Has the art of self-discovery died? Have we become so consumed with displaying the “curated version of ourselves” that we’ve forgotten to be human? To be one self? 

It’s easy to get lost. Lost in the mix. Timelines, deadlines, due dates, and events. Life has us so strictly scheduled that we, many times, forget that our time is really ours to own and that we, do in fact, have the ability to slow down. In Western culture, from a young age, we are taught that there is always time to do more, accomplish more, say more, be more, etc.. Whatever is enough to get you by, is never enough and should never be enough — we are taught never to settle. But when is enough, enough? Does there come a point in time where this mindset is more self-destructive than it is self-constructive?

I want more. I want to be more. But, not in the typical sense. I don’t want the title, the six-figure salary, or the false sense of happiness built on the foundation of materialistic desires. I want to live. I want to not only curate moments built by others but create my own. I want to drive to my own destination without navigation. To find content in the little things. To be thankful for the little things.

There are so many moments in a day where I unintentionally pass the opportunity to connect with others. My face too buried deep in the fluorescent screen of my computer, I miss out on the ability to connect on a personal level. “But…why am I alone”, I ask myself. Easy. I rely on an algorithm to tell me what’s worth my time in a day. Who’s worth dating. What’s worth eating. What’s worth reading, and what’s worth listening to. Has the art of self-discovery died? Have we become so consumed with displaying the “curated version of ourselves” that we’ve forgotten to be human? To be one self?

Self. : “A person’s essential being that distinguishes them from others, especially considered as the object of introspection or reflexive action.”



California Cleansed My Soul…

“Maybe it was the ocean breeze, or the fleeting feeling of freedom.

Adventure was running through her veins, burning like the tequila ingested the night before.

Was this what it felt like?

To be young and adventurous?

To not be 100% put together 100% of the time?

The feeling was so foreign, but felt so right. She had to learn how to bottle it and keep it forever.

To use in the moments where she felt like the cold hearted world had consumed all her humanity.

To use when it felt like no hope could out power the reality that we live in a broken and damaged reality of what once was.

When the hate of the world had outweighed the love.

This would be her Antidote.

California would cleanse my soul.”

Life’s Little Gifts

It is said there are many things in life that we are not meant to understand. The meaning of life itself, love and loss are just a few things that come to mind. We are told to “trust in the process” and come to accept that there are experiences in which we are meant to endure to bring us closer to becoming the person we are destined to be.

Although poetic, this is not how society shapes us. From a young age we are groomed to develop a plan for ourselves. We are taught that if you fail to plan, you fail to succeed and furthermore, exceed. We are taught to always maintain control. I was taught to always maintain control. For a type A person much like myself, creating a plan and sticking to it is not something that that proves to be a difficult feat, but the fear that comes with the derailment of such plan is. As I grow older, I have come to realize that you can check off every box, cross all your t’s and dot all your i’s and still not end up where you’d imagined. Although extremely cliche, what I have ultimately learned throughout the past two years of life, is that it can be exactly what you what it to be as long as you grasp the understanding that ultimately you do not have full control over what happens. Being simultaneously in control, yet completely out of control is a normal part of life that just so happens to be one of the many things that makes it so damn beautiful. There are many times in which we are reminded of such things and we are brought back down to earth.

One of these moments for me was when I stumbled upon a surprise note my late grandfather left my grandmother. It was April, 2016 and my grandfather had just passed away. His death still felt very surreal. Wanting to make my grandfather proud, I was volunteered myself for the emotional task of creating the memorial photo montage. In the rush of things, my grandmother quickly grabbed all her favorite photos of my grandfather from all over her house, still in their dust covered frames. There were all sorts of photos. Black & white photos, small photos, large photos- but one stuck out the most. It was my grandfathers Army photo. I could tell the photograph had not been removed from it’s frame for decades. As I opened the back of the frame and lifted the backing, portions of the image stuck to the glass. I gently continued to remove the rest of the picture from the frame and the moment I turned the photo over, my heart sank. My grandfather always cherished photos as a way to savor life’s precious memories, but I never fully understood that fondness until I discovered this quote on the back of an old photo he sent to my grandmother while he was away in the army.


“To my wonderful wife Evonne. Although miles have parted us this is one soldier who loves just one you. Generals have their armies, colonels have their divisions and captains their companions, but this is a recruit who has a whole world full of loving companionship in you. With all my love, your very devoted husband Ronnie”.

In the midst of all life’s madness, this moment grounded me and to this day is still my reminder that life is so enchanting. It reminds me that life’s beauty is found in the most hidden of places and that we must not forget to search for that beauty everyday. It will not always be displayed widely for you to immediately see or even understand, but that is what makes all the more valuable. Life has a funny way of reminding us to not take things at face value, and to accept that everything is so much more complex than it appears. Sometimes for good, sometimes for bad, but nonetheless the absolute core of the life’s beauty.


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 “We shape our buildings, thereafter they shape us.” – Winston Churchill

I still remember it as if it was yesterday. My white Forever21 sandals, now stained with mud and gravel dirt, were slowly making their way up the back hill that led to the place I had been dreading to visit- Henryton. Of course, me being the “fabulous fashionista” I am, thought that at any moment this outing could turn into a spontaneous photo opt.. So, like any girl, I was more than ready and ridiculously dressed in a summer dress and sandals to go urban exploring, of all things.

I had always been enamored with scary movies and horror flicks, but never had I been given the opportunity to explore an abandoned building that, in my mind, very well could have likely been the site of an atrocious mass murder or haunting. It was a very different feeling to be horrified in reality than it was to watch it on the big screen. After all, in the movies, you have popcorn and Goobers to comfort you. I had always heard people talk about visiting this particular abandoned place and experiencing something “unexplainable”. Believe me, I was praying with every step I took that I would be an exception to this haunted tradition. I remember reaching the top of the hill and seeing a small, feeble white cottage and thinking, “Awe, this is cute“. Then, I noticed the 6+ other decrepit buildings on the property behind it and thought, “My good god…this is it. I’m gonna die in here“. Spoiler alert, I didn’t die. In fact, I was mesmerized by the ability for something abandoned so long ago to stay frozen in time, as if it never ceased to exist. I quickly became obsessed with Henryton and every secret it hid behind each door.

Photo Credit:

Being the good, aspiring journalism major (at that time) that I was, I researched the crap out of Henryton. The building was opened in 1922 and was originally used as a sanitarium for African Americans suffering with tuberculosis. As modern medicine advanced, there was no longer a need to dedicated an entire center towards tuberculosis. In 1962, Henryton was transformed into a hospital for the mentally ill, ages 18+, and was equipped to treat roughly 400 patients. But, just like Rosewood and many other mental health hospitals in Maryland, Henryton began to lose it’s residents as mental healthcare reformed to an outpatient approach and they closed their doors in 1985. The history of the place enthralled us and Henryton quickly became our place of choice.

ImagePhoto Credit: Google Images- Kim Hairston/Baltimore Sun

Every photo shoot, hangout and free summer moment was spent exploring the massive site. My fear quickly dissipated with every visit (although, I was never able to hype myself up enough to walk through the basement– basements are always the place of origin for everything haunted, duh!) Like most teens in the surrounding counties, we thought Henryton was our secret place. To us, if you were lucky, we would take you with us or tell you how to get there. There were, like most things in life, two ways to get there; the easy way and the adventurous/scary way. 1) The East Way— Drive up Old Frederick Rd. until you hit Henryton Rd. and continue on until the dead-end, get out of your car and wade through the river and up the hill. 2) The Adventurous/Scary Way— Drive up Old Frederick Rd. until you reach Marriottsville Rd. and keep going until you hit the train tracks, get out and walk about a mile along the train tracks, walk through the extremely dark and cold tunnel and up the hill. On most days, our way of choice was almost always the latter. Henryton symbolized adventure and bravery to me. It was a time in my life when I was truly finding who I was and creating memories with people I will never forget. I can remember standing on the rooftop of the main building and just feeling at peace. A couple months later, my friends and I departed for college without taking a second glance at the past. We all thought Henryton would always be our place and that it would forever remain the same.

Image  Photo credit: Google Images-Jake Johnson

But, like most good things in life, Henryton didn’t last. Vandals continued to demolish the property. During it’s last decade, Henryton was the source for over 70 emergency calls (fires, OD’s, violence, etc.)  When I returned during one of my last visits to Henryton, the main building was almost unrecognizable. The turquoise window trim had been torn off and every window was broken in.The feeble white cottage was soon burnt down, along with one of the administrative buildings. There was orange construction tape everywhere.The once beautiful and abstract graffiti pieces were overrun with meaningless murals. Dumpsters and fences lined the perimeter. Every entrance and exit was blocked off with temporary construction walls. Henryton had gained the attention of state officials.

ImageMe "Modeling" during my prime days

There were always talks that Henryton would be demolished in the next 2-3 years, but nobody had ever taken action before.  Henryton was originally slated for demolition for May 2014, but a fire incident and hazards caused officials to advance the date. The demolition started in June 2013 and what was once a property filled with history, character and memories, now remains a flattened, re-claimed part of nature.

ImagePhoto Credit: Google Images- Forsaken Fotos

Henryton was much more than just an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere. It’s walls witnessed history and centuries of love, heartache, pain and even death. It stood during times of segregation, integration, reform and recession. It walls told the story of abandonment well. As silly as this may sound, Henryton shaped who I am. My first step onto the property pushed me to challenge myself and overcome fear; something I was up against quite often as a teenager. I cherish the memories that occurred there and consider myself lucky enough to be shaped by a building that had been shaped by the past.



Life in Transition

There have been many times in my life where a significant change or transition has occurred. Since I can remember, I have been constantly reminded that the only consistent thing in life is change. Gaining friends, losing friends, moving away from home, moving back home, seeking out new jobs, leaving old jobs, losing weight, and gaining weight, etc. Ehhhh, you get the jist. In most of these instances, I have felt completely ready for the change at hand. College graduation and planning the rest of my life, however, has been another story.

For four years I have felt the overwhelming want to “just be done”, but now that the day has come and gone, I surprisingly find myself missing those half-assed lectures in the scummy smelling classrooms at Marymount. Maybe it’s the fact that I expected myself to have my future planned out a little better than I do. Maybe I expected to feel just a little more prepared that I currently do. Maybe its because my life has taken a complete 360 in the past year and has undergone one too many changes. Or maybe it’s because, for once in my life, I actually have no idea where I am meant to be next.

For the first time in my life I am being 100% honest with myself when I say that maybe I don’t want to be the typical 9-5, give-everything-but-my-kidney-to-my-job kinda working girl. I want to be able to express my creativity. I want to truly live life. I want to work to live and not live to work. I want to truly LOVE what I do. Then came the heavy realization that in order to find a career that I am passionate about, I literally have to be willing to do ANYTHING to attain it. Thoughts start to race through my mind. Am I really the type of girl that “has” what it takes to create herself out of nothing? Do I truly have the drive? Am I willing to move away from the only true support system I have ever known? Most of these questions are things college freshmen face as they head out into the “real” world that us adults consider “pre-reality”. I’ve been there, done that and trust me when I say this is in, no way anything like that feeling. This feeling is the overwhelming worry that one wrong step, one too hastily accepted job, or one mistake could lead to a lifetime of being lead down the completely wrong path.

Thankfully, my dad gave me a piece of advice that has resounded now more than ever. “Life goes on”.

To me, meaning, I have made mistakes. I will continue to make mistakes. Sometimes, those mistakes have led me to the “wrong” place and to realizations that eventually led me to the “right” place. It is so cliché to say this, but life is a journey and I find solace in that. Knowing that these feelings of being led down a “wrong path in life” is an irrational one. There is no such thing as a “wrong” path. Sure, I’ve made my share of mistakes, but the lessons I’ve learned in return have been much, much greater.

To really live life, you have to be willing to throw yourself into it with all you’ve got. There are some people in my life, as in anyone’s, that would advise against that. They would opt that you “play it safe” and stay within your “comfort zone”. But what they are really saying and wanting is for you to stay within their comfort zone. If you never explore the bounds to your own comfort zone, you have no idea where the limits lie. So I challenge you, as I challenge myself to really live life. Although you may be a broke recent college grad, I challenge you to explore life and realize the true richness of every moment. Now more than ever, I have realized it is impossible to recreate “moments” in life, so take it in—Live it, Breathe it, Experience it and remember it forever.