Depressive Episodes and Coping

It was tough for me to realize a few years back that just because you're on SSRIs for depression, doesn't mean the depression is fully gone and out of your life. I think what was hardest for me to comprehend was that nothing, not even medication, would ever be a full-proof solution for the lack of serotonin in my brain. 

My depressive episodes come and go, even with daily ingestion of my 40mg of Citalopram every evening before I go to bed. I'm not sure what triggers them, actually. I have a few theories. I think loneliness might be one of them.

When I'm in a particularly lonely, isolated period of my life, I tend to sink into a deeper sadness than is normal for me. I read somewhere recently that those who have a support system in their lives are more likely to overcome their depressive episodes faster than those who don't. Checks out.

It's not something I particularly care to whine about any more --- being alone. Every few months I'll have a good cry about it and occasionally share something on the internet that makes me cringe in embarrassment after I come out on the other side of the pity party. 

As I've gotten older, I've realized that all of us are lonely. Some just hide it (and hide from it) better than others. I've never been one of those people. I seek out comfort and validation from others that I'm not as unlovable as I feel I am. I feel crazy sometimes, thinking, "Is this it? Do I get to always be the outsider looking in at the parties and the group trips and the Instagram shout-outs until I die?"

I could go on, but point being -- I've been lonely since I was a little girl. I'm still lonely and alone, often times. Most of the time, I enjoy it. 5-10% of the time, it causes me to spiral.

Luckily, my depressive episodes aren't so unrelenting that they leave me in too bad of shape. I still go to work. I still go to the gym. I still get dressed and cook and carry on. I'm just, sadder. 

I have been able to find methods to comfort and cope over the years, and I'm grateful. Here's what I've been trying:

1. Movement. In July I started getting serious about running again, and I've been working on repairing my relationship with exercise. Part of that is intuitively listening to what kind of movement my body needs on any given day. A lot of days, it's been walking, which has been shown in studies to help improve symptoms of depression. I don't know if that's true, but it seems to be working for me. It's my own little time to zone out and just mindlessly move through the motions (something I can't do with running). It's been really good for me.

2. Getting dressed. For me, getting dressed is perhaps my favorite part of the day. I know it won't be for most people, but allowing myself to be creative and play around with clothes first thing in the morning gives me a good start to my day. Dressing up gives me a purpose and when I have purpose, I feel like I can be productive in my tasks. A mind trick, but a good one.

3. Preparing. I have high functioning depression, meaning I will most often still be doing day-to-day tasks, despite the depression. What has helped keep me motivated to keep pushing through the episodes has been to set myself up through success via preparing. It could be grinding my coffee beans in the evening so I have them ready in the AM or looking at my weekly calendar to see how I can better prepare ahead of time for busy days in the week. Preparing small things in my routine has given me a sense of control over my life when it feels like I'm not fully in the drivers seat.

Things I need to get better at:

1. Asking for help. I will do everything alone if no one stops me. It is so hard to ask my family, close friends and even partner to help me with things. I often feel like a burden, or that by asking for help I might become more work than someone has "signed-up" for. I realize how crazy that sounds. I'm just trying to get better at identifying to people close to me when things are hard -- the next step is actually letting them help me. 

2. Letting people know. Like asking for help, I won't let people know I'm struggling. I'll hide away everything I'm feeling so I'm not an inconvenience for anyone. I'm working on saying how I really am to allow others to step in when needed. 

3. Taking breaks. All three of these kind of go together, but it is really hard for me to take a break. I work myself -- personally and professionally -- to burn out. And once you're burnt out, that's really hard to come back from. I took a mental health day off a few weeks ago from work as a start to working on this.

These are all things that have been on my mind to write about the last few week as I've been dealing with them. I don't write as much as I used to, but I find that organizing my thoughts whether it's in a journal or a blog post like this really is therapeutic for me.

With much love,

Lauren

| Outfit Details |

80s sweater / thrifted
90s gap overalls / thrifted
Tan boots / thrifted
Dooney & Bourke Bucket Bag / thrifted
Red beret / had forever 

B is for Betty

My grandma was a collector of beautiful things. She loved everything floral, feminine and delicate. We would often take trips together to Carousel Antiques when I was visiting home from New York City. It's a treasure trove of all things old, and we would spend hours looking at all the glass casings, through the bits and bobs. She loved to move slowly, with intention and was always picking up something she was fond of to show me and looking at the bottom to see where it was made.

When she passed in August, we started sorting through her things in preparation to sell the house her and my grandfather lived in for 40+ years. Her jewelry was, of course, sentimental to look through. So many pieces I'd seen her wear for decades felt lost now without her. 

I selected a few of the pieces that meant something to me to keep and wear in her memory. One of those pieces is this brooch. I never saw her wear it and I'm not when she got it, but something about the B for Betty stood out to me. I love its pearl details and the little curve at the start of the B. It perfectly encapsulates all the sweet, feminine things she loved.

The scarf was also a special item I saved from my grandmother, but it actually wasn't hers. I believe it was my great-grandma's. My grandma had kept it tucked in a drawer of her dresser with other old silk scarfs and handkerchiefs from her mother. I never had the chance to meet my great-grandma, but my own would always tell me stories of how sweet and kind she was and that I would have loved her. I wanted a reminder of Nellie to keep with me, too.

This outfit felt special to me with these sentimental pieces woven together with old favorites I've had in my own closet for years. The beret is around 13 years old. I got it at Target when I was a freshman in high school and the tag inside is still stained from when my hair was bright pink. The knee socks I've had for probably around 10 years from when I was in college. I used to wear then allll the time. One actually has a hole in the back, but I can't bear to get rid of them. I'm sure we all have pieces like that!

I wonder if there will be anything my kids or grandkids will keep in my memory someday that reminds them of me. ❤️

With much love,

Lauren

Outfit Details

60s Emerald Green Cardigan / Thrifted

Velvet Circle Skirt / Thrifted

Gold Chain Belt / Thrifted

Day Heel / Everlane

Liz Claiborne Satchel / Thrifted

Braided Rope Earrings / Gift from my best friend

Merit Tinted Lip Oil in 'Sangria'

Is Blogging Dead? Can It Make a Comeback?

The other day I was curious if any of the old fashion blogs I used to read were still around. Originally finding them back in 2008/2009 was like discovering a key to another world. I would spend hours after school reading my subscription list and checking comment sections trying to find new blogs to follow. 

Almost all of the old blogs I used to read are actually still around. Many are frozen in time around 2013/2014 when Instagram really started taking off and it was easier to share over there than write a whole post. They feel almost like an abandoned house. Like the owner left in a hurry and might still come back someday where they left off. 

Others had been updated sporadically over the years (like mine), but most were updated every few weeks with sponsored posts or link lists around big sales.

Sometimes I wonder if blogs will ever make a come back. If the cultural pendulum will swing the other way and we'll all tire of the endless scroll of content. We'll desire a return to slowness. A return to human connection. 

That's why blogs have stuck with me personally over the years. It's because this used to be such a  community. I knew everyone who commented (partly because my blog was always small lol), but we had intimate conversations. I was so excited to get 10 comments on a post. I think about that now if I'm disappointed that an Instagram post doesn't receive my arbitrary benchmark of likes I've determined is successful. I still try to respond to every DM and comment because I care about the people who choose to follow what I post and share how how they connect it to their own lives.

With every new social app, we crave a deeper level of authenticity. When TikTok emerged, it scared a lot of creators because it took a new level of vulnerability to be successful on there. The whole draw of TikTok was anyone could be famous, just by being themself. That was a big departure from Instagram where it felt like you had to sell people an idealized version of yourself.

But even over the last year I've been on TikTok, I've seen content start to shift. It's hard to put my finger on it, but its started to feel like content created to feed an algorithm versus content for connection. And I say this because I've been guilty of creating content like this, so I'm sure others have felt this way, too. 

Then BeReal started gaining traction a few months ago. At 29, I felt annoyed and too old to jump on yet another social platform. But when I downloaded it, I realized it was actually pretty cool. No way to see the number of followers. Everyone is private. And you can only share once a day, nothing pre-filmed. I've been posting on it for about a month now and I have to admit, I really enjoy seeing just the average, every day lives of my friends. It makes me smile seeing them with their dog or fixing the same lunch they did yesterday. It feels normal, but also personal and intimate in a way.

That what I kinda hope to find again with blogging. I enjoy just coming back to this space and sharing with no pressure what's on my mind. Not many people are reading this, but just like the limited audience of BeReal, I like it that way. It helps me feel more secure in sharing. And if you are reading this, I hope you found a little bit of comfort in the 5 minutes (or less if we are being real) it took to go through this post. That would make me happy.

With much love,

Lauren

Outfit Details

Ribbed Knit Top / thrifted

Wool Camel Blazer / thrifted

Vintage Lee Jeans / thrifted

Tan Heels Boots / thrifted

Dooney & Bourke Bucket Bag / thrifted

Autumn Leaves Silk Scarf / thrifted

A New York Story

I've been settling back into my routine here in Brooklyn after spending time in Ohio on and off this summer. I think I finally feel like I'm falling back into the swing of things: just in time to head back to Ohio next week. 

My relationship with Ohio has evolved over the last six years in New York. Those first few years I was hell bent on making New York work and threw everything I had into creating a life here. I also just really wanted to. It was my dream and I was finally living it -- even if it was on a barely livable wage in a cockroach infested apartment. It didn't matter, it was New York or no where for me.

Somewhere around year two or three my dedication started to waver. I missed home, sometimes. A difficult roommate situation that left me feeling like a stranger in my own home pushed me towards the home I always knew. I really thought seriously about moving back to Ohio around 2018. The things that once drew me to New York didn't feel as sparkly any more. I was deeply homesick.

I gritted my teeth through years two and three and then then coasted along into four fairly easily. I found my stride in a new job with a renewed purpose and the roommates situation had shifted in my favor. I was working out consistently. Enjoying living in as a single for the first time in the city, discovering what that meant. I had friends that I finally connected with and the city didn't feel quite as lonely as it once did.

Then that all came to a screeching halt in 2020. 

Sometimes I wished I'd blogged through the beginning of the pandemic and what that was like here in New York. My experience seems so different to others who lived outside cities. Everything was so strictly shut down and I didn't leave my apartment for those first few weeks. I was too scared to even go on walks outside. Grocery lines wrapped around the block to shop through bare, ransacked aisles. Whole subway cars sat eerily empty for the first time...ever. Everyone left. I stayed.

It was a loneliness I hadn't experienced before. In a time of such unknown to be away from everyone, shifted my world. It made it so small. My roommates had left, so it was just me alone. I didn't have any family to rely on our a partner to hold me. It was just me.

When it was finally safe enough to travel again, of course the first place I went was back to Ohio. I was working from home and everything in the city was shut down, so it made sense. I spent a few months with my family in the summer of 2020 and that's when my priorities started to shift. 

I was reminded what it meant to be with family again and to have people there for you. For nearly four years, I'd battled everything out on my own. I'd gotten used to accepting surviving as going through it all myself and had forgotten that's not how life should go. It's ok to depend on people, and I was doing that for the first time in a long time.

Over the next two years, I spent time on-and-off in Ohio anywhere from two weeks to nearly two months. Some people worked from Hawaii, my choice was Ohio. Slightly less scenic, but it felt safe in a world where I needed comforting. With every trip back, I had to fight a nagging truth emerging in the back of my mind that I couldn't pretend wasn't there. I really fucking missed Ohio. 

New York began to dim for me as I spent less time there. The people I loved had all moved away. The places I'd frequented, shuttered. The feeling of magic the city had brought me dimmed. 

At what point was this worth it anymore? Being away from my family to...do all of this alone after everything I'd been through? It felt like a step backwards.

I've slowly been trying to repair my relationship with New York over the last year, but it's been hard. I'm still struggling with it, especially going home so frequently. It doesn't exactly make it easy to fall back in love with a place when you're hardly ever here. 

But like any human relationship, be it romantic or friendship, love takes work. There is still so much I do love about New York. Brooklyn, especially. 

I was coming back home this week from a day at the office in Manhattan. Sweaty, exhausted and on a N train stuck on the Manhattan bridge (with no indication of moving any time soon), I couldn't help but sit back and think about how fulfilled I still felt doing this damn thing. The way it felt to walk through Central Park or how it felt to look out the subway window and see the kind of skyline that you never quite get used to. I know I'm not done here yet. I'm just working on the next chapter for me and what that looks like, and I think that still includes Ohio and the special place its holds in my heart. My therapist always encourages me to not look at the world so black and white, and I think that applies here, too. 

You can love two places at once. 

With much love,

Lauren

Outfit Details

Peasant Top | thrifted 

90s Miniskirt | thrifted

60s Etiene Aigner Messenger Bag | thrifted

Heeled Boots | thrifted

Chain Belt | thrifted

Earrings | thrifted

Gold Chain | my grandmother's

Freezing Time

My grandma passed away on August 13th. Almost a month has passed and I've been wanting to write about it, but it feels like nothing I share would fully capture what she meant to me. Still means.

One of my biggest fears when I moved to NYC in 2016 was the thought of not getting back home if something were to happen to a family member. Every "can I call you real quick?" text from my parents over the years has caused my stomach to drop, immediately thinking the worst had happened and I wasn't there to say goodbye.

While I was in Montauk over my birthday, my grandma's health started declining and I wrestled back and forth on whether to come home. It was first year of 29 she hadn't wished me a happy a birthday. I knew in my heart things weren't going to get better.

So I flew home. So scared in the back of my mind that if I continued to wait, I wouldn't be there for the moments that mattered most. I booked a next day flight for 6AM and of all the flights over the years to miss -- I missed this one. I was wrecked with emotion, feeling like any minute ticking by was lost time to be there with her. 

Kind strangers pulled some strings to get me on the next available flight to Ohio. Relief. I boarded the plane with Tito at 9AM and touched down an hour later. 

Seeing my grandma in hospice care at her home for the first time, I bent over sobbing, unable to control my emotion. My sweet grandma. To see her so changed in just the month since I had last been home shocked me. 

I took her hand in mine and told her I was home from New York to see her. She opened her eyes and nodded her head, knowing I was there for her. That was all I wanted.

Over the next five days, I stayed there with my mom through the day and night. She had been taking care of my grandma over the last few months and it was time I took care of both of them. 

I ran and got my mom ice teas from Mcdonald's and coffees from the shop downtown. I let her take naps as I watched over grandma so she could rest without worry. I talked with her, hugged her and told her it was going to be ok.

My grandma lost consciousness soon after I arrived home, but I think she always knew I was with her. I held her hand and whispered about all the things I loved that we did throughout the years and what she meant to me. I told her the funny memories from my childhood I remembered or that she'd told me. My favorite she would always re-tell laughing is when she took me on a hayride during the fall and I proudly announced to the whole wagon that "My grandma can't have candy apples 'cause she has false teeth since she didn't brush 'em when she was younger!"

My grandma loved to smell good and she loved skincare. After I started working at Kiehl's in 2016 and brought home products, she really took a liking to them and continued to purchase them after I left. So, I made sure she was still smelling and looking good, applying hand cream to her every day and making sure to put on Midnight Recovery Oil and Super Multi-Corrective Cream every night. 

I played her favorite music for her. She loved Elton John, Dolly Parton, Josh Groban and Ed Sheeran. 

My family was by her side when she passed. It's been almost a month, but I still don't think it's fully hit me yet. There has been relief for me in her passing,  I feel better knowing that she no longer has to be in that pain.

I keep searching for signs that she's here with me. I try to look for red birds since they were her favorite or listen to the wind chimes that hang outside our house to see her dropping by.

I don't understand death, really. I'm loosely religious so I understand what comes after, but I also just still hope, despite my doubt, that it's what really does happen. I can't imagine a way to cope with her being gone if it's not.

I wanted to capture everything -- freeze time in the house -- as it was to remember. I took this series of film photographs around her house in those first long days that blurred together. I don't want to leave reality up to my memory to decide. I want to remember the warmth that existed here through her life. The small touches that show she lived a beautiful, real life.

I have a lot of thoughts still, but this was a start.

With much love,

Lauren

29th Birthday in Montauk

Outfit Details

60s dress / found in Italy studying abroad in 2015

Earrings / thrifted

I turned 29 in Montauk on Monday. 💗 I decided to take a solo trip on my own to Montauk for a few days over my birthday. Usually I rely on others to help my birthday feel special but I wanted to take it into my own responsibility so I could make my birthday full of my favorite things. I found just spending a quiet, low-key day with myself and connecting with those closest to me was just what I needed!

This is my third summer spending time in Montauk and it reminds me a lot of Ohio. Montauk for me has always been a place for me to reflect, disconnect from social media and reconnect with myself.

One of those ways is through photography! I shot outfit photos for so many years for this blog and in more recent years haven't continued to practice that passion. I've been re-discovering it lately and man, it feels good. Shooting with a DSLR has helped me feel more creative and passionate about creating something again. I didn't realize how much I missed finding a location and building an outfit around it to tell a story.

I felt proud of these photos and loved taking them. Reminded me of how I used to race against the sun for that perfect golden hour light before it disappears. Ignoring the bug bites, dripping sweat, smeared makeup to just to keep trying to get that perfect shot. Honestly, it's worth it every time.

 

With much love, Lauren

Loose Ends

 

I've felt this pull lately and I'm sure you've felt it too. To go back to how things were before social media. 

It's kinda funny. I fell into my career in social media because of this blog. It fostered in me a love for digital community, mixed with my passion for thrifted and vintage fashion . Having found so much joy in this community online and the relationships I built over the years led me to believe that I should turn a career out of it. Isn't that what we all kinda do? Whether it's what we physically produce (like art) or the way we think (analytically), we take what we're good at and decide: "Hey, let's turn this thing that makes me happy into a thing that makes me money." I don't know. I've rarely heard them both exist simultaneously well together.

I enjoy working in social media. It's a flexible career that is always changing and involves a lot of creativity, which I enjoy. But at the same time, I can look at how doing it professionally impacted the way I viewed the way I do it for pleasure. 

I rarely just create to create anymore. There's always a level of expectancy to my work. I know the importance of including hooks for my videos, cropping my photos to the golden ratio, integrating key words so I turn up in organic search, posting optimal times to reach my audience. Nothing ever feels...unintentional anymore. Even photo dumps, meant to feign oh-my-god randomness, are still these highly curated glimpses into what we want people to believe (or not believe) about our lives and who we are.

Is it possible to share ourselves online that is not in some way, curated to how we desire others to see (like) us?

When I started my blog in 2009, it was just me sharing into the abyss. Its purpose was solely for me to share things that excited me. I looked forward to taking pictures of my outfits every day after school because photography and fashion were hobbies I was newly exploring. I don't even think anyone read my blog for at least 6 months, so worrying about how people might perceive my posts never crossed my mind.  It probably should have. :')

I guess a lot of discovery periods are like this. You don't have data that's either good or bad in your brain to compare to-- you're only just starting something. It's always fun because you move forward quickly and then fall back just as quickly as you begin to learn.

But once you become more established, you feel like you should be farther along than you are or if you're like me, that maybe you're not as good as you once were. I often look back at photos I was taking in 2013 (nearly a decade ago) and think: "How did I do that? I wouldn't be able to now."

Overtime I've felt like a trifecta of:

a) turning a passion into a profession

b) over-contemplating how I'm perceived

c) comparing myself to my old self

...has killed my ability to be really, truly authentic myself in what I create. I don't think it's the algorithms I'm tired of. I'm tired of myself. It wouldn't be as disappointing when a photo performed like shit if it was one I loved and was proud of. Instead, satisfaction in my work feels dependent on external performance instead of my own internal feelings. 

Maybe I'm always starting hobbies (and remaining mediocre in the ones I abandon) because I'm running from my own disappointment in myself. Or fear of disappointment, sometimes.

Is it even possible to get back to creating without expectations in a modern world of social media? I felt like that's what I was trying to do with this blog and re-starting it. But even after a few posts, I started placing pressure on myself to perform and come up with systems of success for this new venture. I got scared I wasn't creating compelling posts, so I just didn't post for 6 months instead. 

This entry is a mess but maybe that's what I need. I create end results that others want to see, but don't always make sense to me. This is a loose end that doesn't have a knot tied right now. 

With much love,

Lauren

Am I Too Sensitive For the Internet?

I remember back in the peak of blogging public enemy #1 for me was GOMI, or get off my internets. If you have no idea what the fuck I'm talking about, it's probably for the best, but I'll explain what it was.

GOMI was kind of like the Diet Prada of the 2010s to roast tone-deaf bloggers and the wild shit they would do. The actual blog was pretty good, and I found myself checking it weekly and reading the gossip about so-and-so. A quick google search and it seems like the site is still up and running, doing the Lord's work.  Where the fun ended for me were the forums which were like a reddit where you could start threads about different bloggers. I thought it was the worst thing in the world to have people saying shitty things about me, but if I read back on them 12 years later as an adult I'd probably agree with most of the sentiment about teenage me lol. I was a little self-righteous ass-hole.

I'd prefer this kind of behind-your-back shit talking to what it is now where people just write what they don't like about you directly to you. At least I could choose whether I wanted to read it instead of having it forced in from of me unwillingly via a comment or a DM.

I've always been sensitive. Too sensitive. I might even classify myself as a HSP (highly sensitive person). I cry when I'm angry, sad, hurt, scared; you name it. I feel a lot of things and at certain points in my life it feels like a positive: but, recently it feels like a weakness.

I get that I'm not for everyone. I even irritate myself sometimes. But in the last 3-4 months or so, I've noticed this increase of people having a negative thing to say about the topics I talk about or the way I choose to live my life. 

The social media manager in me tries to take myself out of the picture and look at what's happening from a macro POV. Accountability for Internet personalities has risen the last few years and continues to. As it should, to a reasonable extent. We demand more from the people we follow & give our social currency  (which translates to $$$$) to and sure, we'll forgive a mis-step here or there...but one too many and it's a full-blown cancel. 

Platforms like TikTok thrive on authenticity (the opposite of Instagram's aesthetics-based machine), and it's allowing more people to open up about personal topics. Which should be a positive! Mental health, self-esteem/appearance, relationships...I know for even myself personally when I come across a video on my FYP that has the person speaking to me in a realistic, friend-like way, I'm more drawn to them. We form a parasocial relationship, or a "one-sided relationship that a media user engages with a media user engages with in a media persona." Sometimes because we see someone and think we 'know' them because we know their internet persona, we believe we can say anything we want. You can, but it doesn't mean you should.

I think this post from Nedra Glover Tawwab sums it up for me.

Whether I deserve individuals critiquing and correcting me about or if it's just a part of this weird shift in social media usage, both of them result in the same distressing emotions for me.

It's hurtful to look at my phone and the first thing I see when I wake up is a preview of a message saying something negative. 

I think about it all day, obsess over it, feeling sick to my stomach. Are they right? Do other people believe that about me? I wonder who else thought that and didn't say it? Could I have provided more context? Should I go back and change my caption? Delete my post? Do I not talk about this topic any more? Am I being dismissive about their experience if I feel like what they said about me isn't true? Am I problematic? Am I annoying? Do people hate me?

I'll spiral all day and usually it ends in a bunch of frustrated tears because I hate disappointing people. When they're unhappy, I feel like it was my fault and I want to make it better, and that has been a habit I've carried with me in my romantic relationships, friendships and even work until there was nothing left of me at. I was just a patchwork quilt making up everyone else's thoughts but my own.

I've thought about this a lot and discussed it in therapy quite a bit, trying to process and objectively look at all the angles until they make sense to me. Where do I go from here?

The internet has always been my place where I come to express my feelings and maybe it can't serve that purpose for me anymore. I'm 28 now, not 16. I have so much admiration for those on the internet that continue to showcase their true selves and open up about the really hard parts of life. It makes me feel seen to witness others going through the same things I am. I always want to do that for others, too. But I can't continue to at the expense of my own mental health and well-being.

At the same time, part of me knows that whether I choose to put myself fully out there or hide parts away, there will always be negative opinions. Is it worth pulling back if it's inevitable?

Maybe it's more about balance. I'm always seeing things as black or white. All in, or nothing at all. Perhaps getting to a place of sharing less, but still sharing the important things that I'm not willing to compromise on is a better median. I think in the meantime, I need to continue to work through not taking everything people say about me so personally. It's just the internet. We all need to relax.

With much love,

Lauren

January Wrap

January somehow always feel like the longest, most confusing month of the year. It's half in that lulled holiday haze of December, but then you're shoved back into reality at 100mph trying to start the year off on the right foot. Throw in seasonal depression and mercury in retrograde and it's always a hell of a ride. 

I'm going to attempt (making no promises here) to write a monthly wrap at the end of each month of just some of my favorite things and favorite moments. Here's January.

What I felt:

My month was separated out half in Ohio, half in NYC. It's always so hard to come back, and I've become accustomed to the emptiness I tend to feel when I leave home. I've been able to develop coping mechanisms to get me through that tough first week. The adjustment wasn't too bad this time around, and I was able to get myself in a good rhythm of routine this month in creating, cooking, exercising, reading, and of course, working.

Despite perhaps my highest productivity yet, I felt very burnt out. When things in my professional or personal life still felt chaotic despite my best attempts at creating beneficial systems to help myself, I felt like giving up. What's the point of trying *so hard* for everything to still be a fucking shit show? 

I'm really working on continuing my productivity (and positivity) systems into February and not giving up. I hope making progress on this will eventually allow me to feel less overwhelmed with my life.

What I was proud of:

I've never, ever been a morning person. But I was finding that starting my days waking up 5 minutes before my first meeting of the day wasn't uhhh, super effective. So, I made an intention to start waking up earlier this month after getting back to NYC and it's been really great! I'm not up at 6 or anything yet, but even waking up at 7:45-8:00ish every day has helped me tremendously in setting my days up for success and getting a moment to myself before I begin the craziness. I attribute going to bed at a decent hour to my ability to get up lol. 

I also made an intention (they're kind of like resolutions, but softer. read more here) to find movement 3x a week. Consistently moving my body the last few months has been a priority that has fallen to the wayside. I've had some issues in the past about being obsessive with my working out, so I wanted to keep the kind of movement open and just find it 3x a week. I've kept my intention and I've been feeling great. A lot of yoga and some sessions back at the gym weight lighting. My ass hurts. 

What I struggled with:

I struggled this month with people's opinions of me online and their criticism. I've gotten to the point where I feel like I can hardly share anything online without being met with a sharp word or unsolicited opinion about what I'm doing. It's left me feeling exhausted and honestly fearful to share anything personal on Instagram or TikTok. Which makes me sad, because I never feel quite like myself sticking to surface level things. It's kind of why I've come back to the blog. I feel like this space is less seen by most people and I can more freely share what's on my mind.

What I wore:

Lots of fun outfits this month, despite it being January! I've been making it an initiative to get dressed every day working from home, and it's been fun to flex my creativity. 

I was inspired by Audrey Hepburn's style a lot this month (probably the pixie cut) and also played around with 70s styles, which is new for me! One of my reads this month, more down below, inspired me to explore 70s looks a bit more. 

I started a new series on TikTok breaking down my outfits, this one casually garnering 190,000 views which is pretty wild. 

What I read:

I finished up Wintering by Katherine May which was a good read on finding rest in retreating during hard times. I think I needed to read something like that for where I am right now, but also a great book I know I'll come back to. 

I also finished 50 Years of Fashion by Valerie Steele which I've had on my bookshelf for years at home ad never read. I forgot how much I enjoyed reading and learning about historical fashion and it really lit a spark within me to continue cultivating my knowledge in this passion! 

What I watched:

Fun fact about me: I love trashy TV. At the end of the day, I don't have much of the mental capacity to concentrate on a show, so I enjoy watching mindless things that make me chuckle.

Hype House was about the TikTok content house full of 20-year olds that I actually really enjoyed and found fascinating, although a lot of other's didn't enjoy it. I work in social media so I think there's some personal interest there for me.

Other trash I really enjoyed: Too Hot Too Handle Season 3. The show is absolute ridiculous but somehow I still fall in love with the characters and their development every time.

For movies, I watched Girl Interrupted for the first time (holy FUCK Angelina!!!) and re-watched Chocolat. Definitely on an old-movie kick right now. 

What I ate:

Fixed a lot of salmon. Up until last year, I'd never had it but it's really been my go-to, easy weeknight meal I've been fixing at least 2x a week. 

It felt so good to get back to the NYC food scene and all the amazing restaurants here. 

Olea continues to be a favorite of mine - I got braised short rib special and mulled wine.

Tried Miriam for the first time! Chicken Snitzel was A+++.

Visited my old stomping grounds of Stonefruit Espresso and remembered why it used to be my absolute favorite. The apple chai bundt was to die for.

What I listened to:

Podcast wise I started listening to The Mindset Mentor. Really loved this episode on 'What to do Every Morning' and 'Are You Making Your Life Harder?'

Been on a Del Water Gap kick something bad. Would love to see him in concert in 2022. 

Wanting to get into records (have been for awhile....) and currently shopping around for my first turnstyle. Will let you guys know when I pull the trigger on one!

What I bought:

Biggest purchases this month were items at the Manhattan Vintage Show ! I like to go once a year to drool over every thing and sometimes purchase. This time around felt a little different. Usually I'll talk myself out of items I love: "It's too expensive! You have no where to wear it!" This is really hard for me. Sometimes I think I don't deserve them or it feels frivolous, but the reality is I never buy 'new' clothes aside from thrifting, and even if I did, I probably would pay close to the same amount as these vintage pieces....so why not? You can see what I got here.

Cheers to February!

With much love,

Lauren 

Lineage

When I was home in Ohio for the holidays, this theme of lineage and traditions kept coming to mind. 

I think the holidays are perhaps the time of year when most of us have the fondest memories of childhood. It brings about things our parents or grandparents would do for us every year that solidify in our mind and we reflect back on many years, often decades, later. 

For me, it's baking sugar cookies with my maternal grandmother. It was always a multi-day process. 

Creating the dough from a scratch recipe that was passed down from her mother and letting it chill overnight in those big, primary colored Pyrex mixing bowls (funny I now have my own set). 

Rolling out the dough and picking out the shapes from the drawer of metal cutters -- a star, a candy cane, a Santa, and a reindeer (a bitch one to frost with all its little curves). 

Watching them puff up through the glass of the oven and removing them to cool. I was always sneaking one to eat before frosting, to me they tasted best when they were warm. 

Mixing up the powdered sugar for homemade icing and choosing which bottles of food coloring we needed to attempt some colors. 

Frosting with a curved butter knife and turning green with envy over the way my grandma was always able to smooth the icing so perfectly while mine gooped over the edge.

Finishing it all up with the many different sprinkles from my grandma's collection and ALWAYS putting an eye on the reindeer. 

Another thing I really reflect back on is my grandma's tree and the ornaments she put on it. Her living is room small, the tree was always narrow and tall -- the opposite of ours at home. She made magic with the tree, filling it with her snow baby collection and accents of red birds and berries. But the ornaments I always admired most were the old ones. Three stick out in my mind.

The velvet elf with the teal outfit, a sweet smile and full cheeks. A tag with 'made in Hong Kong' on the bottom. 

The velvet reindeer that was red with little white spots.

The carousel that had a little fan that twirled with the air from the heat register came up.

I had my first real tree in Brooklyn this year, a little 4.5 footer bought at the bodega on the corner of Atlantic Avenue right by the Salvation Army. I'd been adamant about finding vintage ornaments for it that could carry on some of that nostalgia and tradition that I felt at home and my grandma knew that. She gifted me this year the prized velvet elf I've loved for so long. I can't wait for it to be the first one I hang up next year.

While I was home, she gifted me something else. Two aprons that my great-grandma Nellie wore when she baked. 

I never met my great-grandma, she passed before I was born, but I'm always told I would have loved her. She was tiny at 4'11" and had 6 children (my grandma the youngest) and loved to bake. My grandma has always said she wishes that she had some of her hats and gloves that they donated when she passed because I would have loved them. ❤️

I picked up baking during the pandemic as a way to pass the time but to also self-soothe during such an anxious time. I'd been looking for an apron to wear during my baking adventures, so having my grandma gift me some my great-grandma wore is beyond special.

I hand washed them last weekend to bake an apple pie wearing one in her honor. You can watch the video HERE.

Honestly, it was emotional thinking about how she wore this same apron and made things for my grandma and her siblings when they were younger, now all in their 70s and beyond.

It brought up a lot of feelings for me. 

One, just the general feeling of homesickness for family and connection. I've been in Brooklyn now five and a half years and I think it's kind of like processing a death. It gets easier, but the sadness never really goes away. Every time I go home, I'm reminded and comforted of what it means to have and be a family. They take care of me and love me. The sacrifices my mom and dad make for me, even at 28, aren't lost on me. 

It also made me think about how easy it can be to forget the generations before us, and that makes me so sad. I don't know much about my great-grandparents on either side and know nothing about my great-great. That's only four generations removed. I am able to be who I am today because of them. I'm sure traits and mannerisms have been passed down to me that I'm not even aware of because I simply don't know. It makes me want to know them more intimately in order to carry on their memory.

Last, it made me think about the own lineage I'd like to continue. I could write multiple posts about my feelings (past and present) about my decision to have or not have children. It's always been a difficult topic for me and my opinions on what's right for myself have shifted over the years. In more recent, I've realized that I do want kids in some capacity, and in this recent re-connection to some of my ancestors, it further solidifies that I want to continue passing down traditions and meaning to future generations. 

Lots of jumbled thoughts in this post, but they're all somewhat interconnected to the idea of keeping memories and traditions going. I think it gives such deep meaning to our lives to carry on purpose outside of just ourselves. x

With much love,

Lauren