More couples are shacking up before tying the knot than ever before. As of 2016, 18 million unmarried adults were living with a partner—up a whopping 29 percent since 2007. And more than half of these cohabiters are under the age of 35, a.k.a. millennials. But just because moving in with your beau seems like the “trendy” thing to do, that doesn’t mean it’s right for you.
Before you go ahead and sign that lease or take out that mortgage, you have to get real with your partner about your expectations and your finances. Here Glamour has compiled all of the conversations you should have and milestones to hit with your significant other before you order the U-Haul.
My feet in stirrups, I stared at the eerie black-and-white images projected on the screen in front of me, as Hailee Steinfeld’s “Love Myself” bumped energetically in the background. My ovaries, the squishy bean-shaped blobs on the screen, bounced in and out of shadows as my gynecologist shifted the ultrasound probe, searching for the follicles that produce eggs.
This was not your typical ob-gyn exam, to say the least. I’m not trying to get pregnant—quite the opposite, actually—but I paid a visit to Trellis, a new “fertility studio” and egg-freezing clinic in New York City, to learn just how fertile I am now, and will be in the years to come. With an in-house juice bar and a quote from Michelle Obama (“It’s up to each of us to invent our own future”) displayed prominently in the well-lit lounge, Trellis is one of several new startups launched in the past two years garnering attention and investor dollars for adding fertility to the list of health stats you can easily track.
The idea behind making fertility testing cheap, convenient, and trendy, stems in part from data: Women are increasingly putting off having children—for the first time, women in their thirties are now having more babies than women in their twenties, according to the CDC. But because fertility naturally starts to decline in your 30s, these companies assert information is power. “We help you understand what’s going on in your own body so you can use that information to make the decisions that are right for you,” says Afton Vechery, co-founder of Modern Fertility, an at-home fertility testing service launched in summer of 2017. Armed with your fertility stats, the idea is that you can eliminate (or at least reduce) anxiety about putting off baby-making, adjust your timeline if your proactive tests reveal any red flags, or make a more informed decision about egg freezing.
But after my procedure, I was skeptical. Is this just millennial marketing—complete with an Instagram-worthy reception area, socially-conscious brand mantras (“empowered egg freezing”), pink take-home brochures, and sleek apps—at its best?
Marketing Fertility
If you’re having trouble getting pregnant, a trip to any traditional fertility clinic will generally follow a few key steps: a look at your medical history, an ultrasound to examine your ovaries, a blood test to measure key hormones tied to egg production. No one test can tell you with 100 percent certainty if or when you’ll be able to get pregnant, but for now, the combined results of these tests are the closest you can get to a crystal ball.
The problem these startups—all led by women—have with that approach? It comes too late. Many ob-gyns or specialists won’t run these tests unless a woman is already having issues, which means the game may already be decided, or the options for action limited.
Piraye Yurttas Beim, who has a Ph.D. in molecular biology, first went to her doctor for a fertility assessment at 32. She was told, based on her fertility hormone tests, that her chances of getting pregnant using her own eggs was less than one percent. “I felt like, wait a minute, I did all the right things,” she says. “I went to my ob-gyn every year for my annual screens. Why wasn’t I screened for [fertility]? Why wasn’t I given a heads up that this was a possibility? Why was this sprung on me when it was effectively too late?” As a scientist and founder of Celmatix, a company that tests fertility-related genetic markers to help predict a woman’s baby-making odds, Beim knew that hormone levels don’t always tell the whole story. The proof? She went on to conceive her three kids naturally.
Still, hormone tests can be a starting point to getting insight into your fertility potential, which is why startups like Modern Fertility and Future Family analyze the same exact hormones traditional clinics do. This gives doctors an idea of your egg quantity, aka your “ovarian reserve” and can help a fertility specialist assess how many eggs you likely have in the bank. (Trellis operates more like a traditional fertility clinic that’s been given a chic makeover—they perform blood tests and ultrasounds, like the one I had, conducted by doctors specializing in reproductive medicine at their NYC clinic. From there, a “fertility coach” can walk you through the company’s egg freezing packages and “fertility wellness” plans.)
The science behind these tests isn’t new. But these founders hope streamlining the process of getting them will help women move from being reactive to proactive about fertility. Now, you can order a hormone test online (you can either prick your finger at-home, or get an order to have blood taken at a local lab) for under $200. Old school fertility testing would require jumping through hoops to find your way to a fertility specialist, where you may be socked with a hefty bill—potentially reaching into the thousands—that may not be covered by insurance.
Getting Answers Without Fear
Conversations about fertility have long felt like scare tactics, pressuring women to have kids ASAP or shell out cash to freeze their eggs before time runs out. Past awareness campaigns even included an upside down baby bottle as a rapidly dwindling hourglass. The fear-mongering around fertility isn’t just uncool, evidence suggests it can be costly—only 6 percent of women who froze their eggs went on to actually use them, in one small 2017 study. (Most women in the study who were pregnant at some point, conceived naturally.)
The modern conversation, as I experienced, has gotten a major course correction. These days doctors really, really don’t want the results from these tests to cause any panic. “It’s incredibly complicated,” says Paula Brady, M.D., a fertility specialist the Columbia University Fertility Center. “We can’t take one value and say, ‘This is great, don’t worry,’ or ‘This is bad, you should be worried.’”
My blood tests (one from Modern Fertility and another from Trellis) and ultrasound revealed that, while I’m still technically within the “normal” range for a woman in her late 20s, I have a less than stellar ovarian reserve. My AMH level, perhaps the best indicator of how many eggs I have, is “lower than expected for [my] age,” Trellis found.
My first reaction: Holy shit. Do I need to freeze my eggs?
It’s surprisingly hard not to panic about these results. But as I made more calls, almost every expert I spoke with stressed that my ovaries’ meh report card was no reason to freak out. “The low edge of normal is still in the normal range,” assured Nataki Douglas, M.D., director of translational research for the department of obstetrics, gynecology and women’s health at Rutgers University and chair of the medical advisory board at Modern Fertility. A below average test result, in other words, doesn’t mean you should rush to put your eggs on ice.
The Fertility Prediction Blind Spot
Not only is the science of predicting fertility imperfect and complex, it also has a major blind spot: Even the techiest and trendiest fertility assessments look only at the quantity of eggs you have when evidence suggests the quality of your eggs is equally important. Last year a team of reproductive researchers led by the University of North Carolina Chapel Hill found women with signs of “diminished ovarian reserve” were just as successful at getting pregnant as women with a normal reserve. Basically, an underwhelming ovarian reserve result might mean something about your ability to get pregnant in five years—or it might not. (The best predictor of egg quality doctors have is your age.)
These new companies believe the services they provide could add another layer of data to your family planing calculations. Testing early, they suggest, means you can track your fertility stats over time—one AMH test might not tell you much on its own but a drastic drop in the hormone year-over-year is a more reliable red flag, Dr. Douglas says. “The key is to have the information so that you’re empowered to make decisions and have informed discussions with the right people,” she adds.
Still, experts don’t recommend all women start tracking AMH levels with the same rigor as you might track your steps or your sleep. “I always say check a value if you would do something with the result,” says Dr. Brady. If your mom went through early menopause, for example, getting your hormone levels tested could give you a little more insight about having kids earlier or freezing your eggs. Or if your period is irregular, a fertility assessment might help shed light on conditions like PCOS that could impact your baby-making plans. But if seeing ambiguous below-average hormone levels will only make you stress, Dr. Brady says it might be best to pass.
After two hormone tests, one ultrasound, and nearly a dozen interviews with reproductive experts, I still don’t know if I can confidently put off pregnancy for another five years or whether I should sign up for egg freezing at Trellis (estimated cost: $12,850 plus $600 per year in egg storage fees). I have my results, but I don’t exactly have answers. “It would be awesome if we could have a single blood test or an ultrasound that could really lay out your future,” says Alan Penzias, M.D., chair of the American Society for Reproductive Medicine’s Practice Committee. “But right now, I don’t think we’re quite there.”
I’ve wrestled a lot with how I feel about that. Unlike years ago when that baby-bottle-as-hourglass campaign got major backlash, women today know more than ever about our bodies. We track our steps, our sleep cycles, our periods right on our phones. We’re fluent in data about our bodies, ourselves. This whole panoply of information about our bodies helps us make more “empowered” decisions—so why wouldn’t the same be true about fertility data? Now, rather than remaining in the dark about what my ovaries are up to, I’m armed with baseline information that I can use to start a conversation with my gynecologist about the choices I’ll be making for my body over the next five, even ten, years.
Testing early means I don’t feel like I’m at the mercy of my biology—I feel like I’m in the driver’s seat.
Ever since the dawn of athleisure, the apparel market has been dominated by stretchy fabrics and varying levels of compression. Same goes for my closet. This isn’t just for workouts: These days, I’m wearing snazzy sports bras in lieu of underwires at any hour of the day and fancy leggings instead of denim. The allure of comfortable, forgiving clothes has been impossible to resist, to the point where it’s strained my relationship with the most tried-and-true wardrobe staples.
My jeans have taken the hardest hit. Who in their right mind would wriggle into stiff selvage denim and zero-stretch vintage 501s when leggings—which do so much more than hold me during downward dogs and spin classes—exist? I recently realized there is, in fact, a magical, happy medium between jeans and leggings. No, it’s not jeggings… but it has been right in front of my eyes this whole time, just not marketed to me. Two words: maternity jeans.
This utterly genius category of pants combines the best parts of jeans (the look, the feel) with those of leggings (spandex-packed goodness, support, stretch.) The paneling in maternity jeans—their main draw, really—is designed to support and expand for a baby bump, but it’s just as wonderful a feature if your stomach and hips shift-shape more than any other body parts, be it due to weight gain, fluctuation, or bloating.
The prospect of wearing maternity jeans—despite most certainly not being or trying to become pregnant right now—first dawned on me this fall, as the temperatures began to drop. Pants and full-length leggings became necessary, but my aversion to tights meant dresses and skirts were out of the question. I’m fortunate that my remote-working profession renders leggings acceptable for, say, 70% of occasions—but for the rest, I needed “real pants.” What I couldn’t bear the thought of, though, was the angry-looking red marks I would get along the seams and waistband of the dark-wash, skinny-ish jeans I had on rotation. Also annoying: My thighs are muscular, and I tend hold weight around the stomach and hips, so I normally have to constantly hike up my denim to ensure that my butt and stomach stay fully covered. That’s never an issue with a snug pair of leggings—or bottoms with a comfortable elastic waistband, for that matter.
Well, that’s precisely what makes maternity jeans, well, maternity jeans. So I decided I would try, because, honestly, who would be the wiser? Plus, jeans that stay comfortable and continue to fit during weight fluctuations seemed like a relief and a practical investment to my closet. If these miracle pants are designed to support and accommodate a growing belly, and, with it, the average 30-pound weight gain pregnancy tacks on, I figured they could handle my 10-ish pound weight fluctuations with aplomb.
And the chic options abound: A slew of mid-range brands, like Madewell, carry maternity jeans; mass retailers like Target’s Isabel Maternity by Ingrid & Isabel label (a more affordable offshoot of Ingrid & Isabel, the label responsible for the well-loved Bellaband) have expanded their offerings, while premium denim brands like J. Brand and Hatch have extensive styles for sale. Even the OG players in the pregnancy fashion orbit, like A Pea in the Pod, have stepped up their game, with a denim selection that now includes Frame, Good American, and Mother. In other words, it’s a damn good time to be on the hunt for maternity jeans—whether or not you’re expecting.
Beyond jeans, the maternity fashion market is quite robust: It’s currently valued at $1 billion, with more than 1,500 brands expressly devoted to maternity clothing, according to a 2018 report, growing 200 percent from 2014 to 2017. And though in the minority, there are shoppers without child that buy into this section.
According to Ariane Goldman, founder of Hatch, approximately 20 percent of the brand’s shoppers aren’t pregnant. She launched the label in in 2010 as a pre, during, and post-maternity brand “with longevity in mind, so women can invest in products that don’t have finite use,” she says: “I didn’t want to spend money on something that was disposable or made me feel ugly because my body was already changing, and I felt that’s something that should be celebrated. ” Post-baby purchases “only [reinforce] our proposition as a solution-based company for before, during and after pregnancy,” she adds.
PHOTO: Hatch
Hatch x Current/Elliott The Easy Denim Overall, $378, Hatch
Hatch’s core customer is a 30-something pregnant woman, while her non-pregnant clientele “consists of girls in their early 20’s who are diehard fans and love the Hatch aesthetic,” as well as a “50- to 70-year-old demographic of women who recognize and celebrate our silhouette and the effortlessness of the collections.” Its denim, produced in collaboration with Current/Elliott, is one of its best-selling categories.
Seraphine, the U.K.-based maternity line that counts Kate Middleton as a fan, has also found that there’s “a small proportion [of shoppers] who buy our jeans without being pregnant,” according to founder Cecile Reinaud. “Many of these are returning customers, who have had Seraphine jeans through pregnancy and love the comfort of them so much that they want to keep wearing them afterwards,” she explains.
Knowing that I wasn’t alone, I began my quest for the perfect maternity jeans for my non-pregnant body. Step one: Understand that there’s not just one type of “maternity jean”—rather, there are a variety of options, depending on how you would want it to sit on your bump.
PHOTO: Jono/Seraphine
Seraphine Over Bump Slim Leg Maternity Jeans, $99, Seraphine
I was vaguely aware of the over-the-belly style—basically, a pair of jeans that doesn’t have a fly-and-button closure or denim waistband, instead featuring a stretchy swath of fabric that serves as a sort of low-compression girdle. Without a baby inside my belly, though, that fabric portion extended much further north, literally right below the boobs. So I sought out alternatives.
First, I tried out this Isabel Maternity pair, which doesn’t have the full-fledged fabric waist—rather, that stretch material covers all over the front, but then folds into a V shape in the small of the back. So, you get a lot more body real estate than most non-maternity jeans, but it’s still less than the more traditional styles in that category.
PHOTO: Target
Isabel Maternity by Ingrid & Isabel Maternity Crossover Panel Skinny Jeans, $29.99, Target
Then, through Seraphine, I discovered under-the-belly maternity jeans, where the soft waistband dips a bit lower in front than in back. As someone who loves the held-in, no-plumber’s-crack security of a super-high waist, I was pretty skeptical of the lower front—but this pair, in a dark grey wash, basically felt like sweatpants, which I didn’t hate. They were, however, pretty baggy on my frame, so I’d recommend sizing down if you’re trying on an under-the-belly style as a non-pregnant person.
PHOTO: Seraphine
Seraphine Under Bump Rock Chic Maternity Jeans, $95, Seraphine
I did have luck with these $33 under-belly skinnies—they’ve got a zip fly and button closure and denim waistband like non-maternity jeans, but triangular wedge-like gussets of black elastic inserted right below it that make it bump-friendly.
PHOTO: Target
Isabel Maternity by Ingrid & Isabel Maternity Plus Size Crossover Panel Skinny Jeans, $32.99, Target
Besides the very real comfort factor, maternity jeans could be seen as an unexpected “investment piece” of sorts—a hopefully-not-too-crazy-early closet addition that can be enjoyed for a couple years in advance of the target timing, but that you get to enjoy for years before it happens. You could see it as a more economical alternative to buying and holding onto jeans in various sizes that fit at different weights or shifting physiques. Plus, why would you want to wait to wear the most comfortable jeans on earth?
If you follow runway news even casually, you’ve likely heard about the rise of “modest” dressing. Broadly defined as clothing that’s not revealing in terms of cut and fit, modest dressing isn’t exactly a new idea, but in the last few seasons, it’s emerged as a consistent theme in the mainstream, secular fashion scene. On the fall 2018 runways, for example, there were below-the-knee skirts paired with up-to-the-collarbone blouses at Tibi, all manner of oversize outerwear at Balenciaga, anoraks as dresses at Dries van Noten, and long skirts over trousers at Gucci. Meanwhile, brands have started catering more explicitly to “modest” dressers, including sites like the Modist, which sells designer pieces that fit within modesty standards from the likes of Marni and Rachel Comey, as well as Macy’s, which in February introduced The Verona Collection, a line of modest clothing. Just this week H&M announced it would also launch a modest fashion line. In fact, if you keep up with fashion trends, there’s a good chance the clothes you’re wearing are more covered up than the ones you were wearing, say, two years ago.
As a Muslim American political fashion blogger who’s dressed modestly for most of her adult life (for me, that means favoring billowy cuts and not showing skin beyond my face and forearms), you’d think I’d be all for this. And, to a certain extent, I am: I have no complaints about my newfound ability to walk into a store and pick out a long-sleeve shirt that isn’t translucent or dramatically scoop-neck with relative ease. (Provided the shirt in question is ethically produced.) But there’s one huge difference between my wearing a chunky turtleneck with an ankle-grazing skirt and that same look on Valentino’s fall runway: I also pair my outfit with a hijab. As I’ve been seeing more people who dress the way I do from the neck down, I’ve become acutely aware of a painful double standard generated by what I choose to wear from the neck up: Non-Muslim women can sport modest clothing and be called professional or elegant, yet when Muslim women dress modestly, our taste and style is often overlooked. Or, to put it more bluntly, when you wear a turtleneck, you’re elegant; when I wear one I’m oppressed.
PHOTO: Victor VIRGILE
A look from Carolina Herrera’s fall 2018 collection
I’m 23 now, and I started wearing a hijab in sixth grade and dressing modestly my freshman year of college, a moment when I started to be comfortable in my own skin and no longer felt the need to conform to the uniform of tight-fitting clothes and short hemlines favored by my peers. While I dress modestly for spiritual reasons, even secular women’s decision to cover up has been framed in the media as something deeper: As former Céline creative director Phoebe Philo, an early adapter to the modest dressing trend, put it in an interview last year, “When you feel secure and comfortable and protected [by your clothes], you feel stronger.” Modest dressing, in other words, is an empowered choice.
PHOTO: Getty Images
A look from Gucci’s fall 2018 collection
PHOTO: Getty Images
A look from Tibi’s fall 2018 collection
The conversation about Muslim women’s fashion is decidedly different. My decision to wear a long-sleeve dress with a high neckline, for example, is often seen as my wanting to “hide” or being “ashamed” of my body. I know because these are the actual comments I routinely get on my blog and social media accounts, along with “Why do you allow men to tell you how to dress?” or “Why do you hate your body?” And also: “Why do you wear a symbol of patriarchy and self-hate?” (Most of these comments, notably, come from men.) I’m sure fellow Muslim women who dress modestly deal with these comments regularly.
There’s a lot about this line of thinking that bothers me. For one thing, it makes it seem like I don’t have any agency when it comes to my fashion decisions. Let me be clear: I love my clothes. I’m happiest when I’m covered head-to-toe in clashing patterns. (I often wear prints from Iran, the country of my parents’ birth.) These commenters also fundamentally misunderstand the religious teachings that inspired my decision to dress modestly, which are rooted in the same principles as secular women’s—taking the emphasis off the female body as the defining characteristic of womanhood.
PHOTO: Peter White
A look from Isabel Marant’s fall 2018 collection
This double standard has implications that go far beyond ignorant comments left on a style blog: In the U.S., for example, Muslim women might be reportedly singled out for government surveillance by the way they dress. A recent report found that Countering Violent Extremism (CVE), a grant program sponsored by Department of Homeland Security (DHS), identifies hijabs and other forms of modest clothing typically worn by Muslim as an indication of “radicalization” or holding “extremist” views. Last August President Trump was reportedly shown a vintage photo from the 1970s of women from Afghanistan clad in miniskirts as proof “that Western norms had existed there before and could return.”
All this plays into something that’s quite common in fashion—the phenomenon of trends seeming to only get the rubber stamp of approval when Western, white people embrace them. In the end, I just want more people in the fashion industry to understand the nuanced politics of fashion, including the double standards. I also wish people recognized that when I wear a modest outfit, it’s because I’m wearing what I want. Personal expression—that’s elegant.
Hoda Katebi is a Chicago-based activist, photographer, and author of the political fashion blog joojooazad.com. Follow her on Instagram and Twitter at @hodakatebi.
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In January, songwriter Julia Michaels made her debut as a solo artist with the hit song “Issues.” Since then, the song has gone triple platinum, Michaels has received two Grammy nominations (Best New Artist and Song of the Year), and she’ll be joining Shawn Mendes, Niall Horan, and Maroon 5 on their upcoming tour. But it hasn’t been an easy journey—here, Michaels opens up about living with anxiety.
I started having anxiety for the first time when I was 18. I’d just signed my first publishing deal, and I felt so much pressure to perform that it sent my mind and body down something that felt like a never-ending spiral. I thought I was dying. Most days, I couldn’t breathe or leave the fetal position. I would rock back and forth, tapping my feet on the floor because I thought if I stopped I would pass out. I became afraid of everything. Going out. Eating. Driving. Writing. My life became a string of, “What ifs?” What if I eat this and I’m allergic to it? What if I’m driving and get in an accident? What happens if I stop moving? I became consumed. I didn’t know who I was anymore. I had completely isolated myself—even from the things I loved. This continued heavily for the next few years.
Anxiety feels like an earthquake shaking your entire body and can last for minutes, hours, or sometimes days. It makes you feel like you were just in sunny California and teleported to winter in Chicago. It’s a lot like that friend who says they’re happy for you but secretly roots for you to fail. It’s always waiting to ruin you and make you feel small. It’s like you’re in a prison with yourself, like there are a thousand bricks weighing your body down. What’s really terrifying, though, is when those bricks start to feel comforting.
It’s scary what your mind and your body can get used to.
Because of this I’m very open about having stage fright. On one occasion, for example, I was performing at Logo’s Trailblazers Honors with the New York City Gay Men’s Chorus. Normally when I perform, my throat gets dry, my hands shake and sweat, my body starts freezing, and I have to assure myself that this feeling isn’t going to last forever. But on this day, I was the most calm I’d ever been. I actually panicked because I wasn’t panicking. It’s scary what your mind and your body can get used to.
The first time I performed “Issues” on television was live for the Billboard Music Awards. At the end of the performance, everyone commended me for being so open. But in reality, I had a massive panic attack on stage. The hug you see me go in for to my keyboard player was actually me turning to her saying, “I can’t breath!” I walked off stage and crumbled into a ball in a backstage hallway. I was so afraid that people could see me. I was so afraid what they would think. So afraid that I had hit all the wrong notes. That I wasn’t ready. Or, even scarier, that I was. So many thoughts in milliseconds streamed through my head. My manager sat with me on the floor and held me until I was able to stand again.
It got to a point where I was having panic attacks every day. I had to sit in a ball and rock myself until I was back to “OK.” I remember thinking, If this is how the rest of my life is going to look, I can’t do this. I can’t live with this constant broken feeling. This constant grey cloud sending out hurricanes every chance it gets onto my skin. I called my manager and told her it was time I see a therapist. My first couple sessions, all I did was cry and panic. I didn’t realize how much emotional duress I was holding inside of my body. How much childhood trauma and avoidance account for anxiety. How the less you talk about how you’re feeling, the more it builds—until you’ve created an over-populated city in your head of everything you’ve suppressed your whole life. I learned that the more toxicity I surrounded myself with, the more toxic my mind became. The more therapy I did, the more the panic became less and less. I learned that for each thing to have anxiety about, I had an association to link it to. For example, when I get anxious before I go on stage I think to myself “Why?” And then I think to myself, “Oh, it’s probably because that one time when I was 12, someone really close to me told me I couldn’t sing, and I’ve held on to that. But that was a long time ago. I’m OK.”
I started weeding out a lot of negativity and things that constantly made me feel emotionally tiny. I am learning every day that those moments will forever be a part of me, but they are not who I am. I am not other people’s projections of their own insecurities. I am my own. I have learned many coping methods and there are different ones for everybody. Rationalizing with myself has been the one to calm me down the most. When that doesn’t work, I do something called grounding, where I take my shoes off, no matter where I am, and plant my feet on the ground. It makes me feel centered, stable, and less confined.
To people who don’t have it, anxiety can seem so foreign and burdening. I once had a boyfriend who would get mad at me every time I had a panic attack. At first, he would try to comfort me, but when I wouldn’t “snap out of it” right away, he would get frustrated. He made me feel even worse than my mind was already making me feel. My dad went through a similar phase with me as well. He would say, “Julia, you’re fine,” to which I would respond, “Please don’t leave.” He didn’t get it until one time we were back in Iowa for the holidays and decided to take a family drive to Illinois. All of a sudden, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I took off my sweater and started screaming. My cousin pulled the car over and opened the minivan doors. It was 40 degrees, and I had stripped myself down to leggings and a bra. My dad had never seen it so severe before. It was the first time he didn’t look at me like I was crazy. That’s what anxiety does: It comes out of nowhere and causes chaos just for fun.
That’s what anxiety does: It comes out of nowhere and causes chaos just for fun.
There’s one time my anxiety turned into a positive, though. I was asked by Ed Sheeran and producer Benny Blanco to come to a house in Malibu and work with them and a few of Ed’s favorite collaborators. It was beautiful, and the people he surrounded himself with were just as beautiful. One day, I was writing in the courtyard with singer/songwriter Foy Vance when these cameras that were following Ed came to see where we were at with the progress of our song. I became so overwhelmed that I discreetly walked away and ran into Benny’s room. I curled up in a ball on his bathroom floor and hyperventilated. Benny left the room and came back in with ice. He had me hold it in my palms tightly to distract my brain from my thoughts and to focus on the cold cubes in my hands. He told me this is one of the methods he uses when he has panic attacks. He stayed next to me and talked me through it. It was the first time someone had stood in front of me and understood me. He knew exactly how I was feeling. It was the first time I didn’t feel so alone. I will never forget that, and I will always have a love and appreciation for him because of that day. For the next two days, we just worked together. We went through a few ideas until I sang the start of a melody that turned out to be “Dive” on Ed’s album. I had laid down the chorus melody and left. The next day, when I came back, Ed loved the idea and wanted to finish it. Knowing I was surrounded by genuine people that day made such a huge difference. It still does.
This year, I’ve made so much progress with my mental illness. Even seeing videos back from where I started to where I am now, I feel an amazing sense of growth and accomplishment. When you’re stuck in that vicious cycle it’s easy to think that you may never get out. And when you realize that prison has an escape door, that Chicago winter suddenly starts to feel like summer again.
I believe I stayed a songwriter for so long because of my anxiety. I was scared I wasn’t good enough. Scared I wouldn’t be accepted. I was scared of not hiding anymore. I was scared of reaching a level of potential I had never reached. I was scared of myself. I convinced myself I didn’t want to be a performer. What if it goes horribly wrong? What if it goes right? I tried to weigh out so many pros and cons for something that I can’t control. But once I’ve made up my mind about something. I go all in. So the day I made the decision to become an artist, there was no going back. I wanted this, and it was time to face my fears.
All it takes is one person to listen. To care. To make you feel like you’re not crazy.
When I see people sing “Issues” with me, it’s the most incredible feeling in the world. When we sing it together, we understand each other. We understand that everyone and everything is flawed, and it’s the thing that connects us the most. When we sing “Issues,” we sing it hundreds of different ways for hundreds of different reasons, but we do it as a whole. We lay all our insecurities out on the table. This is what I’ve always wanted. To be understood, to be heard. To be seen. Just like so many others struggling with mental illness. This year has been a crazy long journey and everyday I’m learning something new about myself. I’ve always found my power and confidence when I write; now, I’m finding it every single day as an artist. I may not know a lot, but I know one thing for sure: This is the most alive and free I’ve ever felt. Pouring out these emotions, facing my fears, and confronting these things I’ve never been able to before is making me stronger everyday.
People with anxiety often don’t talk to others because they think they’re are burdening them with their problems. But all it takes is one person to listen. To care. To make you feel like you’re not crazy. I wouldn’t be making these huge strides every day without the incredible people I surround myself with. Without the help of therapy, my friends, my family, my fans, and my colleagues, I wouldn’t be on this journey. And I’m so glad I am.
You’ve heard the phrase, “Dress for the job you want.” Well, what about dressing for the lifestyle you aspire to? Even if your long weekend schedule is less lounging in some unidentified tropical location and more lounging on the couch while clearing out the Netflix queue and polishing off any remaining summer rosé, that doesn’t mean you can’t dress as though you’re living your most luxurious life.
A good way to do it: By copping one of those fancy-looking robe dresses that were all over the resort collections, and feature prominently on your favorite Instagrammer who, somehow, is perpetually out-of-office. Check out the below styles, all perfect for lounging around in now, and tossing over jeans-and-a-tee come fall as you dream of warmer days—but, hey, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.
