Hey Kaleigh!

Tag: life

  • Getting to Know Yourself

    There was a time when I thought “knowing yourself” was a destination.

    Like one day I would wake up, glance in the mirror, and just get it. All versions of me: the confident one, the quiet one, the one who overthinks everything for a little too long – would perfectly align with constellations, and form an impeccable picture. One immaculate version: neat, elegant, chic. 

    But it turns out, getting to know yourself is not an arrival or a trend – it is a practice. A chaotic, beautiful, and occasionally uncomfortable unfolding. And no one really teaches us how to do it. We know how to organize a resume, how to formulate an Instagram theme, how to answer “tell me about yourself” with a sleek list of interests and humble brags. But to truly comprehend what makes us us takes more than a personality quiz or an aesthetically pleasing Pinterest board.

    It takes sitting in silence with the questions that don’t have easy answers.

    The Version Without the Filters

    When you uncover the identities you perform – the teacher, the daughter, the “cool girl” on social media – what’s left?

    Are you still you when no one is paying attention? When you’re not trying to be productive or ideal or impressive?

    Getting to know yourself means meeting the parts of you that aren’t always presentable. The ones that feel too delicate, too unpolished, too much. And then deciding they are worth knowing, too.

    Pop Culture as a Mirror

    In a culture that rewards aesthetic over quality, getting to know yourself can feel like a rebellion. It means saying “no” to what looks pretty on paper if it doesn’t feel good in your soul. It means unlearning the need to be likable. It means not having to be a reflector of “Instagram face.” It means being okay with not always having an “identity” to brand.

    Some days, the most authentic version of me is the one in her pajamas at 3pm, writing personal essays that no one reads in her bedroom. Other days, she’s in red lipstick sharing big opinions about politics. Both are valid. Both are me.

    Here’s What I Know (So Far)

    Getting to know yourself does not mean locking yourself into one definition. It means gathering little truths – the way you light up after a good conversation, the oddly specific way you need your coffee in the morning, the muted ache you feel when the summer sunset reminds you of swimming at your aunt’s house as a kid.

    So, no. I have not “figured myself out” yet. But I am beginning to delight in listening more closely. And I believe that this is where it begins.

  • What I Didn’t Learn in College

    I spent four years studying everything except how to live.

    College taught me how to write a 10-page paper on why we should talk about Fight Club. How to navigate group projects with people who never showed up. How to pull off an all-nighter and still manage to make it to my three hour, 8am class with a coffee and full face of makeup. 

    But here is what I didn’t learn: 

    I didn’t learn that friendships take effort, and that sometimes, no matter how much effort you put in, people still drift.

    I didn’t learn how to recover from the sting of mean girls. 

    I didn’t learn what a normal relationship actually looks like. 

    Or how to stop blushing over a boy who only texts after 9pm.

    Or that a “pink” flag is still a shade of red.

    I didn’t learn how to say “no” without apologizing or explaining myself.

    I didn’t learn how to slow down when every part of me was prepared to sprint.

    I didn’t learn how to drink without feeling guilt or to say “I’m done” without sounding boring.

    I didn’t learn how to have fun at a party while also being myself.

    Here’s the truth: college is fun. Most of my favorite memories are of campus events, dancing at the bar, late night drives to Wawa, and various inside jokes that still make me giggle. 

    College gave me structure: a campus map, a plan, a GPA to aim for. It gave me ambition and grades to measure my success. It gave me deadlines to meet. It gave me a sense of direction. It made me aspire to be someone. It transformed me into someone new. At the time, that felt like everything I needed.

    But it didn’t teach me how to go easy on myself because most parts of life come without a syllabus.

    There was no class on how to be confident after being criticized by sorority girls.

    There are no office hours for your quarter-life crisis.

    There is no participation grade for showing up to work.

    You don’t get extra credit for learning how to be gentle with yourself.

    The most valuable lessons I learned happened outside of the classroom. They happened in the hours where I had to figure it out alone – in my messy dorm next to the windowsill where my roommate left an accumulation of half-drank iced coffees and in the hidden booth in the library where I finally let myself cry. Those are the lessons that stick. 

    I am not saying that college was a waste. It transformed me. It gave me a voice. It filled my bookshelf and my brain and my camera roll. It did not teach me how to be okay when life isn’t perfectly curated or mapped out. That came after graduation. It is still coming to me, in waves. So I will tell you this now, and I will say it like your big sister would: 

    You do not need to have it all figured out.

    You are going to outgrow people, and that is perfectly okay.

    You can be brilliant but still foolish enough to get your heart broken. 

    You can mess things up and still be deserving of good things.

    Whatever happens, you are going to be okay – even if it doesn’t feel that way at the moment.

    And when you are not sure of who you are, start with who you don’t want to be.

    The rest will come.

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  • Becoming ‘That Girl’ Online Versus Becoming Myself in Real Life

    I know how the algorithm wants me to live. 

    Wake up early, fall asleep with lemon water waiting on my nightstand. Keep an organized journal in perfect handwriting. Sunrise spilling over an immaculately made bed. A matcha latte with perfectly frothed oat milk. Pilates, skincare, soft lighting, neutral tones, color palettes. Becoming that girl.

    Online, that girl feels attainable. You just need the right filters, the right angles, and the right aesthetic props at hand. The digital version of myself can look composed, candid, balanced – even if the photo took 15 tries and I shoved a pile of unfolded clothes out of the frame.

    But real life isn’t nearly as polished.

    Like I wrote in my piece about romanticizing my skincare routine, I’m learning that true self-care isn’t about creating the perfect version of myself – it’s about learning to sit with who I really am.

    In real life, I am still learning how to find myself – and that version is far less attractive.

    Sometimes, becoming myself means sleeping through the alarm sometimes. It means beginning the day with coffee before gratitude journaling because as a teacher I don’t have much time and I can’t think straight without caffeine. It is being ambitious despite feeling anxious, purposeful but also overwhelmed, calculated but also unorganized. It means admitting that balance is not always possible – that sometimes I don’t meditate, and sometimes my skincare routine is just splashing water on my face before bed.

    Online, self love can feel like a performance. Offline, it feels like a process.

    Becoming that girl online is about crafting perfection. Becoming myself in real life is about learning to sit with the imperfections.

    I have spent a lot of time chasing the Kaleigh that looks decent on camera. But recently, I have been trying to find the Kaleigh who feels secure when no one is watching. The Kaleigh who makes time for her friends, even if she doesn’t have a lot of them. The Kaleigh who prioritizes joy, and lets herself rest without guilt. The Kaleigh who knows that not every season needs to be a glow-up.

    I am learning that the most authentic kind of self-improvement doesn’t have to come with a 24-carat aesthetic. Sometimes it’s messy. Sometimes it’s honest but inconsistent. Sometimes it’s plainly deciding to be a little bit more transparent with myself than I was yesterday.

    Because becoming that girl may get me likes. But becoming myself is what’s bringing me peace.

  • Why Writing Instagram Captions Feels Like Therapy

    There’s something oddly cathartic about crafting the perfect Instagram caption. I am not talking about the cheeky “in my main character era” kind (although I love a good T.S. innuendo). I mean the kind where you sit with an emotion, wrestle it into a few words, and manage to make it sparkle.

    This is not just wordplay, it is a digital diary.

    When I scroll through my camera roll, I am not just looking for my finest angle. I’m searching for a moment that meant something, even if the memory was as short as the camera flash. The gelato that led me to discover a cherry allergy. The bartender I swore looked like Jason Kelce. The photo where my face is asymmetrical and my smile is off-center, but unmistakably real. And when I sit down trying to caption those photos, my intention is more than racking up likes — I’m trying to convey my feelings in a sentence or two.

    A picture is worth a thousand words. But none of my followers are going to read all that. Maybe it’s the writer in me. Or maybe it’s the part of me that wants to be seen. Instagram captions let us share just enough. We can be witty, honest, arrogant, sentimental — sometimes all at once. It’s a space to reclaim control over our stories, in a feed that is often too curated by an algorithm to be anything but real.

    There is also a freedom in knowing it’s not that serious…and yet, sometimes it is. A caption can be a subtle confession delivered through lowercase letters. A double entendre that landed when you felt like you weren’t funny anymore. A quote that you needed to read, even if you had to write it yourself first.

    So yes, caption writing is sometimes a catharsis. It is the digital version of your diary hung in a gallery with your friends, family, and fans. And while I won’t downplay actual therapy for a Notes app draft, I will leave you with this: when the words finally land, and your post goes public, it does feel like a little exhale.

    And that has to count for something.