Graphic Jordan 6 Electric Green T-Shirt

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For Kendall Jenner, public speaking is a frequent source of anxiety. “I really, really don’t like public speaking; it makes me nervous and uncomfortable. But then there’s moments in my life as a public figure that I do have to kind of be in that position,” the Graphic Jordan 6 Electric Green T-Shirt but in fact I love this model shares. “If I have something coming up that’s bringing me out of my comfort zone…it can consume me to the point where I’m not focusing on what is happening to me that day or in that moment. I’m just worried about what is going to happen in the future.”In the last installment of Open Minded, Vogue’s four-part series exploring anxiety and how the mental condition can impact everyday life, Jenner sits with psychotherapist Lori Gottlieb to discuss where anxiety about the future stems from. “Anticipatory anxiety is when you are feeling anxious about something that hasn’t happened yet and may never happen,” explains Gottlieb. “So you’re anticipating that something catastrophic or disastrous is going to happen.”Because stress and anxiety can affect all aspects of mental well-being, including memory retention, Gottlieb shares tips for staying grounded in the present, from awakening the individual senses one by one to rubbing ice in your hands. “It really brings you into the present because you have to really notice.”  Natalia Vodianova may be best known as the Russian supermodel who has taken the fashion world by storm for the last two decades, but she’s also a staunch activist for women’s health—an issue that is, in fact, very close to the Soviet Union–born 39-year-old’s heart. “[Where] I was brought up, gynecology was something that was shameful—and anything to do with menstruation or any kind of sexual relationship was hush-hush and something you didn’t really talk about,” recalls Vodianova, who notes that, even as she became one of the industry’s most in-demand faces, she continued to be embarrassed when she had to ask for a tampon or when she stained a hotel’s sheets.Eventually, as she overcame her insecurities, she began to fight for women who may still feel the sense of shame that once plagued her. In addition to investing in the period-tracking app Flo, and asking friends such as Emily Ratajkowski and Doutzen Kroes to open up about their own early experiences with menstruating in her video series “Let’s Talk About it. Period.,” she teamed up with the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA), the UN’s sexual and reproductive health agency. “In humanitarian crises, we think of [how we can provide] water, food, and shelter, but often menstruation [care] is overlooked completely,” explains Vodianova, a UNFPA Goodwill Ambassador. “Already being in a very, very tough situation, but also not being able to manage your period with dignity, is a huge burden and a double stigmatization.” It’s for this reason that UNFPA first began distributing “dignity kits” to women and girls in conflict zones. (Last year, 1.4 million kits were handed out across 58 countries.) Housed inside a small backpack or bucket, each kit comes stocked with a number of essentials, including a flashlight, washing powder, dark-colored underwear, and a reusable menstrual pad set as well as disposable menstrual pads. “I once had the opportunity to speak to a woman who had survived a cyclone in 2019 in Mozambique. She was stuck on a tree for hours trying to survive, and suddenly her period came in the middle of all of this. When she was finally rescued, she was put on a boat with a bunch of men and blood was running down her legs. She [remembered thinking], ‘I would rather die than feel this shame,’ ” says Vodianova, continuing: “When she got into the refugee camp she was met with a dignity kit from the UNFPA. She told me, ‘That changed my life.’ She felt really empowered, and she became an ambassador in this camp to convince other women to take the kit and use proper sanitary products.”

Graphic Jordan 6 Electric Green T-Shirt, hoodie, tank top, sweater and long sleeve t-shirt

I recall the Graphic Jordan 6 Electric Green T-Shirt but in fact I love this moment clearly. I was 15 years old, I had just paid the first month’s rent ($400, I believe) on a new home, and I was standing at the front door. This wasn’t just the door to a ramshackle one-room cabin with no electricity or plumbing. It was a magical threshold. I was leaving behind my childhood at a tender age, but truthfully it had been abandoned long before. I reasoned that I could either live in a cabin with an abusive father, or I could just…live in a cabin. I chose the latter.I opened the door full of anticipation, but as soon as the hinges gave way, I felt dizzy. I peered inside, but didn’t see the bare floor, nor the two paint-splattered saw-horses spanned by a plank of plywood, creating a makeshift table. I saw a stretch of darkness yawn before me. The dizziness began to bloom darkly in my mind: Is my future my own? Is my fate sealed? Is it already over? Happiness was not taught in my house; was it still a learnable skill? Was it too late?I crumpled where I stood on the porch of this unkempt cabin in the middle of the Alaskan wilderness. The enormity of what I was taking on hit me, and I felt small, powerless to redirect a life that, it seemed, had already been set on an irrevocable course. It was simple: How I was raised was how I would live. I saw it all in a terrible, illuminating flash. Just as I had received a genetic inheritance, so did I receive an emotional one. The anger. The abuse. The isolation. The alcoholism. It didn’t take a genius to see that kids like me became a statistic.Don’t get me wrong, I also inherited the good, and I saw that: I come from a creative, bright, adventurous, philosophical, and loquacious people. My childhood was full of self-possessed capable aunts who cut their own timber and built their own homes and ran their own cattle businesses. I had a father who let me work horses rather than cook, because there were no gender-assigned roles in Alaska. Everyone wrote their own music and poetry, played a variety of self-taught instruments, and painted and sculpted with impressive proficiency. I am certainly not the only “talent” in my clan. And sometimes bitter fruit grows alongside the sweet.Just as I had received a genetic inheritance, so did I receive an emotional one. My dad’s childhood home, which he described with heartbreaking beauty in his own memoir, Son of a Midnight Land, was not a safe one. Abuses were doled out regularly, but worst of all, at random. When he was drafted and went to Vietnam at age 18, my dad told me he found it relaxing. Back home and married, he vowed to do better than his dad. But unless a carpenter is taught a new trade, he will keep using a hammer. My mom left. Dad was suddenly a single father. He began drinking. And the family cycle began to repeat itself. Hurt people hurt people. For 15 years I’d been raised, spoken to, and educated in the damaging emotional language of my family, and I was fluent in it.I saw all of this in that moment on the porch. But it took the sting out—it suddenly didn’t feel as personal. This wasn’t about me being unlovable. We do the best we can with the skills we have been given. The anger lifted, and a sense of compassion flooded me. I saw my grandfather not as a villain, but a hurt man. I saw my father not as a villain, but as a hurt man. And I saw myself, a hurt young woman, who, if I didn’t learn a new way, would repeat some variant of the cycle.An adult Jewel standing in front of the cabin in which she lived alone as a teenager. What do you do with pain? You, reading this. Do you check out? Drink? Log on to Twitter? Get angry? Do you avoid it? I sang in bars from the age of eight, so I had a front-row seat to people trying to outrun pain. They never could, despite the drinking, sex, violent outbursts, and drugs. I vowed never to do those things. I wrote instead.And stole. It began when I wound up homeless at 18 after refusing the sexual advances of a boss. He withheld my paycheck in retribution, and I couldn’t make rent. I lived in my car until it too was stolen.Three short years after moving out on my own, having put myself through school, traveled around the country, and supported myself, there I was—record scratch—in a dressing room in Pacific Beach, California, shoving a dress down the front of my baggy 501’s. I hadn’t beaten any odds.Stealing soothed my panic attacks. I know it may sound odd, but stealing felt as though I was caring for myself. It did what any good medication does: distracted me from my pain, rewarding me with a cocktail of pleasurable neuro-chemicals. I got myself addicted to drugs by manipulating my own brain chemistry—and never had to take a pill. Brilliant!But looking at my reflection in that dressing room mirror, I knew I’d wind up in jail or dead if I didn’t go back to the drawing board.I journaled often, and I began to use it as a tool to observe my actions and feelings. I began to see patterns, and soon a triad emerged—there was a before, a during, an after. Addiction had an anatomy! Years later, I learned better words for this—stimulus, response, reward—but I had nonetheless stumbled upon a way to identify a cycle of addiction. And I wondered, if I’m capable of being addicted to something self-destructive, like stealing, could I become addicted to something good? I knew I’d wind up in jail or dead if I didn’t go back to the drawing board.I had little control over being homeless (other than the endless job search, which is nearly impossible with no physical address and no nice clothing). But I could control how I responded to the stress and anxiety of that situation—at least in theory. (What do people with high anxiety lack? The ability to be present enough to witness thoughts in real time before acting on them.) If I could observe I was scared, I was something other than scared. I was the observer of someone scared. This created a specific, powerful space, and put me in the driver’s seat of my life.Spoiler alert: I didn’t become a poet and songwriter to be famous. I became a writer to stop stealing.I began to develop tools and tricks for myself to cultivate awareness, and with time, was able to successfully replace stealing with writing. It didn’t feel all that great initially. Writing was pretty boring compared to stealing. Plus writing urged me toward my pain, rather than away from it. But with time, moving toward my pain became rewarding, because through observation and understanding, it began to become less intense, and with time had less and less power over my life. Writing gave me a calm and open high, whereas stealing was a contracted, tight one.

1. Length is measured from the highest point on the collar down to the bottom hem. 2. Width is measured across the body of the shirt under the armpits, one way. 3. Sleeves are measured from center back to hem.