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.

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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. 

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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. 

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Faith (In Moments)

“Where is your Hope tonight?”

The guitar chords began to strum faintly, signaling us to stand. I could feel the tears start to prickle at my eyes, the weight of the week threatening to overcome me. I was homesick, exhausted, and a little overwhelmed. It was my first time at camp ever, away from my parents, having all these experiences and emotions that I didn’t know what to do with.

My camp counselor leaned over and quietly asked if I wanted to go talk. Without a word, we both stood up and began making our way out of the makeshift sanctuary toward a nearby park. We sat down on the edge of a sandbox as I attempted to explain all that was going on in my thirteen year-old mind. 

She asked me if I wanted to know God, though I thought I knew him well enough from all the pleading and bargaining I did in the past. Part of the reason why I was on that trip in the first place was because of going to my neighbor’s youth group for the last six months. The pastor explained everything in a way that made more sense than multiple years of Catholic religious education ever could, and this whole week I could feel a deeper sense of longing. I wanted that connection, that wholeness that was discussed literally every single night, but I couldn't find the words.

“Alyx, you are a treasure, and God desperately wants you to know and understand that.”

I nodded and bowed my head, something deep down indicating that I had reached the end of my rope. I closed my eyes and prayed along with her, something that in various Christian circles is known as the Sinner’s Prayer. I recall that when I opened my eyes, the sun was shining almost blindingly through the Montana pine trees, and I seriously wondered if I was witnessing a supernatural phenomenon.

 I would not recognize the impact of that decision for a very long time, but in that moment I was just grateful to feel lighter, and actually have a smile on my face.

This past Monday marked ten years since that day. Ten life-changing, wonderful, awkward, painful, side-splitting, breath-taking, joyful, insightful years.

I look back on that time and can now admit that I had no idea what I was actually doing. Not that I didn’t want it or didn’t mean it; I had scars on my wrist and on my heart that needed healing. I had anger and self-hatred that was consuming my whole being, and continuing down that road would have killed me. That being said, I was young and hadn’t been raised with any particular set of beliefs, having to investigate and practice my faith on my own. When you’re only thirteen, fourteen years old, you can only grasp or comprehend so much.

As a teenager, I often equated my relationship with God to my relationship with church. Church was my safe haven, a place I could go to when school or life at home became too chaotic. If I understood the sermon, I understood God a little bit better. If I felt close with my friends at youth group, I felt close with God. We would go on weekend trips and experience a kind of “Jesus high”, then come back and lose it in the midst of every-day, real-life stuff. It was very surface-level, and on the outside it probably looked like I was doing everything for the wrong reasons. The next four years were like being tossed around in a tiny boat in the middle of violent storm: my parents’ marriage was collapsing, and I was using every ounce of emotional strength in me to hold onto the idea of my family that I had grown up with. Being a sensitive and observant person, I was more aware of the tension than I needed to be. I had very little self-confidence, and that definitely affected how I interacted with others.

My need to survive eclipsed a willingness to fully embrace and rest in God’s love.

Love and validation from family, friends, and peers seemed more tangible than eternal promises in heavily interpreted texts.

I knew that God loved me, but genuinely believing it was and has been a different story. And that has always been my struggle, causing me to chase after false hopes and depend on circumstances that had no guarantees.

When I went to college, I realized that church was slowly eclipsing God, and I did not want to relate to my creator based on a checklist, performance, or exclusiveness. That is another post for another time, but I stepped away from church for a while. I needed to learn how to separate the two, to measure myself by Grace instead of perfection.

There was no singular moment, no epiphany of sorts, but a lot of moments that I revisited on a regular basis. A lot of writing; poetry, journals, essays, questions. Praying for the anxiety to subside and the tears to dry.

I ran into walls multiple times over, reminding me that partying, boys, and climbing the career ladder was not going to give me what I needed.

And I knew deep down that I needed God; I always have and I always will. Knowing the challenges that I've faced, I can’t go through life just simply existing without some sort of foundation, an anchor that keeps me grounded. I want to seek Him in the midst of all the cacophony, without the fear of becoming hateful or judgmental. That’s why I’ve hesitated to immerse myself in my faith, because of what Christianity is associated with now a days. I have my own opinions about a variety of topics, but it’s easy to start second-guessing them when I hear enough people screaming and shouting about Truth and love and supposedly being right. It makes me want to run.

But I don’t want to run anymore, at least not for the sake of survival. If I’m going to run, it’s going to be towards something.

From the outside, I don’t always act like a Christian, and haven’t really been during this last year or so. I curse. I drink. I let my imagination go for joyrides. I’ve learned more toward anger and defensiveness than forgiveness.  I raise my voice (and am tempted to raise my fists), when I should be hitting my knees.

When I reflect on the last ten years, I’m honestly not sure how to feel. But when I think about now, and occasionally down the road, I want more than anything to just be healthy, free, and secure. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually. To not live inside my head anymore, but to live out what is on my heart; to be vulnerable, so that I can be reminded of who I am and why I’m here. That will take time, discipline, strength, gentleness, and accountability.  And perhaps it’s not necessarily about forcing myself to change, but allowing myself to be changed in the process. To be molded by the unseen, but still shrouded in love.

May the God of Hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in Him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.

-Romans 15:13

Amen.

photo credit: Deeply enchanted evening via photopin (license)

Marks and Measures (Of a Woman)

Marks and Measures (Of a Woman)

What makes a real woman?

She asks

As she curls her hair, her lashes

While trying to stand up-right

*Stares at unpainted nails*

Her closet begs for change

Sentimental remnants long-since hanging by thread

Wear the black heels, they said

Raise your height so that you can actually be seen and heard

Take care of yourself so that others can take you seriously

Walk right, speak firmly but softly, don’t appear foolish

Act the part, and she might believe it

She sees her body as a vessel

Yet unsure of the role it’s meant to play

She’s no Victoria’s Secret Angel

Child-sized with flesh and muscles

Meant to give life and share intimacy

Untouched, but demanded to perform and please

Though not just in media or magazines

Sacred texts take it to the other extreme

Let a man lead without question

A clean home paves the wave to a clean heart

Look up at others, because she doesn’t know any better

She was not raised, but she can be taught!

Sensuality is a light switch

Still a performance, albeit joined by a ring

The images come together as I quiz my reflection

Preferring what’s in my head to what’s in the mirror

Fighting labels the way some have fought for autonomy

I am

Complex

Layered

Worthy of love and connection

A child-like heart molded by my Creator

Eclectic and multi-faceted

Wanting to be wanted, but still valuing independence

Dancing and laughing

Simultaneously wearing a cross around my neck

Shining gold or silver pairs with red lipstick

You cannot measure a woman by the size of her jeans

Or the height of her shoes

Beauty doesn’t necessarily fade

But it changes

We’re all different kinds of colors and flavors

Sweet, spicy, determined, and feisty

Marked not just by what we give

But how we love, embrace, and honor

Let’s honor ourselves as human beings

Speaking in kindness and bravery, with-holding judgement

That’s the real thing

photo credit: Time. via photopin (license)

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.

For The Graduates

Dear Class of 2015,

Some would say that I'm not qualified to write this because it has only been a year since I graduated college. But a lot can (and does) happen within the span of one year, and I don't think it's about the number of years you've spent doing something as much as it is having something to offer. This time last year I was in your shoes, relieved to be nearly done with the semester but absolutely terrified of what loomed ahead. The anticipation was such an emotional roller coaster that I would be laughing and crying at the same time, carefree one minute, than a total mess over the inevitable ending of an amazing four years. It's perfectly normal to be doing those things, along with soaking in all the traditions, cheap drink nights, and so on as much as you possibly can. For almost all of you, Graduation Day will be the definition of bitter and sweet, where the amount of emotion can leave you overwhelmed by the time you take off your cap and gown. Make a point to celebrate, because not only did you get your diploma, but you had life-changing experiences and memories.

So what's next?

This is where it gets tricky, because at this point it literally is different for everyone. Some will move to new cities and start working right away, while others might have to return to their hometown roots in order to regroup and figure out which path to take. Some may take the next step in their romantic relationships, and some may choose to travel and cross things off their bucket lists. After college, very few friends are in the exact same place anymore, though it's likely they'll share the same emotions, fears, and uncertainties. Regardless of the exact circumstances, the transition from college to the real world is not easy, so allow yourself to cry and let it out when you feel the need to. Though you never really permanently adjust to adulthood due to it's own various stages, that doesn't make it any less important to be gentle with yourself. And as you move from one chapter to the next, please do yourself and your friends the honor of saying goodbye. It's hard and gut-wrenching, and no one is ever really "good" at it. But it will give you and the other person peace, as a way of acknowledging that you were here, you lived, and you did it together.

It's likely that in the months that follow, you'll feel somewhat lost and unsure of what to do, even if there are clear opportunities ahead. The transition for me was twofold; not only was I leaving behind a family that I had grown to love in cherish, but I was coming back to a family that was in the midst of a lot of changes in itself, much of which I didn't know what to do with. The hardest part was not getting a kind of support that I felt like I got at school, where I was accepted for being emotional, sensitive, and messy. Making friends can be a slow process; you might reconnect with those you lost touch with after high school. You might very well be in a place where you don't know anybody or aren't surrounded by very many twenty-somethings, and I'd say utilize technology to the best of your ability. Websites like meetup.com offer so many social and interest-related groups, even if it's just for the sake of getting out and being around people.

Yes, you're going to experience loneliness and nostalgia; you'll picture your former days in your head like a movie montage, yearning for it in a way that almost hurts. It's perfectly normal to want to go back, and I've gone back to Iowa several times in the last year. It really helped me to understand that it wasn't just the activities that made college what it was, but the people. And when you get to do something that has such a profound impact and transforms your life, it becomes part of you, and in a sense that place will always be your home. I promise that there are beautiful things about post-grad  that you'll come to appreciate, especially the little things. You'll be able to read for pleasure again, and hopefully have the chance to get a solid night of sleep. It is possible to go out and have fun without waking up with a hangover in the morning, and I've learned to enjoy activities like going to movies by myself or doing other things on my own.

As you grow and mature, you will have regrets. It's tough to look back and not beat yourself up over what you could have done differently, but remember that there are circumstances in which one can only know or do so much. If need be, apologize and ask for forgiveness, but also forgive yourself in order to move forward.

 While you'll never have anything completely figured out, it's important to be aware of the fact that anything you do (or don't do) from this point on is A.) completely up to you and B.) could very well affect or even change the course ahead. For most, there are no longer set points in time to start over; you have to be the one to create your own new beginnings, to decide what is true and right for you and what isn't. 

With that being said, please don't wait for the perfect job, the perfect person, or even the perfect time in order to start building your own life. Not just because perfection is non-existent, but because none of these aspects will fill you and make you whole. While it's true that that the initial path may be one of the most frustrating and depressing stages you'll go through (sometimes more than once), I whole-heartedly believe in the purpose of it. There was at least a month or two when I was going on multiple interviews at a time, and the concept of going out in the world and kicking ass was absolutely awesome. Yet, I started to notice that after a little bit I'd get cranky; I was trekking to the city and going through this lengthy process to not only get rejected, but for a short time it was all I was doing. Every disappointment was reminder that I couldn't put my joy or identity into my career, that only God could give me peace and contentment. General worldview aside, you are not defined by your relationship status or your income. You still matter, because everyone matters. 

Don't be afraid to ask for help, or accept help when it is offered. Realistically, none of us ever gets anywhere without the guidance and mentoring of someone else. Sometimes you have to pay your dues and bite the bullet for a little bit in order to get to where you want to be. A lot of people will want to give you unsolicited advice, and all I will say for that is to trust your instincts (which is true for just about everything) in terms of what needs to be taken to heart. Pursuing and doing what you love is one thing, but making time for people that you care about is another. Relationships truly do have to be intentional,  especially when additional aspects like work and finances are involved. While paying the bills helps one survive, quality time feeds the soul. Make plans and make memories, because the emails and messages will still be there. No, I'm not saying put one foot in and one foot out, because each requires both. It means understanding your limits and respecting them. 

Being excessively busy doesn't always equal success. We all have stuff to get done and it's important to stick to it, but I could never live with a constant, fully packed schedule to the point of being unavailable. If you think that's who you are, take a step back and ask yourself why.

Forget the lists that tell you what you should be doing at what age, or what you should have done by then. Traveling is a beautiful thing, but it's perfectly fine to put your finances first or to want to find the hidden gems closer to home. There are those that choose to get married because they have found someone they want to share their life with, and they are emotionally, spiritually, and financially ready to do so. There are those that choose to be single because they want to get to know themselves better or outside of a particular environment. Both are honorable choices and deserve to be respected, because it's really no one else's business. And some not-so-good habits are just part of people, regardless of how old they get. Sometimes you just have to compromise.

It's OK to do things simply because you want to, without any justification or explanation. God doesn't always give clear cut answers, and I'm guessing that's so we can learn to own and take responsibility for our decisions. 

But more then anything, this is the time to truly be yourself. One of the nice things about being outside a collegiate environment is that there is no longer a concrete way of doing things, especially when it comes to what kind of relationships you have and how you treat other people. I have always known deep down that I cannot be categorized or compartmentalized, but I didn't know how to live that out when it seemed like you had to be one thing or the other. There's so much talk about finding who you are or creating it, but I tend to think it's more about embracing it. To some degree a person knows their truth, but they never completely do because they're always changing and evolving as they go.

 Instead of walking around like you have something to prove, show that you have something to offer. Do what moves and inspires you, but also give as well; and when you give, give out of your own heart rather than obligation. 

The ending of college may seem like the end of the road, but trust me when I say that it's not. It is only the continuation of an already awesome story, a new chapter. Whatever you do, make it one worth telling.

You are strong and courageous. You can do hard things. 

Love always,

Alyx

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Friday Finds

It's been a busy month, but I still want to share some beautiful things I've discovered around the blogosphere (and the internet).....

Expanding The Ways We Experience God (via Relevant Magazine)



An interesting perspective on those that feel mentally different (via Momastery)

-I love this so much because I can relate to this on many levels. For years I felt like I had to be happy all the time; that once I could somehow "fix" the way my mind worked and the way it dealt with emotions, all would be right the world. But somehow I get the sense that the world needs people that aren't afraid to show that their sad, angry, or down right pissed off. And this article gives me hope.




With Love, from Bob (Via Willow Creek Community Church)

-The author of one of my favorite books, Love Does, spoke at my church during our Celebration of Hope series. His words are soul stirring and his personality is so infectious that I literally want to jump up and dance. Despite how whimsical and out there it all seems, just take his words for what they are. Oh, and read the book too!


Every decision should include this one question (via Stephanie May Wilson)



Inspiration from Jamaica (via My European Adventures)

-Written by one of my closest friends from college. She is an incredible person with such a big and beautiful heart! I wanted to share it because it was so moving that it brought tears to my eyes. 


Have a wonderful weekend, everyone!


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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.

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.

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