here's where I'm at

A graduation picture at McGill.

A graduation picture at McGill.

A lot has changed since the last time I wrote, so I figured it might be time for a good old-fashioned life update. 

On May 1st, on the cusp of finishing my undergrad, I packed my bags and relocated from Montreal to Vancouver. With me came little more than a couple suitcases and my best friend (and roommate of three years) Mariam. Between the two of us, we had very little set out for when we arrived other than a signed lease. We didn’t yet have jobs, furniture, wifi and electricity, mattresses, groceries, or anything else.
It’s the most okay with being unplanned that I have ever been.

By the time I wrote the first draft of this piece, two months after arriving in the city, I fortunately was able to have coordinated all of those things. In that very moment, I was sitting in the park by the water near my house, at sunset, watching baby geese cross the road as cyclists yielded to them. Even though geese are aggressive, there is nothing I want more than to hug one.

Sitting in this park is something I make a very peaceful habit out of several times per week. I’m not used to all this wildlife because Montreal didn’t have much of it — and in New Brunswick, where I grew up, there’s definitely more of it but the juxtaposition of it with urbanism makes it particularly striking. 

The view near my house.

The view near my house.

I miss Montreal a lot, and I often feel conflicted about being away from it. Over the past few months, I’ve thought a lot about my relationships to the places I’ve lived, and will live, and the contrasting emotions that are turned up by both familiarity (what feels like comfort) and newness (what feels like adventure). 

When I moved here, I left some of my belongings in Montreal, knowing I’d be back for them at some point. Held onto by some of the people I love are suitcases packed with old books from thrift stores, old friends, and the McGill book fair. A wooden nightstand that my great grandfather built, gifted to me by my grandparents years ago. And a vintage armchair I bought off of Facebook Marketplace in third year and struggled to transport up and down a very Montreal number of stairs.

I just think that things have inherent sentimental value. Conversely, baggage sometimes also looks very physical. 

But, obviously, most of the time baggage is an idea in your head — hence the metaphor itself. I think that’s part of why I moved across the country. I knew that in order to properly clear my head, I needed to remove myself from the environment in which I’d felt so much heartache, hopelessness, and sadness. I know that I will return there once the dust settles. And maybe that’s why the idea of still having belongings there is significant — it’s a way to still feel grounded there. Even after losing the main signifier of my identity there — being a student — I still have a reason to go back.

Moving across the country has forced me to reconsider my relationships with everything, and to hone in on their very physical realities. I think it has to do with the trauma which the last 1.5 years bestowed upon me (and I am sure upon you, too). 

life during the pandemic

Growing up, I was a very goals and future-oriented person, which served me well in many ways. It propelled me through a university career of passionate, keen climate and social justice activism, much of which influenced me to launch Ethigirl. 

But it would be dishonest to shy away from admitting that all of that energy wasn’t, occasionally (and throughout the pandemic, basically permanently), exhausting. I’ve seen friends and fellow activists talk about this, too, so I know I’m not the first — or the only. And that’s part of why I write this, too. To let you know that, if you’re in the same boat, it’s not just you.

Somewhere throughout the pandemic, I noticed that something wasn’t right about me anymore. But it took so long for me to pay attention that my body forced me to do so through physical symptoms. Shortness of breath, nausea, dizziness. For me, the signs pointed to iron deficiency, so I called the McGill clinic to speak with a doctor. But as she continued down her line of questioning, it became clear to me that she disagreed. Long story short, in October, I was diagnosed with depression. 

Admitting this online, when I know how many people read my writing, and how public it is, feels terrifying. It feels vulnerable and unnatural in the way that going into a store without a mask might feel now. So, I am trusting that this information is in good hands with you. Because in spite of the negative feelings, it still feels important for you to know.

I think that while the pandemic has done a lot to make it easier to talk about mental illness, we’re still pretty far from a world where it’s easy. We’re also pretty far from a reality wherein people know what to say or how to help when you share something like this with them. To those people, here’s the advice I’d offer: while it’s valid that you are, there’s no reason to be uncomfortable. Someone else just made you feel like there is.

Although hearing that I had depression was really difficult, it also helped create an externalized identity for everything that I was feeling — helping me to understand that although it was within my brain, and felt deeply personal, it wasn’t. It was just another part of my health. 

Wreck Beach in Vancouver.

Wreck Beach in Vancouver.

recovery

I’ve spent the last 8-10 months recovering from my depressive episode. I’ve settled into a job that I enjoy, working from home and having the flexibility to create the workspace I want. I’ve been getting outside as much as possible, exploring my surroundings and swimming at the beach whenever I can. Also, now that I’m fully vaccinated, I also got the opportunity to go visit my family in New Brunswick a couple of weeks ago. I’ve got to tell you — the feeling of hugging my grandparents for the first time in two years was indescribable. I LOVE YOU, SCIENCE. 

My roommate Mariam and I ❤️

My roommate Mariam and I ❤️

I’m focused on creating for myself, at a foundational level, simplicity. I love my routine, managing my time, pushing myself to wake up just a little bit earlier, so that I can make breakfast and open the windows to let the fresh air in. I love listening to the music I want, and steeping my coffee as strongly as I want. But I also love going out of my way to seek out joy, and to celebrate everything. I love stressing less about what my classmates are doing after graduation. I loved deactivating my Instagram account for months, and even now as I’ve reactivated it, I love barely using it (Lorde is so right about this one). 

The past year was so complicated, with so many big life transitions and decisions. It makes sense that I feel this way, and if you do, that makes sense too.

I’m still figuring out what it means to properly balance activism, hobbies, and community work with my job, and still having enough time for all of the routine activities I need to complete in order to maintain stability.

identifying what hope feels like

There is no part of me, though, that is less concerned by the same topics than I used to be. I’m even more terrified by climate change than I ever have been. My first summer in BC has definitely introduced me to a fear of forest fires I never had before. A couple of weeks ago, during a heat wave, we had a day that I thought something was burning in my house because I could smell smoke. But when I looked outside, the city was engulfed in a huge smoke cloud. 

I’ve been disappointed in myself for not doing more for our climate. But much more than that, I’m infuriated by the degree to which billionaires have profited off of the pandemic, and how the blame of increased pollution is instead placed on a population of people who are just doing what they need to do to get by. Especially when the reality is that the 1% is choosing a space race over investing in the climate action and social assistance that the world crucially needs. 

Some pretty great swimming in Squamish, BC

Some pretty great swimming in Squamish, BC

I am simply not comfortable asking my readers to remember their reusable bags when, an hour two away from me, the forest is on fire. It’s like telling you to move around chairs on the deck of the Titanic. Should you still do that? Yes, of course! But…

Transparently, all of this has made me feel like, when it comes to Ethigirl, the problems engulfing our world are so overwhelming that I don’t know what to recommend at this point. 

But the point of me saying all of this is not to be bleak or hopeless. It’s just to be vulnerable and honest. Inauthentic optimism helps no one. 

My pals. <3

My pals. <3

I do believe there is still a lot of hope, and a lot of incredible people working as hard as they can. The most important thing is that we work together, rather than individually shouldering the burden of the most complex and enormous issue that humanity has ever faced. The best thing I can suggest, at this time, is to get involved. Organize in your local community. If you’re Canadian, ensure you vote critically this September. Find out when your next climate march is, and go to it.

Ensure, most importantly, though, throughout all of it, that you remember sustainability starts from within. Investing in your health is the only way you can show up for the causes you care about.

Thank you so much for reading, and I love you all so much. 

With love, sustainability, and all the mental resilience I can offer,

Ethigirl. 

And here she stood, at the crux of an epiphany, not yet ready to decide whether she was brave enough to accept it. 

Here she stood, at the crossroads of comfort and challenge, balanced atop a twenty-two years of pushing, of working, of trying to encapsulate the person she saw herself as, while the person she really was quietly and patiently awaited the day she’d be confronted. 

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three mental health apps i recommend

Hi folks! Today I’d like to talk about mental health, which something I have spent more time thinking about this year than ever before in my life.

It may or may not be a surprise for you to learn this, but COVID-19 has negatively impacted many Canadians’ mental health. As a global community, we’re facing unprecedented challenges that will require all the brainpower, emotional labour, and sustainability we can muster to solve. We must have access to the mental healthcare that we need in order not only to survive, but also to thrive. I’d like to start on a micro level today by talking about something that’s helped me — taking advantage of my phone, rather than allowing it to work against me quite so much.

As someone who saw my Weekly Screen Time Report go up by much more than I’m proud of, a couple of months ago I decided to try and use my phone more positively. I figured there had to be lots of smart people working on lots of cool mental health-related apps, and after some research, I wasn’t disappointed! Here are my favourite mental health apps, coupled with brief rundowns on what they’re helpful for.

Headspace

Cost

- Normal subscription: $6/month or $70/year
- Student subscription: $10/year (I believe this may only work in the US! Apologies!)
- Family subscription: 6 accounts for $100/year (this is what I use with a group of friends!)

Source This image gives an overview of what the app’s various features actually look like.

Source
This image gives an overview of what the app’s various features actually look like.

Headspace is one of the most popular meditation and sleep apps out there, and for good reason. I’ve been using it for about a year and a half and I don’t see myself stopping anytime soon. There is truly something for everyone, even if you’ve never tried meditation before!

You’ll find programs ranging anywhere from a minute to basically an infinite amount of time, and you can search/filter based on whatever you need. There are also courses, an exercise tab called “move”, and then my personal favourite — the sleep tab. Headspace offers guided sleep meditations, calming music, soundscapes, and something called “sleepcasts”, which is basically a 45-minute story with calming sounds behind it.

Moreover, if you’d like to get a better sense of what Headspace — or even meditation in general — entail, you should consider checking out Netflix’s Headspace Guide to Meditation! This 8-part series guides viewers through the many benefits of incorporating a meditation practice into their daily routines, whilst also providing them with opportunities to try it out themselves. This show is definitely on my watchlist.

 

Source A screenshot of Jour’s Daily Journal screen.

Source
A screenshot of Jour’s Daily Journal screen.

Source A sample screenshot of Jour’s Insights screen.

Source
A sample screenshot of Jour’s Insights screen.

Cost

- Free version, with limited personalized features
- Paid version: $60/year, with a 7-day free trial

Jour is a mindfulness and mental health journal that uses tech to help you with your personal mental health needs. I have been using this app for about half a year, and I am such a huge fan of everything about it. It uses the freemium model — which essentially means there is both a free and a paid version, with the latter having more enhanced features than the former. While I recently upgraded to the paid subscription, I believe there is a lot of value in using whichever version you can afford.

Me, using Jour!

Me, using Jour!

This beautifully-designed app has a whole host of features, including guided journals and breathing, ‘stories’ (ie. short blog-style posts on various topics), insights, and a record of all your entries. Personally, I believe the most powerful aspect of the app comes in the form of its AI-powered journal and its insights tab. First of all, the daily journal works by asking you a series of questions about your mood and what you believe it’s being affected by. Based upon your answers, it creates a custom open-ended questionnaire that you can fill out. After you complete it (these normally take 5-10 minutes, depending on how much detail you use), the paid version of the app provides you with a “breakthrough”: bite-sized advice based on what you wrote in your journal.

After you complete enough daily journals, the insights tab will begin to populate — providing you with information about the trends of your daily, weekly, and monthly moods and thoughts. If you can foresee how this would continue over time, coupled with the everlasting record of all your entries, you can imagine how powerful this might become in managing your mental health. I really can’t recommend this app enough.


Habit

Cost

- Free version, with limited features
- Premium version: $40/year

Let’s end off with a simple, but immensely powerful habit tracker that will propel you forward in meeting your goals! Habit is a colourful, easy-to-use habit tracker that I’ve had for about half a year. The reason I like this habit tracker more than any others is that the free version (which I personally use) allows you to make a good number of habits. I also like the simplicity of its interface; there’s one screen for everything, and it looks good.

There are a couple benefits of moving to the premium version — you can use dark mode, you can track unlimited habits, you can create more detailed smartphone notifications, and you can add a Habit-based widget to your homescreen. I’m personally happy with the free version for now given the simple reasons I use this app; however, I can totally see why you’d upgrade.

I started using a habit tracker not because I wanted to whip myself into shape, meet fitness goals, or do something crazy. Instead, I downloaded this app because I just wanted to take better care of myself. Earlier this year, I was really struggling with accomplishing what were, to me, the most basic things. Something I know about myself is that I gain happiness from a sense of accomplishment, regardless of the scale on which those accomplishments actually are. So, I set myself up with a digital checklist which would help me access that.

Some of the things I started keeping track of every day include: taking my vitamins, eating 3 meals (or an equivalent) per day, getting outside, meditating, journaling (both using the two apps above!), and drinking enough water. For me, just having a very straightforward place to go check those things off a list, and see a bar fill a little more, was enough to keep me motivated. This app has definitely positively contributed to my life, and I’m sure it will yours, too.

Conclusion

I simply want to end off by saying that of course these apps are no substitute to mental healthcare; however, they have certainly been of great assistance to me. I wholeheartedly believe in the missions and power of all of the apps I’ve recommended above — a level of such that can come only from using them daily over the course of months.

Are there any apps — or other online tools or resources — that I missed and should check out? Let me know in the comments! I look forward to hearing your feedback and commentary if you decide to try any of them.

With love and sustainability,
ethigirl :)

“sustainability guilt” and re-centering joy: interview with juliette escande, sustainable food aficionado

Aspen: So, tell me about your history with food and sustainability.

Juliette: I became vegetarian for weird reasons. I started living by myself from a young age and I was worried about how I’d ensure I stayed healthy. So I decided to make a change in my diet. I knew that if I focused on that with a goal in mind I could stay motivated, learn new recipes, and eat less takeout.

Later on, when I came to McGill, I initially wanted to focus my degree just on business. But when I found out about the Fair Trade Corner (a volunteer-run, by-donation coffee stand on campus) I got excited about food and sustainability. That’s what pushed me to change my degree to Managing for Sustainability and make it more than just my daily life. I loved my classes; for one of them we even came up with a venture idea to reduce food waste. I then found a job at Lufa Farms as Community Coordinator, through which I educated folks about sustainable foods and their importance.

Aspen: I relate to what you said about making vegetarianism a project. I learned so much about cooking and creativity, plus ate out way less, during my time as a vegetarian. Could you tell me more about what specifically sustainable food means to you?

Juliette: Working at Lufa made me realize that the most important thing is eating locally -- it’s not only good for the environment, but also accessible and beneficial to the economy. It checks all the boxes. Local usually means less packaging and less food miles. In order to buy with as little packaging as possible, I go to the farmers’ market, which is super cheap and you can bring your own bags. To me, that’s the most sustainable you can be.

Aspen: I agree. For me, when I started out, I thought eating zero meat was peak sustainability, but I later realized it wasn’t for many people for many reasons, including myself. Also, meat isn’t inherently bad for the environment, it’s just how we produce it. 

Juliette: I was once told that sustainability isn’t about vegetarianism, it’s about mindfulness. The moment you become conscious of your choices, you start making a difference. The idea of just one day cutting out all meat is so discouraging and overwhelming. So if I eat meat, am I mindful of where it came from? Being mindful also means not just replacing your meat with vegetarian substitutes, which aren’t necessarily great for the environment either!

Aspen: I agree and I like that. Being mindful is super important. When people feel like if they’re not doing it perfectly it’s not worth it at all, that’s discouraging and gatekeeping. In reality, eating meat once a week is not much worse than not eating it at all. It’s important to shift into that mindset.

With that said, how do you balance taking care of both yourself and the planet?

Juliette: I find that sometimes, even if you’re not doing something by the “textbook definition” of sustainability, there’s always another way to adjust. It’s not about specific rules that need to be followed; we don’t need to be so strict on ourselves. Putting all this pressure on yourself is not worth it. For me, it’s more about asking myself “what’s the best thing I can do to reduce this waste”. It’s a matter of adjusting to the situation and not telling yourself there’s a right-and-wrong way. The other week, I ordered from GoodFood because I got a great promotion, and when it arrived the packaging made me feel sick. But at the same time, if I’m broke, I shouldn’t feel guilty of taking advantage of an offer to get $80 off my groceries. However, feeling guilty also means something -- I understand the consequences of my actions. I can weigh the decisions and adapt accordingly.

Aspen: Completely agree. I wrote a recent article about how HelloFresh helped me. Although I feel awful about the packaging and not cooking from scratch or local, I’ve been eating healthy meals and I’ve been more satisfied with myself.

Juliette: And you actually end up wasting less food! 

Aspen: Yes, exactly! And I feel like we don’t talk enough about the mental health impact of all this sustainability guilt. If you’re feeling guilty about how your individual decisions are destroying the environment all the time, that’s really unhealthy. Ensuring all our purchases are sustainable is an unfair expectation. It’s important to balance what sorts of pressures we’re putting on ourselves, and whether they’re actually productive.

What’s a main tip you’d give to someone looking to make their diet more sustainable?

Juliette: Go to the farmers’ market! It’s hard to stay connected to our food. For me, sometimes food is just like brushing my teeth - something I need to do today. It can be hard to find excitement about cooking, and on top of that I also need to be sustainable? There’s no joy left. Finding pleasure in food is what makes it so much fun. With my roommate, we go every Saturday to Jean Talon and make it a fun activity. Food is at the basis of changing everything, and the moment you eat sustainably, it’s going to taste and feel better. It’s finding a way to make sustainability fun; in the long run it will make you happier.

Aspen: Wow. For me too. Food and cooking changed my life. Discovering that as a hobby, something to look forward to and build a routine around. Finding pleasure in my food, sustainability, doing right by the planet, feeling connected to food and purchases in general is a radical act. Our current systems have divided us from who makes our products. Reclaiming those connections is a beautiful thing. 

Juliette: It goes with the rules we talked about. If you put rules on your eating, you make it less fun. If you actually start enjoying what you eat, you naturally become more mindful of it. They go hand-in-hand. 

Aspen: yes - just trying to find ways to take the “chore” aspect out of it and make it more enjoyable. 

OK, last question: what are your favourite sustainable restaurants and stores?

Juliette: Here’s a list:

and i hope you are able to write again.

the: beginning of it all.

A photo taken by a high school friend the summer I launched Ethigirl.

A photo taken by a high school friend the summer I launched Ethigirl.

Slightly over two years ago, from the kitchen table of my childhood home in rural New Brunswick, I created Ethigirl.com. I was fighting my way through the summer after my first year of university, working full-time at a local bank during the day, running during the evenings, and travelling around the province during the weekends. 

But those were the easy things. Because there were lots of harder things, too. I finished my first year of university feeling lonely. Throughout high school, the final two years of which I’d also - in retrospect - felt incredibly lonely, I imagined university as a utopia. The time I’d finally find “my people” and thrive instantly. Needless to say, that… didn’t happen. I was also in a long-distance relationship. I felt caught between two worlds: my New Brunswick one, which contained my family and boyfriend, and my Montreal one, which contained my new home, school, and handful of friends I clung to and desperately wished to make lifelong. And I never, during all of those months, felt fully present in either. I started getting unbearable anxiety. My chest felt tight and full of butterflies all the time. Sometimes, I could barely eat. I managed by exercising as much as I could, so that I was too tired to even recognize the anxiety. But I knew something was wrong - something needed to change. 

When I moved home that spring, my boyfriend and I broke up several weeks after celebrating three years of dating. I had changed so much during that time that I felt unrecognizable. It was the hardest thing my young heart had faced to that day. So I threw myself into productive things. I started running. A lot. I’d sometimes get up before work, around 5am, and run a 15k before heading into the bank. It was working well, for awhile. My anxiety got better. 

Then one week, when my parents were on vacation and I was home alone, I checked my phone while out for groceries. My grandma had sent me a message on Facebook. She was sick and at the hospital. My chest got tight immediately and my heart dropped. I raced to the hospital to see her. She was okay, and I continued to visit her for the next few nights. My parents came home early from their vacation. It seemed like everything was going to be fine.

My grandma and I at my high school prom.

My grandma and I at my high school prom.

But then my parents came home one day after visiting my grandparents. I remember the look on their face as they came through the door. I couldn’t place it. My dad told me they gave her three months to live. She had been re-diagnosed with cancer. It ended up being three weeks. She passed away just a few days after I moved back to Montreal to start my second year of university. I returned home with my brother and his girlfriend to attend the wake and the funeral. 

I had been spending time that summer figuring out what went wrong my first year of university, why I felt so alone and so lost and like everything was wrong. Why this place and time I’d projected so much onto for so many years didn’t live up to the expectations I’d created for it. I thought, second year will be a new start. I’ll do things differently. That summer was supposed to be calm time at home with family. And it really was, up until the end. Until I lost my grandma. Something I could never have been prepared for. 

My grandma was everything. She was the strand that tied my family together. She was filled with light and laughter and creativity and the most compassion and selflessness I’ve ever seen a human being possess. I loved her so much. 

Her passing made me realize I needed to do something important. I needed to try and create something. I needed to live out my passions in creative, beautiful ways that helped others.

And so I created Ethigirl. And Ethigirl was my place.

It was a brand for me, a persona, something created by me and me alone. People started using it as a nickname. My website was a platform for my passions, for sharing what I believed to be good and right. It allowed me to differentiate myself from other people. It gave me something to talk about when people said “tell me about yourself”. It was an outlet and an identifier. 

the: then.

Me on a rooftop in early March, just days into the pandemic.

Me on a rooftop in early March, just days into the pandemic.

A couple of months ago, everything changed (obviously). At first, I felt okay. I wrote some things. I reached out to my friends. I exercised.

I was also a hypocrite.

I shared to my Instagram story all of those posts like “the quarantine is not the time to shame yourself for your lack of productivity!!”

…But then went and did literally exactly that. I found myself in darkened rooms unable to find the motivation to eat, let alone write or work on a side hustle or passion project. Why couldn’t I afford myself the same compassion and generosity that I afforded every single one of my talented, intelligent, hardworking friends when they told me they were going through the same things? 

At some point, I closed the always-opened tab of Ethigirl.com on my laptop. I could not write anymore. I could not bring myself to write something that didn’t feel equally as existential as the times we are living in. I couldn’t write yet another slow fashion influencer listicle. I could not write something that didn’t feel like me. That didn’t match all of the very raw, vulnerable, unprecedented feelings that I was and still very much am feeling.

So I didn’t write anything at all.

Because I didn’t even know what I actually WANTED to write. How do you put all of this into words?

During this time away from my site, I also realized that along the way, I lost the part of Ethigirl that was an outlet. A creative space. A platform for me to live out the values that my grandma inspired and instilled within me. At some point, it became far more about the page views, the follower counts, the likes and comments. And so much less about the content itself. About writing things that made me tick. That made other people feel something. I realized that I need to make this feel less like an obligation and more of a way of writing my thoughts and inviting the world to read them. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about defining, and quite frankly redefining our normative definitions of “success” and “accomplishment”. I could put my academia hat on and critically analyze the fact that capitalism leads us to define our success by financial and productivity terms. By working hard, VERY hard, exhausting ourselves until we reach our lofty goals. Goals that usually look like blog/social media engagement numbers (like follower counts), numbers of articles or posts published, dollars made, hours worked, projects finished. Anything that is tangible and easily quantifiable. 

But what about everything else? When the lockdown first happened it forced us all home. Many of us lost our jobs. Many of us never found new ones. We’ve had to process and overcome so many different tragedies, letdowns, and forms of grief over these past few months. 

What happens when you can’t pin your identity to a job anymore? Or a university? Or even a career aspiration, because it’s impossible to know absolutely anything with certainty anymore? 

I think what happens then is you look inwards. This has been an opportunity to reevaluate all of those five-year, ten-year plans. Toss them out and actually just look at the now. Pause. Take off every single hat we were and focus on ourselves. Because if we didn’t (and don’t) do that, we can’t stay afloat. Not right now. 

So we cling onto the small joys. We order the food, we eat the ice cream, we give ourselves the leniency of not finishing that thing that day, or maybe not finishing it at all. We take longer breaks. We sleep more. We go on gentle walks and we don’t punish ourselves. Because we can’t right now. And we have a built-in excuse not to. 

Pandemic love.

Pandemic love.

Many people have started craving connections. Meaningful ones. We need support, love, and affection now than we’ve quite possibly ever needed it before. We’ve started dating more, or at least figuring out what we’re looking for. What love looks like to us, means to us, and what it’s lacked in the past. Again, looking inward and trying to understand what would make us happy in this moment, rather than five or ten years from now. But also doing the hard emotional work.

We’ve been holding onto each other, unfurling our trauma and grief together, carrying each other through the best that we possibly can. And I’ve come to the conclusion that there is absolutely nothing more important than all of these connections and relationships. Life is entirely, inextricably meaningless without them. 

the: from now on.

Before the lockdown happened, I was the busiest I had ever been. I would wake up every morning completely exhausted, just barrelling through the best that I could. I’d check my Google calendar once, twice, thrice, infinitely because I couldn’t even remember what was next. I was, I think, happy — I felt accomplished in this time. I was working hard and achieving big goals. I was working on the things I felt passionate about. And then, one day, everything...stopped. 

The articles on this website that I am the most proud of, out of anything else I’ve written during my time as the host of this URL, are my Empathetic Academic piece and my Sustainable Dinner Party piece. Both are well-researched, informed by lived experiences, and written and published to evoke some kind of emotion from the reader. Although they aren’t necessarily my articles that have the best SEO, the highest numbers of clicks, the greatest social media engagement, the ones that appear repeatedly on my Google Analytics dashboard, I could not care less. They are my best articles. Because they are the best quality, not the ones that simply “cracked the online code”. 

I don’t give a shit anymore about that stuff. Because focusing on the numbers and the data overwhelmed me so much that it stopped me from creating actual good, important content.

So I’m done, mostly, with the listicles. You can expect things to get a little bit more personal over here. I don’t want to fall into the same traps I fell into before.

I want to be vulnerable and as gentle with myself as I try to be with everyone else.
I want to write the things that come to me in the middle of the night.
I want to publish quality content, but I don’t want it to be the same listicle-style stuff that I started out doing.

I will, of course, still share about wonderful brands because it’d be a shame if I didn’t. I’ll still recommend things. But for me, this website was born out of a pretty hard time in my life, and here I am now, about two years later, in maybe an even harder time. I need this outlet, but it needs to evolve as I do.

I’m changing all of the time, but something that will absolutely stay the same is my desire to share what I believe is right and good in the world. That is something I have pretty strong opinions about, and i am sticking to it. 

I find myself in another phase of learning, growing, and hardship, from which I can draw many similarities of my pre-second year self. As I enter my final year of university, however, this phase is very different. I’ve grown so much since then, and so too has Ethigirl. Therefore, this platform has to evolve alongside its owner. I am excited to see what the future has in store for this website, and I hope to bring you much more content that I am proud of and that moves you.

With all the love in my heart, and the sustainability to continue in the long run,

Ethigirl.

Thank you for sticking with me.

Thank you for sticking with me.