be humble
It's no secret that I've struggled with keeping Rivas Raves afloat. Ever since moving to Washington, D.C. in October 2015, my priorities have consistently shifted, and I've found that they often shift away from my blog. It isn't that I don't love what I've created — because I really, really do.
Starting a style blog was a dream of mine back in college. But I always worried that I had missed the boat by waiting too long to actually get it off the ground. Fortunately, I finally convinced myself that launching a blog would be worthwhile, even if I didn't have thousands (or millions!) of followers and lucrative sponsorships. It wasn't about that. It was about sharing my passions and perspectives with the world, and if people vibed with what I had to offer, that was just an added bonus.
Somewhere along the way, though, I lost sight of that initial motivation. The blog became a source of near-constant pressure: pressure to take the most amazing photos in the most amazing locales while wearing the most amazing clothes by the most amazing designers. I began to feel inadequate. I couldn't keep up with the expectation that bloggers be completely glossified and ~photo ready~ at any given moment. I began comparing myself to other bloggers who had chicer ensembles, perfectly curled hair, and a seemingly endless supply of white marble on which they curated the most elegant flatlays.
Yeah, that's not me. The fact of the matter is this: I'm a scatterbrained mess most of the time, and it's tough enough figuring out how to balance being a career woman, a partner, a daughter, a sister, a friend, etc. I don't always have my life together, and I don't want to create some illusion that I do. But unfortunately, that's exactly what social media pressures us into doing. You put out what you want the world to see — even if it isn't the whole story. And that kind of deception is troubling to me, especially in a time where the line between authentic and contrived is increasingly blurry.
So that's why I've taken a step back from certain social sites, most notably Instagram, which can be a depressive trigger for me. If I get lost in the sea of strangers whose lives I'm constantly envying, I'm unable to focus on the most important life of all: mine. And my life is busy AF! I'm working to achieve a lot, both personally and professionally. I want to travel more. I want to keep growing my career. I want to get more bylines as a freelance writer. I want to go back to school. I want to reach my fitness and health goals. And, most importantly, I want to be a better partner, daughter, sister, and friend.
That's just some of what currently occupies my mind space. It's a lot. On any given day I'm likely frozen in fetal position in my bed, overwhelmed by all that I have to do. Thankfully, I'm learning the value of managing expectations, a practice that is especially valuable for overachievers. For the longest time I'd get so upset at myself for not being able to juggle everything: the job, the relationship, the family, the fitness, the writing, the traveling. I had to accept that I can't do it all. But it took me a while to figure out that no one one can do it all — and that's the real secret.
This idea of being humble comes into play here. To me, humble means two things: It's a recognition of your roots, your history, your upbringing; of how your life experiences have shaped you into the person you are today. But it's also a recognition of your limitations. To be humble is to be aware that you're human and thus flawed, and that you won't be able to do it all. It's surrendering yourself to this truth and being okay with imperfection.
I may not be able to give Rivas Raves 100 percent of my time and energy, but it's still an important part of me. I will work on posting more regularly and on sharing content that's organic and a true reflection of my interests and values. And if there's anything you'd like to see more of, let me know! I want to make Rivas Raves a more collaborative endeavor, so I'm eager to hear feedback and suggestions.
Until next time,
Mekita
