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Written on October 7, 2021.

I’ve found that anxiety manifests itself in many different ways.

Some nights, I have trouble falling asleep, but I find myself partially to blame as I’m in front of a screen all day and don’t put my phone down an hour before bed like I know I should. It’s not that I’m physically worried about anything that’s keeping me awake. The state of the world frankly just keeps me up, keeps me thinking, wondering. And typically, just a conscious stream of thoughts of little to no importance. This is more annoying, but manageable – and I truly think that with lifestyle changes, I could manage this better – but admittedly I haven’t, and have fallen into a bit of a cycle. It’s a work in progress. This doesn’t create major anxiety – it’s more of a nuisance in the background, and it’s harder to wake up the next morning.

But then, there are days like today. I am so excited – I have a work trip in a few days. My company is flying me out to LA and I get to meet my colleagues for the first time in person and finally see our company headquarters. I’ve worked here for 16 months remotely, and though I’ve adapted and made it work, I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a challenge for me. I’m a people person by nature, so the pandemic in general was really challenging for me. Starting a new job on west coast hours, trying to build a brand remotely, and for whatever reason, worried about my credibility and image. I never spoke up about it because I love my job and company, and I know so many others that had it worse and had lost their jobs or had to make serious career and lifestyle changes. “Who am I to complain when I work from home and have a flexible schedule?” I would tell myself, dismissing my feelings completely. But the pandemic isolated me. I’d never felt more alone.

I’m flying out a few days early to visit my very best friend, Becca, who lives in San Diego. I’ll work from her house Thurs + Fri, and we will have those nights together as well as Saturday. This time with her is everything to me. Becca and I used to spend almost every moment together when we both lived in Allentown. The moments I get with her are so precious and I can’t wait to see her. Sunday, we’ll drive to LA so I can see my best friend, Morgan, spend some time with her, explore Venice and check into my hotel for work.

All of these things are so exciting for me. I’ve been dying for human interaction, to meet my team in person and just get to see everyone face to face. I know it will go great. I’m digressing. Back to the “then there’s days like today,” part.

I stayed at my brother and his girlfriend’s apartment last night in Morristown, which was awesome.

I wake up this morning, bright and early – 5:15AM (I’m NOT a morning person.) I snooze a little but have an Uber to catch so I pack up and start getting ready. 

I’m waiting for the car to arrive and it hits me. I don’t feel well. My stomach is in knots and I can’t tell if I’m nervous, anxious, or honestly, have to go to the bathroom. “What the hell is this for?” I think to myself. All aspects of this trip are going to be nothing short of amazing. It’s going to be great. I’m not worried. Why am I anxious? Why is this feeling showing up uninvited, and trying to convince me otherwise?

I try my best to think about things from every angle, and with as much logic as possible. When these feelings come on – I try to talk to myself nicely, and remind myself of the facts. The thing that I think is really important to note about anxiety, is that it defies logic. It doesn’t care. It’s not convenient, not considerate, and it seeps into every part of you. At times, it’s paralyzing. Trying to have to explain to someone why I bailed last minute, fearing they won’t understand or will label me as flaky – just piles more anxiety on top.

I sit in the back of the Uber and completely out of my control, my thoughts begin to take over. “What if you get sick,” “What if you don’t feel good?” “What if you have to ask him to turn around and drop you back off at Steve’s?” “Then you’ll miss your flight.” “Would you even book another flight?” “This could happen to you again.” “If this does happen, better to just cancel the whole trip. I don’t want to gamble on ever feeling like this again.” May sounds crazy – but that’s truly how bad it gets. It convinces you that you can’t do anything – you won’t be able to make it through. I start to feel ashamed before any decisions are made.

I take a small dose of Xanax, a medication that works quickly to create a calming feeling (usually my last resort, however, that’s why it’s there). I try to think about the good things, happy things. But to be candid, anxiety doesn’t give a fuck. It doesn’t give a fuck about who you are, your status, how much money you make, what level of your career you’re at, whether you’re single, married, divorced, have children, or if you’re living your absolute best life. It does not discriminate. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes it can be directly linked to things. But for me, today, it was an uninvited guest accompanying me on this journey.

The best way for me to try to describe it, is that anxiety knows you in the same way your very best friend does – but in the worst ways. It then capitalizes on any fear, insecurity or doubt you may have in your head and multiplies rapidly. There’s no “shut off valve” or anything of the sort.

I get to the airport, feeling a little bit better – but know I likely will wrestle with this feeling at some other point – but I’m hoping not. I just keep telling myself to power through, power through. Everything will be fine.

I get something to eat, get to my gate, board and find my seat on the plane.

At this point I think I’m in the clear. Phew. 

Lol, jk. Anxiety comes out and says “what’s up, I’m back.” My stomach hurts again. Everyone else is boarding. 

“Can I leave?” 

“Has this ever happened to anyone else before?” “What would it look like, what would people think?” “What if this happens while I’m in the air?”

“Is it too late to get off?” 

More importantly, what would I tell my best friend and work? Panic now strikes harder at the thought of that possibility.

“They’d be so upset,”

“They wouldn’t understand.” 

My career is so important to me. 

“I’d lose credibility.” 

“They’d think I’m not serious about it.”

I drink some water, take another half a Xanax out of sheer desperation and lay my head against my sweatshirt on the window seat. It’s a packed plane. I decide to power through, though the thought crossed my mind a million times to just get off and make this feeling stop. I’m desperate for relief. The girl next to me lends me her neck pillow which restores my faith in humanity and makes me smile. I sleep on and off for 2 hours, write this, and will land shortly and be reunited with my bestie soon. The feeling is gone. I have no idea if and when it’ll return – but I can assure you it’ll make zero sense to me.

The other day, I heard someone say, “You are anxious about things that are important to you.” This is true for me lately. 

My mom’s wedding was just a month ago and a lot of people said the kindest things to me:

“You did great,” 

“Your speech was great,” 

“You looked so pretty.” 

All of those were nice things to hear and so kind – but what no one knew until now, was – I had several panic attacks that day, I just know how to hide it. All morning, walking down the aisle, standing at the altar. To me, that’s the scariest part. My mantra will always be to “throw kindness around like confetti,” because you just never, ever know what someone can be experiencing. I’ve kept quiet about this for awhile because truthfully, I don’t want attention, and I didn’t want it to come off that way. 

What I do want, are open dialogues about mental health to become common. No more pretending you’re perfect or striving for that. There’s so many people who’s lives I look at and think “wow, they must have it good,” or “they’re perfect.” I’m not sure if anyone’s ever thought that about me – but the reason I’m writing this today is to tell you that it’s more important to be real than to strive for perfection.

If you made it this far – thank you for reading. I used to be really ashamed of this, feeling really flawed, dramatic, and worried that no one would believe me or understand it in any capacity. I’ve found social media to only exacerbate this problem, for me.

I really believe this is something that should be talked about more. I believe that we only perpetuate stigmas more by not talking about them and pretending they don’t exist. I know I can’t be the only one. If you or anyone you know has felt this way, please feel free to reach out to me. I’m a mental heath advocate, a friend, an ally, and as you already know, an open book.

XO,

Laur

for all of the situations i’ve imagined

that never came true,

the current state of our world

is nothing close to a reality i’d ever dreamed of.

in the past five months i’ve watched

a virus destroy us physically, in addition to

our logic & our humanity.

our country begins with the word united,

but our actions lately haven’t been synonymous with that.

i want to apologize to all of my black friends

who i love so deeply, truly and genuinely

i want you to know that the actions of some

do not represent the masses

we stand with you,

we love & accept you,

& don’t see color as something that should make you any less.

how unfair, that we live in the same world –

reside in the same place,

& you have come to know & tolerate

being treated in a different way

because of something you can’t control.

i’m disgusted with the lack of care,

the lack of humanity and respect.

we’d come so far.

and i’m so sorry

that two people can be born on the same day,

& be different colors,

& that be the reason that life will be much harder for one

over the other.

we should be empowering one another,

interlinking our fingers to help build another up,

my heart is sad that in 2020 this is our reality

there are many like me

who love you,

who stand with you,

who will fight for this, to one day,

be a distant distant memory

for all of us to rise up, together.

and one day, say, “look at how far we’ve come.”

i remember reading about war in history classes,

& felt lucky to know that i’d never lived through something like that.

let’s put this behind us so our children

won’t be able to fathom that this was once a reality,

because of how far we’ve come.

in solidarity,

lauren

 

 

 

When I was younger, my mom would let us stay home from school if we passed her “sick test” or convinced her that we really were sick.

If we weren’t sick, we were allotted one or two “mental health” days. They weren’t to be abused, however, she recognized that sometimes, getting up and going to school was hard, for a variety of reasons in adolescence.

What I proudly applaud her for today – is being so damn ahead of her time with letting us stay home for not being okay. It didn’t matter what it was – she allowed us to own it. Not to hide behind the stigma of being flawed for needing a day here or there to just chill. This, for me, was and is huge. Especially when you’re a child who is so completely moldable and convincible that the things that the girls said about you are true or you weren’t invited to the party that everyone else was.

Thank you mom, for letting me own my own imperfections and taking off the pressure of always needing to be “on” or perfect.

Today, I earned the day off from work for doing well this past month. I still fully intended to go in, but when I woke up, I was tired. I thought back to the concept of the mental health day my mom would allow me to cash in as a child. I rolled over and smiled, and turned off my alarm.

No job, no matter what it is, should ever work you to the bone or compromise your health. I feel so grateful to work for a company that recognizes the importance of time off and #selfcare.

I am also incredibly thankful to my mom who was so ahead of her time in ending a stigma and promoting self care and wellbeing.

I prolonged the hurting by trying to distract myself with other people and things. I had no idea that by doing this, I was also procrastinating the healing. It took me so long to realize such a simple concept. That you may not be in control of who enters your life but you are in control of who stays.

I used to pour my heart into the potential that I saw in others, and then I realized that you cannot love someone into their potential. I romanticized being treated like shit by people who only wanted to take advantage and take from someone who would give until completely depleted.

It sounds crazy, but one day I changed. I realized that I’m in complete control of my happiness. It is not and should not be in the hands of anyone else, but myself.

I stopped saying yes to people because I felt obligated or didn’t want to hurt feelings. I stopped biting off more than I could chew just to appease others. I straight up started saying no to things that I had no interest in. And I was honest about it.

I promise, it’s so much easier than it seems. We, as humans, make life so much more complex than it needs to be. If it feels forced, or you have to beg for it- you don’t want it. If you wouldn’t tell your best friend to do it, don’t do it. If it has to be a secret, it’s probably not right. If it feels wrong, it probably is. If it seems too good to be true, it probably is.

Somehow, we made things so difficult. With the rise of social media, we started treating love like a game. Because we were taught to play “hard to get” rather than just being ourselves. Putting ourselves out there. Wearing our hearts on our sleeves. That was seen as a weakness. God forbid you’re honest with someone, somehow you are seen as crazy. We started timing out our responses to make ourselves “look busy.” Posting things for others to think our life is one way. It makes me sad that we started treating love and relationships like a game. Think about how beautiful things would be if we could all be honest, all the time.

Try to think back to a time when, you loved what you loved, because you loved it.

-The Maine

I used to be embarrassed that I liked to write. Because it was different, and people just didn’t put themselves out there this way. What a silly thought, that I felt I needed to hide something I loved so much, because it was different?

By placing happiness back in my own hands, I learned to love myself truly and fully. No one can upset you without your permission.

Because if you don’t love yourself, how can anyone else?

One year ago today, I was fired from my first job because I was “too sweet for sales.” I was told I looked too young, I didn’t have proper business acumen and that ultimately, I was unteachable. The staffing agency I worked for gave up on me after I felt I had given every single ounce of my being to the company. After realizing my self worth, and that the 12+ hour days, weekends and overpriced J. Crew outfits weren’t worth it, I traded in my high heels for 3 months of much needed job and soul-searching. I sunk into a deep, dark depression from a job that I uprooted my life and moved to Philly for. I felt betrayed and was shocked that this could even happen at age 22, but at the exact same time, was relieved that the dark cloud that had been following me for 9 months, along with the feelings of inadequacy, sadness and micromanaging would finally end.

Feeling like I hit rock bottom, I moved home, went on a trip to Ireland with 14 of my cousins and interviewed for countless jobs. After losing faith in the process that I had once been on the other side of, I interviewed at ADP and accepted a position in Small Business Services in Lost Account Recovery. This is easily the best decision I have ever made.

I have never been happier in my entire life. I made fast friends with my team and felt empowered by leadership. I learned the process quickly and I love going to work. Feeling in a much better place, I was able to focus on my health and lose 30 pounds that I had gained through the stress of senior year and my last job. It’s truly mind blowing what a difference it makes on the body and mind when an employer values it’s employees and treats them with dignity and respect.

One year later, I’m days away from selling 100% of my yearly quota in just over 9 months of being on the job. Please don’t ever underestimate the power your job has on mental health, and how sometimes what seems like the worst thing can really be a blessing in disguise.

I feel truly grateful that ADP had faith in me that I didn’t have in myself and that I am now on pace for my first President’s Club.

Life’s too short to accept mediocrity. If you’re not happy in your current situation, change it.

It has been such a long time since I’ve sat down and written freely on here – which is something I love to do. This time, it is with good reason.

I have recently dedicated myself to trying to be the best, healthiest, happiest and most fit version of myself. After viewing photos of myself at my brothers wedding, I was horrified at how fat I looked. This doesn’t even compare to how I felt about myself because of this. I had never been so depressed and upset with myself in my life. My doctor told me that my BMI was in the overweight range, my blood pressure was high, etc. I tried to hide this extra weight I’d accrued my senior year of college and when I moved to Philly, but there was nothing I could do.

At my brother’s wedding, I was surrounded by beautiful people. I worked with beautiful people. Other people’s beauty does not make me insecure. But it does remind you of what you are not, and what you used to be. Unfortunately, I didn’t do anything about it until I realized my health is one thing I am in control of. As a twenty three year old, I did not want to be as overweight as I was – which would only cause worse problems later on in life.

Making a change is hard. Really hard. You literally have to want to change so much, that it outweighs the alternative, which was staying the same, being sedentary and eating just about whatever the hell I wanted.

So – I went to a nutritionist. I wanted to be more aware of what things I should be putting in my body, and how much, when, etc. I was really nervous, especially being a picky eater with a history of bad habits, binge eating issues, etc.

I used to have IBS and couldn’t eat anything without immediately dealing with the consequences. Two years ago, my intestines twisted and I had to have emergency surgery. Boom. The year after my surgery, I gained 25 pounds in about 10 months. I literally had a party with my body – whatever I wanted, I let myself have. I was able to eat so many things that I hadn’t been able to before in higher quantities. I could tolerate anything, and it was so exciting. My anxiety about eating in public had vanished, and I was soaking it in.

Fortunately, I am a self-aware person, but unfortunately, I have a really hard time breaking bad habits. My weight definitely fluctuated in college, but it really skyrocketed and spiraled out of control after my surgery. I knew I had to make a change – but I was living in Philly and working a job I hated – about 55 hours a week. I didn’t eat on any type of consistent schedule – and working with over 80 millennials meant there was always cake, cookies, dessert etc. in the kitchen. I couldn’t say no.

So around June, I had enough. I was so ashamed and embarrassed of my body and what I’d let happen to myself, I committed to making a change. I saw a nutritionist and learned how to eat to achieve my goals. The best part is that it’s not a diet, and there is nothing I “can’t” have. I learned what a real serving is and how different it is from an industry, restaurant, advertised serving. It blew my mind. Because I was eating so bad prior – and I made and committed to such a new way of eating – I lost about 20 pounds in 3 months. I know what you’re thinking – “that doesn’t sound healthy.” But, in this case, it was. most of it was pure fat.

I truly cannot imagine going back to the way I was before this. I was so out of control with my habits. There is no better feeling than going from a 10 in pants size, to a 2. I have never committed to a habit so much as I have to this one, but I am so happy that I did. For me, the best feeling is knowing that I gained the control back in my life, and I will never let it go again.

It’s never too late to change something that you don’t like about yourself. So much good came from this one decision to make a change.

“The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.”

 

Find that thing that drives you – that keeps you awake at night and makes you want to jump out of bed in the morning. For me, writing is that thing. It’s so hard to explain – because I haven’t taken the time to sit down and do it in so long – but it feels so good to finally do.

So many exciting things happened in in the past 2 years. I graduated college, moved to Philadelphia, started my first job, met a boyfriend, explored my new playground.

But it brought a lot of darkness into my life as well. I was sucked into a deep depression that words will never bring light to, nor do I want them to. I found myself completely miserable in a job that consumed every waking moment of my day. I lost track of the important things and completely let myself go. I lost my job, moved back home and basically broke even financially when all was said and done. It took me three months to find a job, but it was well worth it.

The year turned around for me almost as quick as it went south. I got a job that I truly love. I feel that I’m really able to use my gifts, talents, communication and sales skills to connect with clients. I made a lot of really great friends and feel like I’ve finally found my place.

In the very midst of all of this – I lost myself. I let so many of these things that were happening absolutely shake me to the core and I stopped writing. The one thing I love and always want to do – I stopped doing. I thought about it – always. I couldn’t bring myself to sit down and do it. And I will never forgive myself for not penning out everything in real time.

Time has a funny way of distorting memories. For better, or worse, it’s true. There’s something so raw about writing in the moment when things are happening, that you cannot reproduce even days later. Emotion is a timestamped thing. Which is why sometimes you hate yourself for sending a text, even a few minutes later.

I don’t mean that in a “sorry fans, where have I gone?” kinda way. I mean that I am truly disappointed in myself that it has been almost a year since I’ve posted a blog. But at the same time, I feel like my writing comes out so much better after going through some shit. I’m better at writing when I’m bitter or sad than when things are perfect. I hate that it’s true – but it is – just take a look at my posts.

My resolution is to write more on this site, but to also send more letters. What a timeless classic that this generation doesn’t do enough of? It makes me sick that I let corporate America steal one true passion of mine – that a job could push me so far into a depression that I couldn’t get out – that I couldn’t even use the joy of writing to help me.

I hope you never ever give up on your dreams, passions and the things that keep you, you. I hope you know your gift, and you learn to cultivate it. Please know it is never too late to fall in love with yourself, make a new hobby or turn things around. You don’t need the turn of a calendar year to be who you want to be. If you haven’t found your gift yet – dig, dig, dig. I was convinced for years on end that I had nothing until I watched my loved ones become move to tears with my writing.

 

 

 

 

“Does this mean that the Eagle’s can still go to the Super Bowl?” I asked my boyfriend for the 50th time.

“Yes, Lauren. They’re not even in the playoffs yet,” He patiently responded to my inability to understand the simple concept of Football.

My family have been Eagles fans for as long as I can remember. Honestly, I wasn’t very athletic growing up and it’s safe to say I still am not. One thing my grandmother always taught me though, was to root for the underdog. If my family liked them and supported them, it was good enough for me.

I spent years trying to understand the game, or run in and make up my own rules when my brothers, father, cousins and grandfather would play. Sometimes, I was used as the football. This year was different though. I gained a greater interest in the sport once I moved to Philadelphia and started working there after graduation.

Fast forward to the first few weeks of January. My friends and I were so set on where we had been sitting during the last game that the Eagles had won, what we were wearing, etc. It only made sense that we needed to do the same thing in order for them to win, right?

The city of Philadelphia had been more pumped up than normal in weeks preparing for the Super Bowl. Before we won the playoff game, maintenance workers even had to Crisco street poles. Being a new Philly resident, I didn’t know what I was in for. But I was equally as excited!

Before I knew it, it was Super Bowl Sunday. Philly was excited yet nervous. Confident, yet humble. Everyone knew that it required a great amount of adrenaline for The Eagles in order to beat a team that had made it to The Super Bowl several times and won.

The whole thing is honestly a blur. With lots of excitement, cheering, screaming, anxiety and beer. We thought we had it in the bag until the fourth quarter when we turned the ball over to The Patriots. with only a couple of minutes left and them in the lead, things weren’t looking good. Everyone started standing and gathering closer and closer to the T.V. With just seconds left, we WON! It was such an indescribable feeling for everyone. Before we knew it, we were rushing to put our shoes, socks, jackets and gear on to storm the city like everyone else was. It was insane. No one cared at all about having an open container, yelling explicits and just going crazy. People were yelling, cheering, crying, high-fiving – you name it! It was really cool to be able to experience it, but only for an hour – things started to get a little crazy, and I’d much rather be in bed at that point. I witnessed the craziness, got some photos and went home. Then I watched the madness on the news the next day.

Experiencing The Eagles win the Super Bowl was history in the making. Not only was it a huge boost of confidence, joy and excitement for this great city, it was so much more. And this is just the beginning…

Everyone has a chapter they don’t read out loud. For me, 2017 is that chapter. I know what you’re thinking. Around December 31st of every year, it seems like everyone pretty much shits on the past year gone by, promising the next year to be full of change, growth, yoga and kale smoothies.

I am grateful to be alive, to have a job, friends, family and a roof over my head. I am grateful to live in a beautiful town where I can venture out for a coffee or treat myself to a manicure if I feel like it.

If I could sum up my year in one word, it would be: change – in every sense of the word. This year, I went blonde, I graduated college, got a new car, was a bridesmaid in my brother’s wedding, moved to Philadelphia and started my first job, started dating the sweetest guy and chopped all my hair off. But I also was fired from a being and RA – something that gave me a sense of purpose and responsibility. I lost respect as a student leader on campus from several staff and faculty. I lost friends along the way. And I experienced trying times with my mental health after graduating.

Something that no one ever tells you or even talks about is post-graduate depression. It’s bitter cold, lonely as hell and paralyzing. And I know I can’t be the only one experiencing this. I think a common misconception about depression is that there has to be a reason. A trigger. A cause for the onset. And many times there is: change, death, loss, financial reasons, etc. I don’t particularly know my reason – and maybe I’m not meant to. The reason isn’t as important as what your plan of attack is to beat this terrible monster.

There’s nothing specific that was making me sad. And it may not have been sadness at all. But I certainly changed. I lost interest in anything that didn’t have to do with sleeping or my bed. Getting up for work and painting on my happy face felt excruciating. I isolated myself from making new friends. And I turned to food for comfort. I became unrecognizable to myself, and I’m sure almost everyone else. I was meeting new people, and they were probably thinking that I was just a quiet, boring, disinterested person. I wanted them to know the real me, the fun-loving, outgoing, laughing, storytelling, me. But it wasn’t something I could fake.

There’s an unexplainable amount of pressure upon graduation. I wanted to take time for me, and I can’t complain, I wanted and needed to start working. But sometimes I wondered if traveling by myself, exploring a new place or taking the summer off may have benefited me. Regardless, I don’t regret working right away because making money and being self sustainable is extremely important to me.

I definitely wish I could talk to my college self and tell her what I know now. That the bad grade I got isn’t the end of the world. That some people are never going to like you and there’s nothing you can do, and it has nothing to do with you. That you will be misunderstood for your sensitivity, compassion and genuine nature and you shouldn’t let Corporate America turn you cold, but it might. That you should have networked a lot more in your undergraduate career. That cattiness, pettiness and popularity contests aren’t left at the door in high school or college, and you’ll see it daily. And most importantly, you should have saved your damn money in college.

Most importantly, as Taylor Swift once sang,

Today is never too late to be brand new.

Goodbye 2017! I can’t wait to see what challenges and opportunities 2018 has in store for me.