Let’s talk about something awkward.

I just spent an hour on the phone talking to one of the most amazing people I know.

Deeply encouraging. Loyal. Beautiful. Like. Turn your head beautiful. And creative as all get out.

Towards the end of the conversation, she brought up a business venture that she was interested in. I encouraged her, just saying “Offer a time to come meet with them. And then talk yourself up.”

Her response really hit me.


“Talking yourself up and knowing your worth as a woman is probably the hardest thing. Like, what do I say about myself that is so great, you know?”


I wanted to argue. I mean, COME ON. You’re amazing. Give me the resume and I’ll write it myself- just chalk full of all the reasons you would rock this job.

But if I’m honest, it’s absolutely true. It’s hard to see your own value sometimes [lots and lots of times].

You’re so stuck in your own life, your own imperfect skin, surrounded by your own baggage that you truly forget what you have to offer the world. And your best friend can see it. Your family can see it. Hell, you know your dog sees it. But you can’t.

I remember a friend had me do an exercise once that radically changed how I viewed Kendall.

She had me write a letter to myself as if I were writing it to my best friend. 

kensfolk journal


If your best friend came to you with the same concerns of self-worth that you do, what would you tell her? 

See, there are two types of people in this world.

People who write letters. And people who don’t.
And I am so far to the left of those two types of people that I would gladly have everyone throw their iPhones in a big bonfire and dance around it. And then I would go home and write a letter about it.

I pour my feelings out in postage, scribbles, and notes. I keep a physical planner. I was totally up for this challenge.

But then pen got to paper and I was blank. Wow. I would be 3 pages deep if this were my best friend. But about me? I ain’t got nothin’.

Eventually I wrote. Telling me that yes. Yes, I had something big to offer the world. And why yes, I am wasting time by throwing myself a big surprise pity party. Because guess what? It’s time to get to crackin’ with these talents I was given.

I mean, even writing about this makes me all damp in the pits.

But writing a letter to myself with the kindness of a best friend really helped me realize that all those self-worth issues were just in my head.

And you. Yes, you. Reading this. I may know you. I might not. But you are so fantastic. And I know we ALL think we’re not at times. And I know I’m not just being all “feely girl” over here.  I struggle. You struggle. We’re all here.

So please, write yourself a letter as your best friend.

It isn’t conceited. It’s acceptance, kindness, and respect for yourself. It also isn’t perfection. I hate to break it to the two of us, but we aren’t flawless.

But write it. As your biggest fan. And I hope it helps you see yourself the way you are, you amazing human, you.

XO, K.




** I stole this image off of Pintrest.




how charming.

Life is confusing and stressful and downright cruel sometimes. (Not the introduction you were expecting for such a fla la la title, was it? I’m getting there…)

I am not a stranger to the hard things in life- and I don’t believe that anyone in their 20’s really is, despite the fact that we are all desperately trying to seem “normal” and mentally sane. (Easier on some days than others.) For a long time, I believed that “strong” and “private” were synonyms.  And by private, I mean mostly about the less than perfect things. That you couldn’t be happy while admitting that sometimes that your life can really suck, that the way you yelled at your dog was Jerry Springer material, and that you’re not quite sure how you’re going to afford your dentist bill. In a time saturated by social media, where every meal you eat can have a Walden filter thrown on it, you can easily feel disconnected from the genuine emotion of humans. I can also easily get sucked into this world of charm and, sometimes, narcissistic billboarding of one’s “lovely” life. I am here to say that my life is not this perfect picture. Behind every meal is a huge mess of flour in my hair and splatter on the walls. Behind every date night picture is a month of conquering our differences and fighting not to be another statistic in a world that glorifies selfishness. Every fun weekend with friends is years of misunderstandings, hurt feelings and wondering if you’re worth it to them too.

That all to say, I can tell you that I am happy. Happy and flawed. And I am happiest when I can admit the flawed, ugly, and weird aspects of my life, because that’s what connects you to people and let’s them know you’re just another person. And while Instagram and Twitter can be charming and beautiful, it is the other side of the lens that is crucial. Because we’re all messed up. And we need something deeper than our heavy filtered snapshots to feel connected to one another.

Now, I am a wanna-be professional photographer. I am not saying give up social media or hashtag your acne breakouts, but I challenge you to be cognizant of the world and people around you. Send letters with your real hand writing and real emotions. Reach out to people and encourage them. Be intentional with your conversations. Don’t get on your phone during dinners. Be honest in your short comings, not just your successes. Apologize when you’re wrong. Even if it’s from years ago. Start listening and asking questions. Real questions. And don’t let this shallow world swallow you whole.

For the love of pete, don’t let it swallow you whole.


xoxo, k