March Reflections

Another month is already here! It’s hard to believe how quickly this year is flying by.

March was an exciting month for two reasons. The first was that, after eight weeks of intensive writing, I finally finished my rewrite of my novel! I have to admit, writing was HARD in March. I thought that I’d get more motivated as I got closer to the end, but I just ended up getting more tired with each passing week. By the time I made it to the final week, I was just desperate to wrap things up.

Luckily I had my AMM community to keep me motivated. Seeing my fellow mentees make progress on their novels made me want to work on my novel, too. I honestly don’t know if I could have stayed as disciplined without the program and my writing group to keep me accountable. This is why it’s super important to have a support system as a writer.

My novel’s definitely not in perfect shape yet, but I am SO happy with how it’s turned out so far. I feel confident that I’ve addressed a lot of the issues my writing group pointed out in my previous draft. They’ve read about 10 out of 40ish chapters and they all agreed that it was a great rewrite and I was definitely moving in the right direction. Hearing that gave me a much-needed morale boost.

So what happens now? I’ll spend another two weeks cleaning up some chapters and then I’ll send it to my AMM mentor to read. If she doesn’t have any major feedback, I’ll spend another few weeks polishing up the prose and then send the whole draft to two additional beta readers, along with my writing group. At that point, if everyone gives me the thumbs up, I’ll start the process of querying my novel and trying to find a literary agent for it. It’s hard to believe that I rang in this year fretting about whether I was a strong enough writer to implement my writing group’s feedback, and now I’m here less than three months later with a strong new draft! Go, me!

The second reason March was exciting was that I signed a lease on a new apartment! It was love at first sight when I saw my new place, and not just because they were offering four months of free rent as a Covid concession and my new building has some amazing amenities like an indoor tennis court and gardening room (okay, those things were a pretty big part of it too). The funny part is the things I’m most excited for are features I’m sure most people would find pretty boring: actual counter space in my kitchen, a bathtub, a washer/dryer IN the unit (my fellow New Yorkers will understand what a big deal this is).

Everything happened so fast with the apartment. Within a week, I’d seen the listing, viewed the apartment in person, and signed my lease. I’m making the big move on April 30th, and I can’t wait!

March was very productive, but it was also pretty laidback. April, on the other hand, is going to be a different story. This month I’ll be:

-Getting back into dating after a four month break

-Doing another egg freezing cycle

-Working with my AMM mentor on revisions

-Doing an orientation for a new volunteer opportunity

-Job searching because my current contract will be up in a few months

-Moving

I should also be getting my Covid vaccine this month! My friends and family have all gotten at least one dose by now, so I’m the holdout. But I’ll finally be eligible in two days! If all goes well, I’ll have my first shot by the end of this week!

Now that I’m not writing 2000 words a day of my novel, hopefully I’ll have more writing stamina to post more regularly on this blog. I’ve missed you guys!

I hope everyone else had a great month. Here’s to another great month ahead!

You Can Always Come Home

The American singer Alan Jackson once sang:

You can always come home
Wherever life’s road leads
You can get back
To a love that’s strong and free
You’ll never be alone
In your heart there’s still a place
No matter how right or wrong you’ve gone
You can always come home

As an introvert, I’ve always thought I was pretty good at navigating my alone time, especially during the pandemic. I was able to fill up my days with solo activities and discover new ways to keep myself occupied at home, even impressing friends and family who would ask with curiosity and a little bit of awe, “How do you not get bored being alone all the time?”

Admittedly, that alone time got a little harder to navigate after I went separate ways with the last person I dated. I was still mostly okay, but there were times—laying in bed at night or when my mind began to wander—that I’d feel it. That tiny but potent ache, the one that made me yearn to be held, to be with someone who made me feel warm and safe, to be taken care of.

This past Friday, my older sister came to pick me up so we could drive to my parents’ house for the holidays. Though I talk to my family almost every day, it had been a few months since I’d seen them or been home. I was looking forward to being reunited with everyone, but I also felt a faint sense of dread as we set off. It was the first time I’d be back home since things ended with my ex. I worried that if my mother made comments about me settling down or if I didn’t have my usual activities to distract me, it would make me think of him and all the negative emotions I’d done such a good job of evading so far. There were so many unpredictable factors at home that I didn’t have to worry about in the safety of my apartment and daily routine.

We got home around lunchtime, and by the time we walked through the door, there were already two plates of warm, home-cooked food waiting for me and my sister. To someone who’d spent the last few weeks eating salads, microwave meals, and takeout, I couldn’t get enough. Each bite made me think of my childhood, to all the times I’d gotten home from school to find my mom bustling around the kitchen, preparing my afternoon snack.

A lot of times when I come home, I’ll get bored pretty quickly. I’ll retreat to my bedroom and watch a movie on my laptop or see if any hometown friends are available to meet up. The last few times I came home, I would keep my phone beside me, anxiously checking to see if my ex had returned a text yet.

This time, I didn’t want to retreat. I wanted to be present and soak up every good feeling. Over the weekend, we spent a lot of time together as a family. My parents sat with us in the kitchen while my sister and I tried out new recipes, we watched the snow fall outside while laughing about past memories, we spent hours video-chatting with extended family, my sister and I snuggled up together at night the way we used to when we were younger and watched cheesy television.

The thing is, when you start telling yourself a story, it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not. The only thing that matters is if you believe it’s true. For a long time, the story I’ve been telling myself is that I’m alone. I don’t have a boyfriend or as big of a social circle as I’d like. Not even a roommate to keep me company during this pandemic. I was so lonely, and I was tired of being alone.

But then you have these moments that put everything back into perspective. When my mom offered up something for the umpteenth time (“Take these bananas with you,” “Do you need more paper towels?” “Here’s some cookware you can take with you.”), or my dad jumped up and got ready to drive to the store anytime we even vaguely mentioned needing something, or my sister spoiled me the way she always has since I was a baby, I was overcome by how wrong I’d been.

I’d spent months, maybe even longer, bemoaning the love I didn’t have in my life, never appreciating the love I did have. My parents and sister would call me daily, checking up on me, seeing if I needed anything, and I would brush them off so I could invest all my emotions and energy into people who didn’t invest in me at all. Despite that, their love for me never changed.

I still have a few more weeks left at home. I’ll probably get annoyed at my family a bunch of times while I’m here, but I’ll also be grateful that I get to spend this time with them. In the new year, I’ll head back to the city. I’ll take risks and push myself, experience both successes and failures, but above all I’m going to remind myself as often as I can that I will never be alone, no matter how much I try to convince myself otherwise. Knowing that, I already feel a little braver in building the life I want. Everything’s easier when you have people you love in your corner, and I’m willing to bet if you take a close look at your life, you’ll find you have plenty of people in your corner, too.

The Art of Coziness

Let me set a scene for you: powdery, white snow blankets the city. The usual barrage of honking horns and loud passerby are missing from the streets. Inside, the radiator hisses and rattles as it breathes warm air into the room, and a fire crackles in the hearth. Something warm is bubbling on the stove. The lights are dimmed and candles flicker all around you, and in your hands you hold a cozy book and a cup of hot chocolate. You feel safe, and warm, and content. This is hygge.

That was more or less what my evening looked like yesterday. Okay, I don’t have a fireplace, so I played a video of one on my TV, and there definitely wasn’t anything bubbling on the stove (I ordered takeout again, sue me), but I think I had the general concept down.

Yesterday I read, The Little Book of Hygge by Meik Wiking (amazing name). There’s a good chance you’re already familiar with this Danish concept of coziness, since it gained some global popularity a few years ago. The exact definition is difficult to pin down since it’s more of a feeling, but you’ve probably experienced it before. It’s candles, and warmth, and togetherness, and a coziness you feel in your very soul.

The great thing about hygge is anyone can do it anywhere. It doesn’t cost a specified amount of money, and you can do it with other people or alone. Here is “The Hygge Manifesto” as laid out in the book:

Atmosphere: dim lighting, candles, cozy setting
Presence: be here in the moment, no phones allowed
Pleasure: indulge in a warm drink and something sweet or hearty (preferably home-cooked)
Equality: help share tasks, like cooking, and don’t make the conversation all about you
Gratitude: appreciate this moment
Harmony: this is not the time to brag about your promotion or new car
Comfort: let yourself truly unwind
Truce: save the debates and controversial topics for another day
Togetherness: reminisce about shared memories and build relationships
Shelter: these are your people and this is your place. You’re safe here.

There are other great tips in the book, like what to eat (meals that take a long time to prepare are ideal) and what to wear (warm sweaters and wool socks). Reading it made me realize I’ve been a connoisseur of the hygge lifestyle for ages. For me, a warm drink + candles + a cozy book + rain = pure bliss.

It’s no wonder the people of Denmark are so happy, considering hygge is such a huge part of their national identity. It combines some of the most important elements necessary for happiness: social connection, gratitude, and savoring. They could have let the cold, dreary winters bring down their moods, but instead the Danes discovered a way to appreciate the joy and magic of the season.

In a time of increasing polarization, a global pandemic, and unprecedented obstacles, hygge can be especially useful. I loved the concept of hyggesnak, which doesn’t mean, as I initially assumed, the snacks you eat during hygge but “chitchat or cozy conversation that doesn’t touch on controversial issues.” Obviously, issues having to do with politics or social justice are very important, but I think people on both sides of these discussions can agree that they can be very draining. Taking a moment to breath and enjoy a quiet moment with friends might be just what the doctor ordered. Then, instead of a bunch of frazzled, high-strung people yelling at each other, we can have nuanced, productive conversations.

Last night, as I watched the snow float down from the sky and sipped my hot chocolate, I felt like I was on vacation or I’d been whisked away to some special place. I was actually surprised when I turned the lights back on and realized it was only Wednesday night. There’s a line I enjoy from the Memoirs of a Geisha movie where the main character talks about the art of turning habit into pleasure. To me, that’s what hygge is. It’s taking an ordinary day and transforming it into contentment and great memories.

From now on, I want to treat myself to a hygge moment at least once a week. For now, alone, but when the pandemic is over, with friends and family. I’m looking forward to the day when we can sit around in our warm sweaters and fuzzy socks, enjoy good conversation, and just be content to be with the people we love most.

Confessions of a Social Media Manager

So here’s something people are always surprised to learn about me: I’m not the biggest fan of social media.

Okay, there are some caveats to this, but you would think someone who’d chosen to make a career out of social media would be a more avid user.

The thing is, when I started working in social media back in 2013, it was a different thing entirely. Facebook wasn’t this corrupt entity, just a way to see what was going on in your friends’ lives. People weren’t getting canceled on Twitter, and YouTube stars weren’t releasing apologies over controversies every week. I’m pretty sure social media still wasn’t perfect then, but it definitely wasn’t the beast it’s become now.

Whenever I get started on a social media rant, I always feel like I should be holding a cane and waving it emphatically at any youths in the vicinity. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to say anything you haven’t heard before on the topic. Social media kills our attention spans, makes us more self-conscious, increases anxiety…sure, we know all this already.

It also lets us connect with people all around the world, feel like we’re part of a global community, express our creativity, increase awareness around important issues, do social good with a few keystrokes.

Social media isn’t inherently a good or bad thing in itself. It’s all in the way we use it, and one of the ways in which social media contributes most to our unhappiness is the reference points it provides.

Reference points are important, because they affect how we perceive our own happiness and quality of life. If you compare yourself to a coworker, your life probably won’t look too bad in comparison. If you compare yourself to Taylor Swift, that’s a different story. The problem is, social media presents us with nothing but unrealistic reference points. Scroll through your Instagram feed and you’ll see a bunch of teenage influencers sipping champagne on a yacht, ordinary meals styled to look impeccable with the perfect lighting, girls made up with professional makeup and nary a pore to be found. (This is not actually what my feed looks like btw).

Even your friends only post the best or most photogenic moments of their lives making it seem like everyone’s constantly having the most amazing time. I’ve actually worked with a few influencers at past jobs. It was amazing to scroll through their social media where they’d accumulated thousands of followers. They’d post pictures of themselves wearing glamorous outfits, flouncing around the city without a care in the world. If you didn’t know them in real life, you’d think they spent all their time going on amazing vacations, eating the best foods, and lounging around their penthouse apartments in expensive gowns. I did know them in real life, and real life was a much a different story.

At their day jobs, they didn’t dress up or come in with full faces of makeup. Most of them spent 40 hours a week being stressed out by terrible bosses, underpaid, and unsatisfied with their work. Maybe the rest of their lives were just as glamorous as it was on their Instagrams, but the part that wasn’t glamorous sure didn’t feature in any of their pictures.

Since learning the truth, I now tend to look at most influencers’ posts with a skeptical eye. I know that behind every perfect picture there’s a less than imperfect story, and that’s okay! We’re all imperfect, and if you want to portray a different story on social media, that’s okay too. It’s just important for all the rest of us to remember that what we’re seeing is in fact just that: a story.

There are times when I get frustrated with the people in my own life. Friends and family who will make me wait to take a bite of my meal until they get a great picture or who have their heads bowed down towards their phones the whole time we’re on vacation. I won’t pretend I haven’t been occasionally guilty of doing the same. When I visited Notre Dame in Paris a few years ago, everyone inside the cathedral had their devices out even though there were multiple signs informing visitors this was not allowed. When the news of it catching on fire broke out, I was so grateful for the time I’d been allowed to spend there, and even more grateful that I remembered every detail of the experience so vividly because I’d stubbornly refused to take my phone out.

I guess the whole point of this rambling rant is that social media can be a fun way to pass the time and, in many ways, a great tool. However, it’s up to us to make sure we’re using it in a way that benefits us instead of letting it run the way we live our lives. Lately, my social feeds have been filled with nothing more than pictures of dogs, happy quotes, posts about obscure interests, and cooking videos. That change alone was enough to reduce my daily anxiety considerably.

I’m not trying to tell you how to spend your time on the internet. I’m just saying, a few extra cute animals on your feed couldn’t hurt.

Starting Over

One of my favorite quotes is attributed to F. Scott Fitzgerald:

“I hope you live a life you’re proud of. If you find that you’re not, I hope you have the courage to start all over again.”

Like most inspirational Internet quotes that end up getting commodified on Etsy and pinned to dozens of Pinterests boards, it’s also likely misattributed. But regardless of who said it, I think of these words often.

Since I was in middle school, there’s one thing I’ve dreaming of: being a published author. I was a voracious reader growing up, and I wrote little stories here and there as a child. In 7th grade, I started writing a cheesy romantic novel with a close friend. We would stay up late at night, our faces illuminated by the glow of our laptops, as we took turns typing our story into an AIM chat window (oh dear, did I just date myself?).

It didn’t take me long to recognize that this thing that had started out as a fun pastime had become much more for me.

In high school, I started writing a new novel with a different friend. I had high hopes going in this time, because like me, she was also passionate about writing. We spent the next few years working on a manuscript, plotting out the next three books that would come in the series. I knew everything about the characters we’d created—their hopes, their fears, their aspirations. I loved that story, and I still do, but unfortunately it didn’t work out. While she was a talented writer, my friend was flaky, often missing the deadlines we set for ourselves, her investment in the novel fading as we entered our college years.

When it was clear that the project was officially dead, I found myself asking, What now?

The thought of writing a novel all by myself was exhilarating: getting to make all the decisions by myself, not having to navigate around someone else’s schedule or whims. It was also terrifying. I had never written a novel by myself and besides, I was so, so tired. I’d put so much time and love into crafting that story. I didn’t know if I had the energy to do it all again.

It turned out I did. I spent the next six to seven years working on my first solo manuscript. I wrote draft after draft, sometimes going months without writing due to the fatigue of simultaneously working 40 hours a week with an additional four hours of commuting each day.

Eventually, I moved to New York. I joined a critique group, and for the first time ever, I showed my work to real writers. I learned so much from them, first and foremost, that I had a lot more to learn.

One winter, we decided to take a break from our usual projects and work our way through a book of craft exercises. That was the first time in years that I’d written anything other than my project, which I just couldn’t seem to get to work. I was shocked by what I produced, and so was my writing group. I realized when I wasn’t constrained by a project I’d started writing in college, by a questionable foundation riddled with problems stemming from inexperience, I could apply everything I’d learned over the years and actually write something that was kind of…good.

A few months later, I submitted my entire manuscript to my group for review. They confirmed to me what I’d already known: it just wasn’t working.

So there I found myself with another decision to make: keep trying to make this thing I’d put so much time into work or start over again. I heard F. Scott Fitzgerald’s (or whoever said it’s) quote echo in my head. Did I really have the strength to do this again? I did.

I could feel an immediate difference as I started writing. I was able to implement all the knowledge I’d gained over the years, avoid the early mistakes I’d made in my previous projects. My writing group had overwhelming praise to offer for each chapter I submitted.

It’s been about a year and a half since I started working on that project. Yesterday, I submitted the second draft of the full manuscript to my writing group for their review.

In the past, the idea of starting over or putting my work out there for others to critique was terrifying. I always felt so drained, and asking me to give more was like trying to pour from an empty cup.

One way I handled those fears was by putting things off. The longer I went without showing anyone my writing, the longer I could believe that everything was just dandy. Of course, all I really ended up doing was wasting months I could have been using to improve my craft.

The thing is, all those things I was afraid of, the mistakes I feared making…they’re the reason I was able to write a novel I’m so proud of now. As in life, making mistakes is the only way to grow and living carefully doesn’t protect you from making them. It only keeps you from becoming a better version of you.

So make mistakes. Make them early, and make them often.

One day, I hope I’ll get to walk into a bookstore and see a book with my name on the shelf. When I look at it, I’ll see all the failed novels that came before it. And I will be so, so happy, because to me, it will be a testament that I had the courage to start all over again.

The Other Woman

There is a woman.

She’s the sort of woman everyone loves to be around. She is charming and funny and kind. She has interesting hobbies and aspirations. She is well-traveled and can speak knowledgeably about any number of fascinating topics.

She’s a great listener. She’s the kind of person who maintains eye contact with you and gives you an encouraging smile even when someone else cuts you off or talks over you. She makes you feel heard—really heard—hanging onto your every word as if it’s the most interesting thing anyone’s ever said. You leave every interaction with her feeling like you just had the best conversation ever.

She is disciplined. She works out regularly and has a great time doing it. It doesn’t matter if she’s in her living room following a fitness video or in a studio surrounded by dozens of other people. She is confident and leaves every workout sweaty and satisfied. Her fridge is filled with healthy meals she’s prepared herself, along with a few not-so-healthy snacks, because she also isn’t afraid to indulge.

She doesn’t let anything get her down. Flat tire? Rude people on the subway? She’ll still walk into the office with a smile on her face. She’ll make a joke about all the things that went wrong. She isn’t the kind of person who would mope around her apartment, even if it is gloomy, even if it is winter, even if there is a pandemic going on. She’d deck out her studio with holiday decorations and twinkly lights. She’d put on a jazzy Christmas playlist while cooking dinner, and then settle into bed with a cup of cocoa to watch a cheesy Netflix movie. She’d laugh out loud even if she was alone.

When it comes to dating, she doesn’t sweat it. She makes her needs known, but after that, whatever happens happens. When she gets rejected, she handles it with so much grace the other person starts to second-guess their decision. When she meets someone she likes, she makes them feel like they’re her whole world without actually letting them take over her world.

She’s one of those rare millennials that doesn’t turn down invitations, doesn’t need to be coaxed into leaving the comfort of her apartment. Of course, she loves her quiet nights in, but her days are filled with all kinds of fun activities and events. Meetings with other people who share her hobbies, gatherings with friends, opportunities to give back and spread acts of kindness.

She isn’t any sort of rare beauty, but she shines in that special way that happy people do. She isn’t afraid to approach that cute guy at the bar or strike up a conversation with the person standing behind her in line. She doesn’t second-guess herself or worry what strangers will think about her.

She goes after all her dreams, even if they’re hard, even if they’re scary. Especially if they’re scary. She encourages her friends to do the same. She’s the voice saying you can do it in a sea of naysayers. She believes in the beauty of her dreams, and she wants everyone around her to feel the same.

She isn’t much different from me. She isn’t smarter, more successful, more beautiful. But she does love herself in a way I’m still learning to.

She is the woman in my head, the one I look to for guidance in all the hardest moments of my life. What would she do? I wonder. Sometimes I’m brave enough to follow her lead, sometimes I’m not.

A few years ago, I didn’t look anything like that woman. I still don’t look like her in every way, but I’m closer than I was before. Maybe, if I keep working at it, one day I’ll look at her and I won’t see any difference at all.

Rewiring Your Brain

In Christine Hassler’s book Expectation Hangover, the author explains:

Repetitive thoughts form what are called neural nets in our brain, which are clusters of chemically connected or functionally associated neurons. What that means is that if you think the same thought or type of thought over and over, it forms an actual physical cluster of neurons in your brain. Over time these neural nets create “grooves” in your brain that your thoughts gravitate toward. For instance, if you repeatedly think, “I’m not good enough,” you create a neural net around that limiting pattern of thought. Once the neural net is formed, it becomes habitual to think in the direction of “I’m not good enough.” Thus you will tend to see things that occur in your life through the lens of “I’m not good enough.

This idea of neural nets fascinated me, and it also offered me great comfort. If the brain can be trained to think negative thoughts, that means it can also be trained to do the opposite.

In fact, the author went on to make this very point, revealing a technique called self-directed neuroplasticity. There are a few ways you can rewire the brain, and it starts by imagining your runaway thoughts as a wild horse. It’s much easier to control this horse when you’re riding it and maneuvering the reins. One way of getting the horse/your thoughts under control is by saying “whoa” to yourself whenever you feel your mind drifting into territory you don’t want it go. This helps you bring yourself back to the present moment. Another similar technique is carrying a childhood picture of yourself in your wallet or on your phone. Anytime you feel negative thoughts starting to rise up, pull up that picture and imagine saying those negative things to the little boy or girl staring back at you. It’s much harder to be mean to sweet baby you with those big eyes and chubby cheeks, isn’t it?

It’s important to rein in these harmful ideas, because what you think about yourself sets the course for your life. I spent many years thinking I wasn’t good enough and dealing with a total lack of self-confidence. I thought I was lucky to receive any attention from men, so I chose people who were unavailable—men who had just gotten out of serious relationships or who lived all the way across the country. When they rejected me, it only served to validate my beliefs. Now that I’ve learned to love myself more and reject these ideas, I added a note to my dating profile making it clear that I’m not looking up for hookups or casual dating but to connect with someone in a meaningful way in the hopes of it leading to a long-term relationship. I plan on asking dates about their intentions early on, communicating my wants and needs often, and not investing in people before they invest in me. I imagine my dating experience will be much different this time around.

After learning about this bit of neuroscience, I’m not as surprised to find myself constantly trapped in negative thought cycles. I always thought there wasn’t much harm in lingering in these thoughts, but now I know better. Now I’m determined to rewire my brain so positive thinking becomes more natural to me.

I know my life isn’t a movie or anything, but this morning I woke up to gloomy, downcast weather. Rather than letting it get me down, I tried thinking about how thankful I was to be alive, to exist in this world, to have this rainy weather so I could appreciate the coziness of my apartment. And I kid you not, just like that the sky cleared up.

Okay, it wasn’t an instant thing or anything but it was supposed to rain all day, and instead the sun came out and shone brighter than it had in weeks. I don’t usually believe in signs, but in the interest of being a more positive thinker, I’m interpreting this one as a sign that I’m headed in the right direction.

Round and Round My Thoughts Go

You know what sucks the most after you stop seeing someone? You’ll be perfectly fine, and then you’ll see the most random thing that triggers a memory. Oh, there’s that restaurant we went to once. Look, it’s that movie we watched together on Netflix. There’s my couch that we used to sit on together.

Okay, that last one’s a stretch, but you get where I’m going with this. When I go through a hard time in my life, I tend to pick it apart like I’m picking at a newly-healed wound. It’s painful and messy, and logically I know I should stop if I know what’s good for me, but no. I’m going to keep digging my nail in there until I’m bleeding again and I have to start the healing process all over again.

That’s what it feels like when I’m plagued by negative thoughts. If they were new thoughts or served me in some way, I would accept them. You can’t ignore painful feelings, accepting and working through them is healthy. What isn’t healthy is having the same few thoughts circle around your brain over and over and over again, like vultures.

I’ve since learned there’s a word for this: rumination. I always just assumed everyone experienced this, but I’ve talked to people in my life after having hard conversations and they might spend a day or two thinking about something and then they’ll move on. When my previous relationship ended last year, the guy I’d been dating broke up with me over a phone call that lasted less than a minute. I replayed that phone call in my head for the next week. I heard it in my head while watching TV, while working, while spending time with other people. The only thing that broke the cycle was meeting up with him in person, so I could say all the things I felt like I didn’t get to say.

That’s what’s really at the root of all my negative thoughts. All these words and actions that have no outlet so they just sit stagnating in my mind and making me feel like I’m going a bit mad.

It’s still something I struggle with, but I’ve since learned some techniques that help me cope with them. Journaling is a huge help. If you can’t say what you need to say to someone, you can at least get the words out of your brain and onto paper. When I’m working through something, I’ll sometimes write pages and pages in a single day. It’s a lot easier to untangle a problem, when you can actually see what you’re working with.

The other practice that has made a huge change in my life is meditation. I’m still very much a novice in this area. I started by listening to guided meditations on YouTube, before deciding to try out a paid subscription of the Calm app. I’m not the greatest at sticking to things, but I’ve been pretty good about doing my daily guided meditations for the last few months. I’m also convinced that Tamara Levitt has the most soothing voice on the planet.

Today, I tried doing my longest meditation yet. I sat for a full 30 minutes, listening to my app’s nature noises and a bell that rang every minute to keep me focused. Of course, I live in New York, so I also had the wonderful noises of construction, honking horns, loudly-conversing passerby, and slamming doors to contend with, but I just thought of it as ambient background music.

I definitely didn’t do a perfect job, but after, my mind felt like it had slowed down a bit. When intrusive thoughts tried to push their way into my brain, I gently shoved them right back out. It didn’t matter how many times it happened, the important thing was I didn’t give myself time to dwell on these thoughts.

My hope is that with continued meditation practice, there will be fewer intrusive thoughts each day and I can finally stop focusing on everything but the present. I can’t change the past or predict what will happen in the future, but I have the power to shape my present. I’ve realized lately that the present is the only place where true happiness is found.

It’s a lot of work—and sometimes it feels impossible—but it’s also worth it, because those moments where my brain finally quiets down? It feels like a long-needed rest, and it’s pure bliss.