from female vintage shop owners.

Inspired by both an obsession with pinup girls and burlesque culture plus an earnest desire to support women in my community, I–quite literally–racked up a sizable collection of vintage pieces that I would wear once, maybe and then allow to languish in my closet.

This stuff was supposed to be “the look” for a girl like me. Hourglass shape, pale, dark hair–that’s the easiest shortcut to a pin-up look you can be born with.

But I never got the hang of curling my hair, I never figured out how to use concealer or lip liner and I certainly never was going to learn how to wear heels on the regular.

Simplifying (but not because minimalism is trendy)

I recently did a journaling exercise from Gala Darling that got me thinking more about what my Best Self™ actually looks like.

Here are some character notes I made:

  • Sunscreen, always
  • Healthy skin (like the kind you get by drinking tea and stay hydrated and using a modest night cream)
  • Cruelty-free brow gel, mascara, foundation. (I’m tired of crying over mismatched cat eye angles.)
  • Ethically, sustainably made OR vintage/secondhand everything
  • Linen, denim, leather, suede
  • Blacks, neutrals, jewel tones and floral prints
  • Boots. Always boots. Chacos, when needed. (No heels, I just really don’t care for them.)

This sounds like the beginning of a minimalism sermon, I know. I promise not to preach about a capsule wardrobe (at least not yet.)

I want to pivot my approach to style and personal adornment to something that supports and amplifies my personality and creative work, instead of trying to express myself through it directly.

Because when I try to project something through my style, I end up feeling disguised or costumed.

If I want to actually be something, I want to work to actual embody that in my life through actions and work.

Powerful, respectable, graceful, tough, elegant, sensual.

I don’t need a pencil skirt or red lipstick or high heels to convey any of that. I am not personally getting anything out of time spent in front of the mirror or my closet.

This is, of course, not to say that anyone who enjoys these things is somehow not actually being what their style is portraying. I’m actually wildly impressed by and in awe of other people’s creativity and dedication when it comes to style and fashion.

This is simply a note to self that I am allowed to opt out of prioritizing makeup and clothes, without letting myself go completely.

If I whittle my wardrobe down to a handful of truly beloved pieces and have no daytime/nighttime/special occasion shifts for my makeup and hair routines, it really won’t do affect anything but my time and decision fatigue.

I know I will eventually dig deeper into the phases of my style and how working in a place with such a rigorous “dress code” affected me, but for now I wanted to articulate this shift.

Has this happened to anyone else? Have you ever looked in your mirror or closet and suddenly realized you only like about 10% of what you own?

Social Media Reality Check

Fair warning that I this is started as a totally off the cuff reaction piece, spurned by an unnecessarily rude ultimatum by an unnamed influencer to go hop into the comments section of a problematic @betches instagram post instead of discussing the topic amongst ourselves. *insert eye roll emoji here*

I get nothing from fighting with people on social media.

I gain nothing, learn nothing from the comment threads full of ignorance and hatred.

Retweets and call-out posts add absolutely nothing to our dialogue and I have not learned anything or taught anyone by participating in this kind of social media activity.

What I do learn from is following really smart writers on Twitter who temper their trolls with insightful commentary and conversations.

I also learn from following feminist sex educators and zero waste nonprofits and sustainable farms on Instagram.

Following artists and curators of niche interests (like tarot, old houses, southern kitsch) makes me happy and entertains me.

I’m not saying that it’s all bad. It’s not.

But the militant prescriptivism on how to post, what to post, how to and when to engage with trolls or people who think differently that you? It’s not serving me. (It’s probably not serving you either.)

Yet, I’m on social media for hours every day. Last time I was tracking my screen time on my phone, I was spending between 3-4 hours on my phone every day. That doesn’t even include any time I spent on the computer.

I want that time back. I want that mental space and that sense of calm boredom back.

The Social Struggle

I honestly, truly, don’t want to give up social media altogether. I don’t think it’s the root of all success or all evil. I also know it’s not feasible when I’m trying to run my own business.

But lately, my frustration outweighs my enjoyment.

More than anything, I wish we could all get a blank slate. If there was a way to just go back to the beginning, without the algorithms and the updates to everything, I’d be happy to continue sharing and enjoying the content I want to see.

Of course, that’s not really something that’s feasible. Even if we all started fresh accounts, we’d get bombarded with suggested posts and the algorithm would learn about us quickly.

For those who still bemoan the advertising takeover of our beloved internet hidey holes (RIP tumblr, specifically), I hate to break it to y’all but–at the end of the day–these are companies. Users are only worth what advertisers will pay for our attention.

I(’m not going to get into the business side of this debate on this blog, but I have thoughts on that too.)

At this point, I know it’s up to me to game the system for myself. Despite the fact that social media is designed to be hypnotic and a veritable rabbit hole of endless distractions, I’ve gotta snap myself out of it.

 

Fight Bad Habits with Good Habits

That’s my plan. Here’s the list I’ve got so far:

Tracking screen time.

I’ve downloaded Moment on my phone. They estimate that the average user spends three hours, forty two minutes on their phone every day. Yikes.

Not all of my phone time is spent on social media. I have many people I love that I text constantly (or send memes to on Instagram, which is the modern sixth love language), most of which don’t live in Tallahassee and therefore can’t be subbed out with IRL quality time.

But if I’m honest, most of that time is spent scrolling through the explore tab on Instagram, or watching stories of people that I really just don’t care about or don’t need to keep up with.

Last time I used this app, I cut my phone time down by over an hour each day. I’ll probably spring for the Premium version soon too, so that I can have more options for managing my screen time.

Unfollow without fear.

I’ve been starting to unfollow people when I notice I’m blocking or hiding or scrolling past their posts. A lot of fitness people, many brands and shops, some of those “who even are you?” personal accounts that are just utterly baffling.

Here’s the thing: my need for more mental space and less digital clutter is not less important than someone’s Instagram engagement stats.

Even though I forget all the time (especially with my over-active people pleasing tendencies), we do not owe a single person a follow, like, share, comment, view. Whatever. We truly do not.

I would hope that people aren’t following me that are bored or annoyed with the things that I post.

If you think about it like a social gathering, do you really want to show up to a party when you don’t like anyone who’s attending? Do you want to go to a gym or an art gallery opening if either of those things makes your cringe just thinking about it?

Then get those people out of your digital circles and move on with your life.

Carve out distraction free times.

This is specific to my needs as an entrepreneur working from home, but I have to block out work hours and keep my phone off and away to get anything meaningful done.

I also use the Self Control app for my Mac to block tempting websites. Usually set the time for anywhere from 4 to 8 hours.

This is a pretty serious no brainer for most people, but when there is no one to watch over your shoulder or spy on your internet history, it can be all too easy to just zone out on Twitter for a couple of hours every day.

Do literally anything else.

I feel like this one should not be the hardest one to conquer, but it really is.

When I’m laying in bed or waiting in line or anything that would otherwise be a white space, if it weren’t for social media, I’ve got my phone up and in my face.

This is particularly an issue when going to bed and waking up for me.

I will mindlessly scroll for an hour before falling asleep and as soon as I wake up, knowing that nothing I’m seeing is really adding to my life and especially not to those otherwise precious moments before or after sleep.

Lately, I’ve been experimenting with sketching and coloring in bed while I watch shows.

As much as I want to lay down and read at night, I’m much more inclined to give myself something totally mindless and relaxing before cracking open a book I want to pay attention to.

That being said, reading instead of being on my phone at the bar or restaurants when I’m alone is something I genuinely love and am happy to practice on the regular now.

All and all, the point I’m trying to make for myself here is that I have the power to make myself less miserable when it comes to social media. I can opt out of the constant outrage, consumerism and comparison. But I have to do it myself, because it is all designed for the opposite purpose.

Do you have any tips for minimizing your screen time or tackling some of the social media ennui I assume we are all feeling? Lemme know, I could serious use the advice.

On 31 Days of Writing

I decided to do a writer’s version of “inktober”. It’s my own personal exercise, before the world gets swept up in NaNoWriMo next month.

I let my writing stagnate over the past month and a half. The move, the hurricane, work. There were plenty of reasons not to write.

On top of that, I let my summer ideas slip away. The sweet little things I was going to capture, the ideas and lists I wanted to share. Those didn’t happen.

But I went to see one of my favorite writers and former professors speak last week and ran into my writing workshop instructor (guide? teacher?) while I was there. Read more, talked about writing more.

Realized that I have one way to make this writing thing work, which is to write every day. And not just write, but publish it. 

We can only be held accountable for so much in private.

Sure I can journal, I could sit at my computer and bang out a few hundred words every day and let them languish in my Google Drive forever. No one would ever know if I followed through or not.

But I’m committing to writing every day and publishing everything that I write so that I can move through a serious volume of ideas. For better or for worse.

My most recent kick in the ass was from this article: Writing usually means writing badly.

That was a good reminder because I know I have to keep working to get better. That’s the only way that writing works. I listen to this quote from Ira Glass regularly to calm my fears of just being a tasteless, worthless buffoon with a laptop.

I decided to emulate Inktober because, as far as I can tell, it’s about showing your process and your messy edges and I think that is so much more aligned with my process than the grind of NaNoWriMo. (I also have no desire to write a novel at this point in my life.)

My questions when it comes to the process of writing and the reality of being a writer are becoming an obsessive part of my daily life.

Instead of asking for permission and trying to replicate the process or product of people I admire, I’ve realized that the only way out is through. Through the shitty first drafts and through the half-baked ideas and the immature topics and the clunky prose.

There are some things I need to get through. I need to broach the taboo, talk about some shit that slinks around in the darkness and tends to only come up when people write their memoirs or when they get that one gut-wrenching essay spot in the big, beautiful publication of their dreams.

I don’t think I can get to those places unless I start chipping away at this stuff now. So, here I go.

Some of that stuff is going to be ugly or upsetting to some people. I would apologize proactively, but I really am not sorry at all. Hopefully you all understand.

I just can no longer afford to be precious with the things in my mind. If I’m going to see any emotional progress, any progress with my craft, it’s got to come through work.

So, that’s what this is. If you show up here every day and read, thank you. If you show up every once in awhile, thank you. If you get fed up and never come back, thank you.

Thank you for reading.

(PS for rule followers: I did write yesterday, but it was analogue and will be typed up later.)

How to Start Journaling

Journaling has always been one of my favorite feigned habits.

I’ve kept a myriad of diaries, notebooks and journals since childhood, but it’s only been the last two years or so that I’ve actually developed any meaningful consistency.

I’ve been trying to force myself into a “miracle morning” type routine for two years now. Ideally, it would look like:

  • Make coffee
  • Meditate
  • Read tarot
  • Journal
  • Write (as in write for writing’s sake)
  • Yoga
  • Work out
  • Healthy breakfast
  • Bonus points for making my bed and actually getting fully *ready* for the day

And I would be damned if I wasn’t going to do all of that before 9am. Every morning.

Because–I don’t know if you’ve been on the internet lately–but that’s what your mornings are supposed to look like if you’re an evolved and interesting human.

Especially if you have the freedom and privilege to work for yourself from home, or find yourself blissfully roommate and live-in partner free. What a treat, right?

Well, I’ll tell you what my morning looks like right now:

  • Wake up because the cat is literally poking me with his paw
  • Pee, while the cat whines at me
  • Feed the cat
  • Make coffee
  • Get back in bed for about 30 minutes and scroll around on my phone
  • Check my bank account and get a nice reality check
  • Then I finally journal and pull a card (Right now that’s from an oracle deck called Moon Angels)
  • Sometimes I meditate (I do love Lacy Young’s meditations and will happily do them when I’m feeling particularly evolved and mature)

After that, I head downstairs and try to write before I get started on my “work” for the day.

As one of my favorite writers and teachers, Sarah Von Bargen, finally got through my head in her Make It Stick Habit School: You can really only establish one good habit at a time.

Something that I’ve noticed is that journaling is really the thing for me. It’s the closest I can get to therapy without getting my eyes wet and it’s way cheaper–about the cost of one Moleskine notebook every 90 days because it’s one thing I get to be picky about.

I know you’re probably so thrilled to hear the nitty gritty details of my morning routine, but I know you’re here for the goods so let’s talk about journaling.

How to start a journaling habit

Pick tools you actually like.

This is honestly the key for me. Once I found a pen and notebook I really loved, I started genuinely looking forward to sitting down at my desk every morning.

I’ve since switched notebooks and now am partial to Moleskines because they really are just my favorite for writing, but even the little notebook that was a very sweet souvenir from a good friend’s trip to Paris had its own unique personality.

Also, pens are important. I’m currently experimenting with a fountain pen, but I’m partial to a Pilot G2 or a Bic Atlantis if I’m really honest.

 

Make it fancy.

All I mean by this is do a little something special to your space or time to ritualize journaling. It’s like a preemptive reward for sitting down to journal on the days when you don’t really feel like it.

I have a candle I only light when I’m journaling and I let myself indulge in my very typical Bon Iver/Iron & Wine playlist until I actually open up my laptop.

You could have a special mug or wear fancy slippers or stay in bed a few extra minutes if that’s what butters your biscuit. Whatever makes you feel a little indulgent and selfish is a good choice.

 

Pick a goal.

For me, the first goal that really worked was to commit to filling up an entire journal.

It was that journal I mentioned earlier, one that I really loved that I bought at the Denver Botanical Gardens that I decided I was not going to squander by only writing in a few pages and then abandoning it.

When I did that, I moved on to the Paris notebook, then I allowed myself to buy a new Moleskine because I didn’t have any other blank notebooks waiting in the wings.

I’ve tried writing three pages every morning, but I’ve found that as long as I write every day, the length will naturally fluctuate depending on what I need to write about.

 

Don’t be so hard on yourself.

Seriously, sometimes journaling seems stupid and you’ll be writing “I just really don’t feel like writing because I’m hungover/bored/busy/content.” over and over until you think of one thing you did want to write about that maybe you thought of in the shower yesterday or something.

It’s not supposed to be poetic or prophetic. It’s easy to hope that your journals will be witty and devastatingly authentic so that someone will just have to publish them posthumously. Chances are it’s not ever going to be like that consistently.

Sometimes it’s drudgery and sometimes it’s personal revelations that unlock big things for yourself. That’s just how it is.

Like I said, this is a cheap and private alternative to therapy. Not every session is going to be a breakthrough.

 

Don’t censor yourself.

This is something I worry about. I even went through a phase in high school after a fight with my high school sweetheart when I was certain the One for me was still out there and not that guy that I started a notebook as a series of letters to my future husband.

That lasted all of four days.

Spoiler alert, the high school sweetheart was not the One for me and the jury is still out for my future husband, but I do not write to anyone anymore.

Sometimes I think about what I will want to have access to when I’m old or when I need to remember what it was like as a 20-something because my future daughter is doing something that’s driving me crazy or got me worried sick (sorry mom.)

But if you write with an audience in mind, you keep the good stuff locked up. You keep the bad stuff locked up too, and the selfish stuff and the creepy stuff and the fucked up stuff.

The only thing that comes out when you start writing with any audience or dream of future publication is just hifalutin nonsense that won’t do anyone any good.

(Sometimes you’ll write hifalutin nonsense anyways, but it will be good for you specifically when you catch yourself doing that and can dial it back to what’s really going on for you. Again, therapy.)

 

Allow for lapses.

Sometimes you’ll go a few weeks without writing in your journal and start to feel foggy and jumbled. When you notice you haven’t been keeping up with your journal, you’ll be able to go back to it.

The journal will not judge you or charge you for missed sessions. It does not ask you where you’ve been. It’s just there when you need it, which is more often than you think.

 

Try it out.

If you’ve thought about journaling but are freaked out by former attempts or think you don’t have time, I’m going to challenge you to do one page a day for a week and see how you feel.

You might still hate it or be stressed out by it, in which case, forget it. You are not going to be less successful or interesting if you don’t keep a journal.

Chances are, you’re doing something else in your life that is giving you the documentation you need to keep tabs on your own mind and that’s great. Stick to what works for you.

But if you do find your mind is less crowded and you’re uncovering stuff to work on through your writing, pick a goal and go with it.

Don’t get caught up in any rules or standards, just show up when you need to and remember that you can’t fail at this habit. You really can’t.

That’s the beauty of journaling for me, unlike other habits. Journaling is not a compound effect. You can’t get better at it, you can’t lose it if you get too busy or lazy for a few weeks.

Is there potential for journaling to improve other areas of your life if you do it regularly? Absolutely. I know my writing and anxiety have both been positively affected by journaling regularly.

So, give it a shot.

If you do decide to give it a try, feel free to tag me on instagram or shoot me an email if you want to share your experiences. I’m happy to talk about routines, notebooks, prompts, whatever! Good luck, y’all.

Moving: An Announcement

My freshman year of high school, I ripped a two page spread from an art room collage pile issue of Southern Living magazine. It’s a photo of a small cottage, with a screened in porch and a wildly joyful garden. It’s now framed in my bedroom.

I have a whole Pinterest board dedicated to cabins and cottages, small spaces with cozy interiors in rustic settings.

That’s always been the dream.

However, not much else about that dream has been clear. Am I alone in the house or do I have a partner? Is it in the Blue Ridge Mountains or the Rockies? Maybe on the border of a sleepy southern town?

The house was the one thing I knew I wanted. Tucked into some quiet corner where I became part of the landscape instead of part of a city.

But it was always a reward, a sighing, “someday” kind of dream.

I thought I had to earn it, deserve that dream. That I would know when I had made it because I’d be writing in the woods somewhere and sipping on coffee while the sun was rising.

That’s not the sort of thing you’re just allowed to have out of the blue. Right?

Dreams Come True Even When You’re Not Waiting for Them To

I had a plan, which of course means that my plan has gone totally out the window in the space of about two weeks.

After a pretty chaotic year, I laid out for myself (and to anyone who would listen) my plan for the rest of 2017:

  • Focus on growing my business
  • Save some serious cash
  • Travel to a select few cities to scope out potential next homes
  • Announce a move to my chosen destination on New Year’s Eve

This plan happened in my current house, a little duplex in Midtown, perfectly adequate for my needs.

Then I was informed, rather suddenly, that my landlord would be giving my unit to her nephew who would be moving to Tallahassee to attend college and I needed to be out by mid-August.

Not only was this something I had not planned for, not even remotely, it was already July!

Anyone who knows the Tallahassee rental market knows you need to start making moves in early summer to find a decent spot for August move-in because–duh, we’re a college town.

With little to no optimism, I started combing listings on every rental site, making peace with the fact that my current rent was not going to translate to a lateral move.

I had some guidelines:

  • No roommates
  • No apartment complexes
  • Some semblance of an outdoor space (even if that was just a stoop big enough to perch a coffee mug on)
  • Not on a busy road (I currently live on a major intersection, the only constant in my life is road noise.)
  • Must allow cats

With my very unusual rental history, I knew working with a property management company would be tricky at best, so I was also trying avoiding any kind of middleman.

In Tallahassee, this is a tall order in a short time frame.

But after only a few days of searching, I found a place that seemed unreal. Like so perfect that I was positive it was a scam. The best looking listing always are, it seems.

This place was seriously the dream.

At the end of the prettiest canopy road in town (in my humble opinion), part of an intentional living community, on two acres of land, plus–it even had a Jacuzzi tub.

After much hemming and hawing, a visit to a dreary rental in Midtown and a bit of prodding (and some inspired rental website maneuvering) from one of my dear friends, I snagged a tour.

I was nervous about meeting the owners that I can only compare it to a job interview.

But to make a long story short, they loved me, I loved the house, I applied and got the house.

THE HOUSE. THE DREAM HOUSE.

Blooming Where You’re Planted

Obviously, this move is having quite the effect on that plan I mentioned earlier. Even though it’s only a six month lease, it’s a longer commitment to Tallahassee than I had originally planned to make–if even just by a few months.

While I had other options, to move home to Pensacola or trade in my guidelines for some other temporary fix, I took the risk and the subsequent plunge for a few reasons that I think are important to consider when you’re staring down the barrel of an unplanned life change.

  1. What do you really want?

Chances are, your plans have an end goal. I thought moving away from Tallahassee would be my ticket to an experimental “reset” on my identity, shake me out of the stupor that living in one town for more than 6 years has given me.

I thought it would give me a new perspective to write from, somewhere new to explore and dig my heels into.

It would challenge me to make new friends and connections, be even more independent than I’ve been thus far in my adult life.

It would prove I can do whatever I put my mind to.

And honestly–a move would still do all of those things. It’s not something I’ve totally ruled out within the next year.

But what I wanted: distance, novelty, nature, motivation, new community. This in-town move still allows for all of that.

2. What are you willing to do to get what you want?

My new place is more expensive than my current one and I know that increasing your living expenses in the first year of working for yourself is a huge risk. Pretty much everyone tells you not to even think about it.

But, in this space, I know I could happily do the extra work that I’ll need to do to adjust for the cost of the privilege of living where I want to.

I’ve also had to be willing to take sole responsibility for my life from here on out.

My mom suggested I move home, let my family circle the wagons around me. That offer was tempting (and I seriously love my family for being that kind of crew), but I knew I would agonize over the “what if” of sticking it out on my own because I haven’t failed, hit rock bottom or intentionally chosen to move home because I was excited to.

Everyone has also pointed out: “But it’s such a drive, how will you drive that distance all the time?” (Spoiler alert, I won’t, but we’ll get to that.)

So the reality looks like: longer hours, more work, less disposable income, still not within a stone’s throw of my family and a good drive from my normal social safety nets in town.

3. Are you willing to embrace the reality of your dream?

Whether it was in Tallahassee or Tennessee, my dream house was always going to be a good bit from town.

It was always going to require an idealistic, pioneer-woman type independence–with a good dash of Puritan self-discipline.

Realistically though, having to be mindful about my trips into town to run errands, socialize, network? Having more dinner parties instead of nights at the bar? Spending more time reading books and taking long walks?

I wanted to be doing these kinds of things, um, forever ago?

But I always made excuses. It’s a pretty serious departure from the way I have lived my life the past few years. In fact, I’ve never lived my life like that.

The reality of my dream is that I’m going to have to be mature, responsible and mindful to make this work. I accept that.

Wherever you go, there you are

The answers to all of those questions doesn’t change based on where you go, no matter what it is that you want. A job in New York, a romantic partner on the West Coast, an “Eat, Pray, Love” experience abroad?

Great, go for it, but be ready to accept the terms and conditions of your dreams.

The only thing I have learned since leaving my hometown is that we are all who we are no matter where we go, where we live, what we do for work.

Lots of stuff sounds great in theory, but the reality is always going to be a little grittier and it’s always going to take more work than you originally planned.

You have to continue to live with yourself throughout all of it.

So what’s next?

For me and this move, this here project was a big motivator in my decision to take the plunge. If I wanted motivation and inspiration, this is going to be where I got it.

I’m really looking forward to sharing the move with all of you, plus all of the stuff I’m going to tackle while living out in the woods.

Here are some things I’d love if you did:

  • Ask yourself what dream it is you’re telling yourself is a “someday” dream and how you can get it as soon as a possible instead
  • Get over to Instagram and tell me about your dream that you want to head towards (gimme a follow so I can give you a follow, please and thanks)
  • Sign up for my brand spanking new mailing list so that I can send you notes about the moving process and share playlists with you because, yeah. (Form is below!)

Thanks for reading, love y’all!

Bad with Money

I am horrible with money. I’ve never had a savings account of my own as an adult, my credit score is embarrassing and every month is a jigsaw puzzle of moving spare change around to pay bills on time.

This isn’t because I’m poor, I know I’m still wildly privileged in many ways. This problem isn’t anyone’s fault but my own–I don’t want to come across like I’m looking for sympathy. It’s just that my self control is basically nil when it comes to spending.

I don’t need sympathy. I need a muzzle.

The idea of being good with money is fascinating to me. I have huge internet crushes on some Canadian personal finance and minimalism bloggers. I’ve been fascinated with the concept of minimalism for a year or two now. I even enjoy making budgets, I just can never seem to stick to them for more than a couple of weeks.

I’ve finally reached the point where I’m bored and annoyed with my own bad money habits. I don’t want to keep hearing the same tired narratives over and over again. I don’t want to keep clawing my from paycheck to paycheck.

What’s fascinating and terrifying about unpacking my money baggage is that spending is so tied up into every aspect of my life.

Drinks and meals with friends. Fees to enter state parks or rent tubes for floating down rivers. Paying bills to live on my own and run a business.

It’s also in all of my social media feeds. Buy our beautiful, sustainably made fashion. Hire us to provide you with a service you crave. Purchase a worthwhile resource or tool. Support us on Patreon.

I don’t begrudge anyone their hustle. I get it, I’m right in the mix with them. Everyone needs to make a living.

It’s not anyone’s fault that I can’t control my spending. In fact, it’s more of a compliment than anything that I am over eager to support the businesses that I do spend money at.

However, something’s got to give.

The easiest way to describe it is like discovering you’re intolerant to something. Like dairy or gluten. Eating bagels for breakfast every day for a week will make me break out or bloat like a balloon. If I eat an entire pint of ice cream, I’ll be doubled over in pain for a solid 3 hours.

That’s just my body trying to protect itself.

So I’ve considered reframing the language I use around spending to a mild allergy or intolerance.

“Thanks for the offer, but I have a spending problem so I have to decline.”

“That sounds lovely but do you have spending-free options?”

“Wish I could, but my budget doesn’t react well to non-budgeted purchases.”

There are a few courses and challenges I’m considering taking on to give myself some guidance in making big changes to my spending habits, but I’ll cover those in another post.

I feel like it’s important for me to mention that I’m lucky enough to have very marketable skills and work in a lucrative freelancing space with clients who truly value my work. I want to respect that kind of rare working relationship but shaping up my spending habits.

Here’s the point in the post where I remind you that I don’t have any answers. I just feel like this is something that is too difficult to articulate in real time, this feeling of not ever wanting to say no to people because of money.

If you’re interested, this is the short list of new things I’m trying to start curbing my spending:

  • I got a library card. This not only gives me somewhere to go that isn’t a coffee shop to work, but it also gives me access to books, DVDs and audiobooks that I would otherwise spend money on.
  • I’m making space in my life for previously abandoned pursuits. Reading, video games (that I own but have not finished), drawing and painting. Using up the resources with skills that I already have seems like a pretty noble pursuit at this point.
  • I’m going to be more active, but not just by working out. I want to keep hunting for springs and going for hikes. (Admittedly, a bike and an Eno hammock are on my list of planned purchases.)
  • If I cannot find something I want (also often heard as “need”) secondhand at a thrift store or online or at a yard sale, I’m not going to buy it.

When I think about all of the time and money I’ve spent consuming, I have to face the fact that I could have spent the time and money creating or at the very least experiencing.

I don’t regret the time or money I spend with family or friends, that’s for damn sure. But being more intentional with how I spend that time and money is really worth the extra logistical effort on my part.

The truth is that I’m scared of missing out on anything or having people take my decisions to spend less personally.

But really, what good am I doing anyone if I’m spending myself out of the lifestyle that lets me support local businesses or creatives that I admire?

This is just the beginning of a longer exploration of my relationship to spending and consumer culture, with the hopes of delving into some useful ways to dismantle the toxic patterns I’ve established for myself.