the latest

what it feels like when someone unfollows me

As a millennial, I’ve been engaged in most forms of popular social media since they entered the scene. I remember when Instagram was just a way to add filters to photos, not an engagement tool. I got a notification from Facebook last weekend that I joined the site ELEVEN years ago. (Chilling.) I remember when you could see other people’s top friends on Snapchat.

As a blogger and creative professional, I know how social media platforms are used to generate clicks which become monetized whether via advertisements (editorial) or direct sales (retail). I’ve used tools to track engagement and followers at work, and consequently applied the same practices to this blog and my personal pages.

For a while, I used a tool that notified me whenever someone unfollowed me on Instagram or Twitter. Instantly, my heart would sink.

Even as I checked out who the culprit was, I wondered why I cared so much. I tracked engagement for the Instagram page I run for this blog, which is less personal and more business-y to me, but getting the updates for my personal accounts was gut-wrenching. I wondered which tweet caused them to press that “unfollow” button, which photo on Instagram was so offensive that they couldn’t bear to see any more updates from me.

If it was someone I considered a “friend” or a mutual follower, this unfollow notice would hit me like a ton of bricks. To me, it was a statement that they were so disinterested in my life that I was no longer worth following. They deemed the very minimal engagement of seeing several posts a week from me as not worthwhile. I would quickly unfollow back. Why should I continue keeping up with them?

I think this bothered me so much because my social media platforms, especially Instagram, are carefully curated. While Twitter has turned into a different beast (mostly an outlet for me to complain and make observations about daily life), I work really hard to make sure my Instagram page consists of quality photos with witty captions. The selfies are rare. There are no #MCM posts. I don’t share something every day. I have never gone “Live.” All of the photos are in focus and well-filtered.

What was I doing wrong? Absolutely nothing.

When I got a new phone about a year ago, I decided not to re-download my follower tracking apps. I haven’t changed my Instagram practices. I love sharing photos not only to interact with my followers, but to keep a record of my life. I love being able to go back and see what I was up to a year ago. Or check out the name of the restaurant I went to on my second date.

My Instagram page captures the best parts of my everyday life…and even when I see my follower count go up and down, I remind myself that the people who really care about me will stick around through even the worst selfies. As long as you’re living your best life, who really gives a damn?!

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the latest

my mental happy place

I’ve written before about my sleep struggles and frequent anxiety. These are two of my least favorite things about myself, and when they join forces at midnight, I know I’m in for a night of laying flat on my back trying to slow a racing heart, or scrolling through the “Discover” section of Instagram wondering why everyone else has a better life than I do.

I was at a Girl Scout sleep-away camp once, years ago, and felt ill-at-ease among the overly assertive counselors and cliquey girls. One of said counselors, who had nicknamed herself “Willow,” did her best to help me sleep, asking me to close my eyes and picture lovely things like waterfalls and open meadows. It helped.

Later, in high school, I occasionally went to a stress reducing/teen-focused yoga class after school. After going through the motions, we’d end class by laying flat on our backs, palms upward, lavender pillows over our eyes (still my favorite smell). Our instructor, Alison, would narrate some lovely meditation that pretty instantly made me fall asleep.

This can’t be a coincidence. Though I prefer to ease my anxiety during the daytime hours with more realistic, rational solutions, bedtime is for dreaming. Over the last decade, I’ve really honed in on my happy place – the dream world I create in my head, a life I fantasize about. It’s not exotic or anything special, really, but it’s something I continue to come back to, and for whatever reason, it makes drifting off to sleep so much easier.

I live in a small house by myself, in the woods, but walking distance from town. I bake a lot of bread and go to the farmer’s market often. I don’t have a computer. I read and paint a lot. I mainly wear dresses and silk nightgowns. I have a garden filled with plants I’ve managed not to kill. Sometimes it’s raining and I plop myself in front of a fireplace or in the giant clawfoot bathtub. (As I’m writing this, I feel kind of pathetic because most of these things are totally doable. We’ll see.)

Every once in a while I’ll scroll through Tumblr or Pinterest and see a photo that instantly transports me to my constructed happy place. Here are a few of those.

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the latest

anxious allison

When I get anxious, I write. I always have, and I probably always will. I don’t know whether it’s the act of writing itself or the public sharing that makes me feel better. But there’s something about leaving it all on a page somewhere whether in a journal or on here, my corner of the world wide web.

I’ve been anxious for as long as I can remember. Not butterflies before a recital or first date jitters, but nail-biting, vomit-inducing, near-crippling anxiety. Go to bed at 8pm and sleep for 14 hours anxiety. Watch a movie that I know will make me cry so I can feel like I’m releasing something anxiety. Laying in bed unable to sleep, heart beating three times as fast as it should anxiety.

Anxiety over everything and anything. It goes up and down, of course. Stable relationships help. So does regular income. Reassurance from loved ones. Regular exercise. A routine. Basically, anything that makes me feel like I have some control over my life.

But often after I get a mixed signal, whether from someone in my personal or professional life, I start to spiral. I think about how little I really do have control over. I start to question every little thing I’ve ever done and fixate on all of my mistakes. I ask why I’ve done so little (traveling, socializing, corporate ladder climbing) compared to my peers.

I take a deep breath. Or four.

Close my eyes. Imagine all of the possibilities of what my life could be like this time next year. In five years. In ten years.

I fight through the bad. Unemployment. Aloneness. Loss.

I imagine the good things. Another stamp in my passport. Another degree. A healthy body. A home. A walk-in closet. A baby. Two babies. Happiness.

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boyfriend, the latest

things that are ruined for me because i shared them with boys

The best and worst part of dating someone is sharing your favorite things and places with them, thus building memories. But when the relationship ends, these moments aren’t so happy anymore and going to your favorite pizza place or watching something on Netflix just reminds you of them and makes you sad. Well, it makes ME sad.

“Brown Eyed Girl” by Van Morrison

Used to be my favorite song to play while I was driving in the summer in convertible mode (all the windows down, sunroof open) in my high school car. Not anymore. Sigh.

My favorite restaurant (Lil’ Frankie’s)

My favorite place in the world. My late-night spot, my hangover helper, my joie de vivre. Carbohydrate Capital of NYC. I love you. I don’t love that I shared you with someone who didn’t love me.

My favorite TV show (The Office)

I’ve loved you for so long…why did I watch you with boys who didn’t text me back? I hate that we compared our favorite characters (Dwight, Meredith & Creed), preferred episodes (all the Christmas ones), and the cutest Jim & Pam moments.

My favorite tacos (Tacombi)

Yeah, there’s a lot of food on this list. But what can I say? I know how to eat.

 

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24 years later

Another year older, another year (I feel a little) wiser. Birthdays are bittersweet for me, but when I think about where I am on today, this year, versus where I was on this day last year (job-hunting, dating two jerks, unhappy), I feel so, so, so, so, so grateful.

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I made a lot of hard decisions at the end of my 23rd year…I chose to take a break from New York, to leap for a job outside of my comfort zone, to re-evaluate my priorities in life, and to really set goals for myself. I’m really happy with these decisions so far, and I’m so goddamn excited for my 24th year.

My birthday always makes me think about the future. Will I feel different next year, when I turn 25? What about 28? Or 30? Will I be married? Have kids? A mortgage? Stop coloring my hair?  It’s a mystery, but there is definitely some stuff I want to accomplish in the next few years. So, true to form, I’ve made a list. And I’ve given myself a pretty big window. Anything I should add?

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places, the latest

melancholia

I have caught myself missing new york several times. Several heart-tugging, gut-wrenching times…wondering why I “gave up” something I’d dreamed of for my whole life: living in NEW YORK CITY. I tear up thinking about my favorite places that are no longer just a subway ride away (I’m crying about Lil’ Frankie’s pizza right now), and miss the rush of pride I got from telling people that yes, I do live in New York.

But then I remember why I left. I enjoy being alone, but I felt truly lonely. Every relationship that I thought had potential ended up being a dead end. My closest friends from college left New York after graduation, so I felt like I didn’t have anyone to confide in.

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I hate admitting to myself that I did the easy thing by leaving. I’ve thought of a thousand reasons to justify my decision (“better quality of life!” “too expensive!” “i’m over it!”) and am still struggling to accept that the real reasons were these overwhelming feelings of loneliness and just wanting to give up.

The reality is, I have been in a significantly better place, mental health-wise, since moving away. I booked a trip to Iceland with one of my friends on a whim (checking off those resolutions!) and feel that I have more control of where my careers is going. I feel like I finally have time to have a “normal” routine and schedule, not to mention a support system (hi mom and dad).

I don’t regret leaving, but I’ll be back there soon enough…or whenever I start making enough money to live by myself.

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places

travel vignettes: ITALY

Years ago, when I first created a tumblr account, I wrote down my favorite words about places I traveled to. I recently searched through my archives to find these, and thought they would be a nice little series on the blog. 

vespa
garlic
street decorations
blood oranges
marble
semolina
basilica
autostrada
granita
michelangelo
pellegrino
fountains
sunflowers
double cheek kisses

Italy!

I went to Italy when I was in fifth grade and wrote this list in February 2012.

follow new york is my boyfriend on tumblr.

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