EAT SLEEP REPEAT | “It’s Called Self Care” — Why the Mantra Is Ruining My Life

In the past week I have napped an average of two hours per day, impulsively bought three sweaters that I cannot afford, practically inhaled Twizzlers and an entire sleeve of Oreos, and watched five of the raunchiest past episodes of The Bachelor, all while telling myself, “It’s called self care.”

Hindsight is 20/20 of course, and looking back I think my actions were probably the complete opposite of self care. In the moment, however, I was so encapsulated in my stress from prelim season that I allowed myself to do practically anything just because I have this extremely vague mantra to “affirm” my desires. And it doesn’t seem like I am alone in my quest for an excuse to treat myself. It seems as though social media’s mainstream idea of self care just feeds into a cycle of bad habits, and undermines the necessity of actually taking care of ourselves and our bodies, straying away from what the term was actually meant to accomplish. The term “self-care” originated as a medical concept, as a way for doctors to tell patients to treat themselves and lead healthy lifestyles.

CULTURALLY SHOOK | We Don’t Sleep Anymore

I want to dissociate. Split myself into two bodies, break myself apart into two corporal entities. It would be a twisted ode to nuclear fission, except instead of dividing the nucleus of an atom I would just be dividing myself. Just imagine! I could exist in two places at once, think two thoughts at once, do two things at once.

MARY’S MUSINGS | Be You, Be Happy

Being happy isn’t something that others can do for you; it’s something that you need to find for yourself.  Sometimes, or maybe too often, happiness is a battle.  People have always described me as a bubbly and positive person.  I excel at helping others and trying to put a smile on their faces to brighten their days.  I’m that person that smiles at strangers on the street.

STUDY BREAK | Un-hindering Happiness

Life can be frustrating. Things don’t always go according to plan. People let you down, the future seems uncertain, demands pile up and stress invades your life. You start to beat yourself up over mistakes. Life loses its shine.


No matter how hard I try, I’ll never be able to explain to you the intricacy of a razor. I don’t really want to, either. I figured out myself one night how to take it apart, how to free the blades, and it’s my secret. Its marks on my skin are also my secrets: the deep, linear slices from days I was just angry, a little lopsided from days I couldn’t stop shaking. Those were the beginning days, though.