When Bella and I were 16 or so, we bravely walked to the back wall of our local Spencer’s and feasted our eyes on sex toys of every shape size and color. It was an intimidating display to say the least, but we Catholic school girls were determined to hit this milestone. 

“I like to do things alone.” Unless you’re announcing you’re anti-chocolate or, even rarer, anti-dog, there’s few statements which provoke a response like this one. 

“Follow for follow?” What a hauntingly repetitive phrase from my middle school and early high school years that naively assumed who I follow and what content I see doesn’t matter—followers did. 

I wake up to an alarm—my least favorite thing on a Saturday morning. I roll out of bed, get dressed in leggings and a sports bra, and eat my most favorite thing—yogurt, blueberries, and granola. 

Ahhhhh…fall. You know the feeling? The weather turns cool but not yet cold, the leaves start to change colors, hoodies and jeans replace flip-flops and shorts, pumpkin spice is everywhere, and Halloween decorations go up alongside general autumnal ones.

My mom gives great advice, but as a trained social worker and leader of mental health initiatives across Pennsylvania, that makes sense. When I began talking seriously about my goal of one day finding a partner, my mom’s advice proved invaluable.

“You can’t be loved if you don’t love yourself first”—the kind of line you read on TJ Maxx mugs and Instagram captions. It sounds cliché, right?