Hey Kaleigh!

Category: Uncategorized

  • Learning to Love the In-Progress Version of Me

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    I really thought that by 23 I would feel glamorous with a clear direction. I pictured myself as the kind of woman who wakes up at 6am for fun.

    But one day I woke up, glanced in the mirror, and thought: Wow, I’m an adult now. How did this happen? This image of me just came into existence one day. Not quite the successful woman I imagined.

    Turns out, entering true adulthood is not a glow-up montage with the best early 2000s romcom soundtrack. It is more like a winding road full of wrong turns, detours, and dead ends.

    And the hardest part is facing all of the routes you’ve been avoiding.

    When you strip away the identities you’ve been performing, you realize that you haven’t left yourself with much.

    Are you still you once everyone has stopped paying attention?

    This is what being in your 20s feels like: searching for yourself in a world that encourages you to be anyone but you.

    And let’s be honest, figuring out who you are can be an exhausting process, especially in a world obsessed with glow-ups and fast-fashion. Figuring out who you are feels like running a 5K in stilettos.

    Sometimes a breakthrough is simply saying no to what doesn’t feel right. Other times it’s unlearning the false ideas you believed. It is letting go, even if everyone else is telling you to hold on. It is choosing the in-progress version of yourself, even if she’s not trending on Tiktok.

    Here is what I am learning:

    Figuring out who you are is messy (and that’s okay).

    You know yourself better than anyone else.

    So no, I haven’t figured out who I am yet. But paying closer attention is the first step, and it feels like the most grown up thing I’ve done so far.

  • The Fear of Being Seen

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    Let’s be completely honest here: we are all total narcissists. Whether it is the endless spirals of what-ifs and existential dread, all we do is suspiciously doubt ourselves like it’s our favorite hobby.

    Here are a few of the fears I am afraid to let see the light of day:

    I am haunted by my deep smile lines. I worry that they’ll expose how much I’ve lived, how often I’ve laughed, and worst, they will continue to deepen as I age. They are a confirmation that I am living, but I wish I could live without time leaving receipts on my face.

    I am terrified no one will ever really know me. Like, genuinely know me, the parts I bury under intentional captions, good lighting, a foolproof sense of wit. What if the world only ever loves my highlight reel?

    I am afraid that even if someone does fully see me, they won’t stay. That love is momentary, conditioned, and that one day the version of me they admired won’t be the version I am anymore.

    And the worst fear of all? What if I don’t even fully see myself? What if this constant chase towards self-awareness is just another one of my performances? What if I never find what I’m internally looking for because she doesn’t exist?

    But here is the paradox: these anxieties are the most raw and restless parts of me. They make me human. Maybe the aim isn’t to erase them, but to admit them out loud because every time I do, I feel a little more like the main character in my own story.

  • I’m Not Lost, Just Loitering in My Twenties

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    I’ve spent years trying to “find myself.”

    I started college already imagining who I would be on graduation day. I navigated student government and group projects and maneuvered how to responsibly delegate tasks to my peers while still being a great friend. I crossed uncharted territory with care even when I felt unorganized.

    And yet…here I am at 23, still wondering who I am.

    I’m still figuring out how to make friends at this age, because it’s hard, but it’s still significant to put yourself out there.

    I’m still powering through mean girls in the adult world.

    I’m still single (shocker!) and deciding what I want my love life to look like. I’m learning how to stop giving myself a thumbs down in the mirror and questioning if I even deserve that love life.

    I don’t know my favorite season.

    I still don’t like the sound of my voice or that my statements often sound like questions. I feel like I constantly need to confess that I am still figuring it out, but I so badly want to be unapologetic.

    I wish to take things day-by-day, but my brain insists on spiraling. I want to be intentional and spontaneous at the same time. I want to stop overcompensating for my insecurities.

    I want to live a life that is purposeful and desirable.

    The truth is: I appreciate my life. Much of my gratitude comes from acknowledging the unplanned and ugly moments that eventually became core memories.

    The story of my life is one of a kind, but is it a bestseller? Does it grant me as much pride as it should? Are my choices – good and bad – going to help me grow? Will it ever be enough?

    Will I ever choose to go easy on myself?

    Have I already lived out my prime? Did I miss it?

    What do I do when minor inconveniences feel like super catastrophes?

    How do I keep going when I’m facing so much difficulty? 

    Will I ever learn to be gentle with myself?

    The most complicated lessons I am learning are the ones that don’t have easy answers. I can’t Google whether I am pretty or slender enough. Instead, I have to figure it out alone – in the disaster zone that is my brain. These lessons can sometimes make me feel even more fragile.

    I’m not shattering myself as some kind of excuse. I am constantly transforming. Continually finding my voice. I am continually filled with knowledge but never quite sure what to do with it. I am still learning how to be alright when everything feels all wrong. Everything is still coming to me. So I will leave you with this:

    Not everything you do or say demands to be picture-perfect. 

    You are constantly changing and each version of you is still deserving.

    You are still smart enough when you have the wrong answers.

    You are going to mess up. That is okay. Tomorrow is a new day.

    Life happens, and none of us survive it, so go easy on yourself.

    I don’t know who I am yet. But I know who I am becoming, and she’s learning to be kinder.

  • Someday, But Not Today

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    To be totally honest, I don’t think I’ve ever been absolutely happy with myself. Each version of me feels unworthy until I undoubtedly morph into someone new. Everything is temporary after all. Maybe one day, I will appreciate my present self. But for now, I long for the Kaleighs of the past while wishing I could become someone new.

    Eventually, everything will finally feel perfectly aligned. I will wake up and stop cringing at old photos. Stop nitpicking my face in the mirror. Stop obsessing over what’s missing and start becoming proud of what is there. I will be proud, not just of what I have survived so far, but of who I have become.

    But right now? I scroll through my camera roll memories like I’m stalking the Instagram account of someone cooler. I glamorize the versions of me that once felt totally awkward and just as unsure as I feel about myself today. I’m convinced that I used to glow brighter, laugh louder, and love harder even though I remember crying in the bathroom at that party and leaving nights out with anxious pits in my stomach.

    The present never feels like enough until it becomes the past.

    Maybe the work isn’t in becoming something better. Maybe it’s in sitting still and realizing that this version of me deserves love too. Not someday when I’ve healed and gotten hotter. Now.

  • Having It All Still Doesn’t Feel Like Enough

    There’s a version of my life I picture clearly.

    I will wake up early, sip my coffee and feel refreshed. Appreciate my mornings and welcome my perfect thoughts in a journal that is satisfying and organized. My days begin around dawn and are busy without feeling draining.

    This version of me exists somewhere, or I at least want to believe she does.

    On my best days, she feels close. Almost within reach. But then reality sets in, and I’m left wondering if she’s just a fantasy. An aesthetic I’m chasing more than a life I’m living.

    The truth is: I have real achievements. But I still wonder, will any of it ever feel like enough?

    Because sometimes, even joy feels artificial. I previously wrote about my battle with the digital versus the authentic versions of myself and I feel like this struggle still applies.

    In my real life, learning to feel content is a work in progress.

    Being fair to myself looks different than I imagined. It means giving myself the grace to sleep in, even when 9am wake ups don’t align with the “clean girl” aesthetic. Recognizing that softness is just another version of discipline.

    Because the truth is I want more. And it’s not necessarily a bad thing, but it is a complicated one.

    I want more. Maybe not more things, but more meaning.

  • Who Are You?

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    This isn’t polished, it’s a mood. I’m having a weird day full of writer’s block and asking myself too many questions.

    Sometimes, I have these days where I feel like I am just meeting myself for the first time. I lose sight of who I am. I neglect my emotions and clumsily set myself up for something awkward. These moments come out of nowhere and I suddenly feel like a stranger in my own body.

    Sometimes it is an angsty speech. 

    Sometimes it is the awe of a beautiful moment.

    Sometimes it is peace that causes me to get lost.

    Regardless, I still find myself wondering: Who are you, Kaleigh?

    I’ve never claimed to be traditional. But I believe each day shapes me. Sculpting me into who I am and who I am meant to become.

    My Inner Monologue

    When my personality blooms, I feel amplified – like this heightened charisma will allow me to be seen. Like I am improving and attracting myself to the life I daydream about. But then comes the struggle: I said something charming. But am I charming?

    I want to be that alluring girl with “bedroom eyes” who always knows what to say. But instead I’ve had boys on dating apps tell me I have crazy eyes. I laugh too hard at my own jokes. I talk too much instead of using my mouth for other things. I fumble.

    Is it worth it to put so much effort into trying to walk this impossible line: 

    Being a girlboss, but not too bossy.

    The first time I saw the Barbie movie, I sat in the theater stunned. Because for years, I have carried this backpack full of burdens. Invisible, but heavy. Hearing my inner monologue reminds me that I hold on to all of my anxieties.

    The voice is always there: self-correcting and self-defeating.

    She reminds me that no matter how I grow, I’m still afraid. 

    But maybe the unraveling is the becoming.

    Maybe it’s how I meet the woman I’ve always wanted to be.

  • The Girl Who Cried in the Justice Fitting Room

    Some of us are healthier than others. Some of us are totally self-assured. I remember all of my awful haircuts. I remember drinking a frightful amount of cosmos at a Mariah Carey concert trying to impress my millennial cousin. I often fail to remember that the whole world does not revolve around me.

    Life goes on. You may be amazed by the things that haunt you as time moves forward. But to me, time isn’t what moves – it’s you.

    When I was younger, my world revolved around One Direction. Life felt really simple. These were the days in which I played with Barbies and asked for “crackle” nail polish. My future felt like it would be a breeze; I couldn’t wait to get older. Elementary school eventually flurried by. Rather than being excited to be older and wiser, I began to feel insecure.

    Then came Middle School and I grew even more self-conscious. This era brought new friendships and a new agenda: comparing myself to my friends. I experimented with the bathroom scale. I cursed myself in a Justice fitting room for having cellulite (even if I didn’t know the word for it yet).

    At this time, I coyly began to understand who I was, and I didn’t like her at all.

    By high school, I had aced the art of pretending. I always smiled in photos, laughed in the right places, and learned to quiet the voice in my head that always whispered: You’re not enough. I became fluent in the language of likability by dressing the part, saying the right things, and never taking up space.

    But beneath the mousy shyness and Snapchat filters, I was still that twelve year old in the fitting room trying to shrink herself into a different version of herself that might be easier to love.

    Now I’m trying something different. I am learning to unlearn. To recognize that maybe growing up isn’t about outgrowing your insecurities. Maybe it’s about learning to live alongside them with more compassion. Maybe it’s not about having it all together, but having a little more grace when you fall apart.

    And maybe it’s okay that I still wince at the old haircuts and compare myself to others and still forget that the world doesn’t revolve around me. Because I’m not trying to be perfect anymore. I’m just trying to be me.

  • To Anyone Who Has Ever Felt Unsure

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    There is something complicated about having it all together. Not because it adds new stressors, but because poise can be a facade. It is you, your self-doubt, and your goals against the world.

    We live in a fast-moving civilization that constantly progresses us to chase bigger outcomes. We are handed dopamine hits disguised as transformation. But what if you still aren’t quite sure what you want? What if the revitalized act of buying a new retinol became less about “recovery” and more about the excitement of trying something new. 

    This is a love letter to those facing uncertainty. To the planned auto-payment on your car. The natural deodorant with excellent reviews but melted like milk on your armpits at the gym (sorry!). To the lilac-scented candle that fumigates your kitchen after you disgustingly botched a 4-step alfredo recipe and now your kitchen smells like burnt cheese.

    When we over-romanticize too much and fixate on the end result, your life begins to feel less in your control – it becomes living in autopilot. It begins losing your present self in worrying that your future isn’t good enough. It’s falling further and further down the rabbit hole. But it’s not about being complete: it’s about being real.

    For me, my bedtime routine is one of the few times in my day in which I feel in control. We are taught to be perfect – that being human is a defect. But it is perfectly okay to be blemished and a little vain. It is not greedy to selfishly love yourself. You are healing yourself in a way that no influencer ever could.

    So if you’ve ever felt unsure about your career path, your five-year plan, your skin texture, your love life, or what milk you should use please remember that you are not alone. Uncertainty doesn’t mean that you are lost. It means you are paying attention.

    Sometimes, you don’t need a breakthrough. You just need a moment. Lighting a candle. Washing your face. Cleaning alfredo sauce off of your stove while listening to “Unwritten.”

    You don’t owe the world clarity in order to be taken seriously. You don’t need to be perfectly polished to feel powerful.

    Even if all you did today was survive (and scrub alfredo sauce off the stove) that is enough. You are enough.

  • I Don’t Know About You, But I Don’t Know How To Feel At 22

    There is something frightening about getting older. I’m not talking about the crow’s feet that are already starting to form or the smile lines I have had since I was a teen (although my 0.3ml of lip filler would tell you that I am a little scared). I mean the feeling that I have to sit with. My memories. My girlhood is beginning to fade into womanhood – yet I don’t know which box I fit into.

    This is not just anxiety, it is existential dread tangled with joy. I am happy to start the next stage of my life. But I am so afraid. I turn 23 next week and cannot wait to see what the year brings; however, 22 was full of uncertainty. Of feeling like I am behind, despite being so young still.

    When I scroll through all the content that my Instagram bombards me with, I am in terrible astonishment of what my peers are up to. Everyone is experiencing such wonderful moments. While they are getting engaged and flourishing, I am still mousy and snapping photos of dazzling lattes that I ordered at brunch with my dad.

    Sometimes I am curious if they feel it too – the prying and pressure to make this all mean something. If they ever panic at 11pm because their fridge is empty and they still haven’t figured out taxes (despite being a math teacher). If they, too, hold their breath and question their milestones just because someone else got there first. I can’t help but wonder whether I am falling behind or taking a different route.

    This year was the year I learned to exist in the gray. 22 forced me to sit in many moments of not knowing. I let myself cry during my prep periods as a first year teacher and then laughed so hard that I choked on iced coffee. I didn’t develop into a better version of myself, but I did develop a more honest approach to life. More tender. More interested in what it means to grow without needing it to look good on camera.

    I still tried to glamorize everything, of course. I still decorated the little corners of my life: dirty chais and Pinterest moodboards and blurry photos of the sunset I took at Target with my mom. But underneath the filters, I let the real stuff in. The mess I’ve always tried to keep covered up. The fear concealed with a smile. The ache planted in my chest of just wanting to belong somewhere. And the small, sweet victories: starting a pilates class. Saying no with less guilt. Starting over and giving myself credit when due.

    So no, I don’t know how to feel at 22. But maybe I’m also not supposed to.

    Maybe that is what makes this age so hauntingly beautiful: it is the one where you begin to establish yourself, even when you are still unsure of where to begin.

  • Protecting Your Peace

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    Protecting your peace means learning to show up for yourself – not by staying small, but by being scared and doing it anyway.

    I still have a lot of the same fears that I did as a child. They sneak up on me.

    But – I also started developing the self-assurance of the loudest, assertive kids who I desperately wanted to be.

    Protecting your peace is not about staying quiet.

    Most of us are afraid of public speaking. I stand at the front of a classroom, yap nonstop, and teach 8th graders without faltering each day – but, I am dreadfully nervous at places like the DMV or when it comes to making a phone call. Part of protecting your peace is acknowledging the things you are afraid of.

    I’m frightened of publishing my writing. Part of that anxiety is the fact that I know people won’t care about my personal essays. I love writing so I am not really scared of it. Instead, I am afraid of contrast – of knowing that some parts of me are unlike others.

    I’m afraid of having hobbies – I’m also concerned that I am not interesting enough. Again, my concern is merely what people think. I’m concerned that I am either too much or not enough. I’m afraid of feeling dull.

    But these simple fears aren’t going to bring me any peace.

    The best way to “protect your peace” isn’t to stay silent or afraid. It is to bashfully conquer those fears at your own sheepish pace while continuing to strive for validation – but, this time on the inside.

    Sometimes I am frightened to walk down the street… because I feel like I don’t look good enough. To walk. As I dread, I don’t have time to awe at the other pedestrians.

    I never learned to ride a bike for the same reason. Then one day, I got embarrassed. And sometime after – about ten years later – I finally did it. It doesn’t matter.

    When I tell others that I like to read, I doubt myself. No one expects me to read Shakespeare for pleasure, but getting lost in a Booktok murder mystery doesn’t feel charming anymore.

    Protecting my peace means letting myself become engrossed in the book, anyway. Because I like it.

    Protecting your peace means reading what you love, walking how you please, and living to impress no one but yourself.