Each of these moments means something new against the backdrop of the COVID-19 pandemic. I can’t imagine dashing into my lobby without shoes. The shutting door of a half-empty elevator is now good etiquette. We are invited into one another’s homes via Zoom. And stimulus payments have peeled open all of our wallets—and here we are, out in the open, barely decent.

Stuck between financial and moral obligations and self preservation, a teacher in Florida wrote his obituary. Many neighborhood businesses have been permanently shuttered, while large corporations have been bailed out, once again. The staggered stimulus payments that Americans were given to keep us afloat, during a pandemic that promises to barrel through the winter and into 2021, reveal a particular sourness in our national ethos. When contextualized by the amount of stimulus relief citizens of countries like New Zealand received and the very little so many of us are surviving on in the first place, $1200 is particularly ingracious. 

Here, three stories about stimulus checks that were not enough to numb the pain of the pandemic.

A nurse and mother of 3 on stretching a stimulus check while 37 weeks pregnant 

Moriah Gaddis Thompson, General Surgery Clinic Nurse in Camp Lejeune, Jacksonville, NC. 

I was pregnant with my third child when I began working as a general surgery clinic nurse. I’d planned to work until I went into labor because I didn’t have much leave time saved, but I was sent home by my midwife to quarantine at 37 weeks to try to limit my risk of being exposed to COVID-19. 

In my position, I was not on the frontline for care of sick patients, so my risk of being exposed to the virus was much smaller than that of a nurse working in the E.R. or family medicine, for example, where symptomatic patients visit. I was very anxious, nonetheless. I felt like my hospital was slow to respond to the pandemic in a preventative manner. We did not begin taking temperatures, social distancing, or requiring face masks until April. There was such limited information about how the virus affects pregnant women. It consumed me a bit. What if my husband was positive and could not be with me during the birth of our child? What if I was positive and separated from my newborn for two weeks? What if our bonding was compromised? What if I couldn’t breastfeed?” 

I asked myself these questions every day that I was still at work. I was torn, though. I felt somewhat obligated to work since my department was lower risk, and there were so many people unable to work. I felt grateful to have the job that I have, but I also struggled with fear and anxiety. 

When I returned after my son was born, it was so hard. Money was definitely a motivating factor. I have private student loans that are not on hold right now. I have three kids at home—three college funds I am trying to grow. I have car notes and bills. So, I “pulled up my big girl panties” and headed back in, which was also complicated.

According to everything I’ve heard, my area was not hit as hard as other places, but our army base is not reporting numbers to the local health department for “national security” purposes, so I never really felt like I knew how many cases there actually were. Because of that, in part, I knew I did not want my two school-aged children to return to school, and I’ve signed them up for virtual learning at home.  

The stimulus check was a surprise to me. I’d heard about it but I was mostly consumed with baby prep and COVID fears. My company is excluded from the CARES Act and did not compensate me for the three weeks that I was at home prior to my maternity leave, so when I saw the amount pending I was immediately grateful. Because I’m in charge of keeping up with our finances, I also knew exactly what I wanted to do with it. I was around 34 or 35 weeks pregnant, and we had been working on cutting down our debt as we got closer to my maternity leave. We took the better portion and paid down my debt, and with the rest bought a crib and mattress, and sushi for dinner! 

A small business owner on closing shop and navigating new expenses

Eric Perez, Barber in Oneonta, NY 

When the pandemic started, my barbershop was shut down because we were deemed non-essential. It was tough because my income is directly combined with my effort and time at work. If I don’t work, I don’t get paid. Within a week, I’d gotten myself a job working overnights at Walmart because, at that point, I didn’t qualify for unemployment because I was self-employed. Then the CARES Act was passed, and I would’ve qualified for unemployment had I stayed at home—but since I went out and found a job, I didn’t. I took solace in the fact that I was still providing for my family, even though it felt like I would’ve been rewarded had I stayed home. 

My homelife with my children changed. We were being really careful because my youngest is high risk. He has asthma and I was scared I would bring the virus home to him. My wife was working from home, but it seemed like more was expected from her being home than being in the office. The stress was evident even in small conversations. 

I’ve talked to a lot of people at the barbershop and I’ve found that so many people rely on social media for their news. The area I live in has a high population of people who still wave Confederate flags and voted for Trump. For the most part, they are people I can try to have conversations with but I always have the feeling that we are at odds or there is tension there. It’s evident that the information they’re giving me is from social media and our president is guiding their thought processes.

At the height of the pandemic, I still was concerned about going back to the barbershop, but I did it for the money. I blew through my savings because as gracious as Walmart was in employing local people, even though they didn’t need us, there were unforeseen bills that came up. We had to pay more for food and electricity, because we were home more. We paid for technology to appropriately teach my children, who were learning virtually. But we also paid our rent every month on time, and it’s something we can look back on and say we did. 

We spent our stimulus check on getting ahead on our bills a bit. It gave us some breathing room. It allowed me to quit my job at Walmart with enough time to prepare to go back to the barbershop and minimize my exposure for my family, but I would’ve just had to work two more weeks to earn what I received from the government.

A New York native on moving home and saving for a rainy day

Ghislaine Leon, Digital Media Manager in Harlem, NY

By the time the pandemic hit, I was looking for a new job. I was exhausted from paying New York City rent prices and not getting the bare minimum from landlords, like hot water in my kitchen. I had the option of waiting out the pandemic alone in my Bronx apartment or saving half of my monthly costs by going back home to Harlem. If the world was going to end, I figured I might as well be with my family.

I returned to a neighborhood that has two strong communities. There are families who’ve been on the block for more than 30 years, who think of our area as “the hood,” and there are neighbors who gentrified Broadway and think of our area as a “Henry Hudson dream.” The pandemic pushed true New Yorkers to be more of ourselves and pushed some of our visitors out. For the first time in my life, Broadway became like what my uncle described in the ’80s: a street pharmacy. 

One night I stepped out at 10:30 p.m., and I had not even walked a full block before someone walked by me saying, “I got that gas, that gas.” 

For most of my life, I’ve been offered weed on the street, but this is different. The fact that people need money brought back drugs that community board members have worked to remove. I had the Citizen app and I had to delete it. The number of notifications I got about local crime reinforced the feelings I had that night. 

Another night, I was waiting for pizza when a fire broke out in a building nearby. A young Dominican man intentionally lit his apartment on fire, causing the entire building to evacuate. I was heartbroken at the sight of young children leaving the scene through their fire escapes in their pajamas. Guys on the block beat the young man up before the cops arrived to arrest him. 

As an Afro-Latina, this affects me personally. Black and brown communities have been hit hardest, so disparities have been in my face at all times. There’s no escaping it. At one point when NYC COVID-19 cases were high, I saw an ambulance every other night in my neighborhood. It was usually an elderly person. 

I haven’t spent my stimulus check yet. It’s sitting in my savings account until I invest it. I want to double it. The stimulus check was enough to cover half of one month’s cost of living. It was definitely not enough to live on through September and it’s shaken me up. I have to remember to fend for myself and make money work for me.

Graphic by Lorenza Centi.

The post What is $1200 Dollars Worth Right Now? 3 Americans On Getting Their Stimulus Checks appeared first on Repeller.

Today, I talked to Vivek Shraya, a creative multihyphenate (writer-musician-visual artist) hard at work on a new non-fiction book and adapting her debut play as a TV pilot. A tenth-anniversary edition of her book God Loves Hair is coming out this fall.

How has your writing process changed since the pandemic?

My main writing project at the moment is a new manuscript and for a book that’s supposed to come out with Penguin next fall. When the pandemic first hit, I was relieved to have something like that to keep me focused, but over time I have found that my creative energy has really dwindled. Writing has felt a lot more challenging and cumbersome because I don’t have the same ability to focus. I’m also missing the spark I used to get from the other aspects of my work–touring and performing and connecting with people. Without that, I’m finding that the artistic process is suffering.

The amount I’m writing day to day ebbs and flows as a result. First drafts can be painful even in the best of circumstances, but I try to keep the perspective that I’m fortunate to be at home and do the work that I’m doing in the first place.

Have you felt more pressure than usual to write/create during this time of isolation?

One of the unusual things about this pandemic is that the think pieces about it–and about productivity during it–are being written in real time. The way I manage my anxiety tends to be through creativity, so my response to this initial feedback loop on social media was to be like, “Oh OK, well I guess I better use this time to write three books and 16 songs.” And I started making a list of all these projects that I needed to work on in order to really take advantage of this time. I feel really grateful to the amazing writers and thinkers who quickly pushed back against that kind of thinking and reminded everyone that a pandemic is not the same thing as a writing retreat. That’s been important for me to acknowledge when my writing doesn’t feel particularly strong or fluid right now. I’m trying to write during a time when my mental health is not in the best space.

How and where have you been finding creative inspiration these days?

I’ve been watching a lot of TV. I felt very guilty about it at first, but my friends who are super generous told me it counts as “research,” because one of the other projects I’m working on right now is a pilot script adaptation of my play. Having given that connection more thought, I’ll also say that watching TV helps me think about chapters I’m writing as scenes. I’m more attuned to considering what the scene I’m writing looks like, and what I’m trying to convey with it. I never thought about writing from that perspective before, so I credit TV for the inspiration.

What’s something you’ve written recently that you’re especially proud of (even if it’s just a sentence!)?

I managed to finish the first draft of my new book of nonfiction for Penguin. I can’t say that the writing is extraordinary at this point–it’s very much a first draft–but any writing feels like a huge accomplishment right now. It feels nice to be like, “Well, at least I did this one thing.”

What’s the best thing you’ve read recently?

Girl Woman Other by Bernadine Evaristo, which was inspiring while I’ve been writing just because of the way her style is so fragmented, and how she pushes against the expectations of the sentence.

A book of poetry that just came out by Amber Dawn called My Art is Killing Me, which examines the connection between art production and capitalism in a really beautiful way.

And finally, Our Past Matters: Stories of Gay Calgary. Here in Canada I feel like so much of queer history or the LGBTQ history is rooted in Ontario or Toronto, but there’s gay history everywhere. It’s been really interesting to read about the history that’s taken place in my home province and where I’m living right now, especially because Pride season here is in September.

What advice would you give to young or aspiring writers who are trying to write something right now?

I think the biggest advice I would give is the same advice I’ve been trying to give myself: It’s okay not to write. It’s okay not to be creative. There’s so much pressure right now to be doing something, and I think it’s important for us to push against that as much as possible. So constantly remind yourself that it’s okay not to write, and it’s okay not to be creative, and it’s okay to watch TV and for it not to be inspiring.

The post How to Write (or Not!) During a Pandemic #3: Vivek Shraya appeared first on Repeller.

Today, I interviewed Shenequa A. Golding, who’s currently crafting the sample chapter for an in-progress book proposal and weighing the benefits of maple syrup entrepreneurship against the vicissitudes of the writer’s life.

How has your writing process changed since the pandemic?

Ever since Big Rona pulled up everything is different, but fortunately for me, it’s different in a good way. I underestimated how much mental space simply commuting to work actually took up. Now, I can wake up 30 minutes before a Zoom meeting, make my bed, brush my teeth, throw my locs in a bun, and “be on time” for work without being sleep deprived. I write more now than before, but that’s because I’ve got more side projects going on (all of which I’m thankful for). And due to quarantine I can focus on them.

This is going to sound crazy, but I’m a homebody. While a lot of people feel like they’re missing out on a free trip to Disneyland, ya girl is chillin! I have no desire to cross paths with Big Rona so I stay at home. I take early morning walks sometimes and that helps set the tone for a good day, but other than that I’m cool. I don’t need to go outside. As far as my attire, I haven’t consistently worn a bra in a few months and you know what? I feel like this is a small victory.

In March, a tweet went viral about how Shakespeare wrote King Lear when he was quarantined with the plague. Have you felt more pressure than usual to write/create during this time of isolation? (If yes, how has that manifested? If no, how have you avoided falling into the insidious trap of hustle culture?)

Well listen, William and his King Lear can go kick rocks! What they don’t tell you about writing is that the words come when they come. It doesn’t matter how disciplined you are, the real words, the words that light the page on fire, they show up when they’re good and damn well ready, at least for me they do. There are times when I sit at a blank Google doc and the blinking cursor is just staring at me. Then there are other times when I can write 1200 words without breaking a sweat.

What partially drew me to this occupation was the solitude. I’ve always been able to get more done alone than I can with groups, and since quarantine, yes, I’ve completed a lot, but not because I wanted to compete with Shakespeare—not all, bro.

Also in March, GQ staff writer Zach Baron wrote an essay entitled, “How Do You Write About People When You Can’t Be Near Them?” This question applies to his line of work quite literally since he writes a lot of profiles, but given that all writing–to some extent–stems from being out in the world and observing it closely, how and where have you been finding creative inspiration these days?

Inspiration is like, whatever to me. Yes, you need something or someone to ignite that creativity. I won’t dilute that, but if your writing is solely based on inspiration then I think that’s going to make things harder for you. Writing, I think, should be about storytelling and (personally) an unflinching curiosity. My creativity comes via conversations with brilliant folks, or reading books. I don’t really search for inspiration much. Instead, I try to turn question marks into periods. It doesn’t always work, but I try.

What’s something you’ve written recently that you’re especially proud of (even if it’s just a sentence!)?

I have a literary agent now, which is bananagrams to even say, and I’m crafting my book proposal, which is a lot harder than I originally thought. Anyhoo, I’m putting together a sample chapter and my agent said it was a good first pass, which is code for “Yeah, no, this isn’t going to cut it,” but that’s fine. For me, being able to write about something that was so hurtful (and something that I’m still dealing with) was a huge part of my healing. So yes, it wasn’t great, but I’m proud of myself for even vomiting up those words.

What’s the best thing you’ve read recently?

Without a doubt, Brit Bennett’s The Vanishing Half. I want to fight Stella and I know she’s not a real person.

What advice would you give to young or aspiring writers who are trying to write something right now?

Don’t do it. People don’t read like they used to. They don’t value the written word as much. It’s all about pageviews, catchy headlines, and viral tweets. Being a writer is a lost art. Be smart. Go to law school. Go to med school. Drive a bus. Become a vet. Develop an app. Marry rich. Start a maple syrup conglomerate. Do something that’s lucrative. Being a writer is thankless, and there’s no real way to ensure that you’ll make it or make any real money doing it. Save yourself the hassle.

And if you believed any of what I just wrote, kick yourself. If you want to be a writer you can do it. All you have to do is… write. You got this!

The post How to Write (or Not!) During a Pandemic #2: Shenequa A. Golding appeared first on Repeller.

Mary is a writer living in Brooklyn, New York. Check out her Instagram here and her website here.

How has your writing process changed since the pandemic began?

I no longer write as if being chased by a pack of wild dogs. There used to be so much urgency. If I didn’t get my thoughts down, I was scared they’d evaporate and crop-dust someone else who’d get to claim them. It was always zero sum with me, or that scarcity mentality. A lot of that energy has dissipated. The truth is I’m in grief and that makes me prone to depressive waves so everything is going much slower.

I used to write everywhere. Cafés, cars, anywhere in my house. Draped on the sofa, propped by a weird arm, getting pins and needles in both haunches. Or else at the dinner table, making my partner crazy. Lately, I write at my dedicated desk because I’m inviting some intentionality to the practice mostly because it’s so hard to want to write. I purchased a proper laptop stand and a separate keyboard and mouse and admittedly it’s been good for morale that my neck and shoulders aren’t in constant agony.

The “getting dressed for work” thing has been going in waves. At the outset I was feeling feral and gremlin-ish but now I’m putting outfits together and conventional wisdom is prevailing because I do feel better.

Eating meals at meal-times has also been helpful. And taking the full break and not doom-scrolling alongside the chewing. I’ve been buying beautiful produce and marveling at how ludicrously delicious peaches and tomatoes are. It’s a good way to check into my body when I’m dissociative.

In March, a tweet went viral about how Shakespeare wrote King Lear when he was quarantined with the plague. Have you felt more pressure than usual to write and create during this time of isolation? 

Hustle culture isn’t the wave anymore. Not by a long shot. Now it’s discernment and shrewd allocation of resources and boundaries galore. Energy is finite. It’s a somatically real and depleting thing to keep one eye on the election and another little antenna honed on a literal global plague.

I wasn’t immune to the fantasy that I’d get really, really jacked. Or else learn a language or take a course on playwriting, but then June swung around with zero progress and I realized that so much of it had to do with making this pandemic “worth it.” But no matter how much I try to avoid how scary and sad and fucked up this situation is, I can’t.

Plus, I realized I was trying to “be good.” As if I can cut a deal with the universe, like, if I behave and act diligently and piously and do my work then surely, the pandemic will desist in a reasonable amount of time, like three months? That was just a bullet train to heartache and rage.

GQ staff writer Zach Baron wrote an essay entitled, “How Do You Write About People When You Can’t Be Near Them?” This question applies to his line of work quite literally since he writes a lot of profiles, but given that all writing–to some extent–stems from being out in the world and observing it closely, how and where have you been finding creative inspiration these days?

Reading has been such a tonic. I’m grateful to borrow books from the library through the Libby app. Initially I was so mad at not being able to go to the physical library that I stubbornly refused to borrow e-books but I got over it. My TBR pile is so robust right now, and I love catching up on all the books I’d intended to read but missed the boat on. When I’m stuck on writing I read. I steal things. Check for grammatical quirks or transitions that I admire.

I’m also watching a ton of movies. Like, Takeshi Kitano’s mob series, Portrait of a Lady on Fire, The Last Picture Show, Badlands, Barry Lyndon. I’m learning to work without committing words to the page. Film is so instructive for proxemics and micro-expressions and the tension between what people are saying and what they’re doing.

Talking to good friends consistently has also been fruitful. My characters tend to become neurotic in a one-note way the more I isolate. It’s not as surreptitiously delightful as things you overhear or observe on mass transit, but going for walks around New York will always inspire me.

What’s something you’ve written recently that you’re especially proud of (even if it’s just a sentence!)?

Well, I finished my third novel Yolk (available now for pre-order ahem), which was surreal since it’s all about illness and death and asking for help. I had to take week-long breaks in between edits because it was brutal and uncomfortable to sit inside of, but I’m proud of what came out of it.

I also wrote an essay about Korean author and performance artist, Theresa Hak Kyung Cha, for Doris Ho Kane and the 17.21 book that she’s doing about Asian women iconoclasts. I got so imposter syndrome-y and anxious because I don’t feel as though I’m a high-brow enough critic or essayist, but Doris seemed pumped with what I filed so I’m thrilled.

What’s the best thing you’ve read recently?

Holy shit. Convenience Store Woman by Sayaka Murata was great. I was so sad when it ended. It was one of those where you’re just stuck on what to follow it up with because the mood is so specific.

What advice would you give to young or aspiring writers who are trying to write something right now?

Let go or get dragged. It’s healthy and realistic to have a consistent practice but I’ve also learned that every piece of work has its own particular rhythms that you’d do well to honor. I’ve wasted a lot of time setting agendas that the writing is largely indifferent to. Some things I only get one good hour a day on. Others I need to write long-hand because word docs or final drafts feel too stultifying or scary. Nothing is a value judgment or an indictment against your skills or progress. Creative works just have their own particular personalities. Plus, my circumstances and influences change along the way as well. I don’t know about you, but this is my first pandemic.

The other thing that I hate doing but am learning to lean on and value is asking for extensions. I ask as early as possible out of respect for everyone’s time because doing a weird, mincing dance when I know in my heart I’m going to blow the deadline is a disservice to everyone.

Also, I’m a big believer in the vomit draft. The first version won’t be good. You’re not as good as the You you’ll become once you’ve written the thing. The better You will do the edits and that’s how it works.

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The post Writers on Writing (And Not Writing) Right Now: Mary H.K. Choi appeared first on Repeller.

I’ve held jobs that were (at least) fashion-adjacent for about four years now, and that, at times, has sent me into a very specific spiral of purchasing above my means. A pair of Marni sandals are on sale! It’s okay—it’s just one pair of sandals. And won’t they make it look like I have taste to the people I most want to impress? The shoes turned into the leather jacket turned into the pearl earrings turned into the oversized blazer. After a phase of irresponsible spending, a bruised bank account, and some debt, my big epiphany moment came after a particularly irresponsible purchase of a giant faux fur robe-coat I definitely didn’t need. (Oh, but she’s still so PRETTY in my closet.)

Since then? Budgeting has been an act of self-care, as well as an act of will. It’s taken me months to unlearn the impulsive free-fall from “add to cart” to “purchase.” In some cases I have stumbled, yet I’ve learned to flex my willpower like a muscle, propelled by the conversation around sustainability and excess. But, interestingly, it has never felt easier than now.

This is my personal experience, so I’ll make that very clear before I say the following: I have never wanted “stuff” in my life less than I do right now. Well, I guess certain kinds of stuff. Like shoes. And sweaters. And little bags that fit only your AirPods. It could be a product of not having real financial security at the moment. Perhaps it’s because I’m not getting up and getting dressed every day, letting my self-presentation define me. Maybe it’s because a global disaster has made me realize what’s most important to me is not the things in my closet, but the connections I have with the people I love. IDK!!!

Is this feeling going to last? If I’ve learned anything about this time period, it’s that these sentiments are subject to change. In a few weeks, when the temperature climbs and warm breezes fill my apartment, maybe I’ll start having the itch to really buy that sundress missing from my closet, as opposed to thinking, hey, I have something in here that can fit that need.

Since quarantine has started, I’ve bought a puzzle and a bed skirt, and netted out pretty much equally on a dresser swap. The puzzle was a joint decision with me and my roommate and it brought us joy, madness, and everything in between. The bedskirt was because I was sick of looking at all the shit under my bed. And the dresser was because my stupid Danish teak dresser I’ve had for four years was pretty much intended for lingerie only, and WHO HAS THAT MUCH LINGERIE???

It felt strange to be much more excited by these purchases than I might normally be. Which begs the question from me to you: What are you buying right now? What’s your relationship to “stuff” looking like? Why do you think you’re spending the way you are? Just want to make clear: there is no judgment. I laid bare my reality just a few sentences ago, which means I invite you, and those reading your answers, to breathe everything in with compassion and understanding. There’s no right answer!

Animation by Lorenza Centi.

The post Open Thread: What Are You Spending Money on Right Now? appeared first on Repeller.

But when I asked 15 women, aged 60 to 89, about the wildest decisions they ever made (and don’t regret), I realized what made their answers compelling was not the specific details—it was their conviction in the face of uncertainty. When Susie, 62, walked away from her first marriage, she moved to London with no guarantees that she’d be able to support herself. When Furaha, 70, gave up a comfortable life in pursuit of her greatest passion, she was given no assurances that she’d be successful. And when Barbara, 74, went back to school to study business, no one promised her she’d be able to make a name for herself in a male-dominated field. They leapt anyway. 

All 15 women took a risk by betting on themselves, and whether or not it paid off, they prove that any woman who’s chosen a life of uncertain fulfillment over complacent insatiability has a story worth telling, whether that means whispering three little words or booking a one-way ticket. Maybe they didn’t save the world, but in a way they saved themselves.

What’s your wildest decision you don’t regret?

 “I randomly took a course in Impressionism and absolutely went crazy about the teacher and his way of expressing the art historical context of Monet’s series. I went home, stayed up all night, and wrote to my parents (those days there was no email, cell phones, or direct phone calls between Iran and the United States). It told them I decided not to major in economics and finance, but in art history. That changed my life forever.” —Leila, 65

“When I was in searching-for-a-mate mode, there were three men I was considering. A friend recommended I pack my bags and move in for two weeks with each man to inform my inclinations. I showed up to each one (one at a time, of course), bag in hand, to sample the experience. It was fun and certainly informative. None of them made the cut and I met my husband three weeks later. The universe heard my intentions loud and clear!” —Susan, 65

“My wildest and wisest decision I’ve made that I have no regrets about was to walk away from an emotionally abusive and physically violent marriage. That takes absolute courage. I didn’t know where I wanted to go, but a friend encouraged me to travel to London, so I did, on my own and not knowing one single person. That was back in 1984. My world changed from that point on. I have never looked back.” —Susie, 62

“I traveled to Zimbabwe, fell in love with stone sculpture, and got so excited I decided to put on a show right here in New York City! So I read every book I could find and met every Zimbabwean artist I could meet, including the head of the Zimbabwe Tourist Office. Then I planned a month-long trip there to meet artists and buy sculpture. It was a huge risk—but the experience was extraordinary.” —Diana, 75

“My wildest decision that I don’t regret was giving up a great, cushy life in Atlanta to move to New York City to pursue an acting career. I owned a successful business, was paying a mortgage on my beautifully furnished two-bedroom condo, and was paying the note on my first car which just happened to be a Lexus. I was a successful businesswoman and well-respected in the arts community in Atlanta, but when it came down to it, I knew that the almost 30 years I’d put into my career paled miserably in comparison to the mystery that potentially lay ahead of me in New York City. Many acquaintances thought I’d lost my mind, but I was more afraid of not making the move for fear I would spend the rest of my life wondering what would’ve happened if I’d taken that leap. Life is very different for me in New York City, especially from an income standpoint. That said, I wouldn’t change a thing about being here (save more acting gigs). There’s far more to life than money and position. All in all, I’m quite clear I made the absolute right decision. Life is good and my dreams are coming true before my very eyes.” — Furaha, 70

“When I graduated from architecture school in 1980, at the time of the recession, I was hoping to walk into an office and get a great job offer. After all, I had studied for six years non-stop. To my surprise and disappointment, I learned quickly that no one hires you if you don’t have previous experience, important recommendations, and social connections. To find out my own voice and what architecture meant to me, I moved away from my family and friends and checked into a Zen Center, where I cleaned toilets to live among monks and study the art of meditation. It was one of the best decisions I have made in my life. I learned that Zen is a state of focus that incorporates a total togetherness of body and mind.” —Gisue, 65

“Too soon after I married my ‘beshert’, my too-good-to-be-true husband, he commenced an affair. After a year of suspicion, prevarication, agony for both of us, intermittent joy for him, and accusatory blasts from me, the affair was acknowledged and declared dead. I clearly stated that should it continue or restart, my first call would be to his eldest son. Eleven months later, I was true to my word. I have no regrets. After I confirmed the affair, I wanted to know for whom my husband had left me. I invited her for a drink. She told me that her kids thought of him simply as an old guy who was smitten with her. I did not regret confirming that her kids were right.” —Dale,* 70

“I’m pretty risk-free, except for investing in a marijuana company called Weed Women. And my divorce, but that was a moral decision. I had two little girls to whom I was a role model. I didn’t want them to think that is how a wife should be treated.” —Casey,* 64

“The wildest decision I ever made was choosing to poison my husband. He was an abusive alcoholic who loathed our children and I was done with being tortured. Conveniently, he was deathly allergic to nuts and had sealed our relationship the night we met by asking if I’d always carry his epi-pen, Benadryl, and albuterol. He loved me! Years later, I realized it would be much easier in countless ways if he died and I didn’t have to go through a ghastly divorce. I stirred a quarter cup of peanut butter into his chicken curry and served it. He wasn’t dead when I finished putting the kids to bed, so I gave him a 10 oz scotch and a second large dose of curry. Like Rasputin, he wouldn’t die. Turned out he wasn’t allergic to peanuts, which are legumes and not nuts. My only regret is that I didn’t use almond butter.” —Sally,* 71

“The wildest decision I ever made was to move to New York from Trinidad, with my cousins, Ken and Karl. But they were always there for me. They made me feel safe, every step of the way.” —Angie, 75 

“I’m not really the type to make wild decisions, but back in 1973, when women were beginning to move up the corporate ladder, there’s one decision that really changed my life: I resolved to go from being a 10-year, hard-working executive secretary with a high school degree to a professional businesswoman with a college degree. I quit my ‘working-girl’ job, got a student loan, and managed to live on my savings and graduate from NYU—Magna Cum Laude. I was crashing that ‘old boy network’ and succeeding. Best decision I ever made!” —Barbara, 74

“Moving from the city to the suburbs. The country scares me. The trees felt haunted, full of evil spirits. But it was better for my husband and my baby, so I do not regret my decision. Now, we have a nice life together.” —Celeste, 62

“I’ve never taken a real risk. Even fleeing my country wasn’t a risk. It would have been crazy to stay, not go! I guess the craziest decision I ever made was marrying my husband. Love is always a risk. But it pays off.” —Behjat, 89

“I traveled by myself to the legendary rainforest of Sumatra. During my visit, I was misled by locals into a sort of rainforest sultan’s pleasure dome—a warm, wood-paneled room with a carved canopy bed, private bath with hot and cold running water and shower. I took a shower and wrote in my diary. There was a knock at the door. Someone had left a huge platter of tropical fruit for me, but there was no one in sight.  I locked the door and went to sleep in the most luxurious, puffy, feather-bedded king-sized bed. In the morning I stepped out and found sweet coffee and rolls waiting. A young guy with a skinny mustache and curly hair who hadn’t been there the night before said in the Queen’s English, ‘I heard you were looking for the Hostel.’ I said that, yes, indeed, but wasn’t I at the hostel? He threw his head back and laughed. ‘No, they were having fun with you. This is the private compound of the Minister of Forestry, the hostel is just down that path.’ He pointed to a footpath in the woods. At the time, I did realize I had been foolish. But looking back now, I realize it was probably the most foolish and risky thing I’ve ever done—except maybe for the time I tried a snake blood cocktail in Yogyakarta…but that’s another story.” —Kathy, 60

“I walked away from someone I loved because I knew I’d be happier alone. I was right.” —Morgan,* 63

*names have been changed

Photos by Beth Sacca. 

The MR Thoughtline is here! Starting this week, we’ll be sending out three daily text messages to light up your phone and consequently your day. You can think of it like a review with your manager, if your manager was actually your therapist, your therapist was actually your friend, your friend was actually one of us and one of us was actually you. What? Click here to learn more and subscribe. Ttysoon!

The post No Regrets: 15 Older Women on Their Wildest Life Choices appeared first on Repeller.

Somewhere, my high school career advisor banged her head against a wall.

I told my boss I was planning to take a grown-up gap year, and as I said it, it felt as if I were floating above myself, watching in disbelief. I’d worked so hard. Was I throwing it all away?

But five years later, my leap of faith has paid off. After six months backpacking around Central and South America, I moved to New York and started writing freelance. I’ve hit career highs I doubt I would have if I had stayed at my job in Australia, and work-wise, I’ve never been so fulfilled. It was all so easy, and I never once questioned my decision.

Ha! Obviously, I’m joking.

I mean, some of it’s true, but for at least the first year of being a full-time freelance writer in a new country, I was constantly anxious and plagued with doubt. I second-guessed my choice every time my credit card declined, every time a pitch went unanswered, every time an old colleague back home announced they’d moved up another rung on the corporate ladder. Some of that’s just part of making a big life change, but diving in blindly the way I did, and white-knuckling it through the freak outs and uncertainty, led to so much unnecessary stress.

As it turns out, there’s a smarter, more thoughtful way to quit your job—even if you don’t have another one lined up. And career coach Foram Sheth knows what it is. Sheth is the co-founder of Chicago-based career coaching company Ama La Vida, and below she shared the seven questions to ask yourself before you quit your job. Whether you’re considering a leap or just took it, asking yourself the following questions will help you plan your next move.

1. What would it take for me to be happy at my current job?

Before you quit, Sheth suggests you write down what would have to be different at work to make you want to stay. These changes might be impossible or outlandish, but getting them on paper can serve an important purpose. “If you don’t take a moment to reflect on what you need and want to avoid,” Sheth explains, “you might find yourself in the same circumstances, just at a different job.”

2. Am I running away from something or toward something?

Wanting to escape a shitty work situation is understandable, but Sheth says that if that’s your only motivation for leaving, you may find yourself in a difficult spot. “When we run from something instead of to something, we are just avoiding,” she says. “If we only avoid, we will always feel like something is missing.” She suggests you spend some time thinking about what you genuinely want to pursue before you make a move, otherwise you might leave only to run in circles.

3. What problems do I expect quitting my job to solve?

“It’s important to ask yourself if you’re unhappy in your job because of other things happening in your life, and not the work itself,” Sheth says. “You might be frustrated with something in your personal life that you haven’t yet been able to identify.” Set aside time to do some self-reflection, she says, perhaps by journaling or taking a long walk. It’s a little woo-woo, but the book The Artist’s Way or a self-discovery journal like this one can be an effective tool to cut through all the noise and get honest with yourself.

4. Can I defend my choice to leave, even if others disagree with it?

Talk it over with your significant other, parents, friends and/or your doorman if you want. But picture the decision like a set of concentric circles, with your beliefs at the center and the advice of others on the outside. Since others’ opinions may change, or be rooted in their own fears and insecurities, you need your own unwavering support. “Women especially tend to make decisions about themselves to please others,” Sheth says. “Ask yourself, ‘Am I doing this for me, or seeking the approval of someone else?’”

5. Can I financially afford to quit?

Only you can decide if you are financially stable enough to leave your job, but Sheth says considering a few different figures might help you feel more confident in your answer. “Ask yourself, ‘If I quit my job without a new one to go to, how can I budget for a six- or even 12-month safety net? What expenses can I cut temporarily knowing I can get them back once I have a new job?” she says. “At what point will I no longer be able to sustain myself? If that happens, how will I gain financial security?”

6. What’s my plan for day one after leaving?

It’s normal to experience anxiety for the first day (or week, or month) after leaving your job, but Sheth says the right preparation can help. This includes writing a list of the reasons you’re quitting to read in moments of doubt; compiling a document of positive feedback you’ve received, at work or in your personal life, for when you need a confidence boost; making a realistic daily routine that involves your preferred forms of self-care (yoga/meditation/breathing/exercise) to ground you while you job hunt or start out in self-employment; generally caring for your well-being by getting enough sleep and eating well; and seeking out some non-career related sources of self-esteem, like learning a new language or volunteering.

Sheth also advises doing a “pre-mortem.” Write down all the things that could go wrong and come up with an action plan for each scenario. There might not be a solution—the plan could be, “take a walk, wait two hours before sending a response.” But this process can quell the anxiety that things might go wrong (because even if they do, you’ll be ready).

7. Am I scared?

If your answer is yes, that’s okay. According to Sheth, being nervous about quitting is a good thing. “If you don’t feel nervous, you most likely haven’t thought it through properly. [Fear is] a normal response that makes you focus and consider consequences. It shows maturity.” But too much fear can also cloud your judgement. Sheth says it can help to imagine you’ve quit and visualize yourself 9 days, nine weeks, and nine months later.

“Sometimes we shy away from quitting a job because we worry we’ll regret it. But nine months later, it’s unlikely you’ll still be wishing you stayed. And if you do regret it, that’s okay. Rarely is a decision permanent or irreversible. It’s not uncommon for people to leave and then boomerang back to an organization, perhaps with some new skills and life experience. That’s why I always tell people to never burn their bridges.”

What other questions would you ask yourself in this situation?

Graphic by Maggie Hoyle

The post 7 Questions to Ask Yourself Before Quitting Your Job appeared first on Repeller.

Man Repeller is partnering with jewelry brand David Yurman to explore the supreme romanticism of hands. In addition to being a renowned decorator of this particular appendage, offering up all manner of artfully designed and crafted vehicles for sparkle, David Yurman is also a trained sculptor who not only works with his hands but also dreams with them. To that point, we’re publishing a three-part series spotlighting people who use their hands in creative ways. Part one kicked off with our own Leandra Medine Cohen, who examined the trajectory of her career as a writer through this lens while decked out in some of her favorite David Yurman pieces. Part two featured floral designer and Fox Fodder Farm founder Taylor Patterson, who shared the joys and challenges of making art out of flowers. Next up is Emi Kaneko, a freelance makeup artist. Read her story below.

On the Revelation That Led Her to Becoming a Makeup Artist

I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t fascinated by makeup, but I think the interest largely stemmed from how much I loved painting as a kid. I’ve always been attracted to experimenting with color and texture. I like playing dress-up and creating characters in my head, and makeup can be such a powerful tool for bringing those things to life. When I realized that makeup artistry was an actual profession, and that I could get paid to do it, and travel the world, and work with amazing, talented, creative people, I was like, “This is it.”

On How Her Makeup Aesthetic Has Evolved Since She Started

I grew up in L.A., which is definitely a “more is more” environment when it comes to makeup. Moving to New York and working on fashion shoots shaped my perspective both in terms of toning things down and thinking outside the box. I’d already developed the right skill set, but I saw a big evolution in my taste and aesthetic.

To that point, the longer I do makeup, the less I put on myself. That might sound kind of strange, but I think it comes from a place of being more comfortable with who I am and how I look. When I was younger, I used makeup as a mask to protect myself so I didn’t feel as vulnerable. It was a layer of armor–a bit of oomph that I needed while I was trying to discover myself and figure life out. Now that I’m in my thirties, I’m just like, “I’m good.” I’m content. Obviously I still play with makeup and do a full beat when I feel like it, but on an average day, I’m really happy just being me.

On the Primal Intimacy of Working With Her Hands

Because I work with my hands in such an intentional way, I feel an instant connection to the person whose makeup I’m doing. Touch is a very primal, intimate thing, and I try to use it in a way that helps people feel comfortable with me. I’m pretty gentle, which I think is important, because I don’t want it to feel forced. I’m also naturally an extrovert, which is probably why I never have an issue making small talk and touching a stranger’s face. I try to channel the mentality of a facial or a massage and make it relaxing for them.

On the Most Satisfying Thing About Being a Makeup Artist

The idea of making people feel empowered through makeup is particularly gratifying. It’s amazing how something as simple as a swipe of lipstick can give someone the confidence to do something outside their comfort zone. In a weird way, makeup can give people a voice even if they’re not actually saying anything.

Being surrounded by creativity on a daily basis is also one of my favorite things about my job. Recently, I worked on a show during New York Fashion Week for an up-and-coming brand with super talented, young designers, and the energy backstage is something I’m still carrying with me. I had full creative license with the makeup, which is always fun, but also a lot of pressure with 30 models in a short amount of time. Seeing it all come together was such a distinctive moment of euphoria, especially because the runway show only lasts for two minutes–all that momentum leading up to a single, poetic blink.

The only thing I dislike are the suitcases I use to pack all my makeup in. They’re so heavy! I can’t stand them.

On Her Advice for Aspiring Freelance Makeup Artists

You kind of need to have tunnel vision. Keep picking yourself up and putting one foot in front of the other. Sometimes a job works out and sometimes it doesn’t, but that’s the nature of being a freelancer. That constant feeling of, “Is the job going to confirm? Is it not going to confirm?” never goes away, no matter how good you are or how long you’ve been doing the work. So believe in your talent, don’t take anything personally, and keep moving forward no matter what.

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Photos by Sabrina Santiago.

The post A Makeup Artist on the Intimacy of Working With Her Hands appeared first on Repeller.

If you asked me what I consider the most romantic part of the human body (for some reason no one has yet), I would say without an ounce of equivocation: hands. I would proclaim that eyes aren’t the window to the soul–hands are. They’re the bridge between our thoughts and our actions, our designated vehicle for holding, gesticulating, and expressing, closing the gap between what we’d like to express and what our faces can’t. For those who work with their hands, they’re also a significant means of professional output.

Partnering with luxury jewelry brand David Yurman seemed like the perfect opportunity for Man Repeller to explore the supreme romanticism of hands. After all, David Yurman is a renowned decorator of this particular appendage, offering up all manner of artfully designed and crafted vehicles for sparkle. To that point, we’re publishing a three-part series spotlighting people who express themselves through their hands for a living. First up is none other than our own Leandra Medine Cohen, who examines the trajectory of her career as a writer through this lens while decked out in some of her favorite David Yurman pieces.

On Becoming a Writer (Despite One Small Obstacle)

It wasn’t as conscious as “becoming a professional writer.” I think I have always known that I wanted to express–when I was really young, I gravitated toward what my school called the “Humanities” courses–but never took to fictional writing. It was all the non-fictional stuff (which when I was young meant elementary poetry) that really interested me. Less because of the actual subject matter and more because I wanted a template that I could use to help me learn how to do it myself. When I was in fifth grade I made a poetry book–it was volume 1 of a collection of originals by moi, featuring everything I’d written that year including “Good Brothers Make Good Neighbors” (in the style of Robert Frost) and “For the Love of Making My Bed.” I received an award of excellence from the Persian/Turkish Laura and Mois Medine Times for it, and the Haim, Henry and Mark Journal gave it six thumbs up. FYI.

When I was in high school, I was told I’d never be a good writer, and was placed in a workshop class as such, which I actually totally forgot about until like, right now–for whatever reason, it left me unscathed and I still pursued a liberal arts/journalism degree in college. 

On the Most Delicious and Most Frustrating Parts of Writing 

Writing helps me process, and it unlocks dormant thoughts–no matter how determined I am that I know what I want to say when I confront a blank screen, it is incredibly rare that I leave without having learned something either new about myself or my perspective on the world or the topic at hand. What’s frustrating, though, is how the process feels almost exactly like untangling an exorbitant number of wires that have been sitting in a drawer for months. You know the desired outcome–all the wires separated from each other, neatly folding into themselves–but you have to be so patient about getting there. It takes time, and lots of breathing, and recognizing that sometimes you can’t do it all in one shot even though you know exactly what you’re going for. You have to leave the drawer alone and come back to it. I often have to take very deep breaths while I’m writing. My mind starts to feel like a blank canvas that is catching specks of paint being thrown at it by other people when I wanted to be the one to paint on it. 

I bet what other people find frustrating about my writing is the number of faulty metaphors I have to use to get my point across!

On Her Favorite and Least Favorite Things She’s Written

I don’t have a specific favorite thing, but I do have a favorite formula. The most satisfying writing that I lay out always ties the seemingly trivial–like my tendency toward a hot-but-sweet morning beverage in lieu of bitter coffee, to a shared human experience that has perhaps gone unspoken (like, say, the desire to purge a closet because unconsciously, you, too, are after essentialism or sustainability), which then zooms out to tie back to the broader zeitgeist because, surprise! It’s not just you or me. A shared, collective circumstance–phew! At its best, this is all done with a good sense of humor and never reads too earnest.

What’s something I wish I could rewrite? My book! It was published when I was 22, and reflects an experience that is so different from the one I maintain now which I suppose is lovely in some ways–a time capsule for the period during which it was born–but mostly I feel like I was a bratty kid who got a lot of what she wanted really early on, was perched atop a high horse, and was sure she’d be the next Nora Ephron. Maybe the last thing can still be true, but I don’t even think I want that anymore. See what I mean? Maybe I should write another. I don’t know.  

On What It’s Like to Work With Her Haaaaaaands [Insert Jazz Hands]

I’m often unaware that my hands play one of the most crucial roles in the process of getting thoughts out there. I get so in my head that sometimes I even forget I have a body, like nothing exists other than my mind (this is especially helpful when I’m trying to zoom out and think super broadly). But now that I think of it, I really appreciate this opportunity to consider how lucky I am to have hands to do my work. They say an idea is only as good as your execution and I think that’s true. Without my hands, there is no execution. I mean, there are voice notes and plenty of resources even outside of that, obviously, but letting the sentences linger quietly in my mind then spill out like beans on a table, taking shape as if I had nothing to do with it, is a special kind of sensation that does make me feel more in touch with myself. If not because of the mind-body connection, then definitely because I’m caressing my cheeks with my hands right now. 

I type much faster than I handwrite and my mind moves faster than both actions, but it can be frustrating to wait for my hands to catch up with my mind, even though I will say that handwriting some stuff–like a to-do list–helps me retain the information better.

On Genuinely Helpful Writing Advice

I don’t know who said this, but my favorite writing advice is definitely to write what you want, or need, to read. And the advice I’d give to an aspiring writer, who is after capturing a tone not dissimilar to my own, or more broadly Man Repeller’s, is to imagine that you’re sending an email to your close friend about something that just happened. Good writing conveys clarity in expressing good thinking. In my view, excellent writing does it intimately and with a sense of humor.

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Photos by Sabrina Santiago.

The post Leandra on Her Unconventional Path to Writing appeared first on Repeller.

My housemate has a panic attack every time she’s on the tube—there’s something about the never-ending tunnels and the lack of exits that does it, I think. After a few years of shaking and crying every day, panic had sadly become a regular part of her commute. The multiple therapists she’d seen about it were no help, and she was resigned to thinking it would be her life forever. And then, last week, she had an appointment with a therapist who was different, who told her exactly what she needed to hear: “You’re underestimating your ability to cope.”

My friend’s face when she told me about it later made it clear: This was her breakthrough moment, the moment she finally got some advice that cut through the crap and put her on the path she needed to be on to help herself. For her, it took someone else to say, “You can do this.” My moment came when I received this piece of advice from my therapist for managing my panic attacks: “Find five things you can see, four you can hear, three you can touch, two you can smell and one you can taste [this could be your morning coffee, or food between your teeth].”

It’s simple, I know, but it was a huge for me. Now, every time I feel a panic attack coming on, I am able to stop it in its tracks, simply by taking a second to calmly and methodically get in touch with my surroundings. When I heard the relief in my friend’s voice (and remembered my own), I decided to ask 12 other women to share the advice that gave them clarity, that served as some kind of unforgettable changing of the tides. Turns out, breakthrough advice is something most people feel compelled to share. Some of the examples below are from therapists; others came from wise moms, sisters and friends. If you have some to share, pop it in the comments— you never know, it could be all the therapy one of us needs.

“My therapist told me to treat myself as softly and kindly as I would treat my former child self. It really resonated with me.”

Jessica

“Thanking your fear and doubt for its concern really helps me. I find realizing that anxiety can come from a good place, like love, really reassuring.”

Chelsea

“I was having a panic attack in a session and my therapist told me to stand up and do some jumping jacks. It made me focus on something else and help regulate my breathing.”

Bec

“I think the best thing I got in therapy was the praise and reminder for how well I’m doing, despite all the hardships. Tender encouragement and chocolate — it’s a good mix.”

Renée

“That if you’re acting stressed (fast-breathing, foot-tapping, chain-smoking, etc.) your body is sending stressed-out signals to your brain, which means it makes adrenaline and works you up even more. I’m a super tense person so that reminded me to stay mindful and relax my body when I need to.”

Holly

“My therapist validated the fuck out of all of my traumatic experiences that had been downplayed my entire life. That was the most healing for me.”

Caitie

“When you’re panicking about something that could happen, think about how actually likely it is to happen. Like, if your boss wants to have a meeting with you, how likely is it really that you’re going to be fired? If you’re on a plane, there’s almost no chance it’s going to crash.”

Steph

“The shark cage metaphor for trauma and PTSD is one of my favorites: People aren’t born with strong boundaries, it’s the people around us that help us to build them when we’re young. If something traumatic happens in our lives, it knocks a bar away from our cage, and it’s okay to ask for help to build it back up.”

Rebecca

“Whenever I see someone who triggers panic and trauma for me, I list all the differences between them and myself.”

Momo

“When I feel anxious or fearful I try to thank that thought for trying to protect me from what it thought was danger. I also like to focus on all my senses, and name things as I see them.”

Bronte

“That you’re not crazy for thinking you can’t concentrate — the stress of depression and anxiety can make it hard for your mind to focus. My therapist taught me some productivity strategies designed for people with attention-deficit-disorder and they were so helpful when I was having a bad day at work.”

Rachel

“That we cannot control what happens, only the way we react to it. Also that every negative pathway of thinking is a learned behavior that we can only change with time, practice and patience.”

Georgia

Kelly Pigram is a writer based in London. You can follow her on Twitter @kellypgram

Graphics by Coco Lashar.

The post 12 People on the Advice That Changed Their Life appeared first on Repeller.