Flow Vol. 3

Four-Year-Olds, Failed First Dates, & Fields

Oct 17, 2025

Hello beautifuls! Welcome back to another week of Flow.

If you’re new here, Flow is a logbook on The Handwritten where I “document the flow of the human experience— logging the authentic, tumultuous time that is my life as a 22-year-old woman.”

I will not be telling you what my life means or giving deep, mind-altering advice. Instead, I’ll show you what it’s like to be me— what I do, who I talk to, what I notice.

I’ll act as a relatively objective narrator in my living memoir. Only partially objective because these entries come from my fallible memory; even what I perceive is tinted by ghosts of Christmas Past.1

So I digress, and welcome you to another peek into my small details that will help me remember the big details.2

A Thursday in October 2025

Flow: Four-Year-Olds, Fields, & Failed First Dates

6:15 am. I woke up to the sound of a warm breeze; not the kind along a Florida ocean shore, but the ring-ting-a-ling-a-ling of a Sleep Cycle alarm. Slowly stumbled out of bed to my Sweet Cherry coffee bag, filling Mr. Coffee up with its grounds. Hit “brew now” and headed to the living room. My friend Sophie was lying across the couch- a dinner party turned sleepover. I shut the blinds to block the morning sun, whispered goodnight, and returned to Mr. Coffee in the kitchen.

At the sound of the last drip, I whipped up my iced coffee and headed upstairs. Sat at my makeshift nightstand- a foldable table covered in floral wrapping paper and a mirror nailed in with a prayer. Grabbed my palm-sized red makeup bag and did my beauty routine with muscle memory: concealer, tinted sunscreen, blush, brown eyeliner, mascara.

Rustled through my basket of clean clothes to find my favorite butterfly skirt: a uniform I like to wear whenever I’m working with kids for the day. Said goodbye to my roommates and headed out the door.

7:30 am. 15-minute drive to work, decorated by Olivia Dean’s The Art of Loving.3 Turned right onto the med campus. Another right. No parking. A left. No parking. Another right and a spot! Took a breath and parallel parked in one go. Hopped out of my car, walked, walked, and walked, only stopping for a picture of freshly planted mums.

8:00 am. Four-Year-Olds

I clocked in, excited yet nervous. Today was our final, four-year-old pilot for the Neonatal Predictors of Anxiety (NPAD-R) behavioral visit.

If you’re asking yourself what the hell that means, let me catch you up to speed really quickly:
NPAD-R is a longitudinal study that looks at neurodevelopmental predictors of anxiety from birth to school age: what kinds of behaviors in infants, 2-year-olds, and 4-6-year-olds predict a later anxiety diagnosis? What parenting styles are associated with anxiety? How do the brain networks continue to develop over time into an anxious brain?
I joined NPAD-R to support the four-year-old data collection, as the original babies we scanned for the study are now turning four! My job is to collect behavioral data (measuring different emotional expressions and parent-child interactions), attentional data (completing eyetracking tasks), and, of course, brain data (collecting fMRI data while the child watches movies). My team and I have been running around like chickens with our heads cut off, perfecting our protocols, getting feedback from our anxiety friends at Yale and Maryland, and practicing data collection until we know it like the back of our hands. Today was the last chance to memorize the palm of the behavioral visit.

Ok, now you’re caught up. Back to the flow!

Entered my building. Walked past the PT students to my observation room corner at the Early Emotional Development Center. My colleague was already setting up. I joined her in a coordinated dance, setting out coloring books, magnatiles, and a Paw Patrol table; powering on cameras, observation room computers, and eyetracking equipment; prepping and troubleshooting until the family texted they had arrived. Perfect timing as always, thanks to my coordinator.

Throughout the next few hours, we ran an hour-long behavioral assessment, watched Bluey eye-tracking videos, and visited a pretend MRI machine. We thanked the family, handing out a small rubber duck as an appreciation for participating with us. I walked them out and said goodbye. Took a breath and smiled at the whirlwind of a pilot, like an opening night of a musical that’s been in the works for months. Relieved, proud, grateful, and excited for the study to come.

We finished cleaning up and said goodbye, leaving me to my strawberry cream protein drink, thoughts, and lingering feelings of sadness: emotions no longer masked by behavioral pilot anxiety.

I walked to the waiting area of our suite and took 5 minutes to breathe, feeling frustrated with myself that I felt sad after such a positive work experience.

Glanced over at a small table to my right, decorated with mental health children’s books. I needed a pep talk, so I opened up Todd Parr’s It’s Ok To Be Different: a simple story of affirmations, yet one that made a tear drift down my cheek.4

Closed the book and started the mile walk to my car.

12:00 pm. Failed First Dates

I don’t remember much from this walk; I was in a self-indulgent emotional spiral, swept away in thought, not noticing the present moment around me. It’s remarkable how mindfulness dictates mood, and I wasn't being mindful. However, I finally settled on the cause of my sadness: failed first dates.

The past couple of weeks, I had decided to put myself out there after more than a year of not meeting new people. For whatever reason, something in the air compelled me this week to rev up full speed ahead along the online dating battle course. Three dates and three “I just don’t feel a spark” texts later, I crashed. Spun out and lost all speed like Princess Peach as my player.

I didn’t have time to dissect the dates or my emotions just yet; remote work called for me. I approached my car, hopped in, and took off. 2 minutes into the drive, I noticed a small piece of paper flapping in the wind. “Shit!” Another parking ticket. This one was for street cleaning.

I pulled over, tucked the ticket away for another day, and drove home. Then I worked, worked, worked until clock-out came.

5:00 pm. Fields

Closing Workday called for a drive to a field: a space where I could reflect on my dating sadness.

I sprang into my car and drove to Art Hill. Parked, grabbed my backpack filled with binoculars, a picnic blanket, journals, and water, and made my way to my reflection spot. Laid down and let myself cathartically cry for about 5 minutes. Feeling more clearly headed, I opened my Handwritten journal and jotted down broken notes, essay ideas, and the recap you’re reading now!

7:00 pm. Decided I needed an ice cream cone. A celebration after a successful work day and a good cry. Drove to my favorite shop. Walked up to the door, where I was met by a couple and a man walking his free-spirited mutt. He saw the couple’s ice cream and proclaimed, “Gosh, that looks good. I really want ice cream, but my dog here has been banned from this location.” I let out a loud laugh, smiled and nodded, and headed inside.

The girl behind the counter welcomed me: “Would you like to sample any flavors?” “Umm, the dark chocolate, please.” “Hmm, ok, I’ll have that one.” I’m pretty decisive when it comes to ice cream.

She scooped it up into a cone wrapped in the store’s printed logo. I headed to the patio, where I sat amongst strangers: a family, two couples, and just me at a table alone.

At the last crunch of my cone, I headed home. Now feeling quite content and proud of myself for researching something I love, feeling all of my emotions fully, and turning a sad day into a happy one.

Thank you so much for reading my third volume of Flow! At the end of each of these logs, I will also start keeping a life-lesson log. Some days will have lots of lessons, and some days none, but I think all are good to keep track of:

Rejection is challenging for everyone. It is ok to feel sad, disappointed, or any other emotion that comes up. But the more you suppress emotions, the more power they hold over you. Let yourself feel, breathe, and let it all go.
Dating can be triggering. Especially if you grew up in a household that did not model healthy love. It is ok to be triggered. It is ok to still be learning how to date and how to love. It is ok to be in the midst of self-discovery, to be an unfinished project. Figuring it all out makes life meaningful and beautiful.
You have the power to make yourself feel better. You can go cry in a field, leave for a solo ice cream date, or type your sorrows publicly on Substack. You can give energy to the things you love until they give you energy back.

How was your Thursday? Please drop a flow below, I’d love to hear about your days.

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