Showing posts with label spirituality. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spirituality. Show all posts

January 20, 2016

For The Complex Ones

We’re about halfway through January, the talks of “starting over” and “living better” still reverberating in our ears. Some of you might be on the other side of a defining moment or event, knowing that you can’t go back, but are stick in the uncertainty of moving forward. You’re aware that you’re made new, but unsure of  how to embrace what’s ahead without trying to block out what was (and probably still is) difficult to get over.

Where do I go from here? 

How do I let anyone love me while I’m still learning how to love myself?




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For most of our lives, we’ve all been fed some type of talk or teaching about the kind of people we should be, especially women:

 Be simple.

 Don’t make mountains out of molehills.

Do this, but don't do too much of that.

 The internet is constantly comparing one type to another, even if it is centered on praising what the rest turn up their noses at. In order to be deserving of romance, you must meet all these prerequisites, which seem to boil down to not having flaws, insecurities, or any kind of past that requires grace and patience.

When vulnerability is met with bristling and rejection, it’s common to resort to questioning and blaming ourselves. This is where the lines between truth and feelings become blurry, because what might look like reality could be all in your head.  It’s this kind of origami-like, hoop-jumping, obstacle course that makes having close relationships almost impossible. Intimacy seems foreign, because most of what you say and do has slowly become about the sake of someone else’s comfort. You don’t want to necessarily please or impress them, but you don’t want to push them away either. You’re trying to accept and love others as they are, but deep down you wonder if you’re sacrificing yourself, your own emotional well-being in the process.

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Complex and complicated are actually two vast different concepts, despite sounding similar. When labeling something complicated, it’s a way to deny what you know to be true, what you know must be done, but struggling to come up with the courage to acknowledge either one. Being complex is having multiple layers, a history filled with stories and experiences that maybe you don’t quite know what to do with. You’re not a victim, but you’re not merely a survivor either; by God’s grace and the skin of your own teeth, you’ve been through a lot and have come out the other side. It’s OK to not know right away, to leave a situation undefined and let the puzzle pieces come together on their own. Some days are peaceful, while others involve doing your best to hold it together. Life can be messy; it can be brutal, but it can be just as beautiful too.

It’s one thing to be captive, but it’s another thing entirely to go forth and be captivated.

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You can define, tailor, and project all you want, but intention does not necessarily affect perception. Keeping it surface level or “chill” does not mean you have control over anything; it will build up, it will come out, and most likely in a way that you didn’t envision or want. Stop trying to decide if someone can or should love you, and let them be the one to figure that out for themselves. There’s no formula or process for forging connection, and most likely you'll experience your share of slip-ups and moments that you wish you could take back.

 And if heaven forbid anyone run the other direction because you choose to be a human being, that’s their responsibility, not yours. Its tempting to cry out against the hypocrisy of saying that life is tough, because those that say it are often the ones too afraid to face their struggles, the pain that haunts them on a regular basis. 

You need people who will not only fall in love with your smile, but will just as equally love your scars.

We all have them, the things that add a bit of gray, even darkness to our existence. What labels some as simpletons depends on how they've dealt with it. They have memories, but they also have perspective and are at peace with what they can't change. 

It is possible to be both multi-faceted and whole, to go through hell and still find purpose. But it’s not a singular journey, or something that anyone can do without help. It’s true that you really aren’t the only one go through something, but if often feels that way because you think you’re the only one talking about it. I’ve been fortunate enough to find to find a tribe, people that know me well enough to affirm me and celebrate my quirks and complexities, but will still call me out on my bullshit when they see it. They’re an amazing support system, but they also remind of how just how strong a person I am, and that I can get through pretty much anything.

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Maybe instead of having to explain ourselves or constantly heed warnings toward those who cross our paths, we should just be. Be true to what you know and what you value, and leave the thorn-pruning to God. Let’s learn to see depth and complexity as a gift, rather than a curse that makes us outsiders or impossible to love.

It has taken me many years, but I’m warming up to the opportunity to be an example, to live fully in a world that is more inclined to gloss over and sugarcoat, rather than dig deep. I’ve been in the trenches of having to shine a light in darkness, and despite the time it will take, the risk is so worth the reward.

Even if that reward is getting to experience the freedom of simply no longer carrying the weight of a dire situation on your shoulders.  


It starts with acceptance, and honoring who you are. Perhaps one day, it will lead to love and celebration.


Thank you, Brad Paisley, for reminding us all that it's OK to carry a little thunder. 



January 07, 2016

A Sweet '16.



When something new begins, whether it be a chapter, a year, or an era, it all tends to happen very quickly. I woke up on the first day of 2016 with a little anxiety, eager to start doing things differently, but wondering if I would slip back into old patterns again in a matter of weeks. It has felt like a whirlwind, but in a good way: I'm revving up the engine for some endeavors and taking a step back from others. More than anything, I'm confident that this is where I'm supposed to be, and that the only way to go is to continue to go forward.

Sometimes moving forward requires a plan and sometimes it doesn't. I am literally taking it all one day at a time, my only goal being that I build stronger relationships, including with God and myself. 



This year, I am open to making peace with my past, and creating a brand new, and incredibly bright future. 

This year, I want to feel whole, I want to feel comfortable, and I wanted to feel loved. 

I will say no to being bullied, manipulated, and taking responsibility for others' actions and emotions. 

I'll know that I'm on the right track when I'm doing something that is a reflection of who I am; when I am acting in faith instead of fear. And when I slip up, I'll gently but firmly remind myself that I am strong, that I am a fighter, but also that I am human. 

In December 2016, I want to look back and say that I did hard things. That I took risks. That I chose not to hide, but instead honor the quirks and traits that God gave me. 

I am growing. I am learning. But most importantly, I'm being. 


How sweet it is.

December 16, 2015

Decision and Transformation



I rang in 2015 underneath a balcony of a twenty-plus year old nightclub, my best friends and I trying to find some breathing room in what felt like a crowd of a thousand people. We spent the first twenty minutes of the brand new year trying to avoid getting trampled, albeit when I look back it was somewhat funny having to crowd-surf in order to get down the stairs. We danced, helped ourselves to free cocktails, and met some pretty attractive men in the process. It very much a once in a blue-moon experience, especially on a holiday like New Years Eve.

I often tried to re-create it several times afterward, from birthday celebrations to weekend trips to Iowa City. It's not that it wasn't necessarily fun as it used to be, but it didn't feel as easy or as natural as it did nearly two years ago. I'd go with every intention of staying out late, but literally would be half asleep by midnight. Whenever weekend plans consisted of simply going to dinner and a movie, I'd start to wonder if I was limiting myself in some way:

Was this normal or acceptable for someone my age?

Would I miss out if I wasn't doing something crazy or adventurous?

Am I becoming a boring person because my interests and priorities are changing?

Some days are a yes, and others are a no.



I could talk about how lately the ideal Friday or Saturday night is a combination of catching up over drinks and then eating pizza and watching Netflix or DVR'd TV shows in sweats. I could say that maybe I'm more inclined to explore the nooks and crannies of my favorite concrete jungle as opposed to traveling the entire world. I'm not one for "dating all types" because I of not just what I want, but what I need in a relationship. If I went out with anyone and everyone, I'd be doing it for the wrong reasons.There's nothing wrong with seeking out substance, and I am becoming more comfortable with resting in the middle, as opposed to going to one extreme or the other. However, I have noticed traces of comparison and even jealousy, which leads me to believe that this is more of an identity issue than anything else.

This is nothing to be proud of, but some areas of my life have definitely been wrapped up in what I was "supposed" to do, or even what I "should" be doing right now. It's challenging to avoid being swayed by articles detailing the ideal post-grad working person, or habits that need to be broken by the time I'm twenty-five or thirty. Some of us mature faster, and some of us are late bloomers. It might take a lifetime to learn how to be productive, mentally tough, or loving toward ourselves and others. To put a timeline on anything is unrealistic, and eventually becomes more about people-pleasing than becoming a better person.

Self discovery often seems like a thirst-quencher after a major change or transition. It provides comfort and security in the midst of what seems like a big question mark of unknowns. The reality is that we never really "find" ourselves, because we're constantly changing and evolving. The only thing I can guarantee to be true about myself every single day is that I am a child of God, as well as a human being.

Maybe it's time to stop searching and start embracing what is in front of me, and what is within me.

It doesn't mean that I stop paying attention or go wherever the wind blows. When I'm in tune with who I am, I'm more likely to be truthful about the reasons behind why I'm doing something and to set myself back on course, if need be. There are things that I've done out of curiosity, but then they slowly turned into self-medication and numbing from what I didn't want to feel (or face). And no matter what I did to try and escape, it never worked. The real hurt came from the fact that I was refusing to love myself as God made me, and anchoring my heart and spirit in my faith rather than my actions.

It's a brick wall that I've run into on a number of occasions, mostly because every time I've tried to get back up, it was by my own strength alone. I know that I need to make some changes in my life, but this time I want to allow myself to be molded by truth, grace, encouragement, and hope instead of trying to do it all on my own.

If you want to call it a transformation of sorts, it is far from complete. It will always be present and always be in progress. This time around, I pray for one major difference: I need accountability, a person or couple of people who can check in with me every so often to see how I'm doing. Whatever this is, it has been a long time coming, and I'm tired of getting stuck in the same dark place on a repeated basis. 

I'm ready. I surrender. And I don't want to go back.










December 10, 2015

When Love Came To Stay





Why is it so hard for you to love yourself?

I repeatedly ask myself this question as I look at my reflection in the mirror, which is now covered in “name tags,” or words and phrases that come together to form a definition about who we are. This exercise comes from an e-course that I’ve been involved with called Be You and Love It, allowing me to wrestle with my own identity, but to also experience wholeness in the process. I can honestly say that it has been a lifeline, and am beyond grateful for the woman who created it.

Yet the question still remains…why is it so hard?

From a general standpoint, self-love seems apathetic, as though you don’t care for anyone else around you. If you speak it outwardly, you’re either labeled as conceited, self-involved, or perhaps even bitchy. In some Christian circles, loving yourself is akin to not fully loving Jesus, or not putting Him above all else. And whether I’m looking at it from a spiritual standpoint or not, it seemed superficial and preachy; as though by following a particular formula, you’d somehow find the answer and instantly feel good. And I can’t stand that kind of sugar-coated thinking.

In my own experience, it has been challenging because I was never taught how to accept the way that God made me, to embrace my imperfections as opposed to trying to hide or change them. It’s possible that those who should have been examples didn’t know how to love themselves either, therefore passing it onto me.  And because certain messages where coming from those older than I (most of them were adults and family members), it didn’t occur to me that their views were only one perspective. Even after I became a Christian, that perspective often drowned out God’s Truth.

That’s exactly why it has taken me thirteen years to fully understand the concept; wherever I turned, there was always somebody telling me that I was not enough, and I felt like I never would be.
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I suppose I’ve been afraid to love myself because it seemed to indicate that I had to walk alone.

“Do what you can for yourself, so that you won’t need it from someone else.”

But real love isn’t independent, least of all from God. It’s a partnership, an equal partnership.

Self-love is hard work, and to espouse it means to be saturated in the love and Grace of God. That love pours out onto you, and you in turn pour that love into others.

If we can love others, why shouldn't we be able to do the same for ourselves? It doesn’t always have to involve making a list of personal attributes or reasons why we have worth. I’ve realized that love and acceptance isn’t just rooted in identity; it’s about what we do for ourselves as well. We need to do things that make us come alive because being ourselves is how we truly live. It means setting boundaries, because we know that we can only give so much before exhaustion and resentment sets in. It means recognizing that some relationships are for a lifetime, while others are for a season. It’s knowing when to keep fighting and when to surrender. It’s taking responsibility for our own actions and choices, but understanding that we’re not responsible for that of others.

 For me, it’s nourishing my inner child that adores Disney movies, laughing at random moments, and going on adventures. If I can’t do that, I withdraw.

If love is allowing another person to be human, then we must give our own person that same permission.  Permission to show up, mess up, and not stretch ourselves to where we’re trying too damn hard.

To love ourselves is to merely be ourselves.

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I did the name tag exercise after I wrote those words in my journal; I needed to be alone, without distraction and without needing to explain what I was doing. I used yellow for the “bad” thoughts/opinions, and orange for the “good” ones. I started sticking the yellow tags on my mirror, an instrumental version of Bruno Mars’ “Just the Way You Are” came on my iPad, followed by Taylor Swift’s “Shake it off.” I don’t usually pay attention to signs or symbolism, but something was happening and it brought tears to my eyes. These words, many of which had been stuck onto me over a decade by peers and others in a state frustration, stared at me like a tiger waiting to pounce.



The orange ones were composed of a much shorter list, and I felt rather indifferent as I wrote them out. It seemed cliché almost, as though I’d heard those words a thousand times before and they no longer meant anything. I knew they were true to some degree, but I’ve always struggled with actually believing them. I can tell the difference between a genuine compliment and being buttered up; it’s why I shudder and bristle when a random guy calls me “beautiful” or “sexy” instead of being flattered. It’s a matter of trust, mostly, as opposed to words themselves. I can trust someone that knows my heart and has seen me at my worst, but definitely not a slime ball who only wants to take me home for the night.

But as I looked at them, I kept thinking how none of those names, good or bad, actually define me. Some of them are opinions and some are flat out lies. Others are just reality, and there are even those that have actually become assets over time.

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It really is a journey, and one where I continue to grow and evolve, one day at a time. I accept that it is not a singular transformation, and there are days where I’m going to dislike who I see and wish that certain things were different, like the fact that I am deep and sensitive. I’m thankful for those who have been a positive influence, and continue to be as I experience different stages and transitions. I’ve been blessed to know some amazing men and women who exude a confidence and sense of self that I’m almost jealous of. But I’m getting there.




Love does not need a thousand reasons or adjectives, but a simple foundation that offers quiet strength. I will keep saying this until I run out of breath: I am a human being and a child of God, and I rest in that. 

December 02, 2015

When Lists Become Prayers






I have never been a huge fan of lists unless they involve groceries. I'm not one to use a variety sticky notes trying to keep track of everything that I need to do or a calendar of events, though perhaps I should. However, there are two kinds of lists that have become sacred to me; ones that I keep tucked away in my journal, and only speak of when asked.

During my last semester of school,  my therapist and I spent several sessions discussing what I wanted, specifically in a romantic relationship. She suggested coming up with at least six non-negotiables, something that I'd never given much thought to up until that point. I'd been told quite often that my expectations were too high, so I usually kept it at "I want a guy who is nice" (high school), and "I want a guy who is nice and will take me out on the weekends" (college). But I wasn't a child anymore, and if I wanted to find love, it was necessary to not just decide what I wanted, but what I needed as well. It felt refreshing to not only narrow down the important deal breakers, but to proclaim them on paper. Each time I buy a new journal I write them down again on the last few pages, even though by now they're pretty much stuck in my head. I probably should keep them posted on my bathroom mirror, especially in moments of loneliness where my values can easily take a backseat, or I feel like buying into the "twenty-something free-bird" mentality.

I've keep gratitude lists on and off since I was a teenager, but couldn't stay disciplined enough to do it every day. Sometimes the concept seems like one of those happy-go-lucky fads, a band-aid to put on when desperate to ignore reality. Yet, I've picked it back up again recently; instead of waiting until the end of the day and looking back, I record thankfulness as I experience it. I focus on the small, mundane things that don't seem worth being grateful for, but it helps me to recognize the beauty right in front of me as opposed to looking too far ahead or around me. For anyone who has read Ann Voskamp's 1,000 Gifts, it's very similar to her practice. I also took a bit of guiding from Soul Keeping, which my church did a series on about a year ago. 

Translating these practices to a communion with God is a work in progress. When I have my quiet time each morning, I experience the self-pressure to say things a certain way, to make sure that I balance gratitude with what is on my heart. Sometimes I cry when giving thanks, understanding at that moment how much I've been blessed with. 

And in terms of praying about relationships, that can be a tough one. I have moments where I almost don't know what to say, let alone how to say it. I toggle between praying about a person I have yet to meet, and wondering if I've already met him but the timing isn't quite right. More than anything, I don't pray about it often because I don't want to become obsessed or stressed over it. I don't want to use love is a bargaining chip (i.e. Lord if you give me an affection man, I won't curse like a sailor ever again!)

In my faith journey, I've been told that God created us so that He knows our words and thoughts, even before we say them. Realistically, there's no need to pray out loud if I don't feel moved to do so. I'm still getting used to the whole pray-like-you're-talking-to-a-friend formula. 

I think lists are like prayers because they often get to the heart of things, the bare bones of what we want and need. In hindsight, that's what God wants when we pray to him; no embellishments, no ancient language or ritual. Just what is. 

It seems very silly; almost as silly as saying, "and please let the Bears/Blackhawks/Hawkeyes/Cubs win, AMEN!!" But if that's how God made me, than why not welcome the cheesiness? Who says sacred can't be light-hearted and almost humorous?

Writing that stuff down (length aside) is a way of remembering. I want to look back. I want to remember. For the memories, no matter how painful, are the ultimate prayers. 

Photo Credit

June 11, 2015

Our Stories, Our Selves




I am absolutely fascinated by people, and I wish I had more gumption to ask “What’s your story?” in order to start a conversation. It might be the creative in me, where I’ve realized that it’s part of my job to take notice of things and capture details. It might be the fact that I’m constantly curious about how the world works. Or it might be it might be the extreme sensitivity in me, cultivated by my own experiences and awareness of the kind of culture that we live in. A culture that seems to be losing the ability to be human, to walk on beaten paths that are filled with more questions than answers. Instead we scream, we threaten, and we profess to hate when we’re really just scared.

A couple of months ago I saw a movie called The Age of Adeline, a romantic drama about a woman who is both blessed and cursed with the gift of youth. Not too long afterward I sat down to watch the heavily-discussed Diane Sawyer interview with the person whom we now know as Caitlyn Jenner, simultaneously cheering and tearing up as she bared her soul and revealed her true self. I couldn’t help but pick out a common thread between these two narratives, though one is fictional and the other is not.  By running from what one knows to be true, they think that their lives will (eventually) be easier, that their struggle will somehow fade with the passage of time. Their greatest fear is being found out, the possibilities and fallout almost unthinkable. But it is only when we’re found out that we truly find ourselves, and only by being brutally honest that we set ourselves free.

Yet, sometimes the only truth that seems to glare at me straight in the face is the one where being yourself is pretty damn hard now a days. And not always because you’re still figuring it out, but because those that you’re surrounded by are constantly telling you that you’re wrong, in some capacity. I do remember a part of my life where it was constantly insinuated that I needed to be “fixed.” In the eyes of my peers it was my legs, and in the eyes of the adults it was my personality. There were a lot of mixed messages, leaving me isolated and trying to avoid natural reactions and emotions that were being equated to a bad attitude or not trying hard enough.

I was never taught how to love myself, and it took four years to college to actually grasp what it meant. My group of friends were wonderful, all different from one another, and yet we still made an effort to celebrate each other’s quirks and messiness. On a fluke I came across this post by one of them on Instagram, and to this day it still gets me (in a good way): 


That was when I knew that it wasn’t about trying to change myself; it was about embracing the person that I actually was, and have been for all of my life. She was still there, but had been buried underneath a plethora of what others told her to be, a mold that never really fit.

Which is why though our journeys pale in comparison, seeing Caitlyn stand in her freedom motivates me to boldly stand in mine. Amidst all the media hoopla and debate, there's a bigger picture to been seen. Between knowing what I’ve been through and witnessing the disgusting backlash on the internet and otherwise, I could never bring myself to go against anyone that looks or feels different, regardless of the reasons why. I get that this kind of stuff makes people uncomfortable and not everyone will agree with it, but is it not enough to just leave it at that? While there is freedom of speech, a freedom is only free until it starts being abused for the sake of being “right.” If you don’t have something meaningful or constructive to add to the conversation, then take step back.

I’m aware of what the Bible says about many of these topics, but there’s so much more than just the verses about judgement, sin, and how to address others. In the last ten years, I’ve realized just how important it is to put my complete trust in Him, rather than try to constantly figure it out myself (Proverbs 3:5-6). There are some aspects of the Trinity, Scripture, and life as a whole that I probably won’t ever understand or comprehend, and that’s OK. If we understood everything or had all the answers, there wouldn’t be a desperate need to have faith.

It comes down to loving God and loving each other as ourselves (Mark 12:30-31). It’s knowing that God created each of us in His image, and if we don’t always understand what God is like, than we won’t always understand what people are like. The best thing that I can do for anybody is to remember that whatever they’re dealing with is between them and God, and to affirm that they are loved and heard. That’s not to say that it’s always easy; I’m learning that love means accepting the things you don’t necessarily like about a person, as well as what they’re able to give you and what they can’t. There are battles worth fighting for, and then there are those that aren’t; especially if it leads to such self-hatred where one believes that it’s better to be dead than alive.

I’ve begun to wonder if the best way to show God’s love is to fully embrace the person that He created; both in terms of who we see in the mirror, and who we see standing on the other side. There will always be critics of choices and personality traits, those that look at you through a certain political, religious, or generational lens. If you choose to share your story, you risk being analyzed  and being accused of taking advantage of your situation. To rise above all of that is a challenge, but staying true to oneself is one of many things that get taken for granted.

For those that argue about how we should care about more important things going on in the world, remember that we all have different gifts and callings. Instead of berating each other for feeling strongly about one thing and not something else, let’s encourage one another to use our strengths and gifts to the best of our ability.


Amen.

April 17, 2015

An Encouragement Drought



I've been noticing something lately, both in the online and offline spheres that has begun to bother me. I've seen it in blogs and articles, and unfortunately in my own circle. It's nothing new, but I've witnessed and experienced the sting of this negative trend, and I feel like I can't keep quiet anymore.

Regardless of the subject and regardless of the environment, it seems like all we do is criticize and focus on the bad, more than we encourage and focus on the good. What more, we'll make a list of everything that's wrong, but refuse to acknowledge that we have the ability to make a positive impact and change, if only it be a small ripple. We do this to our leaders, our neighbors, and even our loved ones, not even willing to admit that chances are we're only aware of one part of the story. We point fingers at each other instead of joining hands.

I am not exempt from this: in the months following graduating and leaving Iowa City, I lashed out at people, mostly family, as a way to protect myself. I had held a lot in for the sake of not being an inconvenience, and was tired of being made to think that my pain and struggle (particularly regarding my parents situation) didn't matter. Did the screaming and yelling out a list of grievances help matters? No. But I didn't want to be looked at or treated like a doormat. I was not wrong, but yet I was not right either. It was an act of desperation, one that wouldn't have been necessary had I recognized that I've always been strong enough to express myself, and that I didn't need the guarantee of a positive reaction to do it.

The conversation is not about eliminating criticism in and of itself; people need to be called out on when doing harm to others. Mistakes should be brought to light so that they can be rectified. There are times when a different, much more edifying path can be taken than the one a person is currently on. True criticism is when somebody is willing to balance out the strengths and the need for improvement. Real critics tell the truth and give direction, but they're firm and encouraging in the process. 

It appears that from observation (and my own experiences) that there is very little of that. That's why I have such a hard time talking about work-related and personal goals with certain people; it's not that I can't or am unwilling to have a conversation, but I have an acute sense of when a person is crossing the line from being a critic to a bully. My defenses go up because I refuse to be around someone who points out problems for the pure sake of doing so, rather than also offering suggestions or solutions. It's somewhat of a knee jerk reaction from my younger school days, where I would get picked on and emotionally shut down because I couldn't get them to back off. The sad part is that currently, this kind of exchange often happens with those who should be willing to say "I'm proud of you," and more than just at graduations or big life steps. 

Yes, I'm sensitive; part of it is due to my own nature, being a creative and having a responsibility to notice and experience things in the deepest way possible. The other part involves being told throughout my life that I needed to be better, stronger, more able, and without an equal amount of praise that I was already doing well. Now I'm in a place where I don't feel the need to be pushed or prodded, because I already do enough of that myself. 

There is no such thing as tough love, at least in the sense that it can be applied with such force and still have positive results. You can nag at, belittle, and yell at somebody and there's a chance that they can still grow and do something great with their lives. But let me tell you, that will not be without a hardened heart toward real love and beauty that surrounds them. It will not be without an inner struggle of agony, which could eventually lead to tragedy. I put up walls, and I have been at the brink several times. For those that don't believe in coddling, I get it. But far too many confuse coddling (a lack of boundaries and relying on fear) with real nourishment. People can still be leaders, innovators, and hard workers while still being compassionate and having a backbone.

It looks that way with the different generations, especially when it comes to older ones talking down to the younger (and the younger ones flipping the bird to the older). It's true that laziness, lack of motivation, and entitlement do exist, but that seems to relate less to age and more to personal history. Instead of using ageism and stereotyping as an excuse to put  everyone into a category, why not give each group a chance to learn from one another? We all have a story, and we all have something to offer. What might look like laziness may actually be someone trying to keep themselves sane, to feed themselves emotionally and spiritually in the midst of navigating the real world. I don't want to put my identity solely in my work, so I need to make time for God and friends and doing things that fill my soul. 

I want to build a career, yes, but I also want to build a life. With only so much physical and emotional energy in me, I have to rest and recharge. And I think that's true for everybody. 

There's a knowing that deep down, you can't force anybody to be outwardly loving, affirming, and a giver of grace. I don't want to simply lay down and accept that this is the way the world works, and convince myself that it's me versus whomever. There's hope in the idea of the way that we treat others does not completely reflect who we are, but what we choose to do. In addition, knowing that my God is for me, and because of that, baseless opinions should not matter.

There are days where I'm sure, and others where I have absolutely no idea. I can ignore the noise and simply nod my head without having to agree, but only so long before I want to collapse from exhaustion.

Sometimes the hardest thing is doing for yourself what you wish that some would do for you. It's being able to see past what you don't have and recognizing the abundance that's already there. Show the world who you are in confidence, regardless of who's watching and who isn't. Be willing to give, but be willing to accept what others have to give in return. You are strong and you can do this. 

Listen. Be willing to meet in the middle. Learn, build, and lift people up.

It's never too late to try.


photo credit: fadedlove-tiltshift via photopin (license)


April 10, 2015

Back To The Beach




It was my first Southern experience, and about six years since I'd been to the ocean. I admit to being partial to Florida, but was slowly captured by the Carolina charm: there are at least a dozen radio stations playing country music and you can't really go anywhere without hearing it. People call you darlin' and say "bless your heart" without even having to know your name. I discovered that crab cakes aren't half bad and have taken a liking to pink lemonade mixed with sweet-tea flavored vodka. I was once again painfully reminded that it's possible to get ridiculous sunburned on a cloudy day, but also when it's only sixty degrees. There are junk shops and tacky eateries for miles, although I found quite a few things that I don't regret spending money on.

The weather kept us on our toes, as it usually goes whenever we travel somewhere with sand, palm trees, and water. It actually turned out quite all right, though I was determined to savor this trip either way: I kept my TV and internet usage to a minimum unless it was for work, as I usually do when I'm intend to relax. It made me wonder why people are so eager to unplug when away from home, but don't try to give themselves healthy breaks the rest of the time. Why is it that we can't incorporate the occasional umbrella drink, a nice meal, or quality time with those we care about into "real life"? Isn't relaxation just a much a part of it as work?

I discovered that to truly savor something, you have to embrace all things encompassed in that moment, including your emotions. In the beginning, there were a few times where I ached for my Dad and brother to be there, as I miss all being together at once. I became frustrated over my sister's anxiety about the lack of sunshine, and at one point we debated on making the ten hour drive just to see a few rays.

We stayed, and I'm grateful for it. The sun did makes several appearances and I came home looking like a bronzed lobster.

But nothing compared to the joy that I experienced when on the beach: the smell of saltwater and suntan lotion. Walks on the edge of the tide and finding a mixture of seashells and Bible verses written in the sand. The usual regret of thinking that anything below SPF 15  was enough, and the comfort of cool sheets at night that soothed the itch and burn of my Midwestern skin. I'm not sure if I would live in such a climate year round due to the danger of hurricanes and intense humidity, but the sound of the waves definitely makes me feel at home. It's a place where I can experience God on a deep level and cry happy tears, surrounded by everything involving the natural elements of creation. 

The week culminated in people-watching at a beach club, while carrying on an unexpected but needed conversation. I don't want to call it an epiphany per say, but in the days that followed I realized how emotionally liberating the exchange was. And I started to see that maybe it's not necessarily about "letting go" as much as it is choosing to look at a situation differently.

It's no secret that I've been struggling with family-related changes these past eight months. There's been sadness and confusion, which is normal when there are a lot of unknowns involved. Yet I was also angry and scared, as though I couldn't let it out and terrified of losing what I've always known, even if most of it was complicated and imperfect. Realistically, it's completely natural (if not expected) to start building your own life once you've hit your twenties. I was recently reminded of something that my best friend said to me before we left college, that change doesn't mean that relationships have to end, they just take a new shape. And while in one aspect something is coming to an end, in turn I'm creating my own traditions and pursuing my own path. Granted, divorce is still hard and hurts everyone involved, and in a way there's no fully getting over it. But I do believe that there is light after darkness, and new beginnings after big changes. 

There's a lot more that's tough to articulate in one post, but I came home feeling like new life was blooming, despite the twenty-degree chill and bits of snow still on the ground. My heart is full and my soul is feeling less heavy, even if on certain days it doesn't seem that way. 

Spring is here, and sometimes all it takes is a trip to the beach to see it.

February 06, 2015

Unveiled




I wrote this back in October, feeling overwhelmed by having to adjust to a lot of difficult things at once. There was still getting used to not being in college anymore, facing some tough-to-swallow truths about myself, and maintaining motivation while trying to find a job. I desperately wanted to talk about all of it, but struggled nevertheless because all of closest friends seemed so far away, and I didn't know how to do it without maintaining that I was a strong person. It was one of those things where I knew one thing but didn't believe it, mainly because of what was ingrained in me for most of my life.

I had a vivid (and somewhat poetic) vision of what it would be like to be face-to-face with someone, my arms outstretched as if to say, "Here I am and this is me; love it or leave it." Initially I did have a certain person in mind when I wrote it, but it can easily be applied to anyone, or even God. 

Regardless of who sees it, I still intend to include it in the book that I'm writing. 

I’m sitting here with my head in my hands, wondering how much longer this could go on for. For the sake of needing a change, part of me longs to just disappear into the walls that surround us. Still I see you walking toward me, your footsteps quiet but intentional. I look up at you, transfixed by your eyes rather than my heart thudding against my chest; you look worried, yet determined. Taking your outstretched hand, I want to stand up, but the exhaustion won’t let me. I didn’t realize how much energy it took to hide, to ensure that only certain facets of me were seen and the rest were tucked away, only to be discovered by those who made an effort.

Without hesitation, you kneel down in front of me as a way to let me know that you’re fully present and willing to listen. You’re at my level and I am at yours.

I’ve envisioned this moment for so long, one that is terrifying and yet so desperately needed. Surrounded by a self-imposed desert of isolation, where my thirst can only be quenched by that of connection.

 You slowly pull my battered wrists away from my face. Open your eyes! It’s not a question or a command, but reality; self-protection hasn’t kept me all that safe like I thought it would, but actually held me hostage all these years.  I let those wrists splay against my knees, wrists that guarded against the heavy blows meant for my face. You gently trace your thumb over the patches of black and blue skin: I am here. You’re safe. You’re not alone.

I grimace at first, and as I start to speak I experience a burning sensation, like pouring peroxide over a bloodied wound. You must hurt first in order to heal. I’ve done this before, but something about it feels genuine and real this time around. I don’t know what language we’re speaking or what you’re seeing. You know my past and are aware of the present. The future is a different story, one more palpable with each passing moment. I giggle when an invisible touch of silk slides down my face and into my lap. Touching my cheeks, they feel raw and yet soft at the same time. I can feel the clouds lift from my soul, which is somehow giving me the strength to stand. It’s OK. I’ve got you.

We’re taking baby steps here, both with caution and one foot in front of the other. We’re holding onto one another, but not so tightly where moving becomes impossible. A mirror is now in front of us and I stop to look at my reflection. I’m laughing and I’m dancing. My sallow skin is replaced with a warm, natural glow. The bruises, faded but left in traces as a reminder that I am not a victim, but not necessarily a survivor either: I’m a warrior.

This is me. Not who I want to be. Not who I wish to be. I see a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. This is who I’ve always been. You’ve seen her. You’ve grown to care about her. You’ve always known.  It was more a matter of accepting her as myself.

We continue to walk. You’re not saving me, but rather allowing me to save myself.

We’re outside now, the sky a mixture of both rain and sunshine. Time has passed, a number of years that we both lost track of. It’s all right though, because we’re both where we need to be.

Yet before we go on, I have one request. That you let me take care of you too: that you may feel comfortable enough to show me the depths of your heart the way that I’ve shown mine. That you don’t shut me out or brush me off because of what society says is supposedly normal or correct. You’re not less of a person for crying or for getting pissed off at the world. It shows you have passion. It shows you care. It’s what makes you the kind of person I want to know and to keep growing with.


Because like it or not, we have each other now, and we’re in this together.

photo credit: P7120003-2 via photopin (license)


January 31, 2015

Rise and Rejoice




This Sunday, my twenty-third birthday will be the beginning of a decade marker for some incredibly significant events that took place in my life: Ten years ago I chose to walk with God, though it would take me a long time to understand what that meant.Ten years of friendships that may not be present at this moment, but are still a very important part of my history. Ten years since I fell into a ravine of self-hatred and depression, a direct result of the lies I believed about myself. A ravine that I can now say I feel like I have completely crawled out of and therefore raise my hands in victory.

You would think that I'd be sad and depressed over all of it, and admittedly I was throughout high school and college. I never acknowledged or celebrated any of it because I still felt overpowered and defined by it. It was a gaping reminder of what I no longer had, what I still wanted, and what I feared would never be again. But as I was writing last night, I realized that I never truly lost it; I still had the memories, and it made me realize later on that I'm still capable of having those experiences. Though twenty-three isn't culturally considered a milestone, it personally is for me.

I don't celebrate such significance because of what once was, but rather what it taught me. I no longer need the promise of a happy ending to start living out the story that has been written for me. Yes, some things were painful and could have been avoided, but one can only have so much self-awareness, especially at a young age. We don't really learn anything worth holding onto until we've tasted salty tears and felt our hearts hurt, even to the point of breaking. So do I regret my choices that long ago? No. And I try not to regret the choices that I made thinking that I could protect myself afterward. The only thing I know for sure is that what I thought kept me safe ended up holding me hostage, instead of setting me free.

But where does that personal freedom come from? Not from self alone, I've realized. It comes from the One that knitted us together with both strengths and weaknesses so that we may experience wholeness. It's choosing to embrace what we were created to do and what for, even if doing so feels like us against the rest of the world. Not that it should be an "us versus them" mentality, but it does feel like it at times. There will always be those who try to put me (and others) in a box; when people can't understand or it makes them uncomfortable, they fight it by feigning ignorance. 

But I don't have the energy or the time to worry about that. Not anymore

This is not a time of 'starting over' as it tends to be emphasized. I look at it as a continuation of what I've already been doing, but without the self-denial. There's definitely changing and growing over time, but I truly believe that the core of who a person is always remains the same. I've always been a woman with a child-like heart and who finds joy in the every-day mundane aspects of life. I will always be an  old soul with a sense of romantic optimism who is fascinated by human connection, and tries to see the best in everyone. 

It's interesting in regards to what happens you get out of the bubble, and life is no longer about papers during the week and cheap drinks on weekends. I've discovered that I am so much stronger than I thought I was capable of being, and that with God's help, I will somehow get to the other side. What seems so complicated really isn't, and the only reason it seems that way is because I was afraid of making the wrong choice and then getting hurt. Overall, when I embrace who I am and love myself in the process, everything else tends to come together as it should. 

And so I will rise; rise and continue leaning into Hope that whatever lies ahead is going to be awesome. I'm not a fan of lowering expectations, but rather being open to the possibilities. I have a vision, but I'm willing to allow that vision to take different shapes over the course of time. I strive to take action and get involved, because that's what living is. 

Here's to rising, to going all in, and being grateful for every moment of it.


September 30, 2014

Life Lately: Different Kinds of Light

Some days, this post-graduate chapter that I'm currently embarking on feels like this: 



Fresh. New. Vibrant and colorful. In a way that when I look around I think to myself, this world and this life is yours, darling. Make it happen! It's why I love mornings so much: to some people every sun rise is the same, but I honestly never know what I'm going to get as my make my thrice-weekly trek from the suburbs to the city. Somehow I manage to get this kinds of snapshots, either by luck or by knowing how to capture a beautiful moment when I see it. 

And that has served me well since moving back: despite not living with my parents and being away from my best friends (along with everything that I've come to know since I was eighteen), I can still confidently say that life is awesome. Life is awesome and God is good.

I love the environment that I'm in; it's not only healthy, but it gives me the space and ability to focus on both my goals and who I am as a person. My therapist is great and working with her has uncovered a lot of aspects about myself that I didn't know existed. Keeping a journal and having quiet time has done wonders, which is why I've come to cherish spending time alone. 

My relationships are getting stronger: through the discovery of FaceTime (I kind of find that a lot easier to use than Skype), I can keep in touch with friends and still actually see them, despite being hundreds. at times thousands of miles apart. I'm slowly building individual, adult connections with each of my parents; this past weekend was the first weekend I spent with them since August. 

I'm enjoying my internship and slowly making my way into the working world. I'm very much a city girl and every time I go there, part of me just lights up! I'm also getting involved in a church and connecting with other people, which has allowed a lot of spiritual growth and finding a sense of faith that I wasn't sure I was going to have again. 


And then there are days when life feels like this: 


Foggy. Unpredictable and filled with more unknowns than I can count. It's as though the world says You can do anything...as long as you have money. And not that money wasn't a concern before, as demonstrated by the student lones that need repaying. Despite that, I do not regret one dollar that I invested in the last four years; I learned a lot more that went above and beyond what was required to get my degree, and for that I make no apologies. 

Nor will I do so for saying that I miss college. It wasn't about the weekend fanfare or the difference in responsibilities, but about the community. It was about the beauty in the smallest of moments that have stayed with me to this very day, and probably will for the rest of my life. Those moments which in turn bore traditions, conversations, and friends that eventually became family. I'm grateful that I took the time to savor it, along with having the ability to do so. 

And I get that every transition comes with a variety of changes, but it still makes me wonder if such changes have to be so isolating. Why did one part of my life seem to be filled with magic and endless possibilities, while this one appears to come with an endless roll of red tape? I'm in the process of trying to do things for myself that will ultimately allow me to be somewhat independent without feeling like I'm constantly draining my bank account. Yet, it's as though whoever came up with those concepts made it purposefully difficult to get access to them. 

I'm growing. I'm learning. But I only have so much energy, emotionally or physically. It makes me wish (or beg) for my brain to be quiet at night so I can stop having nightmares. (More so, now that I know why I have them, I wish they would stop all together). If I had a choice I would fix myself up tomorrow and call it a day. I don't like being afraid to be vulnerable. I hate living in fear that trust will only result in abandonment. Greater is the fear that all of those things will keep me from truly experiencing life and love. I know that it breaks the hearts of friends and family members to see me like this: desperately trying to break out of a mold that has done more harm than good. A mold that started with the best of intentions but had completely different results.

I experience guilt for not going to church every Sunday since moving back. I genuinely want to connect and be involved, but yet I feel guilty about asking for rides or having to explain that I haven't quite found a groove yet. This definitely warrants its' own post, but going to church again is still a little scary. 

But wait...

Both of these images are different, yet one thing in common: they are filled with light. Some days reflect different shades, different colors, different seasons. Yet there is still light; and where there is light, there is hope. Hope that I don't have to wait on time to make life easier or better, but instead be able to rise above my circumstances and make healthy choices for myself. It frees me to fully trust in where God is taking me, though I don't really know where I'm going right now (Psalm 142: 3). 

This is the light that I not only see before me, but the kind that I pray that others will see in me. 

I envision being able to look back at this season in my life and not necessarily laugh, but realize there was a reason for it. What that reason is, I'm not trying to find out anytime soon. I'm content in waiting to see it when I'm meant to.

What I do know is that I am taken care of, and I will be OK.