My instinct has always been to distract and numb. Sitting with pain or discomfort never really seemed all that appealing to me. Instead, I would find ways to strategically distance myself from myself. I’d engage in anything that helped me escape that persistent, underlying feeling of unworthiness that was hiding inside me.
Unknowingly, I started becoming an escape artist when I learned how to read. Books carried me into another world. They lifted me out of the chaos of my childhood and numbed the feeling of not knowing where I belonged. I’d read Harriet the Spy, The Babysitters Club, Matilda, American Girl books and pretend I was those girls. Imagining what it would be like to feel consistently safe, loved, and wanted. I picked up The Celestine Prophecy when I was around 8 years old because my stepmom read it. That’s when I started questioning and thinking more about religion and spirituality. Basic thoughts like “why this and not that” and “what’s real and what’s not”.
Then I started escaping through music. I was (and still am) inspired by musicians of the 90s which offered a whole world of individuality and creativity. The angsty complexity of grunge bands like Nirvana, Soundgarden, Pearl Jam, and Blind Melon started feeling like a religion to me. Women like Gwen Stefani, Alanis Morrisette, and Fiona Apple become a North Star. It wasn’t just the music, it was everything about them. Their style, their honesty, their talent, their freedom of expression. When I felt like I didn’t belong, I’d grab a book or put on my headphones and escape.
When I was 15 years old I started going to bars. It didn’t feel so strange because I was always with people that loved and cared about me. Somehow I always knew I’d be safe. In hindsight, 15 is too young to be ordering a Jack and Coke and starting a tab. I learned that I can do what I want as long as I don’t get caught and always handle my responsibilities. So from high school through college that’s exactly what I did.
I was only certain of one thing when I graduated from college at 21 years old—I was leaving Ohio. 1 month later, I sold my gold Nissan Altima and flew to New York with 2 suitcases. My older brother and his girlfriend (now wife) were living there. They had a tiny one bedroom apartment and let me sleep on their couch. Within two months I got a job, made some friends, started adjusting to the city, and found a place with a couple roommates and a lot of cockroaches.
My only plan for work was to work hard. Over the course of 17 years I worked at 12 companies. I held positions in sales/account management/product marketing, experienced 2 major tech acquisitions, and worked my way to VP level. Yoga became a grounding constant in my life when I was 18. I joined a studio in New York, Strala Yoga, to practice and connect with friends that had similar interests. I trained to become a guide at the studio and started leading 2-4 classes per week while working in tech. Teaching yoga felt like second nature to me, but it couldn’t pay the bills. So after a couple years of leading classes I quit and fully focused on tech.
I was lucky and grateful to always have work, but I couldn’t stay put. After a couple years of living in New York, I got a job offer in Philly. So I moved from New York to Philly and then back to New York after 10 months. Then I moved from New York to San Francisco for work and back to New York again after 9 months. Work (again) moved me from New York to LA, and I stayed there for 6 years before moving back to the Midwest to take a beat.
4 cross-country moves in 17 years. I kept thinking maybe I’ll find something better or someone new if I move again. Maybe I’ll find happiness. Really I was just hoping to magically become someone else by moving and escaping from whoever I was pretending to be. I finally learned that I am who I am regardless of where I live. It has nothing to do with the city and everything to do with me.
LA was my breaking point. My older brother and sister-in-law had already moved from NY to LA, and her immediate family was there too. So once again I was lucky and grateful to have a solid support system. They kept me grounded and feeling truly valued. I adored the blue skies, beach days, hikes, and near-perfect weather. But I was completely disconnected from myself in my last year there.
I partied too much and dated completely emotionally unavailable men because I was completely emotionally unavailable to myself. Emotional unavailability sucks, but the alternative was to dig into the root cause of why I had built concrete walls around myself. That work didn’t seem very appealing to me. So instead of dealing with it, I escaped through distractions.
Living by what I had learned, as long as I got my stuff done I was free to fly. I had a group of fun, pretty, successful friends. I had a “cool” boyfriend and we flew straight into late nights/early mornings and pseudo-intimacy. Exhausted, I’d sign onto work to lead presentations, join meetings, execute deliverables, achieve and/or exceed every goal, create strategies, and more. I traveled, got a dog (my best friend), lived in a great apartment, had experiences, and on and on and on. The outside looked great, but I was a shell of a person.
One day I just decided to stop and remove all distractions. I was tired of feeling empty and unaware of who I am. First, I broke up with my boyfriend. A few months later, I was roofied at a bar and decided to stop drinking and partying. Then I deleted all social media and dating apps. I moved back to the Midwest to reset my nervous system and be close to more family. I messaged those LA friends a couple times and then never heard from them again. I took a break from work and created Vanilla Thought. I deliberately exited the scene, existed under the radar, and connected with myself.
Things got really quiet, and oftentimes uncomfortable, with every distraction stripped away. I gave myself permission to explore and do whatever I needed each day. I’d lay in the grass, take walks, read books, stare at the sky, hang with my dog, see family, be alone, and slowly open my heart again. I thought about my values, how I want to feel in relationships, the work I’m meant to do and what that means for the next phase of my career. It was super isolating and also super important. I learned what I actually like and what matters to me without other people’s opinions influencing my decisions and choices. I realized I actually like myself, and eventually I learned how to love myself.
I still have my moments…progress, not perfection. Now what’s important to me is prioritizing whatever I need—sometimes edge, sometimes solitude—without losing myself in the process ever again.
