Reflections

Looking Back, Moving Forward

~ Marie Hansen ~ Leave a comment

Hello, dear internet friends,

I have been debating which holiday I’d say is my favorite. Growing up, it was the whole Christmas season, starting from Thanksgiving. In the past few years, I’ve found a renewed appreciation for Halloween. But New Year’s is hard to beat. I’m a sucker for a fresh start, and what’s fresher than a new calendar year?

In the past, I’ve set goals or even made vision boards for the new year. But slowly, something has been shifting. I started a vision board in 2022 but only filled in one corner. Last year, I bought a poster board but never started working on it (and eventually tossed the poster). This year, inspired by an author I really admire, I decided to try something new and use the new year as a moment to look back before stepping forward.

Michelle Elman is an author and life coach whose work was highly influential on me last year, as you can see in my letters to you from March and June! I read two of her books, listened to all of her podcast episodes, and subscribed to her new Substack newsletter, Growth Spurts. In the first installment of her newsletter this year, she explained that uses the new year as an opportunity to pause and do a yearly review, to reflect and praise herself for all she accomplished in the prior year.

I loved that idea, and before she even published this second post where she detailed how she does her yearly review, I decided to do my own version. I’m a diligent calendar-keeper, and like most people these days I have plenty of photos stored on my phone, so I used those tools to my advantage. I set aside some time to go through my calendar and photos month-by-month and just . . . remember. Take time to soak in everything that happened in 2023.

It felt really good. A lot better than making a vision board, honestly. To be fair, 2023 was a particularly exciting and eventful year for me. But it’s also true that, had I made a vision board last January, there would have been plenty of goals that went unaccomplished. So, had I measured the “success” of last year against how I thought it was supposed to go, it would have come up as a failure. But if I take it in as it actually played out . . . I feel incredibly grateful for everything I got to experience last year.

And I think that hints at why vision boards have become less and less appealing to me over time. While they are supposed to be motivational, they’re really just my ghost self in collage form. A record of all the things I think I should be and do, which ignores the core truth: all I want in life is to enjoy it, as much as possible, while finding ways to care for others. I don’t need to end each year with a laundry list of accomplishments to do either of those things.

Looking back over last year also gave me a practical sense of perspective that has already made this year feel better. As I was perusing last year’s calendar, I remembered one particular week when I wasn’t feeling well . . . and when I flipped to it, I was surprised to see how many work hours I’d logged there. It’s hard to imagine that they were very productive. Don’t get me wrong, I do believe there’s a time and place for behavioral activation—challenging yourself to get busy to help yourself feel better. But I also think I often cross the line into pushing myself harder than I deserve without taking a moment to assess what’s in my best interest. It made me realize that when I look forward, I often think I should be doing more, but when I look back, I often wish I’d seen in the moment that doing less is okay. That I’m allowed to prioritize my well-being—or even just my own enjoyment!—over checking off tasks and accomplishments.

There were probably plenty of other lessons to be gleaned from last year’s calendar and photos, but that was the one I needed most right now. It landed like an epiphany, like Oh, this is one of those times. I’m really happy, but I am also busy. And so tired. There are plenty of *productive* things that I’m just not able to do right now. But when I look back on this year, as I flip through the January and February calendar and photos, I don’t want to remember working myself to the bone (or more likely tears, as I did too often last year). I want to remember that I put myself first when I needed it most. And so that’s what I’m doing. It may not win me any vision-board-worthy accomplishments, but I’m glad to be looking out for the real me—not the ghost me—for once.

And I’m grateful to last year me for showing me the way.

xoxo

Marie

P.S. You can read Michelle’s newsletters on yearly reviews here:

Jess Weiner—a cultural expert and creative whose work I am constantly inspired by—wrote about her “yes, and” approach to New Year’s here, which I think is very similar in spirit to Michelle’s approach!

Introducing Fab Gal Media

~ Marie Hansen ~ 1 Comment

Hello, dear internet friends,

As you can tell by the title, this month brings about a big change! Girl Presence is now Fab Gal Media, living at fabgal.com. It’s more than a simple shift in name and location. It’s an exciting step into the future—that brings the best of my past along for the ride.

I started the Girl Presence blog in 2015 as a place to reflect on the good, bad, and in-between of “girl culture,” as I called it. In the past three years, I’ve committed to writing you a monthly letter about something that’s been on my mind, and I’ve really enjoyed the ritual (and challenge!) of it. I’ve written some things I’m really proud of and dug into challenging topics, from the cultural impact of cosmetic procedures to dealing with my “ghost” self. The monthly letters will continue, but this transition will open doors for more creative opportunities and, eventually, more voices. This website is now one facet of Fab Gal Media, LLC, the media organization I’ve founded that aspires to empower teen girls to take charge of their own stories. Offline, that will include the publication of my very first book (!!). Online, that means a transition from this blog that only features my voice to a platform that makes space for a variety of perspectives on growing up, from girls and women across the age spectrum. It will take a while to bring those visions to life, but I can’t wait for you to see—and be part of—that bigger picture. 

As much as this transition is about moving forward, I’m excited to bring along a past version of myself. When I was thinking about a new name to grow into, I found myself pulled back to the blog I started at seventeen. Under the pseudonym “The Fab Gal,” I wrote about self-confidence, pop culture, and what I was learning as I made my way towards adulthood. (The letter format, the anonymity, and maybe even the name itself were inspired by the Gossip Girl series, which I was devouring that summer. Funny, as I was striving for something much more positive and uplifting than spilling the secrets of teen socialites in New York!) The more I thought about it, the more I knew I wanted the company and website name to honor what I started way back when. Writing is how I found my voice and began to believe in the power I held to shape my own story—in life and in writing. Which is what I want most for you. And if you need help finding your power—or really, remembering that it’s been in your hands all along—I hope that Fab Gal Media can help.

I’m so excited to continue to grow this space. To stay in touch, sign up for our email newsletter (hit “Follow” on the bottom bar if you’re reading this on mobile) or follow @fabgalmedia on Instagram. More platforms to come!

xoxo

Marie

Good to Know: The Jed Foundation’s Mental Health Resource Center

~ Marie Hansen ~ Leave a comment

Hello, dear internet friends,

This month’s letter is going to be relatively short and sweet. I’m saying that as a declaration of intention to myself as much as anything. I sat down to write to you on Friday and reached almost two pages without getting to the heart of what I wanted to share. It’s been one of those time periods where my brain feels like alphabet soup—the words are in there, but they are so hard to assemble.

What I wanted to share with you is simple: I recently came across a website that I was excited to find, and I thought it might be of value to you too. I was looking for a mental health website I could include in the book I’ve written when I came across The Jed Foundation. They’re a nonprofit dedicated to supporting the mental and emotional well-being of teens and young adults. They engage in this mission through a variety of programs, including partnerships with high schools and colleges or universities to strengthen their supports for students. They also feature a Mental Health Resource Center on their website.

When I was trying to find a mental health reference for my book, I found that websites for reputable organizations and agencies often primarily provided information on mental health disorders, listing symptoms and outlining options for treatment. Of course, that information is important. There’s still a lot of stigma and misunderstanding regarding mental health conditions, so it’s crucial for accurate information to be widely accessible. However, as much as we’ve progressed in our culture towards being open to discussing mental health, I feel like it’s still often viewed in a binary way. As if mental or emotional health is only a “thing” for people with a diagnosable condition. But just like everyone has their own physical health—and makes choices every day that can hinder or support it—everyone has mental health as well. Everyone can experience a variety of emotions, including challenging or uncomfortable ones, and we can all benefit from learning how to work with (and through) them.

What I appreciate about The Jed Foundation’s Mental Health Resource Center is that, in addition to providing information about a variety of common mental health conditions, they also have plenty of articles that could benefit anyone looking to improve their emotional well-being. There were many I came across that made me think, Man, I wish I’d had this when I was younger! I thought “Can I Be Anxious Without Having an Anxiety Disorder?” provided some simple, valuable perspective. (I personally find it helpful to remind myself that anxious feelings can be fleeting—and totally normal.) There’s an entire section on dealing with social media stress, including social comparison—a topic I’m very passionate about!

There’s also a couple articles about simply feeling “weird” or “off,” which is how I I think I would have described difficult feelings I didn’t understand when I was younger . . . and honestly, I still do sometimes today. The checklist of questions in this article provides great starting place for when you’re having an off day and and want to help yourself feel better. I’m going to bookmark it for myself to come back to! It reminded me of what I reflected upon a few months ago – difficult feelings can be uncomfortable, but if we’re open to them, they can also be incredibly informative. Guiding us towards learning something new, taking better care of ourselves, and asking for help when we need it.

xoxo

Marie

Embracing Envy (& Other So-Called “Bad” Feelings)

~ Marie Hansen ~ 1 Comment
Each color has its place in the rainbow—as with all feelings in life.

Hello, dear internet friends,

Summer is officially here (in the northern hemisphere, that is!). For me, full-on summer busyness is starting . .  . well, basically right now. One of my favorite things about this season, whether I’m filling hours while traveling or spending quiet days at home, is having time to explore fictional worlds—or the ideas of very real people!—by reading a book or listening to a podcast. I hope to bring you a couple book recommendations in the next month or two, but for today, I wanted to share a podcast episode that resonated with me.  

In the last month, I’ve been listening to the podcast Dominant Stories by Jess Weiner. Jess’s work has long been influential on my life and career, as is well-documented throughout this blog! In this podcast, she speaks with different creators in each episode to break down different types of “dominant stories,” or narratives that we build into our lives that keep us stuck in place. In one episode, she interviews therapist and author Lori Gottlieb. At one point in the conversation, Lori calls attention to the fact that people tend to label emotions as “positive” or “negative.” Happiness is positive, but anger or envy are negative, right? Lori emphatically disagrees: “No! I always say, like, follow your envy. It tells you what you want. It tells you something about desire.”

That statement sent me back a number of years to the moment I came to see envy in a new (positive) light. I was eighteen and admitting to my dad that I felt jealous of someone I knew who was socially way more successful than me, at least in my mind. (For starters, she had a boyfriend. I’d never had one and felt woefully behind in that area of life.) He pointed out that what I was feeling wasn’t jealousy but envy. The distinction he made—at least as I remember it!—was that envy means wanting something similar to what someone else has, whereas jealousy is wanting exactly what the other person has. The difference between wanting a boyfriend versus wanting their boyfriend.

I googled “envy vs jealousy” to check if I was characterizing the distinction correctly. As it turns out, there are varied opinions on what, if any, meaningful differences exist between the two! Merriam-Webster said that “envious” and “jealous” are largely interchangeable (aside from “jealous” having an additional meaning in romantic contexts). On Psychology Today, a social psychologist explained that there is a key difference between the two emotions, but it’s different than what I thought. (He wrote that “jealousy is when something we have is threatened by a third person.”) A Reader’s Digest writer suggested that a difference exists in their intensity. (Jealousy runs deeper, she noted.)

While the various takes on the topic fascinated me, I’ve gone off on a bit of a tangent here; it doesn’t actually matter if they are semantically or psychologically different in any agreed-upon way. What matters is that once I believed in a distinction between the two, I realized my feeling—my envy—wasn’t about the person it was seemingly directed towards. It was about me. It was about what I wanted in life and currently felt I was lacking.

I saw envy in a new light. It wasn’t a “bad” feeling. It was an informative one, just as Lori says.

Continuing on in the podcast, Lori demonstrates how other “negative” feelings can be instructive, and she sums it up really beautifully: “Our feelings are like a compass—they tell us what direction to go in, and if we don’t pay attention to them, it’s like walking around with a faulty GPS; you have no idea where you’re going.” I love that. As I mentioned a few months ago, I’ve also been re-listening to author and life coach Michelle Elman’s podcast In All Honesty, and she shares the perspective that “bad” feelings are useful when we know how to work with them. In this episode on anger, she explains that emotions themselves aren’t negative, but sometimes our reactions to them can be. It doesn’t help if we avoid engaging with what we feel; in this episode on emotions, she shares her belief that feelings will keep coming back until we process them and learn what they’re trying to teach us. Just wanted to highlight her work because it has been very influential on me lately—and now you have a bonus podcast recommendation!

While I long ago made peace with envy, there are other emotions I struggle to sit with. Sometimes it’s really hard to sort through what they’re trying to say, because the surface-level answer isn’t always the right one. Using envy as an example, I have many times felt desire for what someone else has based solely on what I see of their lives on social media. But it’s not that I really wanted a body/career/social life just like them. Or I did, but only because I thought those things would make me happy. I wasn’t fully content in my own life, so I sought out solutions in the shiny pictures of others. Anxiety can be similarly deceptive. Mine often tells me to deal with this imminent problem it’s just discovered at once!! But rarely—if ever? probably never—is anything it presents as urgent as it claims. An indirect approach, when I can muster one, is almost always more helpful. Exercise. Get a good night’s sleep. See if there was any truth at all beneath the alarm bells tomorrow.

I could stop there and leave the impression that I’ve mostly got every confounding emotion mastered, but that’s not really true. Lately, my challenge has been that when I feel overwhelmed—understandably so; I’ve got a lot going on this year!—I crumple into an emotion that I don’t have a good name for yet. It exists somewhere on the frustration-to-anger spectrum, but neither of those terms fit quite right. Since I don’t know what to call it or do with it, I can get easily overtaken and either fold into tears or get amped up in irritation over anything remotely provoking. Often inanimate objects. (I see you, laundry pile!!)

And that’s a vulnerable thing to admit—I’m considering deleting what I’ve written even as I continue—because it’s hard to admit to not knowing. It’s hard to not feel “in control” sometimes, because I have always thought of myself as someone who’s good at keeping things in order. And also, I’m inarguably an adult at this point. Aren’t I supposed to have a full handle on this feelings stuff by now? But control is the wrong goal. I see now that the aim should be understanding, using my feelings as an emotional compass, like Lori said. There’s power to be found in bringing to light the emotions we’d rather sweep under the rug. Power in asking questions, stepping into unfinished sentences, and making room for things that are ready to be spoken, even if we don’t have the words just yet.

Not just power, but growth. Which often requires overcoming challenges. And what is a “challenge” but a “problem” that’s been given a purpose? Just like with feelings. They’re not so bad if you can put them to good work.

xoxo

Marie

Why I’ve (Mostly) Stopped Wearing Foundation

~ Marie Hansen ~ Leave a comment

Hello, dear internet friends,

Last month, I reflected on how powerful our actions can be in shifting our moods, and how I’ve come to think the same approach can be applied to any negative self-beliefs we may hold. For me, that has meant challenging my (too high) standards of productivity by choosing rest. Lately, I’ve been thinking about how a similar strategy could be used to improve one’s body image or relationship to their appearance.

I would like to devote more space on this site to body image, because I understand how impactful it can be on someone’s day-to-day life when they’re deep in struggle with it. I wouldn’t be a writer without having been there myself! But when I’m selecting my monthly topic, body image doesn’t often jump to mind, in part because it’s not as personally pressing for me as it used to be. That’s not to say I’m perfectly “healed” or never have negative thoughts or feelings about my appearance, but they don’t swallow me whole like they used to. I prioritize existing in my body and taking care of it, instead of judging or “fixing” how it looks on the outside.

Over many years, I have totally transformed my life in that regard. But how did I do it? By changing my behavior. By making new choices, over and over again, until they became habits—ways of life that positively impact me on a daily basis, with little conscious effort on my part.

A few years ago, I made a decision that was relatively small in the scheme of body-image-related changes I’ve made, but ultimately very impactful. I decided to stop wearing foundation on a regular basis. Well, not just foundation—makeup in general. Oddly enough, this decision came not long after having decided to become the type of person with a “daily makeup routine.” I had assembled a little cosmetics kit with all the “must-haves” I’d learned about from beauty YouTubers: foundation, of course, but also primer, blush, highlighter, mascara… the works. And I planned to layer it all on my face. Every single day. Even when I was just going to work with the same small group of people I saw every weekday, who had all seen me without makeup an uncountable number of times.

But why? I couldn’t tell you. When I look back at middle and high school, my motivations for changing my appearance are very obvious. I thought being capital-P Popular would make me happy, and I believed I needed to look a certain way to be Popular. But I didn’t have any similar motivations when I set out to put on a full face of makeup every day. I got on well with my coworkers. I was in a relatively new relationship, but I already knew that I did not have to look or be any particular way to impress my boyfriend. I was in the midst of a transition—stepping into a new role at work and reorienting my life around my writing goals—and I think the unsettling, unsatisfying truth is that beauty culture had so ingrained itself in my brain that I believed that new chapter in my life would be even better if I went through it with a painted face.

Of course, I was wrong. I quickly realized that all I got from regularly wearing makeup was a growing dissatisfaction with how my face looked without it. So I stopped. I knew I had to.

Now, when I say this happened a few years ago, I’m talking about pre-pandemic 2020. My decision to stop wearing makeup quickly became the furthest thing from my mind. I didn’t spend much time evaluating my choice or what I hoped to get from it, other than feeling less bad about my actual face. Had I looked deeper and been honest with myself, I would have seen that the impulse to see beauty (in its culturally sanctioned, narrowly defined form) in the mirror was still there. A quick look into my Ulta account confirms this; in September 2020, I purchased a rather comprehensive (and expensive) skincare routine. Who needs makeup when you have *flawless* skin, am I right?

No, that’s not right. But the fact that I can both recognize that beauty-culture logic in my own thinking and choose to act differently shows how far I’ve come in the last three years. I don’t have it all figured out. I still hear some self-criticism over my not-so-“perfect” skin when I look in the mirror. But I am also choosing every day to act from a place of self-acceptance—mostly not covering my skin, and not spending excessive time and money trying to “fix” what isn’t broken. Taking this moment to sit back and let that sink in… I am really proud of myself for that.

I said I’ve “mostly” stopped using foundation, because I got my makeup professionally done for a major event last year and will do so once again this year. I haven’t decided if those choices are contradictory to my beliefs or not that big a deal (probably both). And I haven’t rejected all kinds of makeup. After writing this piece last year about the Jackson Pollock manicure, I bought myself some just-for-fun makeup. Eyeliner with these very fun stamps in the shapes of butterflies, hearts, and smiley faces, as well a variety of glittery products. I’m still experimenting with them and how they make me feel. By no means do I think we need to fully reject the fact that we have physical forms that we can present to world however we choose. But it’s all too easy to fall into a pattern of making choices that don’t really serve us, that are based in a value system we wouldn’t subscribe to if we felt empowered enough to challenge it.

I understand that in the face of a multibillion-dollar industry, my decisions about makeup may seem tiny, but I also believe that we often underestimate our sphere of influence. You never know who in your orbit may be inspired or even subconsciously influenced by the actions you take. I hope that you can find the power to explore what choices are best for you, but I also want you to take to heart the potential your choices have for being a ripple of good in this world.

It can be hard to go against the grain. I find it easier to do when I realize I’m not just doing it for me, but for all of us.

xoxo

Marie

One Small Step

~ Marie Hansen ~ 4 Comments

Hello, dear internet friends,

It’s a gray, rainy day as I write this. The kind of day that makes you want to curl up with a blanket on the couch and zone out with a book or TV show. Admittedly, I’m feeling extra-inclined to succumb to the sofa because that’s where I’ve been all week. I’ve been feeling under the weather, and for me, the hardest part of being sick is usually not the day (or days) I feel the worst—when it very much makes sense to snuggle up and do nothing—it’s the transitional period at the end. When I’m feeling better enough that I know it’s time to resume some of my normal activities, but I still haven’t recovered my usual level of energy. There’s an inertia to being sick that I find very hard to break. But the only way to do it… is to do it. Get dressed, have some coffee, and—to whatever degree is reasonable, given the circumstances—start acting like I’m feeling better. That’s what I’m doing right now, and I have to admit, while I’m not feeling 100% recovered yet, I’m feeling better than I would have predicted when I woke up this morning.

A couple months ago, I wrote about my “ghost” self, or the so-called “perfect” version of me that I have often measured myself against in my mind. Ever since then, I have been thinking about how we can reduce the shadow such comparisons cast over our lives, and two words have kept repeating in my mind: “behavioral activation.” To note, behavioral activation is a psychology concept—specifically, a treatment approach that can be utilized in therapy; you can learn more about it here—and I am not a therapist. But what it means to me is that the actions we choose can have a profoundly positive impact on our mood. Emotions can be incredibly sticky; patterns of thought, even more so. It can also feel really hard to choose a behavior that seems contrary to our current mood state. But doing so can often have an outsized positive impact, at least in my experience. No matter how down I’m feeling, mo matter how swamped in a negative thought cycle I am, if I have plans to hang out with friends or family, I never cancel. I don’t like to break commitments I’ve made, but I also know that spending time with those I care about always makes me feel better. I don’t even need to bring up what’s on my mind. In fact, I think it’s generally better that I don’t, unless of course the explicit purpose of getting together was seeking support. Getting out of my head and focused on those around me is enough to lift my spirits. It may not solve the underlying problem—if one even exists—but it certainly puts me in a better mindset for dealing with it later.

So, a little positive action can help transform a bad mood. It can help with getting through those lingering last days of sickness. Could it even help with defeating our ghosts, with overcoming the voices that tell us we’re not good enough? Because you can’t easily think your way out of those challenges, at least in my experience. I logically understand how unhelpful and, more importantly, unkind it is to compare myself to some idealized version of me. I know that I haven’t gained anything from the comparison. In fact, I think there have been many times I was so stuck on being just like her, I lost the opportunity to come up with real, creative solutions for overcoming challenges and achieving my goals. I was too fixated on following the “perfect” path she laid out. I know all of that, but still, she’s hard to get rid of. She does a very good impression of me, and sometimes, I mistake her thoughts for my own.

The last couple months have given me an interesting opportunity to contend with my ghost self in new ways. At this point in my life, she’s mostly eased up about how I look, but she’s wildly more productive than me. And in the last couple months, I haven’t been able to be as productive—certainly not as much as her, but not even as much as I typically would be. I need to work slower. Do less. Take breaks. And what that’s made me realize is that not only do I not need to “earn” breaks or a slower pace, I don’t even need to fully convince myself that I deserve those things. I just need to give them to myself. I just need to take the action that I know is right for me, in the actual life I am really living. And I truly believe that if I can keep doing that, keep making the choices that are best for me even if they don’t look “perfect,” over time my ghost self will dissipate. She’s already looking a bit fainter to me.

It’s great when we can change our minds from the inside out. But sometimes, it’s a whole lot easier to act first and let our beliefs follow.

If any sort of negative self-belief has been haunting you lately, I hope you can think of one small step, one tiny action you can take this next month that would contradict it. Little by little, we can make big changes that way.

xoxo

Marie

The Ghost of Me

~ Marie Hansen ~ 6 Comments
Ghosts don’t have to be so scary.

Hello, dear internet friends,

February has been a good movie-watching month for me. Especially for coming-of-age movies. After last month’s blog, I had To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before on my mind, and I finally watched the whole trilogy. (Still a big fan of Lara Jean, though my feelings about the central relationship shifted as the series went on.) I also watched The Fabelmans, a fictionalized drama based on acclaimed filmmaker Steven Spielberg’s real-life experiences. The film portrays his counterpart, Sammy Fabelman, growing up and falling in love with filmmaking, with the bulk of the (quite long!) movie set during his teen years.

I loved it. Even if you’re not a Spielberg aficionado, the characters are more than compelling enough to draw you in. One scene in particular has stuck with me since I finished the movie. (If you don’t want any spoilers, please feel free to come back to this post after you’ve watched it!) In Sammy’s last year of high school, he agrees to film Ditch Day. His film is shown to the senior class at prom. Up to this point, two boys in school, Chad and Logan, have bullied Sammy. Chad is maybe the worse bully, or at least more impulsively antagonistic, but Logan at best is a laughing bystander and at worst gives Sammy a bloody nose and bruises. Still, throughout the Ditch Day movie, Sammy makes Logan look good. Really good. Logan leaps to spike the volleyball in slow motion. Breaks through the foot-race banner to a triumphant soundtrack. He looks like a movie star. A golden god.

As you watch Logan watch himself in the film, you can see how deeply unsettled he is by the experience.

But why?

Shortly after the screening, Logan angrily confronts Sammy in the school hallway. As the conversation unfolds, the truth is revealed: what Logan saw in the film was the perfect version of himself that he can never be. He says to Sammy, “You took that guy, whoever he is, wherever you got him from, and you put him up there on that screen and told everyone… everyone that that’s me. And that’s not me.”

He breaks down into tears.

It was such a potent scene to witness, all the more surprising and complex because, again, Logan was a bully. Hard to empathize with, let alone like. His emotional vulnerability in that moment did not change how I viewed his previous behavior, but I was caught off guard by his reaction—and how much I related to the heart of it.

Since last month, I’ve continued to reflect on how we can build positive relationships with ourselves, as well as cross any barriers we may face in doing so. For me, one of those hurdles is another relationship. The one I have with the Other Me, or as I’ve lately come to call her, Ghost Marie. Like Logan’s movie star self, she is an apparition of perfection. She haunts me by standing tall in all the places I think I fall short. She first materialized sometime around sixth grade, when I started to find female friendships confusing and difficult to maintain. When I thought I needed to change to be liked. Back then, she was mostly silent and visual. Lightness and thinness, the chill in the air much cooler than me. A phantom ideal of beauty, with straight hair and a stomach that lied flat. But like any good ghost, she can shapeshift. Be and do anything beyond my (very human) limits. Disappear for long stretches of time and return when I need her least. She’s untouchable in every possible way. And only ever visible to me. I look back now and think how often I’ve reacted to someone no one else can see, like the haunted one in a movie, seemingly losing it as they appear to converse with a pocket of air.

I’ve tried to emulate her. Tried to trap her fantasy in the fibers of my reality. In a so-called “perfect” body, an optimized schedule, gold-star accomplishments. It’s never worked. The more I fixate on her, the more she glows and grows in my estimation. Anything I do dims in comparison.

So, what should I do with her?

As I was pondering this, I started thinking about movies and what a character might do if they believe they’ve encountered a ghost. A good starting place, when a possible spectral presence glimmers from the corner of a dark room, is to simply turn on the lights.

Turn on the lights. Highlight what’s real and dissipate what isn’t. For me, that is the solution. The more engaged I am in life as it really is, the less I get pulled away by shadows of self-doubt. When I devote time to doing something that is valuable to me—writing, spending time with friends, even just doing chores and listening to a podcast—Ghost Marie often fades away. I believe that engaging in meaningful activities can help us stay grounded in the present and also provide counteracting evidence to any negative self-beliefs we may hold. Projects seem overwhelming until they’ve been broken down into manageable pieces. Friends and family serve as a validating mirror, a reflection of love for who we truly are.

I don’t think I ever actually cared about being perfect. Not for its own sake, anyway. I only wanted to enjoy my life, and for some reason I thought perfection was the permission slip required to do so. Now I see that was just another figment of my imagination, a warped use of my creativity.

Which I can bend in any direction I want. I just mentally made myself a million permission slips. They’re pink and covered in glitter. Scattered across the floor of my life, from here through forever.

xoxo

Marie

Valentine’s Day With You

~ Marie Hansen ~ 3 Comments

Hello, dear internet friends,

Valentine’s Day is just over two weeks away. Stating the obvious, I suppose; you can hardly go shopping anywhere—online or IRL—without being bombarded by red, pink, and heart-shaped everything. “Bombarded” is a word with a negative flavor, but maybe that’s how you experience the lovey-dovey overload all around us. I’ve certainly been there. As much as I love Valentine’s Day, sometimes this holiday can taste like a chocolate-covered reminder of what you’re missing out on.  

It starts out so simple. When you’re a kid, Valentine’s Day can be like a mini-Halloween, minus the costumes. My elementary school did a classroom party every year.  Everyone brought equal amounts of love (er, candy) for everyone else in the class. I’m sure some people picked out their closest friends’ cards with extra care, giving them their favorite Disney Princess or Nickelodeon character from the pack. But at the end of the day, everyone went home with a full construction-paper-covered shoebox of treats.

Life was good.

Somewhere along the way, though, Valentine’s Day can start to look like a holiday for highlighting the haves over the have-nots. Maybe even before you’re ready to have a real Valentine yourself. For me, that shift happened in middle school. The classroom parties disappeared. Instead, our school had a carnation sale. The way I remember it, if one (or more) of your classmates bought you a flower, you were given a paper slip to go pick it up at the end of the day.

I don’t have strong feelings about carnations. They’re fine. Not my favorite. But oh, how I wanted one that afternoon, watching those fluffy little flower heads bob down the hallway as I walked out of school empty-handed.

I don’t know if I was expecting flowers from anyone. Maybe I sent some to my friends, hoping to do an exchange, but didn’t talk to them in advance about it. Certainly, I secretly wished a crush would send me one, but the hurt I felt wasn’t about that. Feeling left out stings. Understandably so. Still, the disappointment wouldn’t have cut so deep if I hadn’t placed my self-worth outside of myself, where it could be battered by the flimsiest of flower petals.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot this week—self-worth, and how the relationships we have with ourselves affect the tenor of every experience we have. I used to think “relationship” was a funny word to use in relation to our own selves. I mean, relationship implies two people, and as far as I know, none of us have clones. But the more I’ve thought about it, it’s actually a great term to use. Sometimes, the way we approach ourselves—through self-talk, for example—is so automatic we don’t stop to question it. I think we could learn a lot by creating a little space to observe how we treat ourselves.

I also think considering our self-care as a relationship is great because a lot of the things that work in relationships can also help us feel better ourselves. Miley recently reminded us all we can buy our own “Flowers” and also learn to enjoy our own company, which I think might be the best possible place to start. So many of our friendships begin with the simple foundation of liking to spend time with someone, right?

I recently read through some of my journal entries from high school. One rough day when I was 16, I wrote: “My life is just so lame sometimes. It’s a Saturday Night and I’m in my bed at 9:20 watching That’s So Raven.” My first thought when I read that was, that actually sounds pretty great. I don’t mean to diminish how I felt. Feeling lonely and without a place to belong was miserable. But what I see now that I didn’t then is that, at the very least, I would love to hang out with that girl. That me. I’d love to spend a Valentine’s Day with her, watching To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before and picking the vanilla cremes out of the shiny red heart-shaped box. I’ve had plenty of great Valentine’s, but that would be pretty exceptional.

I’m looking forward to exploring this all more with you this year. I think the relationships we have with ourselves are so much richer and more complex than we give them credit for being. They deserve to be held amongst the great love stories of our lives.

I hope you can find a moment to enjoy your own company this Valentine’s Day. Because there’s one person you’ll always get to spend the holiday with: you. How lucky are you?

The luckiest. I can see that. I hope you can, too.

xoxo

Marie

Powering Your New Year’s Goals with Purpose

~ Marie Hansen ~ 1 Comment

Hello, dear internet friends,

The last few days of the year have arrived. For me, parts of this month felt like a sprint—lots of activity squeezed into a small frame—but this week has moved like a saunter. I thought of a tweet I came across last year about the unique break that the week between Christmas and New Year’s can be. When I looked for it, I found countless posts—mostly jokes—about the last seven days of the year. The general themes were that time feels weird (What day is it again?) and no one wants to do anything but sink into the sofa. I agree that the days pass differently as we near the end of the calendar (and many people are on break from school or work), but I see this week as a more meaningful pause. The space between an inhale and exhale, a bridge between what’s been and what’s to come. I’ve been listening to my Spotify Wrapped—following the musical map of my emotions and memories from this year—and I plan to make a vision board for 2023 on New Year’s Eve.

New Year’s resolutions get a bad rap. They’ve become an easy punchline, spurring oft-repeated jokes about gym memberships being purchased on January 1st and abandoned before the first month (or week) of the year ends. I unabashedly love the spirit of New Year’s. I think it’s incredibly lovely to build a picture—literally or figuratively—of what you hope to do, feel, or experience in the future. That’s why I’ve gotten into vision boards. I never ended up finishing mine last year, but in a way, even its blank space has become meaningful. So much happened this year that I never could have accounted for.

My board for next year will include some very big goals. Over the last couple months, I’ve been reflecting a lot on the purpose behind them and how I will define my success in meeting them. Along the way, I’ve come to recognize how easy it is to subscribe to definitions of success that depend upon the approval of others or outcomes you can’t fully control.

As an example, let’s say you set the goal of getting the lead in your school’s musical. You practice your heart out, memorize your lines, and quell your nerves enough to power through the audition… but you don’t get the part. You might feel like your best wasn’t good enough, but that’s not necessarily a fair interpretation. Perhaps the director has a very specific vision for that character, and someone else’s performance happens to match it better. No right or wrong. Just different.

Still, if all your hopes were tied to that one specific opportunity, you may find yourself deflated. But what if you kept your focus on the purpose driving your goal? You have a passion for performing. If one opportunity doesn’t work out, you can find—or create—many others. You can take vocal lessons or acting classes, join a community theater or choir, or craft material to perform on a stage of your own making. 

Purpose is the engine that keeps us moving, allowing us to adapt course in the face of rejection as well as personal setbacks. Let’s step into the tennis shoes of the person who buys that gym membership on January 1st. Their resolution is to go to the gym five days a week. In the first two weeks, they only go once. They feel the air coming out of their tires. They tell themselves they’re lazy and unmotivated. Not even a month in, and they’ve already failed.

Going to the gym is their stated goal, but they have an underlying motivation. They want to be more active to boost their mood and energy. If working out at the gym isn’t a sustainable practice, that’s okay. There are plenty of other options for physical activity! Through the lens of purpose, a lack of success in getting to the gym isn’t actually a failure. It provides an important piece of information, ruling out what doesn’t work so they can find what does.

Recognizing the purpose behind what you pursue is also valuable because it illuminates the path where you’ll spend most of your time. The destinations—moments of big success—are awesome and deserve to be celebrated, but you likely won’t reach them every single day. Much of life happens on the road, chip-chip-chipping away at your goals. What matters is finding joy and meaning in the in-betweens. The long practices and late-night rehearsals. The hazy days between holidays. They’re the stepping stones between Here and Where You Want to Go, and they tell a story all their own. You don’t want to miss it.

I hope your year to come is full of joy and purpose. Thank you for being here to help me create my own.

xoxo

Marie

Can You Ever BeReal on Social Media?

~ Marie Hansen ~ 4 Comments

Hello, dear internet friends,

This week, I wrapped up edits on my book’s next chapter about the intersection of celebrities, social media, and identity. (A topic worthy of its own full book, but I hope I did it justice!) I had a lot of fun working on this one. I find pop culture to be an endlessly rich subject matter for all it has to say about us. It’s our shared dialogue. An overarching narrative full of rich themes and fascinating characters that we all take part in shaping through what we buy, watch, listen to, and talk about—and who we make a star.

It was so interesting to walk through the iterations of young female celebrities in my lifetime, from the glossy, well-choreographed pop stars of the late ‘90s/early ‘00s, to the bedazzled-pink paparazzi craze of Paris Hilton, to the flashy, fame-focused Kardashians, to now. The era of the internet creator, where suburban Connecticut high schooler Charli D’Amelio—playing the role of our modern Cinderella—went from filming TikTok videos that embarrassed her older sister to promoting her custom Dunkin’ Donuts drink to millions of followers.

What surprised me during my research—though it really shouldn’t have—was how many articles placed Charli in a frame of authenticity or relatability. Certainly, in contrast to the Kardashians before them, the D’Amelio family as a whole comes across as humbler, politer, and more grounded. Charli is likable, but I wouldn’t say she’s relatable; she’s aspirational. Just as Paris Hilton represented an ideal of excess in the reality-TV-saturated early 2000s, Charli exemplifies celebrity in the 2020s: optimally suited to go viral on the internet and make it look natural.

“Authenticity” is the guiding undercurrent of the most popular social media platforms today. The heavily filtered selfies of early Instagram have given way to blurry “candid” shots. TikTok feels like the Internet finally turning in on itself, trying to Do All The Things, All At Once. What if you meme-ified your closest relationship to the current trending song? Perhaps due to the virality that keeps it running—and constantly raises the stakes—it’s the platform where the boundaries for what’s appropriate to share have most dissolved. Many times I’ve used it, I’ve scrolled into a shockingly intimate piece of a stranger’s life and been left with the unresolvable unease of knowing what someone is going through but not them. I don’t “like” it.

Then there’s BeReal. The buzzy new app that may not last but has caused enough of a stir that Instagram, Snapchat, and TikTok are copying it. The stated purpose—for those who haven’t been exposed yet—is “to discover who your friends really are in their daily life.” Users are given a different two-minute window each day to post photos taken simultaneously from their front and back cameras. If you don’t post, you can’t see your friends’ posts. If you post late, your friends will be notified. The number of times you retook your photos is also visible to your friends.

Being “real” is enforced.

I haven’t used the app myself because I don’t want to post, so I don’t know what it’s like experientially. I understand that the norms of a given platform sometimes morph it away from what the designers intended. Still, the concept reads like a parody of our attempts to create—or perform—authenticity online.

You can’t make people be real. Online or off. Maybe we should stop trying.

All of this has finally broken the spell of social media for me. I’ve long been aware of its problems, of course, but I wanted to believe that not altering or filtering your photos was enough. That as long as you didn’t lie or manipulate the truth in what you posted about your life, it was okay. No room for harm.

I’m not holding onto those hopes anymore.

I don’t know how you step on the stage of social media and not perform a little. No matter what app you use—BeReal included—you get metrics on how well you do. How “likable” you are. (You can hide like counts on your posts or those in your feed on Facebook and Instagram, but you still get the likes.) The more I’ve thought about it, it disturbs me that I intuitively know what “content” of my life is most appealing to the algorithm or audience. It has little to do with what’s meaningful for me to share.

Maybe you can’t envision someone envying your life, because you’re not a social media celebrity living in the same white-walled California home they all seem to have. I think of another me in an alternate universe whose life unfolded a little differently. Maybe she’s a couple steps behind or had one less stroke of good luck. What would she make of me, or rather, my posts? And I already struggle sometimes with comparing myself to some imaginary me who had the foresight to do everything just right.

Why make it harder on myself? Why add more ghosts to the room?

I think many of us feel exasperated with at least some aspects of social media, and yet we keep going. It’s hard to log off completely and not feel like you’re missing out, socially or otherwise. I know I wouldn’t have as many blog readers if I didn’t use social media, and I’m grateful for the connections and conversations that sharing my work has inspired.

All this to say, I can’t see the full path ahead, but I’m walking anyway. Taking the apps off my phone to remove the temptation to check them every quiet moment. Deciding to continue sharing my writing but leave my life where it belongs from now own.

Stepping off the stage. For me. For you. For us.

xoxo

Marie