A couple months ago, I made the decision to be more intentional about making time to nurture my long-distance friendships, and I started making plans with Annie and Sean to meet somewhere in the middle of all of our locations. I live in NYC now, Sean still lives in DC, and Annie lives in Asheville, North Carolina, so we ended up choosing Northern NC to look for a cozy cabin to book for a few days. You all know I love a quiet cabin getaway, and luckily Annie and Sean appreciate them just as much as I do.

Fast forward a couple months, and all of us arrived to a lovely cabin in the woods outside of Elon, North Carolina. The cabin was surrounded by tall, lush trees, and it had a path that led to a nearby creek, lit with the glow of string lights hanging among the tree branches. It was the perfect place to escape from the city, spend time with these special friends, and practice some self care.

We spent a few days cooking meals together, kayaking along the creek, and even just reading or doing crossword puzzles in the same room, silent other than the sounds of turning pages and sipping coffee. We caught each other up on what was new in our lives. Sean got to know my boyfriend better, and I got to know his better. We got ice cream at Dairy Queen, a nostalgic chain that we don’t have in NYC.

These few days were just so good for the soul.

I was reminded of the qualities in Annie and Sean that I missed so much. Annie’s humor, her love for her dog Louie, the insane stories she tells, and driving around in her car with the windows down, singing our way through the albums we both love.

I felt the familiar warmth of conversations with Sean, and the way he earnestly listens and reacts. His infectious laugh, our shared creative hobbies, and his inspiring aspirations.

I spent four days in almost constant socialization mode (which would usually be exhausting for me), but I left North Carolina with my battery full. I felt more at peace, more connected with these special friends, and in a way, proud of myself for making the time to reconnect with them in person.

Moral of the story: let this be your sign to reach out to your long-distance friends. We are all incredibly busy with our own lives, and so much time can pass before we even realize that we haven’t put effort into maintaining those friendships. Make the plans, book the trip, and see your friends. It was healing for me, and I’m sure it will be for you too.

Until next time,

Austin

Subscribe now

P.S. This Substack break of several months was unintended, but I’m going to commit to being much more consistent with posting here! Thank you for reading and following along, it is so appreciated.

I woke up as the sun rose, like nature intended. I sat up in bed and my eyes met the huge windows that surrounded me, giving me a panoramic view of evergreen trees dusted with snow like powdered sugar. It took me a moment to fully remember where I was, because this felt like the polar opposite of my typical mornings in Brooklyn, New York, where I’m woken up by the sounds of sirens and dogs barking.

I was in northern Wisconsin for a work trip, completely by myself. The Airbnb, my home for a few days, was close to silent, with the exception of the quiet hum of heaters shielding me from the 15-degree weather outside. I got out of bed and walked downstairs to the main floor to make some coffee.

There were multiple coffee brewer options, but I reached for the Chemex, my go-to when I want to take my time and enjoy the brewing process. After my coffee was done, I brought it over to a comfy chair next to one of the big windows and sat down to enjoy it. This is the moment when I realized how calm I felt compared to my typical morning.

Usually I wake up and immediately hear a variety of noises from the hustle and bustle outside. The first thing I do is pick up my phone and check my texts and emails for any pressing personal or work issues. Then I eat breakfast as I continue scrolling through social media or starting my daily work tasks. My days start with a millisecond of peace before the stimulation begins, and this is the routine I’ve become accustomed to.

But on this peaceful morning in Wisconsin, I felt completely content in the silence and isolation. No scrolling, no cacophony of background noises, no swirling thoughts in my head. Just me, my coffee, and a view of a frozen lake surrounded by evergreen trees.

This April will mark my five-year anniversary of moving to New York City, a place that I dreamed of calling home for so many years. I still absolutely love it here, and it gives me a feeling of excitement and motivation that other cities don’t. But each time I go on a trip to a cabin in the mountains, I get one tiny step closer to the decision to leave the city behind for a calmer lifestyle.

The thought of leaving NYC scares me. I’d be leaving behind some of my closest friends, the cafes and restaurants that I love, the frequent work opportunities, and the familiarity of living in a place that I know well.

But I’m starting to wonder if the fast-paced lifestyle and overstimulation is beginning to outweigh the positives I just listed. I’m an extremely anxious person on a fundamental level, so it may seem like a no brainer to leave the chaos of the city and trade it for a peaceful countryside life for the sake of my mental health. But it’s not that simple of a decision.

I’m also quite introverted, so I don’t think that moving to a place with less people nearby would be an issue for me. I’m quite comfortable in solitude, and frequent social interactions are a big source of my anxiety as well, which adds another tick to the pros list of moving out of the city.

This also isn’t a decision that I would make alone. I’m in a committed relationship, so this would have to be a leap that we take together, which brings in a lot of other factors.

Then there’s the fear of regret. Regretting leaving the place I now call home and the life I currently live. But we can’t let these fears hold us back from doing what’s best for ourselves.

In an ideal world, I’d have the money to own an apartment and the city as well as a cabin in upstate New York, so I’d have the ability to split my time between the hustle and bustle of the city and the tranquility of the mountains. But unfortunately I don’t have a couple million dollars laying around!

Anyways, this is the internal struggle I’m dealing with lately. Realistically, I think I’ll stay in NYC for another year at the very least, considering it’s almost time to renew my lease. But who knows? Maybe in 2027 you’ll find me relocating to a cabin in the woods.

Are you dealing with any similar struggles of moving vs staying where you currently live? I’d love to hear your thoughts and how you’re progressing through that decision-making process.

Until next time,

Austin

Every so often when I’m traveling, I’ll experience a magical moment that really stops me in my tracks and reminds me that there is so much more to life than my little bubble at home in New York City. I recently spent a few days in Lisbon, Portugal, and there was a moment when this realization came back to the forefront of my mind.

My friends and I had just gotten our second round of pasteis de nata (egg custard tarts that are insanely creamy and delicious) and we were about to enjoy them in a nearby courtyard. They walked toward a parked yellow tram to take photos of the pastries before they ate them, like the true content creators we are, so I was by myself in the middle of the courtyard. I bit into the custard tart and admired my surroundings. I was about halfway through the tart when that feeling came back; the reminder of how big the world truly is.

I was completely surrounded with stunning European architecture, enjoying a classic Portuguese dessert, and in earshot of several conversations in a variety of languages. I stood alone, thousands of miles from home, in a city that was founded hundreds of years before mine. I felt a mixture of immense gratitude to be able to travel and a bit of existential crisis at the size of our world. All my problems seemed a lot smaller, and worries about work or drama became much less significant.

Each trip I take holds a special place in my memory, and this one was no exception. It was a whirlwind of incredible food, stunning architecture, endless patterns of tiles, and special moments with my friends. I took a million photos to document these few days, and I wanted to share some of my favorites with you.

C’mon, these streets are just stunning.

The lookout point at Miradouro de Santa Luzia.

The magical creations that are pasteis de nata (these were from Castro).

So many incredible tiles.

Incredible coffee and pastries at Etma Bakery.

My favorite ceramics shop we visited, Clay.

Most of the cafes here are dog friendly, which made my heart so happy.

A cozy corner from the Airbnb we stayed in, linked here.

I hope you enjoyed this little collection of memories from my trip! I can’t recommend visiting Lisbon enough.

Until next time,

Austin

Younger Austin truly did not care what other people thought about him, and he dove into any hobby or creative outlet that interested him without fear of judgement.

I have so many fond memories of playing with my sister’s Littlest Pet Shop toys, which were basically collectible animal figurines with cartoony, big eyes. My sister had at least 50 different animals, and we would spend hours dressing them up and putting them in their houses. I didn’t care that this was considered an activity for girls, or that it would be more socially acceptable to go play football with my brothers.

In today’s world I still don’t necessarily care about whether or not my hobbies fall into what I “should” be interested in, but I definitely become influenced by whatever activities are trendy at the time. My goal is to detach from what other people are gravitating toward and give myself a little more freedom in my interests instead.

Side note: I should call my sister soon and thank her for always giving me the space to embrace my traditionally “feminine” interests, from playing to dolls to styling her for photo shoots with disposable cameras. She probably didn’t even realize it, but she inherently gave me so much support while I was figuring out who I was and what I was interested in.

From my early childhood all the way through high school, I found so much joy in reading.

In my prime reading stage, you would’ve been hard pressed to find a kid that read more often than me. Looking back, it was probably a little excessive. I would spend virtually all of my free time reading; I’m talking multiple Harry Potter books in one day. I loved both the mental escape and the challenge of expanding my vocabulary. There are so many words that are seared into my memory because I came across them while reading in middle school or high school and paused to look up the meanings of them (the first one that comes to mind is “lackadaisical,” which means lacking enthusiasm, lazy - this one I learned in middle school). While I still read a decent amount in my adult life, I miss the sense of fulfillment that reading gave me when I was younger, and the genuine desire I had to be as well read as possible. But this year will be different: less screen time, more book time.

Subscribe now

My childhood self was better at handling stress and anxiety.

If you’ve read any of my other posts on here, you’ll know that I’m quite an anxious person. My generalized anxiety disorder didn’t manifest itself until I was about 23, and ever since then, managing it has been a pretty significant struggle for me. When I look back at the biggest stresses I endured growing up, I can see how much simpler they were to handle without the shackles of additional anxiety that requires medicine and therapy to subdue.

Obviously the childhood stage tends to be inherently less anxious than adulthood, but I want to try and look at some my stressors with the perspective I had as my younger self. Back then, I felt much more confident in my ability to tackle a problem and move past it. I knew that I could make a plan, use my resources, and overcome the obstacle. Today, I find it hard to not ignore an issue that causes me stress, because I want to avoid the anxiety that will inevitably come with that. But, as we know, this approach just leads to compounded anxiety drawn out over a longer period of time until we can’t ignore it anymore. So no more of that in 2026!

I don’t have as many dreams and ambitions as I used to.

This one is kind of a double-edged sword, because a big reason I don’t have as many dreams as I had as a child is because I’ve accomplished several of them. And that’s great! But I feel a bit stagnant in my current stage of life. I love my job, but I don’t necessarily have a larger goal that I’m actively pursuing. I’m blessed enough to be able to travel to the places I want to see. I’m in a happy and stable relationship. Hopefully this doesn’t come off as me complaining about my privileged life, yikes. I’m very thankful for the life I’ve built for myself, but I miss the feeling of working toward some kind of finish line. So I either need to work on creating more measurable goals for myself, or find contentment in where I am currently. I’ll think more on that and get back to you.

Younger Austin was so, so musical.

Music was a huge part of my life growing up. I started learning how to play the saxophone in middle school, and then taught myself how to play piano in high school. I found so much enjoyment through being part of concert band, marching band, and jazz band at school. I took AP Music Theory and began composing some pieces of music that I would practice at home on the piano that my grandma was kind enough to let me use. Yes, you’re probably putting together that I was a pretty stereotypical band nerd. But I loved it, and I even started college with a music minor. I spent a lot of time in the piano practice rooms on my college campus, learning how to play my favorite songs.

Fast forward to today, and my saxophone sits in the closet of my childhood room in Kentucky, untouched for probably ten years now. I’m able to play piano whenever I visit home, but that only happens about twice a year so it’s safe to say my skills have declined. I can feel myself losing the craft I spent so many years developing, and frankly that just makes me sad. I’ve also always wanted to learn how to play the cello, and it’s become one of those things we say we’ll get to one day. But moving forward, I’m going to put more effort into rebuilding my skills and getting back into music. I know it will bring me so much joy, so I just need to commit to it.

I want to look at New York City with the same admiration as I did when I was younger.

I was that cliche teen that dreamed of leaving their hometown and moving to the big city, and I’m so proud of myself for accomplishing that dream. But lately, I’ve realized that I take living in NYC for granted. I’ve gotten stuck in my routine of working from home and feeling complacent staying in, but I’m missing out on the restaurants, shows, art exhibitions, and events that make NYC so special. High school Austin would be so incredibly mad at me for not going to at least one new restaurant a week and seeing multiple Broadway shows a month. So I’m going to try and make him proud by experiencing my city to the fullest.

Are there any qualities that you had as a child that you want to bring back to the forefront as an adult? I truly believe that meshing our childhood and adult perspectives can help us enjoy life a little more and free ourselves from the heaviness that adulthood can bring.

I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments!

As always, thank you so much for reading.

Until next time,

Austin

I really do love the Christmas season. Twinkling lights, festive decorations, sweet treats, cheerful music; there are so many aspects of the holidays that I look forward to. But as an introvert that struggles with social anxiety, there is a lot of preparation and consideration that goes into making sure I can enjoy this time of year to the fullest.

Every year, my family hosts a Christmas Eve party at the home I grew up in. The parties have gotten a bit smaller over the years, but it typically includes (at the very least) my parents, my three siblings, two grandparents, an aunt/uncle/cousin package deal, a few family friends, and a partridge in a pear tree. We’re talking hosting a minimum of 15 people in my house for several hours, and some of them overnight. Don’t get me wrong, I love them all dearly. But that amount of socializing, combined with nonstop, loud music in the background, drains my battery FAST.

Thankfully, since it is hosted at my parents’ house, I have the ability to escape to my room when I need a breather. My room was very much a sanctuary for me growing up, and even though I haven’t lived there for nearly 13 years now, it still has a nostalgic, calming effect on me when I enter it. My younger self spent a vast majority of his time in that room, escaping into the worlds of the countless books I’d add to my “finished” list. While I’ve developed a bit of a longer social battery as an adult, it’s pretty inevitable that I’ll need a to slip away to my room a few times during the holidays to catch my breath and decompress.

In social situations like this during the holidays, one of my personal hacks is to stick with people that I know well. This may seem a bit obvious, as we’re naturally more inclined to hang around people that we’re closer to, but a somewhat implied benefit of this tactic is that you get to avoid small talk. When I’m chatting with my sister, there’s none of the “So what do you do for work?” or “How are the holidays going?” types of questions that feel forced and awkward for me to navigate. I can simply be myself and still stay social, rather than sitting quietly in the corner to avoid small talk with the family friends I see once a year.

Subscribe now

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve also noticed that I’m more “accepting” of my anxiety, if that makes sense. I used to resist my anxious feelings for as long as I could, trying to shove them back into the box in the back of my brain that was constantly bursting at the seams. From years of experience as an anxious person, I’ve learned that this only makes the fight or flight feeling worsen. Nowadays, when I notice my anxiety and dread start to bubble to the surface, I simply accept that those are my current feelings and allow them to enter my mind. I remind myself that these are feelings I’ve had before, I know how to address them, and that they will pass.

This type of acceptance approach has carried over to social situations, and I’ve built the confidence to be transparent about my anxiety. If I’m chatting with someone and my anxious feelings get to a point where they’re overwhelming and I need to step away, I simply excuse myself from the situation to do what I need to do to resolve them. With my family, partner, and close friends, I’m even able to tell them in a straightforward way that I’m feeling anxious and need a moment alone. I used to be so scared to admit that my anxiety was affecting me in a social situation, but I’ve realized over time that the people who love you would much rather you be transparent and step away for a second than allow the anxiety to completely envelop you.

If I could give one piece of advice to any anxious introvert trying to make it through a busy and stressful holiday season, it would be to give yourself the gift of time to recharge. Even though Christmastime comes with so many social obligations, it also comes with a long list of relaxing, traditional activities that you can do alone to recharge your social battery. Bake and decorate some cookies, read a book by the fireplace, drive around on your own and look at Christmas lights, or go on a walk in the snow. Making time to be alone and enjoy the quieter moments of the holiday season can make all the difference.

If you consider yourself an introvert and/or struggle with anxiety, what tips or tricks do you have to make it through the holidays? I’m by no means a master at managing my anxiety, so I’m always eager to learn what other people do to calm themselves. Let me know in the comments!

Talk soon,

Austin

The daily instincts that come with being tall are things I don’t even think about anymore. Ducking my head a little to go through a doorway, bending down when I’m taking a photo with friends, or struggling to fit into the limited legroom in an airplane seat are all natural behaviors for me. But my inner struggles with my height run a bit deeper.

From a social standpoint, I’ve always been quite introverted. I don’t like to be the center of attention, I’d prefer to blend in rather than stand out (superficially at least), and you’d never catch me raising my hand to be the volunteer in class. For someone who prefers to fly under the radar, towering over the majority of other people isn’t ideal. I immediately stand out by default, and there’s nothing I can do to change that.

But being tall comes with a frequent supply of an introvert’s worst nightmare: unsolicited, awkward social interactions.

If only I had a dollar for every time I’ve been minding my own business in an airport, and a nearby stranger has started a conversation with the tall joke that has been beaten to death. You know what’s coming. Say it with me: “So how’s the weather up there?”.

When I meet someone new, nine times out of ten the conversation starts with a comment along the lines of “Wow, you’re so tall!”. Then comes my uncomfortable response of “yeahhhh *chuckle*”. I know this type of comment is a natural conversation starter when you meet someone much taller than you, but for me, it adds so much extra awkwardness to an interaction that already stresses me out due to my introversion.

We also can’t forget the quintessential run-in with any middle-aged dad I encounter, who simply can’t hold himself back from asking me if I play basketball or football. For some context, my stature isn’t remotely close to that of an athlete, I’m very clumsy and uncoordinated, and my interests lean far more toward the arts rather than sports. So that assumption, while of course harmless, is just so out of left field in relation to my actual persona. This type of question again leads to some forced laughter and a short, awkward response on my part.

While the social aspects of being tall lead to so much insecurity for me, an equal, if not larger, contributor to my lack of self-confidence comes along with the purely physical implications. I’ve always struggled to have a positive and healthy relationship with my body, but I’ve never been in the headspace where I truly like how I look. People who are as tall as I am tend to either lean more toward a lanky build or a broader build, and for a long time I’ve been closer to the latter. Shirts always end up being too short for me, so I usually have to go for a larger size than I “need” to, and it feels nearly impossible to find pants that have the appropriate ratio of waist size to adequate length for my long legs. I wear a size 14 shoe, which can rarely be found in stores, so I have to stick to online shopping. The years and years of struggling to find clothes that fit me the way I want them to have led to so much pure insecurity about how I look.

And to be frank, there are some people who just stare at me because of my height. I’ve even overheard kids ask their parents why I’m so much taller than everyone else. Again, these behaviors do not come with ill intentions, but my anxious mind twists them into negative thoughts.

With all of these feelings around my height, it’s been a lifelong journey toward accepting the way I look, or at least trying to look at the bright side of being so tall.

I remind myself of all the times I’ve been able to grab something from the top shelf at the grocery store when someone couldn’t reach it and needed help. Or the time when a little girl let go of her balloon and I was able to pull it out of the tree branch it got tangled in. Or my friends who feel a little more safe walking with me at night because strangers are less likely to mess with a tall man.

My height has even contributed my career in some ways. I’m a full-time content creator, and I’m able to capture photos and videos from angles that others can’t without a ladder or a tripod. But before I made the shift toward content creation, I worked as a sign language interpreter. When I was getting my master’s degree in interpretation, I had a mentor that I worked with weekly to help develop my skills. After a couple weeks of sessions with him, he said that he noticed that I tend to “retreat into myself” in terms of my posture. He explained that my height would be a unique advantage when interpreting on a stage or at a conference, because I would be easier to see and command a larger presence. I had never thought about how my height would play into my career, and this realization definitely took me a couple steps closer toward feeling comfortable in my own skin.

I’m not sure what the moral of this story is. Part of me still feels silly for being insecure about a physical attribute that so many people have told me they wish they had. But I think I’m learning to be okay with seeing my height as both a blessing and a curse. Complete confidence in my skin is honestly something I don’t think I’ll ever feel, but if I can keep making steps toward that goal, I’m okay with that.

Subscribe now

I’d love to hear about your relationship with your height, no matter if you’re short, tall, or average. Is it something that makes you feel insecure, or even more secure for that matter? Let me know in the comments.

Until next time,

Austin

I was blessed to grow up with parents that really put in the effort to make Christmas feel as magical as possible for my siblings and I. Every year, they would pull out countless Rubbermaid containers of holiday decorations from the basement and spend hours upon hours adding festive touches to every corner of our home. We had a huge tree decked out in ornaments, stockings lined across the mantle, reindeer made out of lights in the front yard, and even holiday hand towels in all the bathrooms. Christmas Eve was spent hosting all of our family and friends for a big party and preparing the feast for the next day’s Christmas brunch. All of these traditions and celebrations led me to truly love Christmas and the magic it brings to the month of December.

But despite the incredible Christmases I experienced growing up in Kentucky, I always longed to know what it was like to spend Christmas in New York City. By the time I was in high school, I already knew that I wanted to live in NYC one day, but the cherry on top of making that move would be finally getting to see all of the decorations and festivities in the city with my own eyes. Like many of us, I grew up seeing New York portrayed in the media as a magical place during Christmas, full of people hailing a taxi to do their Christmas shopping and stopping by Rockefeller Center to see the tree lighting.

Fast forward to present day, and I’ve now lived in NYC for four (soon five) Christmas seasons. And I hate to break it to you, but it feels just as magical as I expected.

One of my favorite parts of living in New York is the way so many people here really put their all into celebrating a holiday, and Christmas is no exception. While you can walk around pretty much any neighborhood and see stoops covered in lights and garland, some areas like the Upper East Side and Dyker Heights go all out with some insanely elaborate decorations. Holiday pop-ups start to, well, pop up all over the city, cafes and restaurants release limited-time Christmas items (one of my personal favorites being the Christmas tree ice cream cone at Taiyaki), and plant stores start to sell Christmas trees on the sidewalks outside their storefront.

Let’s also not forget the star of the show, the classic portrayal of the holidays in New York, and the mecca of anyone visiting to experience an NYC Christmas for themselves: Midtown Manhattan. That’s where you can find the iconic Radio City Music Hall (home of the Rockettes), the stores on Fifth Ave that showcase new decorations every single year (i.e. Cartier, Saks, etc.), Rockefeller Center, and the somehow constantly crowded Bryant Park Winter Village. There are multiple ice skating rinks, more hot chocolates to try that you can fit into a single trip, and an endless list of hotels with classic Christmas decorations.

Will you have to shoulder your way through a crowd to get a nice view of the Rockefeller Center tree? Absolutely. But as annoying as the crowds can be, the chaos is a key component of a quintessential NYC Christmas (and adds to the charm of the whole experience in my opinion).

I’ll be honest, the influx of tourists is typically something that I dislike about living here. But during the holidays, I have a softer side for them, even when they’re walking at turtle speed or completely stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to figure out which way they’re going. If you take some time to walk around the popular areas of NYC during this time of year, you can see the pure joy in the face of each tourist that has waited their whole life to see the Saks Holiday Light Show or go ice skating in Rockefeller Center. For some of them, this is their one big trip of the year, and they’ve saved up for so long to pay the outrageous costs to visit NYC. Their genuine happiness takes me back to the younger version of myself that longed to experience the same exact thing, and reminds me not to take living here for granted.

Moral of the story: if you’re a Christmas lover and have always dreamed of visiting New York City for the holidays, DO IT. A lot of the media’s portrayal of the city overall tends to be over-romanticized, but this time of year feels just as magical to me in real life as it seems in the movies.

What do you love about Christmas in the area you live, and how has your perception of the magic of the holidays changed as you’ve gotten older? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments :)

Talk soon (I promise to be better about posting here more often!)

-Austin

Subscribe now

P.S. All of these photos were taken by me over the years! If you’re curious, I take my photos on a Fujifilm X-T4.

I haven’t conducted my own study to calculate an exact number, but I’d guesstimate that approximately 99.9% of introverts would choose autumn as their favorite season. Let’s break down why I’d assume this, and why fall is hands down my favorite season as a introvert (that also happens to hate the heat).

The other seasons are far, far too focused on socializing.

Let’s be honest: spring and summer contain way too many social activities for the average introvert. We’re talking outdoor picnics, group vacations, days at the park, and family reunions. In the spring people are thawing out after winter and even I’ll admit that a breezy 65 degree day is lovely. There are even some delusional people out there that say summer weather is…nice? So naturally, everyone wants to take advantage of the weather and fill their social calendars to the max. For obvious reasons, not ideal for the introvert community. Winter schedules tend to be a little less busy, which is nice, but we do have to navigate the double whammy of back-to-back Christmas and New Year’s festivities.

Fall has, in my opinion, the perfect amount of socializing for the introvert that enjoys an occasional gathering. Halloween and Thanksgiving are the only autumnal holidays (in the U.S. at least), and both of these are just one-day events for the most part. If you want a little extra socialization too, autumn is perfect for a trip to the pumpkin patch with your best friend or a scary movie night with your significant other.

The cozy feeling of autumn aligns with typical introvert hobbies.

Most of the introverts I know (including myself) tend to have similar preferences when it comes to how they want to spend their free time. Chances are your introverted friends love activities in the realm of reading, journaling, creating art of some kind, knitting, going on solo walks; anything that falls into the cozy, creative category. Autumn is the best time of year for hobbies like this, since the chilly weather and shorter days lead to more people spending the day indoors with time to fill. Personally, I could spend half of fall baking seasonal treats with candles lit and calming music on in the background.

Fall fashion comes with both a figurative and literal security blanket.

Introverts typically don’t love to stand out in a crowd, and fall fashion actually corresponds perfectly with that. Autumn is all about oversized sweaters and cardigans, beanies, and lots of layering. For me, dressing in that way feels like a security blanket, as opposed to something form-fitting or shows a lot of skin. To be fair, this might also be related to body image issues, but that’s a whole other discussion. In my mind, a big coat helps me hide, and I like that.

The changing seasons and upcoming holidays resonate with the reflective nature of introverts.

People who are less social tend to be more introspective and observant, which comes to the forefront during the time of year when leaves are changing and we’re getting closer to the holidays that celebrate our loved ones. Just speaking from personal experience, fall definitely triggers a lot of reflection for me, as I begin to look back on the past year and think about what I want the coming year to look like. With holidays like Thanksgiving, and then Christmas in the near future, I also think a lot about my relationships with my loved ones. Honestly, you could often catch me sitting on a bench in Central Park in autumn as I stare at the leaves and ponder these kinds of things.

For all of these reasons, I like to refer to autumn as “beautifully lonely.” It’s a time for us to spend more time with ourselves, recover from the busy social seasons of spring and summer, and reflect.

If you’re an introvert, do you resonate with these perspectives? I’d love to hear your thoughts! Or if you’re an extrovert, do you have opposing feelings, and much prefer summer over autumn? Let’s chat in the comments :)

Also, if you’d be interested in an itinerary-style post breaking down my favorite destinations for autumn, let me know!

Pressing pause until next time,

Austin

My mom grew up vacationing in Fripp Island, South Carolina, a small private island off the coast. She passed this tradition on to my siblings and I, and we spent two weeks every summer there. The island is covered in lush foliage, small groups of condos & villas, and friendly white-tailed deer that have become accustomed to humans. Visitors drive around on golf carts to explore the island and stop by the various little shops and marinas. It’s truly a lovely place to spend the summer.

One of my most cherished memories from Fripp Island was formed when my family and I went out for a walk on the beach at night. When we made it to the water, we realized that a bit down the beach, there was a sea turtle returning back to the ocean after laying her eggs on the beach. These sea turtles make their way onto the beach in the cover of the night, lay their eggs in the sand, and then make their way back to the sea. The eggs stay in the sand until they hatch, and then the baby turtles have to fend for themselves to make it down the beach and into the ocean. It’s a rough start for the babies to push their way up through the sand, make the journey down to the water, and then muster the strength to swim through the crashing waves and into the ocean to start their lives. But it’s the instinctual path of these turtles and the way nature intended them to hatch. It was so special to witness the beautiful mother turtle go through that natural process, especially with my family there to see it too.

I’ve missed the past four years of family vacation there because of work or other commitments. But as I’m typing this, I’m back on the island with my parents, siblings, and our significant others. We’re staying in a blue house just steps from the boardwalk that leads to the beach. The backyard is shaded by winding branches covered in moss that hangs down like streamers. It’s been such a refreshing escape from the city life.

I don’t know if it’s because of the four-year gap I took, but something about this year’s vacation is making me feel more reflective than usual. I feel, in a way, that I grew up so much in those four years I missed, and I’m so much “more adult” now. With these feelings of growth have come feelings of regret, for not cherishing this island as much as I should have growing up. Of course I always had a nice time here, but in hindsight I don’t think I realized how much of a gem this place is.

When I spent time here as a high schooler, I always envisioned bringing my partner here some day. This year, my boyfriend is here with me, and it feels so special to share the Fripp Island experience with him. We drive around the maze of roads that cover the island, and I point out different spots that are connected to memories I have at each one. He’s seen the marina where we always buy our ice, the somewhat secret spot at the edge of the island that has the best sunset view, and the golf course where you can usually see alligators laying in the sun. I’ve showed him the boardwalk that goes over the marshes, where herons spend time searching for fish. We’ve walked down to the sand bar that is only accessible at a certain tide level and lets you walk far out into the ocean in only knee-deep water. He’s seeing all the scenes of my childhood, but with the adult version of me. It’s a feeling that is surreal, nostalgic, and frankly a bit trippy.

He’s also forming bonds with my family by being here, bonds that secure his place as part of the family. When I was younger and in a much different place with my parents in terms of my identity as a gay person, I never imagined that a partner of mine could integrate into our family vacation so seamlessly.

The last time I was here, I had just moved to NYC a couple months before, and I was single, stressed, and new to the freelance career path. I wasn’t really sure what my plan for the next couple years looked like, and I was mentally more so in the young adult stage of life.

Fast forward four years, and I’m here on the island again, but as a completely different person. I’ve stabilized my career as a full-time content creator, I have an apartment that I love and feels like home, I’m in a committed relationship, and I have an idea of how I want the future to look for myself.

Through all of this reflection, I’ve learned that I need to cherish this place more. There are countless memories that have been created here, with my siblings, parents, grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles, and family friends. So many stories, traditions, and inside jokes have roots in the trips we’ve taken here. It’s a blessing and a privilege to travel to such a meaningful place year after year, and I’m no longer taking that for granted.

Do you have a place that holds special meaning with your family, or somewhere that you grew up frequently traveling to? I’d love to hear about it in the comments. Bonus points if you attach photos of it! Take a second to relive those memories in your mind and recognize the power, connection, and love that they contain.

Until next time,

Austin

In more proper terms, imposter syndrome is defined as “the persistent inability to believe that one's success is deserved or has been legitimately achieved as a result of one's own efforts or skills.”

I started battling with imposter syndrome a few years ago, when I decided to put my sign language interpreting career on pause and pivot toward full-time content creation. Even though I was gaining positive attention toward my photos and videos, I couldn’t help but feel like it was undeserved. I’ve never studied photography or videography, so I didn’t fully comprehend that so many people enjoyed my posts enough to follow along and engage with me everyday.

Then massive, well-known brands started to reach out and work with me, and that really dumbfounded me. Little old me? A hobby photographer from Kentucky? You want me to create content to use in major marketing campaigns? It simply felt like I was in over my head.

But I chugged along, putting my best foot forward in all of my work projects and posting nearly every single day for years on multiple platforms. I’m still flabbergasted that I have 190,000 people that follow me, but I know deep down that I’ve put a massive amount of effort into developing my skills and honing my craft.

Then imposter syndrome made a resurgence in my mind when someone suggested that I should release a photo book featuring my favorite photos from over the years. Again, I went through the same self doubt. Why would someone pay for physical copies of my work to put on their shelves or coffee tables? There are professional photographers that take WAY better photos and deserve that attention.

This self doubt held me back from pursuing this type of dream project for a couple years. Until about a month ago.

I decided to silence that annoying voice in my head and just do it. Design the book, launch it, and see what happens. Even if no one buys it, I still have a lovely portfolio of some of my favorite images I’ve taken. I knew that I would truly love the process of designing it too.

So this morning, I announced the start of preorders for my upcoming coffee table book, Coffee Shops of the World.

It will be a love letter to all of the stunning, inspiring coffee shops I have visited around the world over the past several years. Photos of the exterior, interior, and coffee/pastry options will be paired with descriptions of each cafe and memories I’ve made at each one. It will be a showcase of my photography at its core, and I can now confidently say that I’ve taken photos that deserved to be showcased.

I’m sharing this story of moving past self doubt and the oppression of imposter syndrome because I know so many people deal with it on a daily basis. In my case, the feelings of imposter syndrome definitely grew in correlation with my anxiety, so a lot of the progress I’ve made toward getting over my self doubt happened through addressing my anxiety overall. Try to remind yourself of the effort you’ve put forward in the past that has led you to where you are know.

Maybe you have a job that you feel underqualified and not quite ready for. Remind yourself that you went through some level of schooling to prepare for that job and that you did what was necessary to get through the interview process. Maybe you’re like me and have a career now that isn’t at all what you studied in school. Remind yourself that if you’re succeeding in that career, then you have all the skills you need. I know some parents that deal with imposter syndrome too and doubt their ability to be a good parent. If that’s you, know that we have natural instincts when it comes to parenting, and you simply caring about being a good parent means you’re going to do it what it takes to be one.

So, my friends, we are saying goodbye to imposter syndrome. We no longer know her, and she can no longer occupy space in our minds. You deserve every ounce of success that you have worked so hard for, I promise.

Take care of yourselves and remember your worth.

Until next time,

Austin

P.S. if you want to preorder my book, you can do so here :)

Read more

Wake up way earlier than you technically need to before work.

Some of you might be physically flinching at the suggestion of purposefully waking up even earlier than you probably already do. But this has truly altered the way my typical day starts, in a good way. The last thing an anxious person needs is the pressure of feeling rushed. By waking up earlier than you “need” to in order to finish all your morning tasks before you have to leave for work or wake up the kids (whatever it may be), you give yourself the extra wiggle room to slow down and wake up at your own pace. My daily tasks and responsibilities seem much less daunting after I’ve had a chance to wake up, put some extra effort into my breakfast and coffee, and snuggle on the couch with my dog before getting the day started. Does waking up earlier mean you should probably go to bed earlier? Yes, because the goal is not to get an inadequate amount of sleep just to have a slow-paced morning. It may be painful to set that alarm even earlier, but trust me, this approach is a game changer.

Implement stretch breaks throughout your day.

We all know that stretching is good for us, and you may instinctively do it when you stand up after sitting for a long time. But when I say stretch break, I mean stop everything you’re doing and dedicate to REALLY stretching. Eyes closed, deep breathing, the whole shebang. Not only does this feel good physically, but it gives my mind an almost meditative moment of peace. I probably do this five or six times a day and it’s a full on habit now.

Life is short, so get the sweet treat.

We’re talking about mental health and not physical health here, so I feel a little less guilty encouraging you to indulge in that dessert. But as someone that has always found comfort in food, sweet treats are a foolproof way to reduce my anxiety. It almost feels like a “reward” on days when I’m dedicating all my energy toward fending off those annoying anxious thoughts. If getting a cookie on your way home from work makes you happy and takes some of the weight off your shoulders, I say do it. Do I probably need to sort out my relationship with food in therapy? Probably. But that’s another conversation.

Start a new cozy, relaxing hobby.

In my experience, one of the most powerful defenses against anxiety is a calming hobby that occupies the mind. I’ve recently been VERY into coloring, and it brings me a simple form of joy to decide what color palette to choose on a drawing of sea animals. I may look silly as a 6’6, 29-year-old man sitting on the floor and coloring, but it brings me peace and that’s what matters. It definitely beats doom scrolling on social media or trying to watch a movie while your mind is full of swirling thoughts.

Instead of a second coffee, maybe try some water or tea.

If you follow me on Instagram, you know that it pains me to recommend drinking less coffee. I go to bed looking forward to my morning coffee, and start looking forward to my afternoon coffee after the morning glass is finished. But lately I’ve started limiting myself to one coffee per day, and while I wish I could have seven iced oat milk lattes a day, the caffeine reduction truly does have a noticeable effect on my stress level and overall jitteriness.

Alternate nostril breathing is magical.

Years ago, I was following a Yoga with Adriene YouTube video, and that absolute queen introduced me to alternate nostril breathing. It’s easier to understand if you go watch a video about it than me typing it out, but it’s a way of breathing with one nostril at a time. There have been moments when an hour of yoga wouldn’t calm my anxiety attack, but five minutes of alternate nostril breathing brought me back to life. Even if I’m just starting to feel some chest tightening or jaw tensing, I do this and it calms me down. It is MAGIC. I will swear by it forever and I hope you find it just as effective.

If you have any habits or rituals you implement into your daily life to manage your anxiety, leave them in the comments so we can all help each other stay at peace. Take care of yourselves, friends!

Subscribe now

Until next time,

Austin

I decided to call my Substack “Pressing Pause” to align with the goal I always have in mind while creating something new: providing a soothing, beautiful escape for my audience. Something that gives their mind a break from the stresses of everyday life and transports them into a scene of breakfast in bed, falling autumn leaves, or a stroll through a quaint town. I want my Substack to be the same form of oasis for my readers, to encourage them to press pause with me and take the time they need to recharge.

Our world is so centered around the hustle of work and constant self improvement, and not enough around being present and noticing the beauty constantly surrounding us. I definitely grew up instilled with the ideology of putting all my effort into getting good grades, so I could then put all my effort into being the best college student possible, so I could then put all my effort into getting the best job I could, so I could then put all my effort into keeping that job and getting promotions until the end of time. Even while just typing that massive, run-on sentence, that cycle feels exhausting, endless, and not at all fulfilling.

I definitely noticed a shift in my perspective when my career became more creatively oriented. I stopped seeing work as a metric-based performance test and more of a source of simultaneous financial and personal fulfillment. Don’t get me wrong: I know it is a privilege to make money from creating in a way that brings me peace, and I of course understand that not everyone has that luxury.

But even if you’re currently stuck in a job you don’t love, or one that demands too much of you to the point of burnout, I encourage you to press pause, at least when you can. When you’re commuting to work in the morning, instead of doom scrolling through social media while you wait for the train or listening to the depressing news on the radio while you drive to work, take a second to simply observe your surroundings. Notice how the sun is shining through the clouds, or roll the window down to listen to the birds chirping, or take a second to look around the train car and appreciate the immense diversity that exists within a small space.

I practice this approach every single day, and it has drastically improved my mental health. I used to walk through the city on the way to my next assignment with dread, wishing that it go by as fast as possible. Now I walk through the city and notice the dogs playing together in the park as I walk past. I catch a cute, giddy moment of two people that just finished their first date. I stop and admire the different kinds of flowers at the market. I take a moment to pause and listen to the street musician playing a saxophone.

I probably sound like someone who sees the world through rose-colored glasses, but I think I’m someone who tries to see the world as it is meant to be seen.

So please, press pause with me. Take a second to forget about your work stresses and instead, take some deep breaths. Relax your shoulders downward, take the tension out of your jaw, and remember that you’re okay.

I hope that this post, and all my future posts, bring you at least a moment of calm, inspiration, or giggles. I’ve attached a couple pretty moments I stopped to notice over the past week. I hope you decide to subscribe and join my little community here :)

Subscribe now

Until next time, take care of yourselves.

Austin

My family dynamic was a bit dysfunctional too, and that had a big impact on my relationship with food. My parents divorced when I was a toddler, but I grew up primarily with my dad and stepmom, who truly became my mother figure. They were both pretty health conscious and knew that I couldn’t be trusted around a package of Reese’s Cups, so I grew up with strict eating habits. But my brother and I spent every other weekend with my mom, who had the polar opposite parenting style of my dad. In hindsight, I think she wanted the little time we had together to be as fun as possible, so it was always three days of junk food free-for-all. And by that I mean waking up and having four donuts and a massive glass of chocolate milk for breakfast every day. It was bad.

Then the weekend of no rules would end, and I had to go back to a heavily monitored diet. The yo-yo effect from one end of the spectrum to the other did not make for a healthy relationship with food, and I started to hide and hoard snacks in my room. Not good, I know.

My metabolism was able to somewhat deal with the amount of food I was eating up until I got to college and had total freedom. Those periodic weekends of junk food free-for-alls became my regular diet, and the freshman 15 that most people gained was more like a freshman 50 for me.

The next several years basically consisted of unhealthy diet after unhealthy diet, from a super restrictive stint of being vegan, then back to eating whatever I wanted, and everything in between. But I was never, ever able to stick to consistent exercise. One of my least favorites qualities about myself is that I’m lazy to the core when it comes to physical movement. I’ll always take the escalator instead of the stairs, I’ll take an Uber to my destination instead of taking the long walk to the train, and no amount of effort or coercion can motivate me to go to the gym. But lately, something has changed.

Back in April, I moved to a new apartment (with my boyfriend, exciting) and it has a gym in the basement of my building. There is quite literally ZERO excuse to not use it. I’m paying for it, and I just have to take an elevator to get there. I’ve lived in a building with a gym in it before, and I used it two, maybe three times. But ever since moving here, I’ve been consistently going to the gym 4-5 times a week. This is the norm for a lot of people, but this is unheard of for me. My friends are just as shocked as I am that I’ve kept it going for a little over three months now.

I’ve been thinking a lot about why my brain has finally been able to make the connections it needs to convince me to go exercise, and I think it comes down to a combination of factors.

I’m in the first serious relationship of my life.

I’ve never had great luck with dating, and until now I’d only had a couple relationships that lasted a couple months max. But I’ve been dating my boyfriend, Drake, for over a year now, and being in a committed relationship makes me want to be the best version of myself I can be, and that includes physically.

I’m becoming more aware of my mortality as I get older.

Some of you will probably scoff at this one, because I’m only turning 30 this year. I know, I know, in the grand scheme of things that is very young. But there’s something about finishing out my twenties that feels so….adult. This quarter-life crisis is making me want to do whatever I can to extend my life, which means being healthy.

That pesky comparison is preying on my insecurity.

When I started dating Drake, I became a part of his tight-knit friend group. I absolutely love all of them, and I’m extremely lucky to have them as friends now. However, most of them are gym gays. Like speedo-wearing, Equinox members with visible abs level of gym gay. Don’t get me wrong, I LOVE this for them and admire their confidence. And I’ve heard the whole “comparison is the thief of joy” saying, but sometimes thoughts of body dysmorphia are impossible to push away. But I’m doing my best to frame this source of motivation as receiving inspiration from them, not just wanting to be like them so I’m not the fat friend of the group.

So here I am, typing this after I just finished an hour-long workout in my building’s gym. I don’t completely know what I’m doing, but I’m seeing results and staying consistent, which is truly a first in my 29 years of life.

I know that body and weight issues are not even close to a unique experience, so if you’re currently dealing with these kinds of thoughts, please know that I’ve been there for years and years and years. Let’s be real, I’ll probably always be there. But I hope that you can find your motivation to start getting consistent with better eating or exercise habits in a healthy, nourishing way.

Hopefully this didn’t come off as an “I’ve been working out for three months and now you should be like me” kind of thing. I’m very much a novice just trying to keep up the motivation.

Anyways, I appreciate you for reading this far and I hope my short stint of motivation can rub off on you if you need it.

Let me know in the comments if there are any habits you’ve found effective when trying to be healthier! I could definitely use them.

Until next time,

Austin

At that time, I was in grad school and working as a sign language interpreter when I wasn’t in class. My schedule was absolutely packed (which probably encouraged the manifestation of my anxiety) but I still made time to stay consistent with my hobby of posting on Instagram. It was, and still is, an important creative outlet for me. I carefully curated the layout of my feed with photos of coffee shops, architecture, and food, never expecting it to become a source of income for me.

Read more

My first memories of attraction to boys are from middle school. Back then, I was about as close to the band nerd stereotype that you could get. I was socially awkward, physically clumsy, way too concerned about my grades, and had the brutal combination of braces and acne as a cherry on top. I had “girlfriends,” just because that was what I was “supposed” to do, and I definitely didn’t fully understand my homosexuality at that point. One of my girlfriends broke up with me because I wouldn’t even hug her. Ironically, that girlfriend later ended up coming out as a lesbian around the time that I came out as gay, and we had a good laugh about that.

But there was a boy. In the very, very slight chance that anyone I grew up with reads this, we’ll give him the pseudonym of Danny. Danny was one of those kids that parents dream of raising; smart, athletic, polite, and ambitious. I distinctly remember having the urge to be his friend and earn his approval. At that time, I didn’t associate these feelings with a sense of physical attraction, but in hindsight I had a crush that I didn’t know it was possible to have.

As I got a little older and learned what the word “gay” even meant, I came to the realization in eight grade that it was a word that applied to me.

And back in 2007 in my Kentucky town, gay isn’t something you wanted to be.

Remember, I was a stereotypical nerd, and I approached every problem with thorough research. So I spent countless nights pretending to go to sleep until I knew the coast was clear, and then pulling out my iPod Touch to learn about these forbidden feelings that I couldn’t push to the back of my mind. I read articles, pored over blogs, and watched hours of YouTube coming out stories, desperate to figure out a solution. As you can assume, I never found a “cure” for my gayness, and the frantic feelings of resistance turned into the relief of acceptance.

But now that I had accepted the fact that I was gay (I even had the classic TV moment of looking into the mirror and saying the words “I’m gay” out loud for the first time) I had a new obstacle to face: how to come out.

I entered into freshman year of high school sure of who I was, but in secret. I needed time to become accustomed to this newfound version of myself. Even within my massive high school, I probably could’ve counted on one hand how many openly LGBTQIA+ students there were. I had no one to relate to and no one to seek advice from. But I did have some pretty incredible friends.

My best friend at the time, Emily, was the first person I came out to. She was extremely supportive and loving, and I could not have asked for a better friend. I’ll forever be grateful for her. After coming out to couple other close friends, I felt ready to be openly gay in all aspects of my life. So it was time to tell my parents.

For a little bit of context, I grew up butting heads with my parents pretty often. They were strict and I was headstrong, which clearly isn’t a great combination. While this wasn’t ideal to form the best relationship with them, it was in some ways a catalyst to my coming out when I did. To be frank, I didn’t really care what they thought of my identity, and it made it a little easier to rip off the Band-Aid and tell them when I was just 13 years old.

I won’t go into my full coming out story here because I’ve realized that this post is getting pretty lengthy already, but I’m happy to do a dedicated post about that moment if you’re interested.

Long story short, it went about how I expected. They were upset, brought their religious beliefs into it, and it turned into a yelling match. I ended up also coming clean about the fact that I wasn’t at all religious, which of course made things worse. (Sidenote: they have come a long way over the past 16 years and support my relationship with my boyfriend now, which I am quite grateful for)

But there’s one quote from that night that has stuck with me all these years and still makes me a little sick to my stomach.

“Austin, you just try so hard to be different.”

This could’ve been a comment made in the heat of the moment or one that came from genuine feelings, but it hit me hard. I never wanted or tried to be different, and I would’ve much preferred if I blended in with my peers. Being like everyone else could’ve saved me many nights of turmoil and thoughts of self-hatred. I hated that I physically stood out because of my height. I hated that I was more feminine and creative than masculine and athletic. I hated that I was gay when everyone else was straight. But my reality is that I was different from the overwhelmingly heteronormative, conservative population of Georgetown, Kentucky.

The strongest feeling of contentment came when I accepted that living in Kentucky was temporary. I knew I was meant to live in a more diverse, accepting place where individualization is celebrated. So I made it through high school by being unapologetically my nerdy, gay self, and now I live in New York City, one of the most diverse places in the country.

I didn’t enjoy growing up in the south, and I’m still trying to let go of the resentments I have toward Southern culture. But growing up openly gay in Kentucky made me more independent, determined, and self assured. And for that I am grateful.

To all my queer youth out there struggling to embrace yourself in a southern state, it truly does get better.

Talk soon,

Austin

But after over four years of living here, I’ve found that the dense population and busy lifestyle of NYC is exactly the type of environment I function well in, at least in this stage of my life.

The beauty is in the anonymity.

Even at a tall 6 feet and 6 inches, I can go about my day as an observer. I walk down the streets of Manhattan without being perceived, despite my head poking above the sea of speed walkers. I’m hidden by the hustle and bustle that has made this city so famous.

New York society is so centered around both work and social agendas. Everyone spends their days running to the next meeting while on the phone with their best friend, chatting about what bar they’re going to meet at later. New Yorkers tend to be beautifully goal oriented, not to a fault in this case. While everyone else frantically checks tasks off of their daily to-do lists, I can peacefully run my errands and finish my work with little to no human interaction. On most days, this is exactly how I like it.

There’s also such beauty in the overlap of social introversion and physical closeness. It’s like having a toe on both sides of the fence and being able to choose which to commit to.

I prefer to spend my days finding the solitude within the chaos; sitting at a window bar in a coffee shop, listening to Novo Amor through my headphones and watching the crowds walk by. Or stepping from the sounds of sirens and car horns into the stillness of a public library, silent with the exception of the sound of turning pages and keyboard typing. When I open the door and step back out into the noise, I seamlessly merge into the sea of commuters and head to my next destination.

Sure, the noise can become overwhelming sometimes, and I begin craving an escape to the charming small towns of upstate New York. It’s all about the balance.

Even in the rare instances when I feel like being a temporary social butterfly, there’s a massive city waiting for me with countless opportunities and endless energy.

I often get asked if I plan to live here forever. As well as I function in the city, I become more drawn to the countryside life as I age. But even if I relocate to a cottage in the Hudson Valley, I’ll always make time for days in NYC to remember this feeling.

The feeling of beautiful solitude in a city of millions.

Subscribe now

Thank you so much for reading, and let me know in the comments if you relate to these feelings. Talk soon.

Austin

So hi, I’m Austin.

I’m an almost thirty-year-old introvert, coffee addict, and creative living in Brooklyn, NY. I’m a full-time content creator, which still feels unreal and slightly cringey to say even after four years of this being my sole source of income. This career pivot definitely wasn’t planned, and mainly stems from a lucky streak. I’ve always used Instagram as a creative outlet, ever since it came launched back in my high school days. I was that person that posted what I then considered very artsy, Tumblr-esqe photos of rain droplets on a window or sunsets edited with the Valencia filter. Very slowly, that evolved into a consistent niche of coffee shop reviews when I lived in Washington, DC. Then one day, Anthropologie featured me on their Instagram page, and the momentum started to pick up.

By the time I moved to New York in 2021, I had an audience of around 30,000 people, and I decided to fully dive into the world of being a content creator (which was still such a new term then). Moving to a new city came with a newfound creative inspiration, and I was committed to growing my audience.

Now here I am in mid-2025, waking up every day grateful that I get to do what I love for a living. It still blows my mind that enough people enjoy my content enough to follow along and make this life possible. But, while I absolutely love my job, it’s become quite centered around photo and video, and my love for writing has slowly faded into the background.

Hence, starting up this Substack!

I grew up journaling, creating short stories, and studied journalism in college, so writing used to be my main creative outlet. This is the first step of getting back to that.

So you may be wondering: what can you expect on this platform? As of now, I’m going with a theme I’ve coined “Pressing Pause.” This title basically just represents my desire to live a slow-paced, calm lifestyle and to stay self aware and present. If you follow me on Instagram, you know that peaceful content is my forte. For those of you more curious about who I am past the carefully curated social media presence, I’m going to get more personal here. But I also want to use this as a supplement for the value I provide on Instagram and TikTok, whether that comes in the form of photography/editing tips, travel guides to cities that I’ve showcased on other platforms, and other “educational” topics. I’d also love to hear what you would want to see, so let me know in the comments. My plan is to post two pieces of content a week: one that will be accessible to anyone and one that will be behind a paywall. Making money isn’t my main goal here, but I do want to utilize this platform in every way I can :)

I want to wrap this up with a BIG thank you, for supporting my creative journey over the years through likes, comments, saves, shares, or even just a simple view. I appreciate it more than I can ever explain.

If you decide to follow along here, welcome to this little cozy corner of Substack. Talk soon!

Austin