Usually when I take a vacation, I book the cheapest hotel I can find. I’m just looking for a crash pad to land on in between 12-hour days exploring whatever city or national park I’m visiting. I want vacations to be adventures. The problem is I usually end trips more tired than when I started. 

So sometimes, I simply want to lay in a bed that isn’t my own and relax, far away from any responsibilities. While I could book a day at a fancy spa, my ultimate relaxation fantasy is a night at a retro hotel suite. 

These resorts are thought to be relics of the past. If any are still around, they’re more often than not considered impromptu porn sets: dingy rooms with shag carpets covered in mysterious stains from the 1970s, moldy bathtubs, and comforters ridden with bed bugs. In reality, many are still fully functional, and not only completely clean but incredibly delightful. Mid-century honeymoon suites are pure escapism. At the turn of a door knob, you’re suddenly transported to an underwater cave, rainforest, or Italian villa. 

These hotels always boast beautiful natural views or access to nearby museums and nightlife, but the rooms are so elaborately decorated because the real reason you’re checking in is to stay in the bedroom. They are theme parks for pleasure in all forms. Gaudy? Maybe to some. But to me, they embody kitsch and charm. Here are a few retro hotel suites I hope to visit.

The champagne glass hot tub at Cove Haven. Image via the hotel’s website.

Cove Haven in Pocono, Pennsylvania 

You can’t talk about honeymoon suites without talking about the Pocono Mountains. This lush, forested region of Pennsylvania is home to countless vacation spots, especially for newlyweds looking to escape nearby New York City. The crown jewel of the Poconos is Cove Haven — America’s first honeymoon suite. This honeymoon resort’s founder, a man named Morris Wilkins, built the first heart shaped tub in the 1950s. The idea caught on around the country. His other unique tub creation, however, is unique to Cove Haven: a 7-foot tall champagne glass tub. The room’s décor overall looks just fine, but who’s paying attention to couches and coffee tables when there’s a coupe glass the size of a basketball player in the room anyway? I want to sink into the suds while sipping on some actual bubbly. It’s all yours for $471 a night. Breakfast and dinner included.

Cosplay as Ariel in the seashell bed at Black Swan Inn. Image via the hotel’s website.

Black Swan Inn in Pocatello, Idaho

Black Swan Inn offers 14 different rooms with 14 unique, outlandish themes, from “The Wild West,” to “Arabian Nights.” My pick would be “The Sea Cave Suite,” available for $169 a night. The walls are painted with murals of lively coral reefs. The bathroom goes a step further, with fake rocks covering the walls, ceiling and bathtub, as well as actual aquariums in the walls! But the room’s main attraction is a gigantic clam shell bed complete with a round mattress and a pearl snuggled into the pearlescent pink headboard. A photo of this very bed on Tumblr is what kicked off my love for kitschy hotels many years ago. Ariel was always my favorite Disney Princess, and in this room I could splash around in the tub, comb my hair with a fork, and get one step closer to my childhood dream of being a mermaid.

The Carin room at Madonna Inn. Image via the hotel’s website.

Madonna Inn in San Luis Obispo, California 

When I was young, I didn’t let myself like the color pink. I was committed to being contrarian and not like other girls. Now that I’m an adult, I can admit it: I love pink! Therefore, I’m dying to stay in the “Carin” room at the Madonna Inn — the ultimate celebration of the hue. I want to rub my feet against the plush, pillowy magenta carpet. I want to lay under the warm glow of a chandelier held by a golden cherub. I want to take a selfie in front of the glittery wallpaper! “Carin” is only one of the hotel’s 110 rooms, and each looks as decadent as a perfectly iced cupcake and a masterclass in balancing mid-century kitsch with modern sophistication. Their rooms don’t have concrete themes so much as abstract concepts, but they’re still fantastical and captivating. “Carin” costs around $270 a night. 

The marshmallowy-mellowness of the Roxbury Motel. Image via the motel’s website.

The Roxbury Motel in Roxbury, New York 

The Catskill Mountains are another iconic vacation destination. Following the invention of the automobile, more people than ever could access the region’s lush forests and clean air. As the Catskills became more popular, its landscape became more crowded with motels. The Roxbury Motel is relatively new to the scene (it opened in 2006) but pays homage to the 20th century heyday of destination hotels. The Roxbury is particularly unique because each room is based on a different retro TV show or movie, like Breakfast at Tiffany’s, The Wizard of Oz, and The Flintstones, to name a few. My room of choice is “Maryann’s Coconut Cream Pie,” based on the country girl from Gilligan’s Island and her favorite dessert. I can’t decide if I want to let my head or my teeth sink into the whipped cream pillows first. Price ranges $182-$275 a night.

Lean into your own myths in the Roman Rendezvous suite. Image via Adventure Suites.

Adventure Suites in North Conway, New Hampshire

With log cabins, haunted manors, and spaceships, Adventure Suites might take the cake for the most diverse set of honeymoon suites. That’s probably why they are often included on lists for the best theme hotels in the world. I love “Roman Rendezvous” because of its unique spin on classic honeymoon suite staples. Some establishments will put a heart-shaped tub in an otherwise standard motel room and call their job done. And I’m thankful for that! A heart-shaped tub is way better than no heart-shaped tub. But Adventure Suites’ “Roman Rendezvous” goes the extra mile, with marble statues, ornate lamps, and a powdered blue domed ceiling to really craft a luxurious mood. “Roman Rendezvous” costs $399 a night.

It’s a boot! It’s a B&B! No, it’s a Boot B&B! Image via the bed and breakfast’s website.

The Boot B&B in Nelson, New Zealand

The last location on my list veers away from the mid-century Americana vibes of my other picks, but it is way too cute to exclude. The Boot B&B in rural New Zealand is the perfect fairytale fantasy. Imagine, if you will, an evening sipping wine by an open fire in a grove of hazelnut trees. You retire to your boot, walking up a spiral staircase to a queen sized bed. You sleep with the balcony doors open. You wake up and cozy up on the couch and drink a cup of coffee by the fireplace, early morning light glowing from the jauntily situated windows. The Boot’s website calls it the perfect place to escape from the “hurley burley of life.” It also appears to be the type of place where you become someone who uses phrases like “hurley burley.” In short, it’s my dream vacation destination. Move over, Old Woman, it’s my shoe now, and I plan to eat bread AND broth, thank you very much. The Boot B&B is available for $265 per night per couple.

In a world of unrelenting tragedies, self-care serves an important role in our lives: it’s a way to gain rest and reprieve. While it’s not a permanent remedy, it can be a Band-Aid plastered over societal collapse. Self-care is an encouraging hand, urging people to slowly detach from the continuous grind. But the restrictive system of capitalism has violently distorted the power of self-care. 

According to the gospel of hypercapitalism, self-care is only possible through continuous purchases like an expensive bottle of wine, esoteric wellness retreats, and elaborate spa treatments. Unfortunately, contemporary wellness culture, which is deeply intertwined with the notion of self-care, encourages this consumerism.

Adopting such a lifestyle may invite a glimmer of personal fulfillment into one’s routine, but it would be expensive to maintain. The average American already spends nearly $200 per month on non-essential items to “treat themselves,” according to Market Watch. That adds up to 22 percent of their yearly disposable income. 

To know something so sacred can be turned into a lifeless commodity is rather frightening. 

When we equate making purchases with a fulfilling self-care practice, we enter an unwitting trap. With the cost of living increasing due to inflation and higher gas prices, people are struggling to pay the bills while simultaneously maintaining a materialistic self-care regimen. 

This pressure to subscribe to a rather unattainable form of self-care often weighs us down and constantly pushes us to work. On a subconscious level, we mirror the hypothetical Sweetgreen addict in Jia Tolentino’s Athleisure, Barre and Kale: The Tyranny of the Ideal Woman who “needs to eat his $12 salad in 10 minutes” because his job “allows him to afford a regular $12 salad in the first place.”

If the only acceptable form of self-care is achieved through acquiring items, then actions like exercising, carrying out a hygiene routine, or simply resting are seen as inadequate. For folks who are living with mental illness, this outlook on contemporary self-care is incredibly harmful because it does not meet their immediate needs. A resounding thread of advice from mental health professionals is that when people are experiencing depressive and manic episodes, it’s important to remember the basic things their bodies need. On the other hand, commercialized self-care expects simple actions like brushing your teeth or washing your face to be a given, not necessarily taking into account the times when completing those tasks alone seems impossible. 

True self-care can be incorporated in our everyday life, but on a case-by-case basis. It should depend on what our immediate needs are, not on what they should be. Some days, self-care can be as simple as sleeping in, going on a walk, talking to loved ones, or being in community with others. 

I used to laugh at the “romanticize your life” trend on TikTok. I thought it would take the same path as many lifestyle vlogs and follow the unhealthy standards purported by the “that girl” trend. Thankfully, Christiana Caron’s New York Times article The Mundane Thrill of ‘Romanticizing Your Life offers a different path. As Caron wrote, doing so “rejects the type of messaging that pushes people to acquire material things. And it likewise renounces the “that girl” aesthetic that promotes a one-size-fits-all path to well-being, replete with green juices, journaling and working out.

Ultimately, true self-care practices flexibility because every person has different needs. Trends like “romanticize your life” practice this sort of flexibility and allow us to savor the simple moments of our lives.

Another important aspect of self-care is rest. It’s no secret we live in a culture that looks down on leisure. Prior to 2020, being constantly occupied was a status symbol. With the pandemic bringing the world to a halt, many millennials started to reevaluate their relationship to work and how it upended their lives. This inadvertently led to the Great Resignation, where workers in all sectors started quitting their jobs due to burnout. 

Yet, even as the Great Resignation is having a powerful effect on contemporary American culture, the core of Americans’ idea of work is rotten, influenced by the so-called Protestant work ethic. As Matthew Huston states in Still Puritan After All These Years, “Martin Luther and John Calvin argued that work was a calling from God,” and viewed “success as a path to salvation: hard work and good deeds would bring rewards, in life and after.” Assigning such spiritual significance to work inevitably leads people to feel guilty and ashamed when prioritizing rest and leisure.

The Protestant work ethic (merged with late-stage capitalism) is a conniving thief of not only time, but the enjoyment of that time. It’s instilled in the hearts and minds of most Americans that it is a sin to release yourself from the grasp of work’s unforgiving arms. For many, it seems like rest and leisure should only be received after grueling amounts of work have been completed. 

While it is encouraging to see the Great Resignation highlighting the importance of rest and leisure in our everyday lives, we need to establish that rest and leisure are undeniable human rights. After all, they are essential to our survival. Progressive politicians in Congress can advocate for structural support in regards to rest by enacting laws that institute more paid vacations days. On a more local level, cities can play an active role in ensuring more cultural activities like museums, parks, concerts, and community centers are well-funded and actively promoted so that people can not only find various ways to enjoy time outside work, but build community with one another. 

Self-care is a survival mechanism, not a luxury. Viewing it as the necessity it is will give us a newfound sense of freedom. One that’s devoid of toxic idealism regurgitated by corporate interests. When we are fully conscious of the complications life throws at us and divest from commercialized habits, self-care will feel like a simple, warm embrace. A reminder to love ourselves. And eventually, the love we have gained will extend to others and make way for the healing power of community.

Danny Pudi believes good coffee and cozy socks are the height of luxury. In a now viral interview of the actor by Larry King, the latter disagrees. Those are not ambitious enough manifestations of luxury! Instead, King suggests he might like a private plane. 

Pudi responds, “Larry, I’m on DuckTales.”

I replay that conversation from time to time. For the most part, I share Pudi’s opinions. Luxury, derived from the Latin luxus, refers to excess. I can get by without daily coffee and well-made clothing, so having them at my disposal feels luxurious.

Then there are days I side wholeheartedly with the late talk show host. Pudi (and the rest of us) are allowed to yearn for fancier stuff. Maybe not privatized travel that exacerbates our climate crisis, but something nicer than fuzzy footwear. 

At the moment, my something nicer is a handheld electric milk frother. For two years now, I’ve made London Fog lattes, peppermint mochas, and many cups of late night hot cocoa without leaving my home. I still love stopping by cafes while running errands and I’ll probably be a Dunkin’ stan for life, but it’s nice to make something elaborate with my own hands. Using a frother has taught me new things, like the fact soy milk foams up fairly well (and almond milk does not), and it has become a gateway for many Torani syrup purchases.

My milk frother is Zulay Kitchen’s intensely named MILK BOSS in matte black. It cost less than $20 and came with a sleek silver stand. Two AA batteries later, its coiled whisk buzzes as merrily as an electric toothbrush and can be used to aerate eggs, whip creams, and, of course, froth milk for any beverage of my choosing. It blends in nicely with other kitchen appliances and brings me unparalleled delight. 

This paragraph is where the fascinating history of frothing milk could go. Like, I could explain cappuccinos supposedly got their moniker because they resembled the brown robes of a specific group of bald Italian monks. Or maybe I could chart the evolution of espresso machines, much like phones, from hulking units in specialty cafes to slim, consumer-ready models. But that sounds exhausting, and this is supposed to be about finding restfulness and joy in small luxuries. Let’s hurry along to a recipe for the aforementioned hot cocoa instead. 

If you’re searching for something to level up your morning routine or need a gift for the coffee lover in your life, consider a handheld frother. And ignore articles about “the right way” to froth milk or the “best” frothers on the market. After all, the greatest luxury comes when you’re not concerned about anything other than what you want. 

Frothy + Sumptuous Hot Cocoa

Ingredients

Tools

  1. Pour 4 oz of cold soy milk, the cocoa powder, and sugar into your favorite mug. 
  2. Use a milk frother in the mug for 15 seconds, tilting it to one side and moving the frother up and down slowly. You’ll notice the mixture double in size.
  3. Heat the remaining 12 oz of soy milk however you see fit. (I put it in a pot on the stove because I read A Wrinkle in Time at a formative age.)
  4. Add the hot milk to the mug, top with the cinnamon, and add salt until satisfied with its juxtaposition to your drink’s sweetness. 
  5. Pulse the frother in the mug once or twice more to combine.

When I think of rest, I think of Pattington. Pattington is a giant 5-foot-tall beige and fluffy stuffed bear that I’ve had since the end of my freshman year of college. My friend and I rescued Pattington from the trash rooms of a dorm where my friend used to live. We named them after the fictional and beloved Peruvian British bear Paddington, but we wanted a slight variation of the name to distinguish them from their famous counterpart. 

Stuffed toys have become a symbol of safety for kids and adults alike. Ever since teddy bears gained popularity in the early 1900s, people have taken stuffed forms of anything (i.e. Squishmallows) to bring them comfort whenever they needed.

Pattington has seen my every emotion. They’ve seen heartbreak, tiredness, love, and excitement every time a person walks through my door. The big bear has been with me through different dorms and apartments, but is a staple when it comes to my home’s living area. They greet you with such loving arms, one that will hug you no matter what kind of day it is. There were days after exhausting exams when I would immediately come home and crash on Pattington’s fluffy belly. When one of my roommates was going through a nasty breakup and debriefing me on the couch, Pattington comforted her with eternal support. There was even a time on Halloween when my friends were drunk and didn’t know what to do or where to go, so we all just partied around Pattington. 

Pattington once had their own Instagram, but it sadly got deleted from Instagram for unknown reasons. @pplwithpattington was an account where every visitor of my household got to take a photo with Pattington. My mom has a picture with Pattington, as does every single one of my close friends. Everyone’s pose and photo was different. Some embraced Pattington and others had wacky poses with whatever prop they had — whether it was lightsabers, cowboy hats, or headphones. However, everyone had the same tone of affection towards the inanimate bear. In every photo, you can see a comforting smile. They were absolutely safe with this bear.

Pattington is the rock hard symbol of our inner child. I would be shocked if anyone told me that this bear isn’t cute. After all, it’s almost every child’s dream to own a giant stuffie, and I’m the reliable friend who is in their twenties and has one on hand. My apartment is filled with an assortment of plushies like Porgs from Star Wars, my childhood stuffed bear Cheeky, and my BT21 collection. However, Pattington always comes out on top. 

Currently, Pattington sits on a throne (a foldable shopping cart) wearing three hats: a pink cowboy hat, a brown cowboy hat and an Indiana Jones Hat. Once I come home, they will greet me however I want them to, and that’s how everyone likes it. Here’s to you Pattington, I hope you stick with me forever!

She gets up at the crack of dawn, looking perfect already. She makes her bed so nicely it could’ve been in a hotel suite, gets in her full daily workout, showers, makes a plant-based breakfast, and throws on the daintiest gold hoops. Finally, she’s ready for the day…all before 8 a.m. 

How does she do this? It’s simple: She’s That Girl.

The “That Girl” trend has taken TikTok and Instagram by storm. Meant to be the model for a healthy, fulfilling lifestyle, That Girl videos are compilations of routine tasks, presumably shot all in one morning, to show That Girl living her best life. Videos listed under the #thatgirl and #thatgirlaesthetic hashtags garner millions of views. What’s not to envy? 

It’s hard to define who That Girl is, but generally she is someone who wakes up early, exercises regularly, journals her feelings, always looks put together, and eats healthy food. She has a great skin care routine (not that she needs it), probably uses Olaplex, and nearly exclusively wears matching activewear sets in neutral colors. She has it all. 

That Girl’s been around social media in some shape or form for years. She’s permeated Tumblr and Pinterest with aesthetically pleasing collages, and showcased her seemingly-perfect life on Instagram. The longer she’s been around, the more forms she starts to take on. Now, That Girl might be described as having the “Clean Girl” aesthetic, or maybe is a self-proclaimed minimalist who tidies her all-white apartment with her cordless vacuum cleaner. 

Every task That Girl flawlessly completes is relatively harmless — many, like taking a moment to journal, or cooking nutritious meals, are really great habits. But the That Girl trend implies this is the way That Girl always is. In theory, being That Girl is meant to be motivating. Motivation that you can achieve all of the things you want. Motivation to keep your space clean and yourself healthy. Motivation that you, too, can live a fulfilling lifestyle if you just get your ass out of bed at dawn and work really hard!

These videos are both inspiring and calming to watch; usually, they’re accompanied by soft music or ASMR sounds. That Girl’s house is clean and has a neutral palette. Her showers look luxurious, her food looks delicious. It’s easy to want to be that. 

Hell, I want to be That Girl. I spent the better part of the last year trying to be That Girl. Besides my full-time job, I wanted to make a commitment to freelance and to work on my own personal music. Maybe, I thought, if I just worked a little bit harder, and did what That Girl does, I could be living my perfect life. 

I bought four different versions of gold hoops and agonized over whether my matching workout set was cute enough (even though I worked from home). I made my own Hot Girl Walk playlist and planned to split my time up after work between exercising, cooking a healthy dinner, and working on my passion projects.


And honestly, it wasn’t all bad. Every time I pushed myself to try and be That Girl again, the first few days went well. I felt accomplished and productive. I cleaned my whole apartment, and then took aesthetic pictures of my space and posted them to Instagram. Romanticizing my space made me feel on top of the world.  All of my friends seemed to love the pictures, too, which only boosted my ego more.

After a few days, though, I began to grow tired and frustrated. I was stuck in a loop: I was tired, because I got up early. Because I was tired, I didn’t feel like working out, or cleaning the whole house after work. I never felt able to focus enough to get anything done, and ultimately felt ashamed when I would spend five hours on TikTok, dreading the thought of writing a single piece or turning on my piano. How was I not getting anything done beyond the bare minimum of working my shift and feeding myself? 

Here’s the thing: “That Girl” is hyperproductivity masquerading as self-care. 

That Girl goes all day long. She is an energizer bunny. That is antithetical to rest.

There are many issues with how glorified the trend has become — for starters, That Girl is always white, skinny, and wealthy. Essentially, she’s a personal-productivity version of a girlboss. Especially because much of this is broadcast on social media, it’s easy to get caught up in the competition of it all. 

Women are consistently pit against each other in the media. Outside of celebrity “catfights” and “who-wore-it-betters”, we see groups like #MamaBear, #Wifey, and of course, #girlboss and #ThatGirl. While on some level, they serve to recognize other groups of women and their successes, it mostly succeeds in breeding an air of competition. If someone else is girlbossing, you better be girlbossing harder. If someone seems like the best Boy Mom there is, then you better strive to be even better. More still, these groups often exclude BIPOC, LGBTQIA+, and trans women. 

Trends like these not only force us to compete with other women, crushing the hope of forming a meaningful community, but they turn us against ourselves. 

Since my goal was to be The Most Productive, all the time, doing something that wasn’t on my detailed agenda for the day made me feel like shit. I would beat myself up for not looking cute, or forgetting to shower that morning, or eating a pint of Ben and Jerry’s one night. It made me feel like I wasn’t taking care of myself. Turns out, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Once I started napping, or taking days off from exercising, or knowing when I needed to let my mind rest, I actually became more productive, because rest is productive. 

Distancing yourself from the “hustle” mindset is difficult, and there is still part of me that says I do not deserve to rest. Honestly, I didn’t even want to give myself a nap break to write this article, because that isn’t what That Girl would do. But ultimately, taking time for yourself is more productive in the long run. 

I gained so much mental freedom once I allowed myself some wiggle room. When I had properly rested, I felt way more energized to work out. Taking time to do nothing and zone out after work gave my brain a break, and I’d come back after dinner ready (and really wanting) to work on my hobbies and passions. 

My attitude surrounding my day-to-day life is a bit more neutral now. If I get a bunch of tasks done, great — and if I don’t, I trust that I’ve done what I needed to do to take care of myself for the day. The shift in mindset has made me live in the moment more, and really listen to what I need. 

Sometimes I still watch those TikTok videos with envy, wishing that my life was that aesthetic or put together. While there are admirable things about the That Girl aesthetic, it is not indicative of a real, fulfilling life. “That Girl” is not a lifestyle, nor should it be, because we need balance. Generally, I think it’s a great reminder that what we see on social media doesn’t match up with what real life is.

It’s okay to look up to inspirational content. After all, it’s meant to be motivational. But we cannot let it dictate our lives and, more importantly, our self-worth. So go ahead: Spend some time journaling, take a walk, or maybe throw some extra greens into a meal today. Just don’t be afraid to go to Taco Bell instead, or head to bed early, or spend your whole evening on TikTok. That’s where I’ll be the rest of the day.

If I had a quarter for the number of different hair colors and styles I’ve had in the last 16 months, I’d probably be drinking an iced oat milk latte around the corner from my apartment right now. (They cost around $6… you get the point.) Though my style journey through the coronavirus pandemic hasn’t differed much from my constant need for change during a normal year, public perception around personal style choices certainly has. 

About a year and some change later, people are beginning to be ripped from their beds, living rooms, 876gh and Zoom calls to head back into reality. To some degree, at least — barring breakthrough cases and new variants — in-person interaction is back in full swing. As people head back to schools and offices nationwide, one of many things on their minds is the way they present themselves through clothing, makeup, accessories, and hairstyles.

Take me, for example: as a mid-20s working professional, I spent the last year in sweats over Zoom handling all of my work within my four bedroom walls. In a year spent confined to one singular point on a map boredom struck, and I channeled my energy into constantly-changing hair styles. I found solace in my hand-me-down clipper kit and began cutting my own hair; I had a new look each week, from a shaved head to a mullet and more. I tested nearly every color under the rainbow from platinum blonde, to a deep emerald green, to bright orange with a dyed orange eyebrow to match. As summer hit, I began to wonder what was still “socially acceptable” out in the real world. How would a year of casual dress and TikTok-inspired at-home experimentation affect the way we react to each other in person? 

Before we continue, a brief explanation on TikTok trends I’ve hopped on to. Midway through 2020, two on-the-rise hair trends caught my eye: split dyed hair and money piece highlights. One day, I decided to split my hair down the middle and dye it a few of following color combinations: blue and purple, blue and green, blue and pink and my personal favorite, pink and green (what I called my watermelon hair). Once I grew this out, I hopped onto the money piece highlights train — of course, with short hair this looks a little bit different on me, but I had fun dyeing the hair along my hairline blonde, and consequently different colors. I’m still growing it out now, actually. Fashion-wise, I took my turn in DIY-ing some old pants; I spent one afternoon bleaching a pair of black pants to make one leg a different color than the other, and spent another doodling over a pair of olive green chinos with a black sharpie. 

Evolved style, and more importantly, the emphasis we place on style standards, is a dilemma facing workplaces and schools alike. School boards are beginning to implement a shift of focus on dress codes to make “‘a little less stress [for teachers],’” according to Elizabeth Huebeck in Education Week. Times have changed and these days there’s plenty more to worry about than a tucked in shirt and black dress pants. What if everyday could be “casual Friday,” or the concept of “casual Friday” didn’t even exist? Cleanliness, respectability, and an overall sense of being put together in school or the workplace are not extraordinary demands, but would you really ask your employees to sacrifice themselves or their comfort Monday-Friday? It can be challenging getting up each day feeling like you have to put on a mask (a metaphorical one, please continue to wear masks) from 9-5 for more than half of your week. 

For most of my upbringing, I was able to choose how I looked for myself. I spent K-12 in public schools without uniforms and when old enough, I was allowed to dye my hair whatever color I felt like that week. This turned into almost every color under the rainbow, piercings, tattoos and an overall sense of personal style. Even when I worked jobs that required uniforms, like a certain job where one might have to wear a red shirt with khaki pants *cough cough* I was allowed to display my tattoos and color my hair blue. I worked in the clothing section of this unnamed store where people would approach me for recommendations daily, saying they could tell that I had good style…wearing KHAKI pants. If my sense of style, even in uniform, sold clothes, how could a company not let me present myself any way I wanted?

Even in schools, where dress codes are often stringent and archaic, the rules are shifting.In some places, though, dress codes are stricter. Mary Retta, in a 2020 Teen Vogue article, interviewed students rethinking dress codes. One student said she doesn’t “‘think shoulders, backs, stomachs and upper thighs are ‘distracting’ at all.’” This quote brought me back to my middle school days, when our vice principal would practically stalk the halls, classrooms, and cafeteria looking for young girls to punish — some claimed she would pull on girls’ bra straps if they were showing outside of their tops. 

Many faculty members still punish staff and students for silly things like tank tops, the length of shorts and skirts, and hairstyles. Hairstyle restrictions disproportionately affect Black students, unfairly viewed as “non-traditional” by (racist) faculty. Through discussion and legal activism, change has begun and the perception of individuality amongst young people is being embraced. It’s important for school administration to respect students the ways they want to be respected in return, and be mindful of personal, cultural and religious dress in public environments like the classroom.

Fashion cycles every 10-20 years while trends continue to come and go, but personal style will remain personal style forever. I sometimes think I’ll have pink hair when I’m 80 and if people don’t like that, then it’s on them. But if I’m not allowed to explore that for myself in any and every environment I step into, how will I know whether or not I’ll want pink hair when I’m 80? It’s not like I would get less stares and comments than I do now — pink hair is pink hair. To be honest, more people compliment me than give me grief for walking around with pink hair, piercings, and a butterfly tattoo. I do live in Los Angeles, after all. I can’t say I’d receive the same reactions in other parts of the country, but I do count my blessings that I don’t have to find out. If there’s one thing keeping more to myself for the last year taught me, it’s that I’m the only person who will be seeing myself all day every day. That’s exactly what I’ve begun to find different in myself — I really don’t care what people think of me in platform boots and cheetah-print pants or a bright pink mullet. And by the looks of it, trends are blurring the lines of personal and professional as society continues to evolve. 

I had a professor who would always bring lectures back to the phrase “evolution is change over time.” A familiar concept, right? In school you learn about evolution through science class and history; how we evolved from the first cavemen and women, or how the industrial revolution evolved almost all aspects of our society. I think, because of this, we’re sometimes stuck with this notion that large change cannot not happen in our lifetime. That where we are now is because of the changes that were made in our parents’ and grandparents’ generations. But change can and will happen throughout our lifetime — we’ve seen an incredible amount of it happen the past year and a half alone. If you don’t evolve with the world, how can you continue to be yourself?

Try dyeing your hair pink next time.

As a full-time college student involved in the media industry, I am always trying to complete homework assignments on time, meet article deadlines, and manage social media accounts all at once. In essence, I am always working. But it seems unjust for anyone to be asked to be productive during this pandemic — where any day, a loved one or friend might be lost to this illness. As we enter one year of living through coronavirus, I’ve realized how resting is a radical form of resistance for people of color against the backdrop of being forced to be productive.

I can’t remember when I started taking naps, but since then, I have dedicated unapologetic time to sleep and rest. During the day, whenever I need to disengage from my to-do list and Zoom, I curl up next to my cat, Pinky, and take a nap. For 25 to 30 minutes, my life is not tethered to all the responsibilities I juggle. Instead, I’m resting.

This idea of rest — especially resting by napping — was something I thought I shouldn’t do growing up. My parents’ marginalized status in the U.S. hindered their ability to rest. To them, resting was always in the periphery of their mind. “I’ll get to it later,” they’d say, but they never actually did. That same mentality was passed down to me. Being surrounded by very few Latine people at a predominantly white high school made me feel insecure and ate away at my self-esteem. I thought the solution was to engage in a toxic relationship with productivity — where the only way I could ever deserve to rest was to check-off as many things on my to-do list and prove my worth to my white peers.

Similarly, after arriving at NYU, I remember feeling pressured to be extremely productive. Whenever I met other students, they would always introduce themselves to me saying, “Hello, I do this, this, and that, and also work here and might be starting a gig here,” as if I had to aspire to be that busy. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not knocking on those busy bodies who truly enjoy filling their calendars with endless activities and tasks. But hustle culture forces everyone who is not like them to resist the idea of rest and continues to perpetuate a toxic productivity mindset. Both of these cultures are rooted in capitalism where this structure has denied people of color the right to rest and make them fight for it instead.

Two years ago, my sister mentioned on a phone call that I should read the book How to Do Nothing: Resisting the Attention Economy by author Jenny Odell. I wasn’t sure if I could trust her recommendation. “Doing nothing? No. I could never do that,” I thought. But I missed Odell’s point. Doing nothing is about diverting our attention away from the endless to-do lists and tasks that demand we be productive. I didn’t know it at the time, but napping was the “doing nothing” Odell was talking about.

Likewise, organizations and art projects like the Nap Ministry and Black Power Naps work to empower Black people and other people of color to not only normalize the need to rest but present it as a radical form of resistance. For people of color, the reality is that we don’t get enough rest. In 2015, a study published in the journal Sleep found that Black participants were five times more likely to get short sleep than white participants. Additionally, Latine participants were 1.8 times more likely to get short sleep. The National Foundation of Sleep says that sleep is critical to our health and wellness, plays an important role in our emotional health, and is vital for our memory, attention, and cognitive function.

When we don’t rest, we don’t give ourselves the opportunity to restore our health and well-being in ways that will help us stay grounded in our bodies. The pandemic only compounds this reality more. Research has shown that communities of color across the country are disproportionately affected by COVID-19. But it’s not just the virus that’s impacting our well-being. Our mental health is suffering as well. In a report released last June by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention found that Black and Latine people in all age groups reported increased levels of anxiety, depression, and suicidal thoughts related to the effects COVID-19 has had on our society. For people of color, being productive shouldn’t be a priority right now. It definitely isn’t for me.

We need to rest. Our bodies have long been exploited by capitalism and white supremacy, something that continues to happen today. I worried that when I took naps, it would be futile when my time could be spent working toward disrupting these oppressive systems that demand my productivity. But Tricia Hersey, founder of Nap Ministry, believes that by resting, we are disrupting exploitation. When we rest we reclaim our bodies for ourselves.

So much of our lives have changed while living in a pandemic. But one thing that won’t change is my belief that I deserve to rest. Resting is necessary, especially to disengage from the ruthless expectations of capitalism. So I indulge in napping because it means that I am simply choosing to listen to my body when it signals me to pause.

I’ve always lived in a fantasy that my hair is heat-proof (I apologize to hair stylists in advance). From the time I was a tween, I spent hours upon hours frying my curly mane into submission. I would blow dry it, straighten it, and re-straighten it until my hair looked as straight as everyone else’s. By the time I got to college, I bucked the standards and wore my hair curly 90 percent of the time. But a few weeks ago, excited by my new auburn highlights, I decided to whip out the hair dryer that I bought before leaving for college. And it fried my hair off.

So I decided it was time for a new, hopefully fire-safe hair dryer. As someone who prefers a routine with as few steps and as little maintenance as possible, I was in the market for something that could produce salon-quality results with the least amount of effort. I was attracted to products that combine a round brush and blow dryer simply for the fact that it requires one less hand. But I also have a lot of hair and needed something that would be effective. After a little snooping through product reviews, I decided to go with the Drybar Double Shot. It combines a round brush and a traditional hair dryer, and promises to get wet curls straight. Air blows through the slits in the cylindrical body of the tool, and a combination of regular and soft brush bristles lock the hair in place. Drybar claims the Double Shot will produce blowout-like results. So, I put it to the test.

I started by jumping in the shower and running some conditioner through my hair with a wet brush. After toweling off, I put Olaplex bonding oil in my hair because it’s a heat protectant and I was paranoid about doing more damage to my hair. (You should always use a heat protectant on your hair. I’m just stupid.)

After sectioning my hair with a stale scrunchie, I got to it. I used the medium heat setting to avoid doing more damage to my already-singed hair, and began by brushing out the section like I would with a normal paddle brush. Once the section felt a little dryer, I used the Double Shot like a round brush and curled my ends under. I repeated the process again with the middle section, and was able to get my hair pretty straight until I reached the top section of my hair. The top layer is always the most difficult for me because I have a hefty side part (bite me Gen Z) that falls to my right side. And I often struggle to get the layers dry before they begin to spring back to their naturally-curly state.

While it was no less effective than a normal hair dryer, I had to turn the Double Shot up to its highest setting to notice any kind of results on top. I was able to get the section straight eventually, but the under curl wasn’t happening and my layers looked chunky. I would likely try to avoid this in the future by splitting my top section into two or three smaller ones.

My hair looked decent. I was able to replicate salon-level shine and keep the straight, voluminous look you would leave a professional blowout with. I hate excessively-straight hair, but the emo middle schooler look would probably be doable with this tool. And it took about the same amount of time as a round brush-dryer set up would have. But I still felt the need to run over my hair with an iron before the look was complete.

 

Double Shot blowout by itself.

Double Shot with a flat iron.

The Double Shot was three times more expensive than any hair dryer I’ve ever owned. But at first pass, it seemed more reliable and protective than what you can buy at your local drug store. If you’re looking for something to replace $49 Drybar blowouts, I’d recommend the Double Shot. It’s easier than holding two tools at once and it does a pretty decent job (even when you test the product at 10 p.m. while intoxicated.) And if you’re someone who got blowouts regularly pre-pandemic, this product will basically pay for itself after a few uses. But it definitely won’t replace the look you will leave the salon with after your hairstylist crushes your cut and color (love you Jenipher.)

All products mentioned in this story were purchased by or gifted to the author. No brands paid for or sponsored this article.

A peek into the folders of my phone housing all of my saved recipes reveals lots and lots of meatballs. One of my favorites is Vietnamese-inspired Pork Meatballs With Ginger and Fish Sauce, but I also have bookmarks for Korean, Swedish, and good-old Italian marinara sauce meatballs. One day, I’m sure I’ll write a column where I only review meatball recipes I found on the internet.

To further prove my love for meatballs, I’ll inform you that my favorite dish to bring to a party is, what I call, party balls. It’s just a bag of pre-cooked, frozen meatballs with a full bottle of barbeque sauce and a jar of grape jelly that I let simmer in my crock-pot until hot (with little toothpicks for serving). Writing this down is horrifying, and pairing grape jelly with frozen meatballs sounds absolutely terrible, but it’s actually delicious, and everyone who tries my party balls (lol) loves them. I think I got the recipe from a Trader Joe’s free-sample counter, back when spreading germs and eating in public was still allowed, but who knows.

Now that you have no doubts that I am a meatball connoisseur, we can move on to my first recipe of 2021: Caldo de Albondigas, the coziest tomato-spiced soup full of bright vegetables and rice-laced meatballs. What sets albondigas apart from your basic Italian meatball is the addition of half a cup of uncooked white rice to the raw meat, which gives the cooked meatballs an ultra-tender, soft and almost fluffy texture. Albondigas are not dense (in fact, you can break them apart with just a little bit of pressure with a spoon), but they also won’t fall apart in the pot.

I imagine the origin of the rice doubled as a means to stretch meat a little further for more people (as per usual in Mexican cooking) and as a way to bind the meatball without using breadcrumbs or flour, which would yield a firmer result. While the true origin of the meatball is a mystery, we do know that it made their way to Mexico from the Middle East by way of Spain (likely sometime after the 6th Century, during Muslim rule in Spain). The origin of these Mexican meatballs becomes more clear when you look at the etymology of the word ‘albondiga’ — it’s derived from the Arabic al-bunduq, meaning hazelnut. The word’s background is a reference to the size and shape of the meatballs, and a clear nod to what is thought of as the original meatball, kofta. Although my Albondigas are sized more like a golf ball than a hazelnut, they still hold all the traditional Mexican and Spanish flavors, and the classic rounded shape.

Caldo de Albondigas has always been the epitome of comfort food in my family. It was used as medicine, a part of the trifecta of cold remedies alongside Vicks VapoRub and Sprite. Whenever someone even so much as sniffled, a giant pot of albondigas appeared on the stove almost immediately. And if the normally balmy Southern California weather dropped below 50 degrees? You bet there were albondigas cooking that night in our house. This caldo is ideal for cold nights, gloomy days, or just for impressing your friends with a cozy and easy Mexican dish. The veggies are flexible, and can be swapped out based on whatever you have. The only ingredients that are really a must are the meatballs and potatoes — everything else is up to you.

I like to make albondigas by combining two classic childhood recipes — from step-grandma Jova and El Toreo West — my family’s favorite Mexican joint. Grandma Jova’s recipe has a lighter, chicken based broth, while El Toreo’s features a tangy, tomato-based broth, so I brought the two together. Traditionally, this caldo has potatoes, squash, celery, and carrots alongside the meatballs, but I will occasionally add cut green beans towards the end for brightness and texture.

Serve this soup alongside lime wedges, Tapatío hot sauce and hot corn tortillas (that you warmed in a pan on the stove, not in the microwave. I’m begging you). Feel free to play around with the meat you use — I prefer solid ground beef because it yields the fluffiest texture when cooked, but a mixture of beef and pork or ground turkey would also work. (Side note: someone try making this with a vegan meat sub and tell me if it works/if it’s good). Don’t like celery? Don’t add it. Want to try it with cabbage? Do it. Considering how easy it is to make and how flexible the ingredients are, caldo de albondigas can and should be your new favorite go-to soup. Just remember one cardinal rule: once the meatballs float, the caldo is ready for the rest of your veggies.

Caldo de Albondigas (Meatball Soup)

Yield: 4-6 servings

Times: 45 minutes

Ingredients

For the meatballs

For the soup

Preparation

Step 1

Combine all meatball ingredients in a large bowl and stir to combine. Form 12-14 golfball-sized meatballs using your hands, pressing and rolling gently to create the round shape. Don’t pack them too tight, or they’ll be dense once cooked. Place formed meatballs on a plate until you’re ready to add them to the soup.

Step 2

In a large pot, bring water, bouillon, garlic, tomato sauce, cilantro stem, oregano, and sliced onions to a boil over medium-high heat. Once at a rapid boil, add meatballs in, allowing to cook, uncovered, until they float, about 12-14 minutes.

Step 3

Once meatballs are floating, add in celery and carrots. Allow to cook for about 4-5 minutes, then add potatoes in. Cook potatoes for an additional 5-7 minutes, or until fork-tender.

Step 4

Add zucchini to the pot, then lower heat to medium, allowing to cook for about 2 minutes. Turn heat off and serve the caldo with chopped onion and cilantro, warm corn tortillas, lime wedges, and hot sauce.

 

By the time February comes around, it feels like winter is never going to end. The holidays are long gone, but the days are still short and dark. The snow keeps coming, but it doesn’t feel magical anymore, just cold and mean. This is when it’s time to turn to glögg.

Denmark has hygge. Norway has friluftsliv. But in my opinion, the best of all the Scandinavian lifestyle hacks to cope with winter is Sweden’s tradition of drinking glögg, a spiced wine drink fortified with vodka and served hot. Glögg is often compared to mulled wine, but this has never made sense to me. Glögg is traditionally made with fiery Swedish aquavit and many other recipes call for high proof rum. The glögg I know is a recipe passed down through old Swedish cookbooks from my great grandmother to my nana to my mom. It has such a high alcohol content that it often catches on fire if not watched carefully on the stove. It stings my eyes when I sip it hot and the tiny copper mugs burn my lips, but drinking glögg warms me better than a heated blanket.

Glögg is typically enjoyed during the Christmas season, which normally means a month’s worth of glögg parties. But not this year. My family still made glögg by the liter, but this year the bottles were dropped off to family and friends’ doorsteps instead of being enjoyed together. But the good thing about glögg is that it’s strong enough to dull the sadness of missing out on a year’s worth of holidays. Glögg still feels special by yourself in the depths of winter because of the hunt for all the special dried fruits and spices and the warm, sweet smell that fills your kitchen as you heat it.


Some glögg recipes simplify the mix of dried fruits, nuts, and spices, but it’s worth it to use as many of them as you can get your hands on. If you’re feeling adventurous and want to try my family’s special “Christmas strength” glögg, use 100 proof vodka and Bacardi 151 rum. But with more alcohol comes more responsibility — pay VERY close attention while the glögg heats to avoid any fire incidents.

Swedish Glögg

Ingredients

Spice Mix

Glögg

Preparation

  1. Put the spice mix in a medium pot. Add enough water to cover the spices and then add the vodka. Using the bottom of the wine bottle (or any kitchen item that you can crush things with), gently mash the spice mix to help release the flavors. Transfer to the stove and bring to a slow simmer.
  2. Add the sugar, port, and rum. Heat until the sugar is dissolved. DO NOT let the liquid come to a boil. Only keep on the heat long enough to warm the drink through.
  3. Pour into mugs and serve hot.

 

Email is everywhere. Virtually every website, store, and newspaper demands you fork it over. It’s on your laptop, your phone, and constantly on your mind. Your workplace, school, book club, yoga video membership, social media, and frozen yogurt reward points all tie back to it. It can feel like a terrifying, endless list of all the requests, bills, and due dates you’d rather forget.

But it doesn’t have to be! The rule of three, when applied to email, can save you from a cluttered inbox without the hours of sorting, unsubscribing, and creating subfolders within subfolders of important documents that other email hacks recommend. All it requires is creating three separate emails: the serious, the self, and the spam. Much like the delightful power of always keeping three beverages on your desk, allowing yourself this trio of purposeful inboxes is an act of self-care.

The Serious Email

This is the email you use most often. Your company or school assigned it to you years ago and you don’t know life without it. The serious email contains all the messages to which you dread replying and can feel inescapable. Never let this be your only email address, because it’s not guaranteed. When you graduate or move onto a new job, it could disappear in a flash. It’s also not private and your boss likely snoops. The serious email can mean stiff, formal language and passive aggressive replies. It’s functional, but not fashionable.

But it has some perks! When you send an email from this account, you get some intangible institutional authority from having your name tied to a specific university or organization, which might get you a faster response. And having a serious email address means getting to set serious boundaries about when and how people can reach out to you. A custom, automatic Out of Office message is your best friend in this inbox. And while it might not be possible for everyone, I highly recommend keeping this email off your phone (or at least turning off notifications).

The Self Email

This email is the natural evolution of the one you made at 13 to create a Tumblr account. But instead of delena4ever@yahoo.com, it needs to be some variation of your first and last name. Freelance work emails, your friends’ niche blogs, pick-up notices from your local library, and forwarded science facts from your dad belong in this email. With a little curation effort, you’ll actually look forward to checking your inbox! Try throwing in a few subscriptions to Poem-a-Day, Dan Lewis’ Now I Know, or these insightful literary newsletters. And if you’re writing to a former colleague or employer for advice or a recommendation, it’s probably best to do it from this personal account.

If you have a side hustle or freelance frequently, it might feel right to split this category into different emails, dedicating one to capitalism and the other to comfort. However, I find it easier to deal with job opportunities, bills, and rejections when they’re sandwiched between updates from my favorite museums and snippets of old poetry.

The Spam Email

The spam email is the party in the back to your serious email’s business in the front. If you’ve ever tried getting to “inbox zero,” the difficulty of blocking and unsubscribing to spam has likely been an obstacle. Devoting a separate email to all advertisements, contests, and other activities that might compromise your inbox but still intrigue you will revolutionize your email experience. There is a time and place for Bath & Body Works candle sale clickbait! Turn off all notifications for the spam email address and suddenly you get to choose when you’ll yearn for an overpriced makeup collaboration, flash tattoo sale, or the latest tech deal. Making a spam account will also protect your regular accounts from fishy emails and bots. With this inbox, spam emails become the casual acquaintances you run into once or twice in a non-pandemic year: You don’t hate them, but they’re not invited to your birthday party.

 

Throughout the past 10 months of the pandemic, everyone has used different coping mechanisms to deal with the upending of normal life, from stress baking to working excessively. But with our shared trauma, we also formed one shared coping mechanism: making unrealistic plans for the future.

This is something we’ve been seeing since March 2020, when most Americans thought this was going to be a quick two-week affair. It was common to see college students planning for the wild summer parties they’d throw to make up for lost time, and it was ordinary for parents to yearn for a separation of their family lives from their work lives. It only became more common as time went on. It’s become a coping mechanism for some of us to fantasize about and picture a life post-apocalypse, a life with some stability, certainty, and more socialization. But that life might not be immediately within reach for all of us, emotionally or mentally, even with the vaccine out.

With the general public potentially gaining access to the vaccine within a year, many are asking themselves and their peers: What’s the first thing you’re going to do when this is all over? You typically see the same answers to this question: “I’m going to book the first international flight I can find and travel my heart out” or “I’m going to go clubbing and make out with as many strangers as possible.”

Tweet by @michaellbonsujr.

But the transition between now and Post-Vaccine Life will be difficult, even if for the better. So many of us have developed severe social anxiety, phobias (such as coronaphobia and agoraphobia), insomnia, depression, and even post-traumatic stress disorder due to the pandemic. Existing mental health issues have relapsed or taken a turn for the worse. It might not be as easy as it used to be to simply get on a plane to a tropical island with a piña colada in your hand surrounded by hundreds of maskless strangers. We might need a recovery period in between.

Kelsey Hidalgo Mulgrew, a graduate student at Gallaudet University in Washington D.C., said living with her bipolar disorder has been more difficult during the pandemic.

“Recovery is harder because there’s less things to distract yourself from your own mind when you have to stay at home,” she said. Hidalgo Mulgrew explained that her symptoms of mania have also gotten worse over quarantine, attributing this to being indoors all the time and feeling less accomplished.

“It’s going to be hard to go back, even emotionally,” she said. “It’s almost like you know when you go to a different country and there’s culture shock — it’s going to be a culture shock.”

After being conditioned for a year to have some level of anxiety surrounding health when going outside the house, there could be some hesitation around social connection moving forward,” Akua K. Boateng, a Philadelphia-based psychotherapist, said.

“The social dynamics and framework of what we considered safe and okay has changed,” she said. “It may not be as comfortable, even if it’s permissible moving forward. It may also, even though it is permissible again, be met with anxiety and or potential loneliness if people do decide to forego those things.”

At her personal practice, Dr. Boateng said she has seen an increase in PTSD and anxiety, particularly. While these disorders might not be directly caused by the pandemic, they are definitely manifesting into people’s lives and being diagnosed more now. And this increased anxiety might still catch some people off guard post-vaccine.

University of Pennsylvania Associate Professor Sarah J. Jackson discussed this online, recounting, “One of my students today said planning for life after the vaccine is a form of speculative fiction and I’m still thinking about it…”

It’s unanimously agreed upon — this past year has been one of the worst for almost everyone — and experts say it probably will not be as easy to recover from this collective trauma and snap back to the Before Times as we’re making it out to be. Right now, nearly half a million Americans are dead — they are our family members, friends, co-workers, and neighbors, and it’s a grief we’ll carry long after the pandemic.

For Gen Z in particular (those born between 1997 and 2012 and are currently in their developmental stages), the transition to a Post-Vaccine life could be especially difficult. Boateng, who also teaches human development for PhD students at Eastern University in Pennsylvania, says this collective trauma will have lasting effects — including altering how Gen Z sees the world.

“We might just see a difference in how Gen Z seeks to connect in the future,” Boateng said.

This comes as many significant social milestones for younger people have taken place online — such as dating, classes and graduations, friendships, and even weddings. The shift in worldview also comes as this younger cohort of the population has faced multiple major world events, from the rise of technology and social media, 9/11, endless wars abroad, multiple recessions, the normalization of school shootings, the responsibility of a dying planet, a global pandemic, and political turmoil resulting in the first ever twice-impeached American president.

Another set of the population that might have a hard time bouncing back is working-class adults, parents, and their children. The “culture shock” of switching back to normalcy as if nothing happened this past year could be difficult for those who were denied care from our healthcare and labor systems, which so routinely push aside those who need them most. People who work in retail, dining services, healthcare, and low-wage jobs suffered severe financial hits. Boateng explained that there will be long-term life effects, both for parents and children, as a result of the trauma that is incited when basic human needs are not met

“Poverty, access to healthcare, and all of the things that our country is dealing with, directly impacts their potential for their future which is, I think, a greater impact on their mental health,” she said.

But this isn’t to say the collective grief and trauma we’ve worn through together is irrevocable.

“This is one of the hardest things that you’ve had to endure, and so having a sense of relief is warranted and okay,” Boateng said. “I wonder if there are ways that we can think about relief and hope aren’t dependent on an externalized reality.”

Whether that’s creating a getaway in your backyard rather than taking an island vacation or manifesting other changes in your life this year that were not available in 2020, it’s still possible to have optimism and relief, especially with the vaccine out. And while I, too, am guilty of daydreaming about going to a crowded bar with my friends post-vaccine, there is an importance in recognizing the possibility that we won’t be ready for that just yet.

This comes in the form of lowering those fantasy expectations, taking a step back, and allowing yourself to rest Post-Vaccine. Rather than challenge ourselves to make up for lost time, we should realize what we will have accomplished by surviving this grief and trauma — and take pride in it. Tangibly, this might look less like forcing yourself to go to jam-packed parties, even when it’s safe, and instead transitioning to “normal” in ways that are comfortable.

“Create flexibility around how we will pursue these changes, and still make a determination that we will pursue these changes,” Boateng said.