“I just finished university but I don’t know what to do with my life. I’m almost 100% sure I don’t want to do what I studied and at the same time I don’t have many other ideas. How to search for my life path/passion without worrying that I’m “wasting my time” when the plans I’ve had in the past haven’t worked out. And I’ve no idea how to do it without being influenced ( even a little bit) by the “perfect” online world. Do you think I should do a detox from the online space and maybe try different things until I figure it out ?”

Hi Victoria,

Thank you for writing to me! I honestly chose this submission because it’s one of the most relatable ones I have seen in a while! I feel like this is something so many of us feel but are too afraid to talk about. It can be scary to admit that you don’t know what the path ahead of you holds, but I want to reassure you that this is a universal experience, even if it’s unspoken. So many people around us who even appear to have it all figured out question their path, desires, and pursuits.

First, congratulations on finishing university, that’s a huge accomplishment. Second, it is normal to finish school and feel like you aren’t aligned with the topic you chose to study. I know that firsthand. I was a journalism major and spent four years pouring my heart into the idea of becoming a news anchor, reporter, or magazine journalist. I originally chose to pursue it with the idea that I would be a TV personality or work for a fashion magazine like Andy Sachs in The Devil Wears Prada. When I graduated, I realized that was not exactly the case and that I was more interested in pursuing social media full time. The moral of the story is, it is okay to change your mind and no longer feel aligned with the major you chose for yourself coming into school.

When it comes to finding your life path, I want you to completely get the idea of “wasting your time” out of your mind. The reality is, time is not a promise. As grim as that may sound, none of us are guaranteed tomorrow, next week, or next year. With that idea in mind, I think it is important to focus on what you truly want without worrying about the invisible time limit of it all. When it comes to going after something you want and deeply desire, it is never a waste of time because it is feeding your soul and helping you fulfill a desire. It’s okay that maybe some of your plans in the past haven’t worked out. That doesn’t mean they were a waste of time, it just means they were a temporary experience. You learned something from them and moved on to the next thing. Not everything has to be permanent or long term to be appreciated.

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When I find myself at a crossroads, incapable of mustering up the courage, self-respect, or self-control to do something, I resort to spite. I know I am not the only one. It feels taboo to talk about it, or acknowledge it. In many ways, it even feels against my moral code to admit it, let alone to give into it.

But spite, as it turns out, puts the nail in the coffin every single time. It gets the job done. Don’t believe me? Allow me to share a few examples of when spite came to my rescue when I was frozen, struggling to do right by myself.

When I was struggling to get out of bed, brush my hair, and go to the gym, spite did the trick.

When I was struggling to get my work done, spite motivated me to show up and finish.

When I was struggling to go no contact with a dead-end fling, spite shut things down on my behalf.

When I was struggling to put myself out there and chase my dreams, spite showed up and gave me the push I needed.

Regardless of the circumstances, I’ve found that when I can’t rely on myself to make something happen, I can rely on spite. Sometimes spite inspires me to prove someone else wrong… sometimes it even pushes me to prove yourself wrong. I hate to admit it, but in moments of weakness, I have found myself turning to spite for inspiration and motivation. It can kick-start me like a car whose battery has died and needs to be jumped to come back to life. It gives me that quick burst of energy I need to start moving forward again.

Some days, when I simply can’t get up and do what I know I need to do to further myself and my career, I remind myself that staying down is exactly what anyone who wants to see me fall on my face would want. And I can’t let them have that.

Other days, I find myself at a romantic crossroads where my self-respect and my feelings are pulling me in opposite directions. My feelings might tell me to reach out, while my self-respect tells me to leave it alone. And sometimes I think: That’s exactly what he would want. He would want me to abandon my self-respect and reach out. So, out of spite, I don’t. My self-respect ultimately makes the decision, but sometimes spite is what gives it the extra push it needs.

I think spite overall gets a bad reputation. People often say things like “Don’t do it for them, do it for yourself” and I completely agree. But what about the moments when you can’t seem to do it for yourself? What about the days when you feel down, insecure, heartbroken, rejected, or completely unmotivated? When self-love isn’t getting you out of bed and discipline seems to have momentarily left the building, I think the next best thing is to tap into a little dark motivation.

Not motivation fueled by bitterness and hate. Not dedicating your entire existence to revenge. I’m talking about the kind of motivation that says: If I can’t do it for myself, I will do it because I refuse to let someone who wants to see me give up have the satisfaction of seeing me fail. There is a difference between being fueled by bitterness and borrowing energy from it. Spite doesn’t have to be the destination, but it can be the thing that helps spark the fire in you.

I am all for the idea that you have to live your life for yourself and stop caring so deeply what everyone else thinks. That philosophy is deeply embedded in me. But the reality is, what do you do when you come to a place where you can’t do it for yourself? It’s a scary thing to admit, but it happens to the best of us. Motivation can be fleeting. Sometimes you have to outsource your fuel source.

That’s why I believe turning spite into motivation can actually be one of the most effective forms of energy transmutation. You are actively turning something “negative” into a tool to elevate yourself. And the reality is, regardless of whether you want to use spite to uplift and motivate yourself or not, feelings of anger, hurt, and frustration live within us. We’re human. So what better way to put it to work than to channel the energy into something that furthers you, that benefits you, and that uplifts you. If you don’t transmute it or find a way to express it, a lot of the time it will just linger inside of you, festering.

When you decide to take that energy and transmute it into motivation, not only are you finding a way to release that pent-up energy and resentment, but you’re also letting it work for your own benefit. You might even find that your journey begins with spite, and then halfway through you realize the spite has been released and now it’s just for you, and you don’t need a third party feeling to motivate you.

For years the first cover page of my journal was inscribed with the quote:

“If people are doubting how far you can go, go so far that you can’t hear them anymore.” — Michele Ruiz

I saw it on Twitter one day and I remember thinking that’s a good one, so I grabbed a navy blue ball point ink pen and scribbled it on the front of the journal. I would stare at it every day, for almost two years, right before I journaled. Eventually, it became a mantra to me and a constant reminder that you can use doubt, criticism, and hate, as tools to motivate you.

I think this is an idea that often goes unspoken because nobody wants to admit that they allow other people’s opinions and judgment to affect them. We all want to believe we are completely self-motivated, secure, and unaffected by outside opinions. But I don’t think acknowledging otherwise makes you weak, I think it makes you human. If the energy is already there, why waste it?

Many of us have grown up learning about transmutation without realizing it. It’s the philosophy behind “when life gives you lemons, make lemonade” and “where it rains, a garden grows.” Both metaphors shine a light on the idea that something sour, painful, or unwanted can become something beautiful, useful, and enjoyable depending on what you decide to do with it. Spite can work the same way.

Of course I fully endorse and support living your life on your own terms, and for yourself. But on the days where you can’t locate your self-love or discipline, it’s okay to borrow a little bit of spite to get your engine running.

About the Author

I’m Isabella—entrepreneur, fashion addict, and the friend who's going to tell you the truth even when you don't want to hear it. I've lived through the heartbreaks, the toxic friendships, the self-worth spirals, and I came out the other side with more self-respect and a newfound obsession with self-help books (which is where I derive a lot of my advice).

Think of me as your big sister with zero filter: I'll hype you up, call you out with love, and tell you what you actually need to hear.

Looking for more personalized advice? Become a premium subscriber and get access to Ask Isabella column, where I answer your questions (anonymously, so don't hold back).

Subscribe now

“Hi Isa I’ve been listening to your podcast since the 3rd episode (it’s been so helpful!) and idk if you’ll see this but there’s a topic that’s been weighing on my mind recently and I’d love to get your thoughts on it. I’m never sure when’s the right time to forgive and extend empathy or if it’s deserved. Especially when it comes to my close friends. Obviously I'm not heartless and I consider what they’re going through but that’s not an excuse to hurt me or not show up for me when I would’ve gone the extra mile for you. I think forgiveness is important especially for your own energy but how many times can you forgive someone before you part ways? I feel like whenever we need to have those harder conversations they’ll almost immediately jump into apologizing after they hear me out (if they even did). Sometimes it’s hard to even have chats too because it’ll be a comment so small, an energetic shift so microscopic that I’ll look like a maniac blowing it out of proportion if I talk about it. That doesn’t stop me from feeling it shift my own energy though especially when it’s consistent and doesn’t match their behavior I’ve always been around. Also I feel like being hurt in these situations never helps because my emotions will get in the way of my intuition and cause my head to spiral which makes my judgement not as clear. Idk I think female friendships are already super complex and conflict and forgiveness is hard to deal with. I think change is also just hard overall but it becomes so complicated when it comes from people you thought you knew well.”

Hi Sara!

Thank you for writing to me. I’m happy you love the podcast. It means a lot to me to have your support. I want to just go ahead and dive right in when it comes to your question. The reality is there is no simple answer to this question. When it comes to forgiveness, things aren’t always so black and white. This is simply a case of having to learn to listen to yourself.

I often find when I’m in a situation where I have to forgive someone for something, whether it be platonic or romantic, I rely heavily on my intuition to guide me. I know you say your emotions cloud your intuition and make your judgment shaky, and I want you to know that’s normal. I think that’s why, in these types of situations, it is sometimes important to take a step back and self-regulate before you act.

I used to, in the past, let my emotions guide me. I would ride the emotional high of it all and either blow up and cut the person out of my life, or I would immediately forgive them because the idea of losing them made me even more emotional, even more filled with fear.

All relationships are complex in their own right, so when it comes to navigating them, it is important to let your intuition guide you. Because you say your emotions cloud your intuition from coming through, I want to challenge you to take a step back. When you are feeling emotional, rather than letting your emotions make the decisions for you, remove yourself from the situation entirely for twenty-four to forty-eight hours. Take a step back from the chaos and step within yourself instead.

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As a content creator who happens to share a lot of my life online—romance, dating, and all of life’s other ups and downs—sometimes I wonder where to metaphorically draw the line in the sand. What should I keep to myself? What stories would be considered crossing that line and going too far? How much should I consider other people’s privacy? These are the questions I grapple with. I try to maintain a level of privacy and not overshare or post anything that might hurt someone else, but sometimes I wonder if sharing some of my experiences is actually a public service. Especially when it comes to my dating experiences.

I have dated a handful of people, all different in their own ways. All of those relationships ended differently and for different reasons. Some ended because I realized the person I “loved” was cruel and vindictive, while others ended because the other person was simply incapable of meeting my needs and the relationship was unfulfilling overall. Being in an unfulfilling relationship is definitely not something worth shouting about from the rooftops (or to my camera roll). There is no lore, appeal, or overall public interest in that. Those are usually the stories I keep between me and my journal. As for some of my other boyfriends, sometimes I feel it is my civic duty to publicly expose them.

It is not a crime to be an uncaring, nonchalant, lazy boyfriend. It’s not even really a crime to be a cheater, unfortunately. But you know what is a crime in my book? To be a mentally abusive tyrant, who terrorizes women. Sometimes I will date a man, and once it is all over and I have escaped his controlling shackles, I feel compelled to talk about it—not just to friends and family, but to my followers. To the women who consume my content or are even a little bit curious about my life.

There’s a difference between trying to ruin someone because you are hurt and scorned and refusing to protect someone from the consequences of their actions by telling the truth about how they treated you. I am talking about the latter.

My reasoning behind this is pretty simple: Staying silent only makes it easier for them to repeat the cycle with other women.

The more I stay silent and keep my experiences hidden, the easier it is for these guys to do the same thing to the next girl. The majority of male predators, and when I call them predators I’m referring to them preying on a woman’s naivety (not to be confused with sexual predators). They come into the picture charming, handsome, well-dressed, promising to provide a “perfect relationship” on a silver platter. They know how to walk the walk and talk the talk. They wine and dine you. They put on a show at first—not only for you, but for your friends and family. They need to make sure the image they are painting is believable. Because then, when they start slowly lowering their mask, it will not only be unbelievable to you at first, but especially to everyone around you.

Male manipulators rely heavily on image. They rely on the idea that they have curated a likable, socially acceptable image to that they can slither around in private acting sinister.

What’s that Lana Del Rey lyric again? “You act like fucking Mr. Brightside when you’re with all your friends, but I know what you’re like when the party ends.” Exactly.

I have dated men who, after a considerable amount of time, fully removed their mask. They went from Prince Charming to a villain. They became intense and distorted, almost like a sleep paralysis demon. Switching from sweet to sinister like a light switch. It never gets any less surprising or disappointing to realize people like this exist. But when I come across these people I like to think, unfortunately for them, they chose the wrong woman. I too can switch like a light switch. From love to disgust. Once I see behind their mask, I can’t make myself unsee what was underneath it. I have a zero tolerance policy.

In the past I have felt like not only is it my civic duty to show them they chose the wrong woman, but I also want to show them they won’t get away with it so easily moving forward.

I think, in a lot of ways, it is important as a woman to publicly expose mentally or physically abusive partners because it makes it a lot harder for them to abuse the next woman the same way. When no one speaks out, these men are able to victimize multiple women. Like dominoes, they fall one after the other, and he continues the vicious cycle over and over again, relying heavily on a woman’s lack of information and naive nature to make sure the charade sticks and his mask stays in place.

And, if a woman does speak out against him, he will label her as his “crazy ex” in big, red, scarlet letters. But what happens if multiple women speak out? Or if the one woman speaking out is seen as a reliable narrator by other women? What happens then? I will tell you what: it becomes a lot harder for him to maintain his charade, and in return, it becomes a lot harder for him to abuse more women.

The subtle red flags the next woman would have possibly glazed over or let slide are now a testament to the truth behind your public service announcement about him. It makes it harder for him to maintain the mask and makes his victim pool a lot smaller because women are able to see through the cracks and read between the lines based on the information you have supplied them with.

Women are now finding creative ways to work together to make it harder for the men around us to repeat the same abusive cycles. Like forming popular Facebook groups with names like “Are We Dating the Same Guy?” where women in the area can join and not only share who they are currently dating to see if he is involved with anyone else in the group, but also share warnings. They post names and photos of men they have dated who they say were abusive or dangerous, not necessarily to smear them, but to help protect and warn other women from ending up in the same situation.

There is also the popular Tea app, which went mega-viral earlier this year. Women could upload photos of men to the app along with their names, and other women could anonymously share their experiences with them. You could even go as far as privately linking a man’s phone number to his profile so that if a woman gets his number while out and about, she can put it into the app, find him, and read what other women have said about him. Is he a catch, or is there something she should know?

Personally, as a creator online with a primarily female audience, it feels like a civic duty to warn my fellow women about these men. Like the facebook groups and like the Tea app, I feel like I’m doing something important by prioritizing women’s physical and mental well-being when I bust a big, giant, gaping hole in fraudulent men and shine a spotlight on their wrongdoing, instead of letting them linger in the shadows.

I am very aware that because of my tendency to put these people on blast, the majority of my exes (if not all) hate me. But I’m fine with that if it means another woman who I don’t even know doesn’t have to live through what I lived through. I am fine with being the “crazy ex” because I know “crazy” is just a term used to label women who don’t comply with the status quo. I am not interested in being complicit and protecting a man the way men protect each other. As a woman, I am interested in protecting women (the ones I know and the ones I don’t know).

Maybe they encounter an ex of mine and blink twice because of the stories I share. Maybe they have never crossed paths with an ex of mine but feel a little less alone in their own suffering with a different man and finally end things, because I have been so vocal about my own experiences over the years.

The only downside to this decision has been that because I have built a reputation for moving like this, I have repelled many men; men who are afraid of how they treat women behind closed doors becoming a public spectacle or conversation. They actively avoid a woman like me because I am difficult, and I am loud. So, actually, it’s quite an upside.

You should never be afraid to speak up or speak out about your experiences at the cost of being labeled “crazy” or pushing toxic men away. You should never feel silenced or obligated to protect someone at the expense of telling the truth about your own experiences. Silence is exactly what these men rely on to continue moving through the world unchecked. Meanwhile, women sit wide-eyed and excited about the fantasy, looking past small red flags because they don’t know the truth of what lurks beneath the cool, calm, and collected surface.

As women, it is our job to protect each other, not the reputations’ of the men who hurt us.

About the Author

I’m Isabella—entrepreneur, fashion addict, and the friend who's going to tell you the truth even when you don't want to hear it. I've lived through the heartbreaks, the toxic friendships, the self-worth spirals, and I came out the other side with more self-respect and a newfound obsession with self-help books (which is where I derive a lot of my advice).

Think of me as your big sister with zero filter: I'll hype you up, call you out with love, and tell you what you actually need to hear.

Looking for more personalized advice? Become a premium subscriber and get access to Ask Isabella column, where I answer your questions (anonymously, so don't hold back).

Subscribe now

“Hi Isa! I hope you are doing well. I submitted a question around 2 months ago about my relationship, at the time I was going through the motions unsure if I should stay in the same place or move forward. I felt me and my boyfriend were not aligned anymore (in life), and additionally he betrayed my trust. I ended up breaking up with him around a month ago. I have been going through the motions, and I have made a commitment to myself to not outsource my happiness and not to distract myself (in order to feel everything I have to feel to move through this breakup properly). I have been trying to fully focus on myself. I have never really been alone like this, as I have had the natural tendency to distract myself with substances, people, work, going out, being angry .. etc. Anyways as I have been moving forward, I have been observing (and speaking to friends) that it seems that a lot of people are not over their pasts and that outsourcing happiness is very common. I have been struggling between the idea that maybe I will not start to feel better, like I have not seen the light at the end of the tunnel, not in myself (duh it’s been 1 month), but also it doesn’t seem like I can see it in other people. I don’t know what my question is, but maybe you have some words of encouragement or some similar observations, anyways I am starting to feel a little better every day. It is just hard because this path is harder, and longer, but I assume eventually abundance must come.”

Hi Miranda!

Thank you for writing to me again. I am sorry to hear about your breakup. I know those are never easy, but it does sound like you made the correct decision for yourself. If you were misaligned and trust was betrayed, it seems like there was more than one avenue telling you to step away from this relationship. I think it’s really great that you have made a commitment to yourself to not outsource happiness or try to distract yourself. However, I do want to dive into this idea before I dive into the rest of your message. I want you to know there is no shame in “outsourcing” happiness if it’s done in a healthy capacity.

You have said in the past that you have an issue with outsourcing and distracting yourself with substances, people, work, going out, and being angry. Trust me, I understand how that feels. I myself have struggled with everything you mentioned on that list several times over. I think it’s great that you are recognizing this cycle of yours and working overtime to make sure you don’t repeat it. I think from where you stand right now, it almost feels like you are treating not outsourcing stimulation or happiness as a punishment, forcing yourself to sit with the hard feelings. Yes, I agree it’s important to sit with the hard feelings and make sure you don’t push them down because, regardless, they will come to the surface one way or another. I would like to challenge you to, rather than seeing this as self-punishment or a standstill, change your idea of outsourced happiness.

Rather than seeing the other things listed above as sources of happiness, lean into different ideas. Dinner with girlfriends, a concert for an artist you love, maybe buying a new pair of shoes, journaling, taking up a new hobby, perhaps a new workout class, cooking class, or book club. I could sit here and list a thousand examples, but the point is: find things that bring you small dopamine hits of happiness that don’t lead to a big crash or toxic comedown. Using substances and partying are deadly because, in the moment, they hit the sweet spot and feel like the perfect Band-Aid, but in the long run, they always come with a crash. They are a high-high followed by a low-low feeling.

Find what I like to call pleasure bombs and place them in your calendar. These are things you can look forward to that don’t have a comedown crash afterward. Yes, it is important to sit with your feelings and grieve your breakup, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t entitled to an afternoon or evening distraction. There is a difference between running from yourself and your feelings and telling them, I have lunch plans with my girlfriends today, and you’re not invited. It is healthy to have a certain level of distraction and outsourced happiness as long as you aren’t trying to outrun how you feel deep down.

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When I was 14, I bought my first journal. It was a red Kate Spade journal with a thick wrapping, and the pages were lined with gold. I remember being drawn to it because it looked very adult and official. I started writing in it every single day and when I finished an entry I would hide it under my mattress, between the mattress and the bedframe. I later discovered my little sister had been lifting up my mattress to read my secrets. I remember writing in the journal, “KEEP OUT OF MY JOURNAL!” I couldn’t believe that she was violating me by reading my deepest, darkest thoughts and secrets. Looking back now, it totally was, but she was 12, so I’m giving her a pass. Also, now I share all my thoughts and secrets on the internet, so I guess you can say I’ve moved on from my strong desire to keep my “entries” private. How ironic.

When I finished filling out that journal, I was approaching 17. I figured I would stick with what I knew, so I acquired another Kate Spade journal. This time, it was bright green, like a vibrant blade of grass. I journaled about boys, girl drama, and how I felt, in a lot of ways, that my dyslexia diagnosis was proof (on-paper at that) of my hard-wired belief that I was stupid. I also complained a lot about how my parents gave me a curfew and how it seemed like all the boys liked my girl friends more than me. I used to take gel glitter pens and draw flowers in the margins. It looked something like this: “Maybe the boys don’t like me because I am a late bloomer?,” with a sparkly daisy drawn beside it.

Freshman year of college, I was not actively journaling. I was so overwhelmed with schoolwork, attempting to make friends, and living in a shoebox with another girl five feet away from me, that I didn’t consider that I should probably keep up the habit in order to deal with all my woes. As a result of stopping, I began to feel extremely disconnected from myself. Not having that pen hit the paper, and not letting all of my subconscious stream of thoughts—which I didn’t even know existed within me until I reread them—left me feeling like a fish out of water, flopping around, trying to survive.

Sophomore year of college, I went through a terrible breakup—one that, to this day, I can still look back on and feel my heart sink. I remember feeling my first heartbreak so heavily. It just felt like I was in the ocean with no life jacket on and a cinder block tied to my ankle. I remember it was spring, and I drove my car to an off-campus CVS to get some candy and wine. I was thinking cheap booze and sugar could be a Band-Aid for my feelings. While at CVS, I made eye contact with a journal. It wasn’t a fancy Kate Spade journal with gold embroidery. It was just a black faux leather journal with a sort of gender-neutral appearance. I grabbed the journal, a bottle of Barefoot wine, and some Reese’s, and headed back to my apartment.

When I started that journal, I didn’t know I was opening a door. A door back to my conscious self and my subconscious self. I was reconnecting with myself, which was something I had put on the back burner for quite a while at this point. That journal was filled back to back, cover to cover, by the middle of my junior year of college. Instead of sparkly daisies being drawn in the margins, the pages were stained with runny ink from my tears falling onto them as I wrote.

Senior year, I bought another nonchalant-looking journal. It was brown, also from CVS. My boyfriend and I at the time would lie side by side in bed and journal. I would often tell him how important journaling was to me. I told him how I felt it was important to document everything I felt because then I could look back, reread, and never forget how I felt about something or someone. By this point, I had also developed the habit of, rather than using people’s names in my journal entries, referring to them simply as “you” or “they.” Something neutral. That way, if years passed and I went back and reread the entry and couldn’t place who it was about, I would know that clearly they, or the situation, weren’t too important. When it came to journaling, I had developed finely-tuned systems; there was a method to my madness.

Since graduating college in 2023, I have had two other journals. One was forest green with a gold tree on the front, and the other one, which I currently use, is navy blue and made of a tweed-like fabric with silver details on the inside. It’s not bland in appearance, but it’s also not childlike. It appears adult on the outside, but inside in the margins, it’s actually filled with stickers (instead of glittery drawing or tears). I’ll write something like, “I find comfort in my alone time,” and beside it I’ll put a large ladybug sticker or a sticker of a rose.

This journal feels like a combination of my childhood journals, which were bright, colorful, and had a lot of grammatical errors, with my college journals, which were dark, brooding, full of only dark black ink, and were filled with big words like inadequate and melancholic. Now, sometimes I use big words like transmutation and reconciliation. Sometimes they’re in black ink, other times hot pink… depending on my mood.

As I have documented the last decade of my life, I get to look back, reread, and watch myself grow and change. I get to watch myself leap from petty discourse and high school gossip to reflective prompts and shadow work to heal childhood wounds and break generational cycles. I get to watch myself grow up, fall in love, get my heart broken, fall in love again, fall out of love, heal, change, grow, love, hate, and more, many times on repeat.

I didn’t start journaling to meet myself. I started it because I thought it was cool and adult to sit in my childhood bedroom and write. I had grown up on television shows where the female protagonists would lie in their rooms and journal, so, naturally, I wanted to do the same. I did not anticipate meeting so many different versions of myself every time I flipped the page to start a new sentence.

When you start writing somewhere so sacred and personal, you feel no choice but to be honest with yourself because no one else is going to read the material but you (except maybe your nosy little sister). Journaling helps us tap into our deepest subconscious thoughts, insecurities, and desires because there’s no room to lie or to bullshit and there is simply no reason to. You get to face yourself head-on with no judgment or consequences because it’s for your eyes only.

I love being able to look back at who I was, as well as face who I am today. I am now at the “big age” of 25, and journaling has become something I do with great intention. During my late-night ritual, I light a scented candle, cuddle up with one of my cats, and end the day with a dose of honesty and reflection. I make sure that everything I write is with intent, not to complain or to sob, but to reflect. To dive in deeper, to see where I am and where I am going. Originally, journaling was a tool for me to vent; then it became a tool to build my life. I realized the more I wrote, the more I could see a roadmap between where I am and where I want to be. Once I see the map, I myself can build the bridge from my current reality into that new one.

As I age and grow, I will continue to journal with intention and with purpose. I can’t wait to look back and laugh at my 25-year-old self. Laugh about my concerns, my reflections, my ideas. Just as I now look at my 14-year-old self and her journal. I laugh because so much has changed, and what once felt so big now feels so small, and I feel so blessed to be able to revisit that. I plan to do the same until my hands cramp up and I have to resort to keeping my thoughts trapped on the pages in my brain.

I think that’s ultimately why I created my self help journal Dear Me, Let’s Begin. After a decade of pouring my feelings onto pages and pages and pages, I realized my most transformative entries weren’t the ones where I was ranting about my feelings or complaining (although I don’t regret writing those). It was the entries where I asked myself a deep or uncomfortable question and forced myself to give an honest answer. I realized sometimes all it took was one right question to unlock a new door in my mind I didn’t even know was there.

It took me a decade to realize this so I figured I could help others shave off at least 10 years of journalling trial and error by giving them the guide I wish I had to begin with. Dear Me Let’s Begin isn’t about giving you the answers to life’s greatest trials and tribulations, because I quite frankly don’t have them. It’s about giving you the questions and a private place to discover the answers for yourself, because everyone’s story is different. The same way a red Kate Spade journal accidentally introduced 14-year-old me to versions of myself I hadn’t met yet, I hope this journal can become a place where you can meet parts of yourself you haven’t met yet either.

Maybe down the line you’ll find it shoved in your drawer somewhere, and open it up and laugh at some of the responses you wrote. Things that once seemed so big might seem small. Maybe you won’t recognize some of the things you wrote or the version of you that wrote them. Maybe you’ll realize you became exactly who you wrote about wanting to become.

There is a lot of beauty in creating a physical paper trail of all the people you have once been, for yourself to look back on. It’s such a privilege to get to know yourself on a deeper level.

So, are you ready? Dear Me, Let’s Begin!

About the Author

I’m Isabella—entrepreneur, fashion addict, and the friend who's going to tell you the truth even when you don't want to hear it. I've lived through the heartbreaks, the toxic friendships, the self-worth spirals, and I came out the other side with more self-respect and a newfound obsession with self-help books (which is where I derive a lot of my advice).

Think of me as your big sister with zero filter: I'll hype you up, call you out with love, and tell you what you actually need to hear.

Looking for more personalized advice? Become a premium subscriber and get access to Ask Isabella column, where I answer your questions (anonymously, so don't hold back).

Subscribe now

“I’m listening to your Q and A posted a few weeks ago, and the insecure friend part is very relevant to me. I have a post grad group of 3 other girls, but one of them continuously gets overly offended at us when she feels we’re not prioritizing her. The issue is, she pulls these issues out of thin air and assumes our intentions are poor. It would be fine to fix if she didn’t get extremely petty and shut down. She also tends to “go off” on me over text and there’s no point in defending myself. One of the girls in the group lowkey didn’t like her from the beginning for these reasons (I did not see at the time), but I tried to stick it through especially because we were roommates the first year of post grad. I don’t want to be her friend anymore or at least be as close with her, but I just don’t know how to walk away. She didn’t make any friends post grad except for the friends I introduced her to from my college. So leaving her would mean she only has her boyfriend. I know when I need to walk away, but I don’t know how. Need your wisdom Queen.”

Hi Raegyb,

Thank you for writing to me! Sounds like a tough situation, but not a foreign one. I feel like, in some ways, this is a tale as old as time. Not every story sounds exactly the same, but we have all, in one form or another, dealt with a friend who we didn’t know how to step away from. It’s good that you are able to openly acknowledge that you need to exit the friendship, with a long list of reasons behind it, but I know it can be easier said than done.

First, I want to acknowledge that just because you want to step away from this friendship doesn’t mean there needs to be “beef” or a bigger problem. It is very clear that this friend of yours is either going through something personal and acting out as a result, or simply maybe needs to take some time to herself to get to know herself more so she doesn’t feel the need to “go off” and take everything so personally.

To play devil’s advocate, I find that when people behave irrationally like this, it’s usually because there is something else going on behind the scenes with them. Personally, if I have ever acted out of character, there was usually something bigger going on, and I find the same goes for others around me. But the reality is, that is not your responsibility. She is an adult, and she is responsible for herself. And right now, you need to be responsible for yourself.

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If you are not familiar with the sprinkle sprinkle movement let me fill you in: there is a corner of the internet where women share what I’ll call “pink pill” content for other women. The content at hand centers around dating and marriage, and more specifically how male and female dynamics are an exchange of power whether we women like it or not. According to the movement, the best way to gain our power back as women is to use men for the one thing our capitalism deems them good for: money. The entire message behind the movement is that men use women for sex, energy, emotional labor and support, clout and status, and their beauty, so, in return, women should use men for money, financial security, and a means to improve their quality of life—without feeling any shame about it.

This movement, which is being pioneered by modern-day creators like Sheera Seven, doesn’t seem like a modern take at all to me. Despite some of the controversial and extremist takes, I don’t think the overall philosophy behind the sprinkle sprinkle movement is a modern idea at all. Women considering a man’s finances and resources when entering a partnership with him is quite historic in fact. The difference now, is that women have the security, freedom and public platforms to admit it and talk openly about it.

Look at the 18th and 19th century in Europe and America. Back then, due to women’s limited access to education, employment and property, choosing a husband was the most consequential economic decision a woman could make. For the majority of recorded history, marriage was just as much of an economic decision as it was a romantic one—and sometimes it was solely an economic decision and there were no romantic considerations involved whatsoever. Choosing a husband determined a woman’s access to social status, financial gain, property, and basic amenities. Women marrying for money was not some secret and unspoken taboo phenomenon; it was normal.

Given that precedent, the sprinkle sprinkle movement and the idea that a man’s resources should be a key component of consideration when choosing a partner, isn’t all that radical. If anything, it’s just blatantly acknowledging that marriage has had transactional undertones throughout all of time. The only difference is now, we are openly talking about it.

So I guess the question is: Is the sprinkle sprinkle movement actually benefiting women (and a subtle way of taking advantage of traditional patriarchal roles), or is it reinforcing the same system that has oppressed women for decades?

I have a take, and I think it might be a surprising one if you are familiar with me and my content. I see nothing wrong with the sprinkle sprinkle movement. Am I someone who actively participates in this movement and this lifestyle? No. But does it fascinate me (and in some ways make me giggle)? Absolutely.

I don’t believe these women are powerless and reinforcing traditional toxic gender roles, because at the end of the day these women do have something the women before them didn’t have: a choice. They are able to open their own bank accounts, make their own money, and be single if they choose to. But they choose to be in a relationship with a man who provides for them. That distinction matters.

These women are looking at history and thinking: Okay, if we’re going to play this game, I am going to make sure the system benefits me too.

In the 20th century, the economic landscape for women started to radically change and, in return, so did the dating scene. A big turning point for this was in the 1970s. In 1974 the Equal Credit Card Opportunity Act made it illegal for creditors to discriminate against women based on their sex or marital status. Before this law, a woman could be earning her own income and still be denied credit in her own name—lenders often required a husband or male co-signer before they’d approve her.

After this law was put in place, women technically no longer needed to marry for financial security or survival. A woman became free to construct an entire life without a husband.

All of a sudden marrying for money became anti-feminist. In the late 20th century and early 21st century, a woman living a sprinkle sprinkle lifestyle was someone who neighbors whispered about and who men were warned about. They were labeled golddiggers. Now, if these women hear the term gold digger, it doesn’t ruffle their feathers. If anything, they are quick to question their naysayers, asking, “What’s so wrong with wanting to live a lavish life?”

The sprinkle sprinkle movement fascinates me because women don’t technically need men to provide for them but they are choosing a man to provide for them.

In some weird ways the sprinkle sprinkle movement is a way for women to take their power back and avenge their ancestors. If a woman chooses this lifestyle it is her choice. Popular sprinkle sprinkle leader Sheera Seven often argues that men use women for their bodies and their energy all the time, men are goldiggers just in a different form (energydiggers or beautydiggers perhaps). Women shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting something tangible in return. Her overall philosophy is that women should only date or marry men who have the power to improve their lives. I don’t think that’s a hot take at all.

It’s more of the way she presents her philosophy online that ruffles public feathers and makes her beliefs feel far more extreme than they are. She tends to ragebait, saying things like, “If a man asks you what makes you feel romantic, tell him money makes you feel romantic.” Obviously statements like that get people arguing in the comment section, which only boosts her engagement.

Once you are willing to look past a lot of the sprinkle sprinkle ragebait, the overall message becomes clear: Stop forming relationships with men who only take from you and don’t give anything in return. Don’t form relationships with men who take and take and take until you are drained spiritually and financially.

I, of course, have some critiques of the sprinkle sprinkle movement too, though. I don’t think women should be reduced to just their bodies, beauty, and sexuality. I also don’t believe men should be reduced to just their bank accounts. When building a partnership with a man, it’s important to consider other factors like their emotional intelligence, sense of loyalty, and dedication to building a life with you.

There are two ways to look at this. I agree with: “Find a man who has stability and contributes positive things to your life, and doesn’t just drain you.” Where it gets murky for me is when this movement veers into, “Find a man you don’t care about and extract as much money from him as you can.” I don’t agree with that. I think exploitation is wrong regardless of gender.

With this movement gaining traction, men seem to be sussed out. When you tell a man you want them to contribute and have financial stability, they are left clutching their pearls. You could list so many other traits—“I want a man who is smart, funny, loyal, kind.”— and the second you throw financially secure into the mix they look at you through a new lens. Suddenly these men are questioning your character and intentions, as if wanting a stable partner is a crime.

Why is wanting a man who makes you laugh considered romantic but wanting a man who makes your life financially easier considered transactional? Maybe the question isn’t whether the sprinkle sprinkle movement is teaching women to only use and drain men, but why it is so uncomfortable or taboo for a woman to admit that love isn’t the only thing she considers when choosing a partnership.

About the Author

I’m Isabella—entrepreneur, fashion addict, and the friend who's going to tell you the truth even when you don't want to hear it. I've lived through the heartbreaks, the toxic friendships, the self-worth spirals, and I came out the other side with more self-respect and a newfound obsession with self-help books (which is where I derive a lot of my advice).

Think of me as your big sister with zero filter: I'll hype you up, call you out with love, and tell you what you actually need to hear.

Looking for more personalized advice? Become a premium subscriber and get access to Ask Isabella column, where I answer your questions (anonymously, so don't hold back).

Subscribe now

“I just started a new job in sales at a large company. I’m the youngest on the team and am a woman. I’m overwhelmed because I’m worried that people view me as a kid. It makes me doubt myself sometimes because these people have a lot more experience than I do. It also makes me question if I have what it takes to do the job. Do you have any advice on how to be confident in this way?”

Hi, Clara!

Thank you for writing to me! While I’ve never worked in sales, I have absolutely stood in rooms where I was the youngest person there, the least “successful” person there, or the only woman in the room. So I completely understand where you’re coming from. It can be incredibly intimidating when you feel like you’re experiencing some form of imposter syndrome.

It’s very human to question whether you’re being taken seriously or whether you’re qualified enough to be standing where you are, especially when everyone around you seems to fit the mold and you feel like you stick out like a sore thumb. When everyone else is a sheep with white fur and you realize you’re the only sheep in the room with jet black fur, it’s completely normal to wonder if you’re in the right place.

Personally, when I find myself feeling this way, I remind myself of one very simple belief that I carry with me: the universe will never place you somewhere you aren’t ready to be.

Even if you don’t feel ready, or you feel like the mismatched puzzle piece in the room, the reality is you simply wouldn’t be there if that wasn’t where you were meant to be. It can be intimidating to look around and realize you’re the odd one out, but instead of letting that discourage you, I think you should reframe the way you see it.

To me, it’s actually encouraging.

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“A month and a half ago I went through a breakup with a guy I initially thought I was going to marry. Later on in the relationship I realized I was unhappy. I never felt connected on a deeper level emotionally and I felt like he never tried to learn me as a person. I felt alone and lost. I made a lapse in judgment and sent a text saying “hi, how are you?” to a man I’ve had an emotional relationship with in the past. He never responded and due to guilt and immediate regret I told my now ex boyfriend about it. He broke up with me because of it and said I am a horrible cheater and demolished our trust. I miss him a lot and he said maybe down the road we could revisit things. I’ve been on an emotional roller coaster since. Tried to date but ended up missing him more. How do I forgive myself for doing this? How do I actually do the work to heal from this breakup? How do I know if I actually want my ex boyfriend back or if I’m coming from a place of loneliness?”

Hi, Leila!

Thank you for writing to me. After reading through your submission I have a few concrete thoughts on all of this. First, I am sorry that you are struggling with this. I know it can’t be easy to feel like your heart and your head are defying each other.

I want to start by saying you seem really self aware. It’s good that you are able to recognize that texting your ex fling was a lapse of judgment. I am sure that you didn’t mean to hurt your boyfriend at the time by doing so, and it’s good that you came clean about it to him rather than trying to hide it and further the damage. I’m sure telling him that you had slipped up and sent that text was far from easy.

I understand where he is coming from and why he is emotional, feeling like you have been betrayed can make you sometimes say hurtful things. I think some of the meanest things I have ever said personally were said because I was hurt and felt betrayed. Know that his words attacking your character are coming from emotion and the heat of the moment, not from a place of logic or truth.

Rather than harping on what has been done and what is right and what is wrong I want to talk about how you can move forward from all of this. First, you need to stop punishing yourself for sending that text message. What’s done is simply done and you can’t undo it so there is no point to holding it over your own head.

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We, we, we. Personally, I value my alone time. I try to take a 45-minute walk alone each day. As of late, my walks have been overrun with couples though. As I pass by, they glare at me, their sweaty hands interlocked, and I get the sense that they’re thinking, Poor thing walking all by herself… that’s not too safe! When the reality is, I want to walk alone. I want to sit in my apartment in my pajamas, alone with my two cats, eating chinese food while watching Gilmore Girls for the one hundredth time. It’s society that has a problem with these activities—not me.

People assume that if you’re single, you’re just sitting around desperate, waiting to find someone. They’ll say things like:

• “You just haven’t met the right one yet!”

• “You won’t be single forever…”

• “Don’t worry, It comes when you least expect it!”

I, and many other women around me, are actually single by choice, believe it or not. It has nothing to do with a shortage of men in the area, a wave of feminism, a man-hating mindset, or isolation as a form of protest. It has everything to do with the fact that we live in a time where men are no longer a necessity for survival. Women today have money, power, and success—and we no longer need a man to make our world spin around. Remember when women needed to be married to get a credit card? Those times are long gone. Today, when women date men it’s because they want companionship, not because they need a man to survive. Instead of viewing single women as maidens, waiting for their knight in shining armor, let’s recognize them for what they truly are: women who are comfortable dating themselves.

Society acts like being single is the equivalent of trying to pledge the hottest sorority on campus; you’re a loser until you’re accepted. In reality, those who are not a part of Greek life in college are seen as GDIs (God Damn Independents). Honestly, that’s how I see myself; I’m a God Damn Independent. I embrace my single status. Being single does not disable me. In fact, it does the opposite: it enables me to be selfish, to be carefree, and to be goal-oriented.

When I was younger—before I discovered the freedom of me, me, me—I so desperately wanted to be a we, we, we. I wanted a partner to be a part of my identity; I wanted someone to complete me. Now that I’m older, I feel complete all by myself. I have my entire life to be someone’s wife, but for now I just want to be me.

With being a “me,” comes so much alone time; I can practically bathe in it. A lot of people, not just women, struggle with having large amounts of alone time. They see it as some kind of burden not to have a built-in plus one to do things with (even the most mundane things that really don’t require a plus one). At first, I struggled with it too. Learning how to date yourself takes some trial and error—just like any form of dating—but is highly underrated. But now that I’ve learned the ins and outs, I see it as an opportunity. If I am not pouring energy into dating someone else, that means I have all the time in the world to date the most important person in my life: myself.

I first learned how to become my own “boyfriend” when I was 24. I looked around and realized I had become that single, bitter, cat lady I used to make jokes about. In some ways it didn’t bother me, but in other ways the bitter part stung because it was the result of me missing so many of the things I used to do with previous partners of mine. I missed having a companion to do cool things with, until eventually I realized just because I am a single cat lady doesn’t mean I have to be bitter. I can still do all the things I loved to do with my ex’s by myself. I don’t want to sit around and watch the world pass me by as I sit in my apartment peering out the windows waiting for someone to accompany me to do all the things I love. So I decided to do them with just me, myself, and I.

I began by surfing the internet looking for ideas. I googled “female solo activities” and “activities to do if you have no one else to go with” and I was met with some very standard lists that I expected to see, but nonetheless it got the ball rolling. The first activity I ever did alone was going to the movies. I figured this was a safe first choice since I didn’t have to speak to anyone and in the dark of the theater, I wouldn’t have to worry so much about people looking at me. I walked from my apartment to the local theater to see MaXXXine. I have always been a huge Mia Goth fan and I was dying to see it. I also knew this more niche type of film didn’t appeal to most of my friends, which made it the perfect solo excursion. I got a glass of white wine and a tub of popcorn. Once it was over I walked home with my headphones in while listening to music and I watched people pass me by. Teenagers, families, couples. For the first time in a long time, I was able to look at happy couples out in the wild without feeling bitter. I didn’t feel like I was missing out, instead I felt empowered. The same way they were dating each other, I was dating myself.

That first solo movie date had a domino effect on me. I realized every night can be date night if I live alone and am committed to dating myself. Whenever I dated a man we would go on a range of dates, trying different things to keep it exciting. So that’s exactly what I decided I would do with myself. Some nights it was a simple dinner at a new handroll bar in town (low pressure because it’s a bar top so you don’t feel awkward at a two person table). Other nights it was a movie night in, paired with a fun baking recipe I found on TikTok. And the best part of all was that I got to veg out on the couch eating my decadent creation and I didn’t have to debate over what to watch or pretend to be interested in my some boring war movie. I could just skip right to the classic romcom I really wanted to watch. Because I was solo there was no compromising and the world was my oyster. Even a Saturday afternoon could be prime solo date territory. A good book at the beach followed by some sushi and rosé, and then a long hot shower at home to finish off the date. By this point I had fallen so in love with dating myself that I didn’t want anyone else to accompany me and possibly disrupt the vibe I had curated.

It’s been almost two years since I discovered how to date myself and I am still doing it to this day. Yes, I did have one boyfriend in between, but I still made time for just me. Boyfriends and friends will come and go but the relationship I have with myself is permanent. Matter of fact, if I ever meet someone who simply can’t take themselves out on a date or thinks it’s weird that I do, I see it as a red flag. What’s so bad about sitting with yourself? Why do you avoid alone time like it’s the plague? What’s going on in that head of yours?

There’s a difference between not wanting to date yourself and not knowing how to, so I’m stepping in to share my wisdom from my years of practice. If you are curious about learning how to date yourself, the list below features some of my favorite “starter” solo dates. These activities are low pressure and will help you dip your toes in the water before diving in head first to more serious solo dates. After all, in all romantic pursuits, isn’t it important to take it slow and get acquainted?

Getting to know yourself is an intimate practice. You’re essentially getting to know yourself and giving yourself time to feel comfortable by yourself. But at the end of the day there’s nothing sexier than pursuing your interests and knowing exactly what you want. And taking yourself home after a good date? What could be better?

10 Activities to Try Alone:

1. Go to the movies: There is no need for conversation when at a movie so it works out perfectly for a solo activity. I will often make time to see films by myself, grabbing a bowl of popcorn as an alternate form of company.

2. Grab lunch or dinner: I often walk to restaurants near me and bring a pair of headphones. I will sit at the bar alone, listen to music and enjoy a meal I’ve been craving. Sometimes I will even strike up a conversation with the stranger beside me.

3. Bake: I have found a lot of comfort in baking. I will put on a movie I like and bake cookies, cupcakes, or cakes by myself. Something about it feels like a familiar hug from myself to myself.

4. Walk: I love to walk outside with my headphones in. I walk the same trail a few times a week and always make sure to enjoy the fresh air and the company of my own thoughts.

5. Create: I love to use alone time as an opportunity to create. I love to paint or write in my free time. I think solitude can spark inspiration.

6. Shop: A little retail therapy never hurt anybody! I personally love to grab a latte, put my headphones in, and go shopping. If I’m really debating on whether to buy something or not, I’ll just facetime a friend and get a second opinion.

7. Workout: I love to go to the gym when I’m bored or feeling like a little bit of self-improvement is necessary. Going to the gym is a great way to spend alone time because you get to work on yourself—both physically and mentally.

8. Go to the beach (or a pool): Living in Florida means I’m never too far from the beach, so I love to go alone and lay in the sun with a good book. If you aren’t near the beach, hit the pool! Or, just lay outside in the sun and enjoy some Vitamin D.

9. Relax: I think when it comes to alone time, it’s important to remember to recharge your energy every now and then. Take a hot bath, make some tea, or watch a movie. Relaxing and recharging is sacred.

Read: The perfect time to read is when you are alone, all cozied up with a great book. I’m sure that’s what you may be doing right about now as you read this.

About the Author

I’m Isabella—entrepreneur, fashion addict, and the friend who's going to tell you the truth even when you don't want to hear it. I've lived through the heartbreaks, the toxic friendships, the self-worth spirals, and I came out the other side with more self-respect and a newfound obsession with self-help books (which is where I derive a lot of my advice).

Think of me as your big sister with zero filter: I'll hype you up, call you out with love, and tell you what you actually need to hear.

Looking for more personalized advice? Become a premium subscriber and get access to Ask Isabella column, where I answer your questions (anonymously, so don't hold back).

Subscribe now

“How do you grapple with being confused and feelings of skepticism surrounding core spiritual beliefs? I definitely am as spiritual as they come, but losing loved ones (my father) as well as the overall state of the world we’re living in has made me question everything: life after death, why bad things happen, if God / a higher power exists, etc. It’s all very confusing for me to internalize and process. I’ve felt very existential, especially as I approach graduating (I’m 22) and I feel overwhelmed.”

Dear Anonymous,

Thank you for writing to me. First, I wanted to give my condolences. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been to lose such an important figure in your life. It’s completely understandable that while going through something so intense and unexpected you are left questioning everything. I want you to keep in mind as I move throughout my response to you that these are my opinions, ideas and philosophies. I have no professional background on grief or faith. All I can do is offer my perspective based on what I have read, what I believe, and what I have experienced. So if anything I say doesn’t resonate with you, it’s okay to take it with a grain of salt! Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t behind.

Overall, when it comes to this feeling of existential dread that you’re experiencing, I want you to know you are not alone. I have grappled with this same issue. And many other people have too.

I have always felt so many questions weighing on me.

Why do I live this life yet someone else lives a life of deep suffering?

Why do some people face so much pain at such a young age?

Why does life overall seem unfair most of the time?

If there is a higher power why doesn’t it prevent all the bad things happening around us?

These are the types of questions that, in the past (and sometimes even in the present) have kept me up at night. When observing the suffering of others and experiencing suffering myself I used to question, I guess we can call it “the meaning of everything.” Letting my mind run wild with different theories usually left me feeling exhausted and defeated. My curiosity led me to search for answers, which sounds a bit like the journey you’re on right now.

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The results were unanimous. We combed through our dating lives to gather intel, analyzed our recent romantic and sexual encounters, and eventually arrived at a very interesting and universal conclusion: It seems like nobody wants to just make out anymore.

I, along with my close friends and many other women on the internet, have experienced the slow and painful death of the makeout session. We grew up on the art of the perfect goodnight kiss, the steamy dance-floor makeout, and, of course, the famous chemistry-test makeout. You know the one. You kiss someone to determine whether the two of you actually have that undeniable spark. Do your lips fit together in perfect unison? Does the rhythm feel natural? Is the chemistry so obvious that neither of you can ignore it? It is the kiss that sets the tone for the potential relationship to come.

But now, many of us encounter men who think every kiss must lead to sex. They cannot simply enjoy a chemistry-test makeout for the sake of making out. Now, they try to immediately see how far they can push the interaction.

I understand that attraction naturally makes people curious about what else might happen. But surely we can all agree that there is a special energy to a makeout session. There is something exciting about enjoying the moment without trying to turn it into a transaction or a race toward the next physical milestone.

For a long time, kissing was its own destination. Teen movies, romantic comedies, and even real-life dating culture treated a makeout session as a successful conclusion to a date. Think about older rom-coms. The kiss was the climax. The audience waited a whole 90 minutes for it.

Like in How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days. The first night Andie goes home with Ben, they share a steamy, passionate kiss, but the scene cuts before anything more is shown. Later, when their relationship has become more emotionally intimate, Andie goes to meet his family. Then, it’s implied that they have their first true sexual encounter. But, that first kiss on the night they met served its purpose. It established their attraction, created tension, and left both the characters and the audience wanting more.

In movies like Pride & Prejudice and Spider-Man, we are shown just how erotic and narratively powerful a kiss can be without it automatically becoming a gateway to sex. The kiss itself is the moment.

Today, in many contemporary films and TV shows, intimacy often escalates much faster. I’m not saying today’s stories are worse, but it does change where the emotional payoff lives for viewers. Earlier films often treated the first kiss as the reward for all the tension that came before it. Now, when two characters begin making out, there is frequently an assumption that sex will naturally follow. It often feels like kissing is viewed as merely the opening act.

It also seems like the escalation of intimacy in pieces of entertainment is rubbing off on dating culture at large. In dating culture, a kiss is now treated as a down payment from a man that a woman is expected to repay later. It feels as though we have demoted kissing from the main course to appetizer status.

It’s as if we have collectively forgotten that kissing is much more than a precursor to sex. It is a compatibility test that does not require either person to get naked. Kissing serves emotional, social, and physical purposes beyond simply preparing two people to sleep together. Sometimes you know within seconds whether the chemistry feels right.

A makeout session can tell you things sex occasionally cannot.

Is your kissing style compatible?

Do you feel safe with them?

Do you have a similar rhythm?

Are they attentive to your reactions?

Do you actually want to keep kissing them?

Is their kissing style giving you the ick?

As a self-proclaimed makeout enthusiast, I partially blame dating apps for this cultural shift. People now order up romantic and sexual interactions the way they order dinner on DoorDash. Dating has become more immediate, more transactional, and increasingly focused on getting straight to the point.

We have started emphasizing the wrong questions.

We have gone from asking, “How does this feel?” to demanding, “Where is this going?”

We have cut straight past the anticipation of sharing a kiss and landed in a space where people (men especially) feel entitled to immediate escalation just because they bought you dinner. The mentality becomes, “Surely a kiss is not all I am going to get,” because simply sharing a kiss no longer seems satisfying enough for many people.

We have also confused physical escalation with emotional connection. People often assume that kissing, followed by sex, automatically means the connection has deepened. But that is not necessarily true. Sometimes two people can spend an hour kissing and learn more about one another than they would after having sex. A kiss requires attention. It requires you to notice someone else’s rhythm, comfort, boundaries, and enthusiasm. Sex, on the other hand, can sometimes become more about pressure, expectations, and performance, than openness, vulnerability, and connection.

With all this in mind, I decided to test my theory. Whenever I liked someone or clicked with someone instantly, I would let them come back to my apartment for a drink and some good music. A makeout would ensue, and then about 90% of the time, once they realized there would be no mattress action, the interaction was over as soon as I could blink. Suddenly they had to get home to their dog, wake up really early in the morning, or “weren’t feeling well.” I didn’t take it personally. If anything, I almost appreciated the clarity. It told me we were probably looking for different things. I enjoyed lingering in moments. They seemed more interested in getting to the next one.

We are so eager to reach the next stage of a relationship that we no longer know how to enjoy the stage of a relationship we are currently in. We have stopped appreciating the makeout as a meaningful destination in its own right.

Maybe the lost art of the makeout is not only about kissing. Maybe it represents the loss of our ability to linger, to wonder, and to let attraction build without demanding that it immediately become something more. Maybe it’s a reflection of our lost appreciation of dating just to date, and the increased pressure on finding a relationship.

Maybe it’s time for our generation to reclaim the makeout and let a kiss simply be a kiss.

My Top 10 Movie Makeouts (Where the Kiss Changes Everything):

1. Pride & Prejudice

2. Never Been Kissed

3. How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days

4. The Princess Diaries

5. While You Were Sleeping

6. You’ve Got Mail

7. Notting Hill

8. Sweet Home Alabama

9. 13 Going on 30

10. Spider-Man

About the Author

I’m Isabella—entrepreneur, fashion addict, and the friend who's going to tell you the truth even when you don't want to hear it. I've lived through the heartbreaks, the toxic friendships, the self-worth spirals, and I came out the other side with more self-respect and a newfound obsession with self-help books (which is where I derive a lot of my advice).

Think of me as your big sister with zero filter: I'll hype you up, call you out with love, and tell you what you actually need to hear.

Looking for more personalized advice? Become a premium subscriber and get access to Ask Isabella column, where I answer your questions (anonymously, so don't hold back).

Subscribe now

“In your manifestation podcast, you speak about high energy vibrations and operating at your highest frequency. Can you explain this idea and how to achieve a high frequency and discern this idea?”

Hi, Anonymous!

Thank you for subscribing and for submitting your question! I chose this one because I typically receive so many questions about men and dating that this immediately jumped out at me when I saw two of my favorite words: “energy” and “frequency.” I would love nothing more than to dissect how I believe someone can achieve their highest frequency.

Overall, I believe that when we are operating at our highest frequency, that’s when life feels the most aligned. The things we desire, our manifestations, seem to roll into our lives more effortlessly, almost as if we’ve completely jumped timelines. I believe being at your highest frequency helps you step into the rooms you’re ultimately meant to be in and meet the people you’re most aligned with on a soul level.

I’ve always viewed it like a board game.

There are tests, trials, rules, and stipulations.

Reaching your highest frequency is much easier said than done, so I’m going to lay out my personal philosophy. Keep in mind, I’m no expert. I’m just a bookworm who’s spent a lot of time in Reiki therapy and even more time reflecting on myself.

To reach your highest frequency, you first have to begin eliminating everything that doesn’t align.

When you close your eyes and become completely still, can you picture the version of yourself you want to become?

It doesn’t feel like a delusion.

It doesn’t feel like some unattainable fantasy.

It feels like you’re looking at a version of yourself that deep down you know you can become, should become, or eventually will become.

Once that vision becomes clear, the work begins.

Every choice you make should move you closer to that version of yourself.

Read more

Here’s a little glimpse at how healing used to look for me: I would grab onto an old memory file, fixate on it for a while, and then think of a plan of action. This is why I have avoidant attachment issues, I need to work on that.

I would then grab another old memory file and think I feel like this is why I am so hyperfocused on my vanity.

Sometimes I would even dig deeper, sorting through the dusty files in the back of my mind to try to find the root cause of everything that has ever happened to me. Maybe I think love is hard work because my parents didn’t occasionally shy away from arguing in front of us (and at a loud register, at that), which may have been normal for a marriage but definitely wasn’t normal for a relationship I was still trying to figure out in my twenties.

No matter what file I opened, I seemed to always find a raw and exposed wound waiting to be healed. I would harp on it with my therapist, journal it out, and use all my energy to nurture my wound until it became a scab, and then eventually a scar.

I was convinced that if I just took the time to dig through the past 25 years of my life, I could be fully healed. I thought I would wake up one day, walk to my bathroom, look in the mirror, and have some instant epiphany—“I AM FINALLY HEALED!” I thought it might feel like that split second on Christmas morning as a kid—you open your eyes, and for a moment you don’t know what day it is, and then it hits you: “it’s one of the best days of the year.”

Somewhere along the way in this so-called healing pursuit, I began to notice something. After I worked on something and transformed a wound into a scar, I would look in the mirror and rather than seeing the word “HEALED” in bright neon lights across my forehead, I saw my middle school self staring back at me. (Metaphorically speaking of course, because my middle school self did not have 300 cc breast implants, composite bonding and botox.) I saw glimpses of her essence in the mirror. The more I worked on myself the more she appeared. And when she did appear, I didn’t think to myself, Oh, there she is. I thought, there I am.

You see, my healing journey has led me into some pretty odd activities, rituals, and hobbies. Some of these things were suggestions from my therapist, others were simply things that came to me while sorting through old files, because as I sifted through painful memories, I also stumbled across memories of things that brought me joy when I was younger. hobbies and interests that I had abandoned at one point or another started resurfacing in my life one by one.

In middle school I loved to have friends over for “baking nights.” We would sit in my parents kitchen and bake cupcakes and decorate them with all kinds of fun frosting and decor. But as we moved onto high school, “baking nights” became “drinking nights.” We would hang out in someone’s basement or smoke weed out of a homemade bong in someone’s backyard. No one seemed to have any interest in a simple night filled with sweet treats and good music.

When I was 23 and going through an extremely hard breakup, I found my way back to baking. At first, I wasn’t sure how to cope, or how to spend time by myself post-breakup. I went from having my schedule consumed by him, to having all this new free time. Then, one night when I was scrolling on TikTok, I saw a tutorial for pumpkin crumble muffins with a cream cheese glaze on top. I personally have always been a complete sucker for any and all fall-themed pastries, so I Instacart-ed the ingredients and threw myself into baking. I had my Frank Sinatra vinyl blasting in the background, and before I knew it roughly an hour and thirty had passed without me thinking of him. My reward? A warm and decadent homemade muffin. Crunchy on the top, and soft in the middle. I remember thinking, I should do this more often.

Since then baking has become something that I not only do alone, but also invite my friends over for. We play music and bake something fun, sometimes sharing a few glasses of wine along the way, and then polish off the evening with a movie. Baking nights are so back.

In middle school I also had a very large fascination with spooky cartoons, and paranormal investigation videos. I had a ritual where I would sit in my room with my go-to snack—popcorn drenched in salt, butter and hot sauce—and either binge watch Scooby Doo cartoons or Paranormal Investigation videos on YouTube. I particularly loved “Buzzfeed Unsolved: Supernatural.” For me this was less of an educational interest and more of a self-care ritual. It was my “me time,” where I got to unwind and explore subjects that piqued my curiosity…

In high school and college I found I had less time to binge cartoons and YouTube videos. Between sports, friends, and boyfriends, I became less attached to that particular flavor of “me time.” I watched the shows my boyfriend wanted to watch and spent my free time cramming for exams or going for drinks with girlfriends.

Then, at the age of 25, I found myself single, living alone with two cats. To some people that sounds like a nightmare, but to me it was a dream. I loved staying in to hang out with my cats, while watching a show. One night while scrolling on Netflix and Hulu, looking for something to watch, I was struck by a title in bright green letters. Scooby Doo. I immediately got flashbacks to middle school. Watching the Scooby Doo movie was like opening a portal back to my younger self.

I watched both movies back to back and then shifted back into the cartoon series. Not long after, I was back watching Youtube paranormal investigations too.

Now I frequently have nights where I binge watch cartoons, and supernatural tours. My spicy popcorn snack has been traded in for a crisp glass of wine or some homemade “date bark,” but it still has that same nostalgic, cozy, “me time” feeling to it.

I believe who we are in middle school is a deeply authentic, unfiltered version of ourselves. When I really reflect on it, I think fourteen is the age conformity starts to creep in for most people — or at least it was for me. That’s the age when you make the jump from middle school to high school, and all you want is to fit in and be accepted.

At this age, many of us begin to cherry pick the parts of ourselves that fit in most, nurturing those parts while slowly abandoning the hobbies, interests and parts of our identity that feel too “different” or out of place. Because at the time, it felt like a crime to be an individual. At the time, fitting in was deemed the safer alternative. At the time, you stress over anything that may get you labeled as “weird” or “unwelcome” in the social circles you crave to be a part of.

Conformity was normalized for many of us throughout high school and, for some of us, even college too. We become so disconnected from who we actually are while we are in the pursuit of becoming someone that other people will like. Along the way, we lose precious pieces of ourselves.

And then we sit and wonder why we feel, broken, disconnected, or like we need to dig through our mental file cabinet for explanations as to why our lives feel like a pair of shoes that don’t fit us quite right.

The key to “healing” isn’t changing who you are, or rewiring every neural pathway. It isn’t even about dissecting every single file in your brain that is marked with a “trauma” stamp. To me, the key to healing is making time to reconnect with who you were before the world pressured you to change yourself in pursuit of praise and acceptance.

It’s making time for the things that you care about. Not everyone will understand these interests, but it doesn’t matter, because they make sense to you. Strange hobbies, interests, and stylistic choices are a form of true self-expression, and true self-expression is what real healing feels like. It feels like finally taking off a mask that you’ve been wearing for so long, you almost forgot it was there.

I have spent thousands of dollars on therapy, read countless self-help books, meditated for hours, and none of this has helped as much as getting in touch with the weird middle school girl who loved to bake and watch supernatural videos. Ultimately it was going back to basics and rediscovering who I was before the world told me who to be, and what I liked before the world told me what was “cool” to like that has healed me the most. It’s allowed me to heal my inner child, and find my way back into things that bring me joy; like ruby red slippers that fit my feet perfectly.

Looking back, I now realize that my middle school self had it figured out all along. Cozy baking nights, and comfort series as a crucial form of self-care. Somewhere along the way I got disconnected from the things that regulate my nervous system the most. The things that I like without having to try to like them

So many of the things I fancied when I was 12 have made their way back into my life at 25, but now they have a deeper meaning for me.

As I continue to “heal” I am curious to see what else my middle school self has in store for me. What other hobbies, interests and ideas will find their way back into my routine as I continue to connect with who I was—which is really just who I am? Rather than searching for a new version of me that lives miles away in foreign territory, I’m finally looking inside, which is where the answers have been hiding all along.

About the Author

I’m Isabella—entrepreneur, fashion addict, and the friend who's going to tell you the truth even when you don't want to hear it. I've lived through the heartbreaks, the toxic friendships, the self-worth spirals, and I came out the other side with more self-respect and a newfound obsession with self-help books (which is where I derive a lot of my advice).

Think of me as your big sister with zero filter: I'll hype you up, call you out with love, and tell you what you actually need to hear.

Looking for more personalized advice? Become a premium subscriber and get access to Ask Isabella column, where I answer your questions (anonymously, so don't hold back).

Subscribe now

“How do you make new friends in a new city in your mid 20s and you don’t really like going out often? Also- how to deal with a guy who thinks it’s weird that you don’t have many friends. I have a couple close ones and my sister but I feel like he grew up with a different perspective and thinks girls should have a lot of friends.”

Hi, Brittany!

Thank you for writing to me and for being a premium subscriber to my column. I chose your question because, well... it felt relatable. It felt personal. In a lot of ways, it felt like an old version of me wrote it.

Before getting into how to make new friends and expand your social life in a new city, I first want to address the guy who thinks it’s “weird” that you don’t have many friends. I actually dealt with something almost identical.

I dated a guy who grew up with a very tight-knit group of friends. They all remained close well into their mid-twenties. In college he joined a fraternity and acquired an even larger social circle. Because he fit the standard “nice guy” stereotype, he was always surrounded by a big group of male friends. I, on the other hand, only had maybe two or three close friends when we started dating, and one of them was my younger sister, who I lived with at the time.

He gave me grief about it too.

At one point he even asked me, “Why don’t you have a large female friend group? Sometimes it feels like other women don’t like you.”

Because he came from such a large social circle, he expected the woman he dated to have the same thing. Since I didn’t, he started second-guessing me. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. Is something wrong with her? Is there something I’m not seeing?

I am telling you this because I want you to know you are not the first woman to have an extroverted man look at you sideways because you don’t run in a female pack. The truth is, a lot of men don’t understand female friendship dynamics, especially within larger groups. There are unspoken social rules around hierarchy, conformity, loyalty, and competition that many men simply never experience.

Male friendships tend to be much more black and white. They keep things straightforward. If there’s a problem, they usually address it head-on. There’s generally less passive-aggressive behavior, less gossip, fewer shifting alliances. They hash it out and move on.

Because that has been the majority of their experience, they often assume female friendships operate the same way. So when they meet a woman who isn’t surrounded by a large friend group, they assume she must be the problem.

As a woman who also doesn’t run in a pack, I want to reassure you that there is absolutely nothing wrong with only having a small handful of important people in your life, even if some of them are family.

Read more

The story follows a young couple, Rachel Harkin and her fiancé Nicky Cunningham, as they travel to Nicky’s family remote cabin to tie the knot in a small, family-only ceremony. Well... his family, at least. We quickly learn that Rachel’s mother is dead and her father is estranged. So, not only is she walking into her wedding alone, without any family members of her own to be by her side, but she also hasn’t met Nicky’s family yet. In other words, her wedding weekend also serves as her introduction to the Cunninghams.

We first meet Rachel and Nicky as they make the drive through the woods to the Cunningham family cabin. I distinctly remember my first thought being, Why is she driving?, Followed immediately by, Why is he sitting in the passenger seat like a passenger princess? It immediately caught my attention (and gave me the ick), but before I could think too much about it, the show swept me away into a sweet little scene of the two stopping at a roadside café, talking about getting married and maybe even starting a family together.

While watching them, I was hit by this unexpected wave of nostalgia. It reminded me of what it feels like to go on a road trip with someone you’re deeply in love with. Those quiet conversations over bad coffee, dreaming about a future that doesn’t exist yet, convincing yourselves it’s all going to work out. For a brief moment, I forgot I was watching a horror series; it felt like I was just watching two people at the beginning of a beautiful life together.

The moment they arrive in the small town where the Cunningham family cabin is located, everything shifts from romantic to deeply unsettling. The dark skies, endless snow, and the isolated setting create aa feeling of dread that is so suffocating; I honestly haven’t gotten that overwhelming feeling of unease since watching The Shining for the first time in middle school. From the moment they pull into town, the series makes one thing abundantly clear: something very bad is going to happen.

Things become even stranger when Rachel is approached by an elderly man who acts as if he already knows who she is. It’s one of those moments that immediately makes you yell at the screen, “Girl... get back in the car” Rachel brushes it off, chalking it up to an odd interaction, and continues toward the cabin excited to finally meet the Cunningham family.

Now, this is where the beginning of the end... well, begins.

Rachel is immediately, for lack of a better word, creeped out by the Cunninghams. They’re cold, emotionally unpredictable, and just strange enough to make you question why Nicky thought introducing his fiancée to them the weekend of the wedding was a good idea.

To make matters worse, Nicky’s sister, Portia, welcomes Rachel by casually telling her a ghost story.

Because apparently that’s normal.

Portia tells Rachel about “the Sorry Man,” a figure she claims lives deep in the surrounding woods. According to family legend, the oldest Cunningham brother, Jules, encountered him as a child and has never been the same since.

She explains that the Sorry Man crawls up from Hell in search of his wife. He cuts women open because he’s convinced he’ll find her soul inside one of them, apologizing over and over as he does it.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

As if meeting your future in-laws isn’t anxiety-inducing enough.

As the series unfolds, the Cunningham family starts raising more and more red flags, and Rachel definitely notices them. They’re constantly bursting into tears for seemingly no reason, her wedding dress mysteriously disappears, and Nicky’s mother insists she wear her wedding dress instead. Rachel spends most of her time feeling uneasy and unstable.

The entire time I kept asking myself, Is Rachel actually in danger, or is she just an anxious bride convincing herself something is wrong?

I think that’s one of the most clever aspects of this show. As women, we’re constantly taught to second-guess our intuition. If something feels off, we’re told we’re overthinking it. We’re anxious. We’re dramatic. We need to calm down.

The show does the exact same thing to us. It constantly makes us question whether Rachel is accurately reading the room or simply projecting her fears onto everyone around her.

The Cunninghams certainly don’t help. At one point they even unveil a family portrait they’ve painted of Rachel, except... it doesn’t actually look like Rachel.

She’s normally dark, edgy, and alternative, yet they’ve painted her looking like the president of Kappa Kappa Gamma. Pearl necklace, perfectly polished, sweet little grin and all.

As ridiculous as it sounds, that painting became one of the biggest red flags for me. It wasn’t just a portrait. It felt like a glimpse into the version of Rachel they wanted her to become.

As we inch closer to the wedding day, we discover the Cunninghams aren’t actually the scary part, or the “something bad” that’s going to happen. As dysfunctional as they are, and as much as I’d personally lose my mind spending a weekend trapped in a cabin with them, they aren’t planning to sacrifice Rachel or induct her into some creepy family cult.

The real horror lies somewhere else entirely: It lies within Rachel’s bloodline. Many years before Rachel was born, one of Rachel’s ancestors made a desperate bargain with Death after her fiancé died just before their wedding day. Heartbroken, she begged for him to be brought back to life. Death agreed, but with one condition: she had to truly believe he was her soulmate.

She accepted the deal without realizing she’d also accepted a curse. One that would haunt every woman in her bloodline for generations to come.

Rachel eventually learns her own mother, Alexandra, fell victim to that curse. In fact, Alexandra married Rachel’s father, Jay, in the very same town where Rachel and Nicky are now preparing to say “I do.” Deep down, Alexandra knew Jay wasn’t her soulmate, but she was pregnant with Rachel and determined to make the relationship work anyway.

The moment they exchanged vows, the curse activated. Alexandra begins bleeding out, from her eyes and mouth. And I don’t mean a trickle or a few drops. I mean Niagara Falls levels of blood. Gushing.

Then comes one of the biggest plot twists in the series. The infamous “Sorry Man” isn’t some demon lurking in the woods. He’s Rachel’s father.

As Alexandra lay dying, Jay desperately performed an emergency C-section to save baby Rachel while repeatedly whispering, “I’m sorry... I’m sorry... I’m sorry.” As a child, Jules Cunningham stumbled across the horrific scene and misunderstood what he had witnessed. Over the years, that traumatic memory evolved into the terrifying legend of the Sorry Man.

It’s an incredible twist because the monster we’ve feared the entire series turns out not to be a monster at all. He’s just a grieving husband trying to save his daughter.

But here’s where the show completely shifted for me. The terrifying part of the curse isn’t that it’s supernatural. It’s that it’s almost less about magic than it is about intuition. Rachel’s curse isn’t asking whether Nicky is objectively a good man. It isn’t asking whether he’d make a dependable husband. It isn’t even asking whether he loves her.

It’s asking one simple question: When you strip away everyone else’s opinions, every expectation, every timeline, and every fear of starting over... Do you truly believe the person standing across from you is your soulmate?

For Rachel, if the answer is no, she will die. Even if Nicky is kind, safe, loyal, and perfectly acceptable on paper. Even if she loves him. It doesn’t matter if she doesn’t believe he’s her soulmate.

I related to Rachel Harkin far more than I expected to. She loves Nicky. I don’t think there’s any question about that. He provides her with something she’s desperately craved for most of her life: safety, stability; a family. After growing up without much of either, it makes perfect sense why she’d want to hold onto him.

But as the series unfolds, you slowly begin to realize that while Rachel spends most of the relationship pouring into Nicky’s cup, he keeps drinking from hers without ever contributing to it or asking if he can take from it.

Then comes one of the most heartbreaking moments in the entire series. Rachel is presented with the opportunity to take an experimental potion that would allow her to survive the curse no matter what. The catch? It would essentially rewrite who she is, transforming her into Nicky’s soulmate regardless of whether she was originally meant to be.

When I first watched that scene, I couldn’t stop thinking about how many women have done exactly that. Not with a magical potion. But with themselves, all on their own.

I thought about just how so many of us have slowly reshaped our personalities, our interests, our appearance, our dreams, and our boundaries in hopes of becoming easier to love.

I thought about how many of us have convinced ourselves that if we were just a little calmer... a little prettier... a little less emotional... a little more laid back... then maybe they’d finally choose us the way we’ve always wanted to be chosen.

Rachel isn’t just debating whether to take a potion. She’s debating whether to abandon herself. And I think that’s a decision far too many women know intimately well.

If you are in a relationship where, deep down, you believe that person might not be your soulmate, why are you still there? Although the analogy of bleeding out because of a supernatural curse might seem extreme on the surface, I think it’s actually quite fitting and maybe even under-selling things. Women die a slow death from marrying the wrong man every single day. Sometimes physically. Sometimes emotionally. Sometimes spiritually. We see it on the news when a woman is murdered by her husband. We see it in our own lives when a woman slowly loses the light behind her eyes, drifting away from her friends, her family, her hobbies, and eventually herself as she disappears into someone else’s world. We may not literally bleed out from our eyes and mouth the way Rachel’s family curse reassures her lineage will, but the wrong relationship has a way of draining you just the same. Sometimes it happens so slowly you don’t even realize you’re dying until you no longer recognize the woman staring back at you in the mirror.

I think that’s why Something Bad Is Going to Happen lingered with me long after the credits rolled. Beneath all of the blood, horror, and supernatural lore is a story about the voice inside of all of us that already knows when something isn’t right. It’s about the danger of betraying your own intuition in exchange for comfort, stability, and the life you thought you were supposed to want.

The show disguises itself as a horror series, but I don’t think the real monster was ever the Sorry Man or Rachel’s family curse. The real monster was the concept of self-abandonment. The idea that you can force certainty where it doesn’t exist, or reshape yourself into the version of you that someone else is capable of loving. And maybe that’s the scariest realization of all. The relationships most likely to destroy us aren’t always the loud, obviously toxic ones. Sometimes they’re the ones that look perfectly acceptable from the outside while, deep down, an intuitive part of us has been screaming for us to run away all along.

For me the movie made one thing about marriages abundantly clear: the scariest thing isn’t marrying the wrong person; The scariest thing is knowing they’re the wrong person... and saying “I do” anyway.

About the Author

I’m Isabella—entrepreneur, fashion addict, and the friend who's going to tell you the truth even when you don't want to hear it. I've lived through the heartbreaks, the toxic friendships, the self-worth spirals, and I came out the other side with more self-respect and a newfound obsession with self-help books (which is where I derive a lot of my advice).

Think of me as your big sister with zero filter: I'll hype you up, call you out with love, and tell you what you actually need to hear.

Looking for more personalized advice? Become a premium subscriber and get access to Ask Isabella column, where I answer your questions (anonymously, so don't hold back).

Subscribe now

“My ex and I have been broken up for over two years and he has a new girlfriend. He does not follow me. Why is he still viewing my stories and why are his friends sending them to him?”

Hi, Anonymous!

Thank you for messaging me and for being such a loyal subscriber. I have a lot of thoughts on this one, so let’s dive right into the juicy stuff.

To me, the answer is simple on one end and a tad more perplexing on the other. When it comes to your ex being in a new relationship and still viewing your stories, I do think one thing is clear: you’re still crossing his mind.

Now, before anyone twists my words, that doesn’t automatically mean he wants you back, regrets the breakup, or is secretly planning to leave his girlfriend. Those are all very different conclusions.

But I also don’t think people consistently check in on someone they’re completely indifferent toward.

Whether it’s nostalgia, curiosity, habit, or unresolved feelings, something is pulling his attention back to your life. If you two dated for a long time, I actually think that’s a very human thing. We don’t just erase people who once played a significant role in our lives. Sometimes we simply wonder how they’re doing.

What I do find particularly interesting, though, is that he’s viewing your stories from his main account. Personally, if I were curious about an ex, I’d probably use a burner account because I wouldn’t want to get caught in 4K with my full username sitting at the top of their viewers list.

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I probably shouldn’t admit this, but I’m sort of a frequent flyer when it comes to drunk texts. I have sent them more times than I’m willing to admit. For some reason, when I’m in a tequila-induced state, I feel compelled to let my walls down and say whatever the deepest parts of my subconscious brain is thinking or feeling. In the past, I’ve woken up and, for almost a split second, forgotten the damage that’s been done. Then all of a sudden... boom. I remember.

I get flashes of myself drunkenly shoveling a burrito into my mouth with one hand while typing with the other, phone balanced precariously in its palm, one eye squinted to decipher my screen.

Sometimes it’s been an “I miss you” text. Other times it’s been an “I can’t believe you would do this to me” message, or even just a simple “Hello” sent at 3:40 A.M. Regardless, it never feels any less gut-wrenching when you open your eyes and get war flashbacks of whatever your unhinged, drunken alter ego did.

How dare she try to sabotage me like that!? My alter ego makes her own rules, ignores every ounce of common sense I possess, and somehow leaves sober me to deal with the consequences the next morning.

Eventually when you wake up, and you move past the frustration you feel towards your drunk alter ego, you make the brave decision to look at your phone and brace yourself for the fact that the person you texted either responded... or completely ignored you. I still can’t decide which is worse. I guess it’s a bit circumstantial.

The reality is, no one feels good waking up and realizing they’ve betrayed their own better judgment. It’s enough to make you consider trading your iPhone in for a very glamorous flip phone. Better yet, one of those Firefly phones from the early 2000s with four buttons: Mom, Dad, Home, and 911.

That way, you physically cannot text your ex-boyfriend, your ex-best friend, your estranged family member, or the situationship who could care less whether you live or die.

Regardless of what you sent or who you sent a drunk text to, waking up and realizing you texted someone you should stay far far away from produces one of the fastest heart drops known to mankind. Not because the text itself is always catastrophic, but because it feels like you’ve betrayed yourself. Your own brain became your biggest opp.

It can bruise your ego and leave you drowning in self-loathing.

In the past, if I sent a drunk text, it usually led to conversations with my friends about taking two weeks off from drinking, booking an emergency therapy appointment, or running away to Mexico, where I would throw all my devices into the ocean, and live off the grid—and thus avoid facing the humiliation of my own actions.

Now that I’ve been through this experience a few times, I know better than to try to run away. I’ve actually, for better or worse, become somewhat of an expert on handling the aftermath of a drunk text.

1. First things first. Instead of beating yourself up, recognize that what’s done is done. No amount of self-loathing, shame, or anger is going to unsend the text. It has already been delivered.

So there is absolutely no point in punishing yourself. It’s not like you killed someone. You pressed a silly button.

2. Next, recognize that it’s completely normal for your ego to take a hit afterward. Your ego will scream things like:

You’re so stupid. Why would you do that

This is humiliating.

You know better than this.

I can’t believe you have so little self-control.

But that isn’t reality. That isn’t your clear-minded self talking. That’s your ego.

Your ego exists because you’re human, but it shouldn’t be allowed to drive every thought, emotion, or decision you make.

Instead, try reframing it:

I clearly sent that because something about it was weighing on my subconscious.

Embarrassment is a decision, and I’m choosing not to be embarrassed.

Even if it wasn’t my finest moment, what’s done is done, and I’ll try not to do it again.

This isn’t a reflection of my true character because I was in an altered state of mind.

3. Once you’ve reclaimed a little bit of your dignity, it’s time to assess the situation. If this is your first offense drunk texting this person, maybe it was just a one-off. No need to declare a national emergency. If this is your second, third, or fourth offense...Well, measures must be taken.

Delete their contact.

Delete your message history.

Delete any old group chats where their number might still exist.

Delete anywhere your future intoxicated self might decide to go digging.

Years ago, after one too many margaritas, I found an ex’s phone number by searching through a years-old group chat we were both in. I knew it was his number because it was the only contact in the chat that had been deleted.

The next morning I woke up with my head pounding, only to discover I had sent him an essay at 4:00 in the morning. I am not sharing this because I’m proud. I’m sharing it because I need you to understand the lengths some of us will go to when tequila starts making executive decisions.

You have to protect yourself from... yourself.

Delete every possible breadcrumb that leads back to that phone number.

Now, I could easily turn step 4 into a point about limiting your alcohol intake. But let’s be honest. Some of us genuinely enjoy getting a good buzz with our girlfriends.

Personally, I think there’s something incredibly healing about sharing margaritas or wine over dinner while beating the same dead horse and talking about the exact same life problems for the hundredth time. I don’t want to give that up just because my shadow self occasionally has an entirely different agenda after a few drinks.

Instead, precautions have to be taken and aftercare routines have to be created. Because sometimes the person you need the most protection from... is tequila-you.

About the Author

I’m Isabella—entrepreneur, fashion addict, and the friend who's going to tell you the truth even when you don't want to hear it. I've lived through the heartbreaks, the toxic friendships, the self-worth spirals, and I came out the other side with more self-respect and a newfound obsession with self-help books (which is where I derive a lot of my advice).

Think of me as your big sister with zero filter: I'll hype you up, call you out with love, and tell you what you actually need to hear.

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Hi, Miranda!

Thank you for writing to me! I’m going to do my best to give you the most thoughtful response I can based on the details you’ve shared. From what you’ve written, it seems like there are really two issues at play here. The first is that your boyfriend was dishonest with you about this career change. The second is that the two of you no longer seem aligned in the way you once were. Both of those things matter, and both deserve to be acknowledged.

First, I know how painful it is to feel like someone you love has been dishonest with you. It can shatter the image you had of them and make you question everything. Trust is one of those things that takes years to build and only a moment to crack. It’s understandable that you’re struggling with that component of this.

But if I’m reading between the lines correctly, I don’t think his dishonesty is the biggest thing weighing on your heart right now. I think the bigger issue is that you’re grieving the relationship you thought you had. You described your story as feeling like it was out of a movie. You said your futures and lifestyles aligned perfectly. What makes this so painful isn’t just that he’s changed. It’s that the future you envisioned together suddenly feels uncertain.

That’s the thing about relationships and friendships. One minute you’re in the same season of life. You have similar goals, similar values, similar dreams. You feel like two people growing side by side. Then one day you wake up and realize one of you has taken a turn down a road the other never planned on walking. I’m not saying this to point out the obvious. I’m saying it because what you’re feeling is a very normal part of the cycle of life and love. You can love someone deeply and still recognize that they may no longer fit into your life the way they once did. It’s an incredibly bittersweet realization.

Something I’ve learned is that it’s easy to stay attached to the version of someone we fell in love with. The version of them from years ago. The version of them we imagined building a future with. But relationships aren’t built on potential, memories, or who someone used to be. They’re built on who a person consistently chooses to be today. And from what you’ve shared, the person standing in front of you today is not someone you feel aligned with.

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