Re-Thinking "Getting Hurt"

It seems to have become a rallying cry of a generation, or perhaps just a rallying cry overall. We use it as a rebuttal for a million different situations, but none the more polarizing then when it comes to avoiding deep and meaningful relationships:

“….But I don’t want to get hurt!”

My initial reaction is, “ Well, who actually does?”

 It’s natural to be a little bit cautious, and the world would be a disaster if we weren’t.  Yet the more I hear it, the more it comes across as an excuse as opposed to a valid concern. Do some truly want to avoid unnecessary hurt, or do they want the benefits without taking risk or responsibility?

The fact is, no one on this earth is immune to pain; at some point you’ll either experience it in one (or several) ways:

Going into something and knowing that it’s probably a bad idea, but doing it anyway.

Getting blindsided when things are going really well.

Understanding the risks, and taking things as they come. It might turn out well and it might not, and that’s OK.

The question is, what are you willing to live with?

Yes, boundaries are important, but there is a huge difference between setting boundaries and setting up an obstacle course. It’s baffling as to why some tout having been hurt in the past, yet turn around and hurt others by lying, cheating, or manipulating in order to get what they want. Maybe it’s due to a lack of confidence, not knowing how to communicate, or wanting to be in control of another person.

Then there are those who know they’re in a dysfunctional situation, but are unsure how to get out. Not only was I one of them, but I watched a friend put herself through the wringer for the sake of a complete idiot who wanted to take more than give. It’s often a battle of either trying to prove that you don’t care at all or that their personal well-being is a top priority. You either put up a wall to see how far someone will go, or you will try like hell to break it down.

It’s an exhausting push and pull, and one that unfortunately is considered normal all across the age spectrum.

I get that none of us is perfect; we’re all scared, we’re all lonely, and we don’t want to go through heartbreak.  But we’ve become so terrified that we confuse necessary limits and self-protection with numbing real needs and feelings. There’s no black and white, clear-cut formula, and it could very well depend on the person and kind of relationship you’re in. It’s practically a given to believe that if men did this and women did that, we’d all be a lot better off. In a way that might be true, but we can only control our own choices and actions.

I’ve begun to wonder if it is less about what we do with the possibility of pain, and more about the perspective we have on it. Instead of saying “I’m going to make sure that this doesn’t happen,” we say, “I’m going to have the best experience possible, regardless of the outcome.” This can have a lot of different meanings, which is why it’s difficult to put into practice. One can assume that physical gratification is the best experience, but eventually they’ll get hit with the realization that it’s only prolonging the hurt, not eradicating it. Others might see it as diving headfirst into a new relationship, wanting to just relax and be in the moment.  How do you let yourself be happy with what’s right in front of you, while still acknowledging the possibility that it might not be what you envision to be? Is there such a thing as proceeding with caution without purely waiting for the other shoe to drop?

One day at a time, sweetheart. Breathe and have faith.

Naming and vocalizing fear, especially a specific fear, gives it less power. My best friend once told me that she and her significant other are brutally honest about their fears and insecurities all the time, regardless of how silly it sounds. There’s something to be said for that kind of vulnerability; not just in romantic relationships, but with others as well. We all need people who are willing to speak truth and accountability into our lives, even when we aren’t ready to hear it. I’m now just becoming comfortable with opening up about what I am most afraid of: that I will not be enough in the eyes of my person, and that walk away from what we have without talking to me about it first. It has happened before, each time where I believed I was at fault for causing them to run, though deep down I knew otherwise. Everyone has a choice in terms of how they handle discomfort or frustration, and it’s ultimately their choice in terms of whether or not they’ll act like an adult.

I never want anyone to promise me that they won’t hurt me, and I wouldn't promise that in turn, even if it was unintentional. Instead, I prefer a mutual promise that we'll both take responsibility for our choices, regardless of how difficult it is. Say it, own it, and then work through it.

If it does end, the thorn of it all is believing that the pain is only temporary, that you can somehow move on and put yourself back together. I’ve been through enough where I understand that this is possible; granted I might not completely get over it, but I’ll still get through it. And if I surrender the broken pieces, allowing myself time and space for an honest reflection on what happened, I usually do heal from it. And by real healing, I mean without rebounds or hook-ups.

 At my junior high and high school youth groups, we teenagers were often told to “guard our hearts,” and that avoiding dating equaled less heartache. In theory it seems like a good idea, but whenever I’ve tried to follow a full-proof formula for anything, I end up forgetting to trust God in the process. It doesn’t mean preparing myself for negative impact from the get-go, but by trusting my instincts and seeking Him before all else, that it will still be something that I can learn or grow from; it will not be a waste of time or energy.

This is all very much a thought process, one that I’m allowing to evolve and re-shape as time goes on. It’s messy, indefinite, like puzzle pieces still scattered and I have yet to come up with a method of putting them together. I’m still in the midst of walking through a bit of haze, where I just got out of something that has more questions than answers. It’s OK to take a step back, to re-evaluate, and wait until you’re ready.

 And perhaps the first step is simply acknowledging that pain is not a problem to be solved, but an inevitable experience. 

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When Tinder Isn't To Blame

A couple of weeks ago I came across the highly publicized Vanity Fair article, where the author highlights a so-called “dating apocalypse” due to apps like Tinder and the widespread hook-up culture. As a lot of people probably reacted, I was dismayed, even frustrated when I read it. Not because any of the scenarios presented were utterly  shocking, but that few seemed to truly enjoy the whole concept, yet resigned to the fact that we're stuck and just have to suck it up and smile. I could tell that the glaring problem wasn’t what the author was frequently indicating, but something much more indirect:

Hardly anyone likes it, but it is what it is, and you either make the best of it or risk being alone.

I’m not defending Tinder, nor am I dismissing it. I know several people who’ve found relationships through it and things seem to be going well. Yet out of the number of times I downloaded and used it, I typically deleted it within the span of a couple of months. It did become addicting, and eventually I became tired of waking up to sexually grotesque messages, and feeling pulled into conversations that didn’t reflect my personal character. There’s no doubt that dating is harder than it used to be, but it shouldn’t be to where you’re feeling degraded and cheap every time you try to have a simple conversation.

But it’s not the app that matters, or even rapidly changing technology. What bothers me is how people act like they no longer have free will because different avenues have become available and casual sex has become more prevalent. It seems like reality, but is actually just a mindset for refusing to take ownership of how you allow yourself to be treated.

It would be wonderful if more people were completely honest about what they want, who say what they mean and mean what they say.  But even that wouldn’t solve everything, and it is kind of silly to put your emotional well-being into the hands of someone else.

My question is, where does one person’s responsibility end and another’s begins?

I can’t control others’ actions or line of thinking, I can decide what I stand for and what I don’t. I want to be with a man who looks at me as God-created human being, an equal and a partner. If that’s not case, than sometimes the best way to stick up for myself is to walk away completely.

It’s not enough to just eliminate something and then blindly hope that the pieces will fall together. You have to set standards for yourself, as well as limits and boundaries. More so, it involves discipline, accountability, and commitment.

Taking a Step Back

There’s definitely a sense of magic when it comes to meeting someone new, and it is nice to feel hopeful about the possibilities. But at the end of the day, the most important relationships in my life are that with God and with myself, because they are the ones that I’m always guaranteed to have. It’s so easy to get swept up in the emotion and excitement of getting to know someone, and maybe even falling in love. At the same time, what once felt promising can turn into a vacuum of stress, where I nearly end up questioning everything and blame myself in the process. Recently, I’ve noticed that I become incredibly anxious when I feel like I don’t have some amount of control in certain situations, specifically when it comes to sticking up for myself or having the last word. When I can’t practice emotional, physical, or even spiritual self-care, that’s when I know to stop and reflect on what I’m doing. It might mean being more selective in who I go out with, or it might mean taking a break from dating all together.

It’s perfectly OK to just be single, and in a way where you’re not involved with anyone in any capacity. It’s imperative to make time to breathe, to get to know yourself or to re-discover who you are and what you want for your life. Real love is only healthy if it comes from within, and is poured out slowly and for the right reasons. And as selfish as this sounds, you can’t take care of anyone else if you don’t take care of yourself in the process.

Trusting Instincts

I’ve been blessed with strong instincts, but admittedly have not always followed them. I usually know within a couple of conversations (in person or otherwise) if I can envision something deeper or romantic. It’s hard to explain why exactly, but I suppose it relates to knowing myself really well, and being aware of what kind of personalities I mesh with versus what I don’t. More importantly, I know what I want and what I can give, so that’s definitely a tool in spotting red flags, or even just yellow ones.

The challenge is not getting stuck in something that’s unhealthy, and more so because I’m trying to give a guy the benefit of the doubt. I understand that no one is perfect and that everyone messes up; that being said, there is a difference between not being perfect and not making an effort. Doing something once is making a mistake, but repeated actions involve making a choice. And if he gets defensive because I called him out, that’s when I know it isn’t going to work. And sadly, once I realize that things are not going to get better, they usually don’t; it just ends up becoming this ridiculous cycle that results in emotional exhaustion and blocking somebody’s number.

Please, pay attention; pay attention to whether or not you’re being pursued, respected, heard, encouraged, protected, and whether or not your interest is allowing you to do the same for him/her. Even if it’s not serious or romantic, you’re still human and should have an open line of communication. If something feels off, it’s likely that it probably is, and you should get away as soon as possible.

Finding Support

From personal experience, I can say that one of my biggest regrets is not trusting my closest friends enough, telling them what I truly thought and felt. The first couple of weeks of my freshman year of college, I met a guy from a nearby dorm and developed a crush on him very quickly. I never told anyone that I liked him because I didn’t want the attention, and I thought it would be easier for me to deal with it alone if things went downhill. Needless to say that did happen, and I nearly became an emotional wreck because I held everything in, at least until I couldn’t anymore. I knew that he wasn’t good for me, and I didn’t want to hear it from anyone else.

The truth is hard to swallow, but necessary nonetheless. From friends both near and far, to family members and mentors, I’m beyond grateful to those who are willing to be a sounding board and to listen without judgement. I might need advice on how to handle a situation, or sometimes it’s nice to be affirmed that I’m not overly sensitive and that I do have a right to my feelings. 

The right support system is one that will tell you the truth, but will still love and be there for you nonetheless. They give advice when you need it, or affirm that you’re doing the right thing when faced with a difficult decision. They know how to celebrate while being level-headed, and they know how to comfort without complaining about how all men are jerks. They have a healthy attitude toward themselves and others, and recognize when to fight for something and when to move on.

I’m fascinated by how we all relate to one another, how our stories connect, and how we all have the ability to make an impact. We’ve gotten so caught up in the idea of love that we’ve forgotten what it means to be human: to be vulnerable, to show emotion, and to have a passion for something. The struggle is recognizing that no one can complete you, nor can they make all your pain go away.

Life is too precious and fragile to not be surrounded by what truly matters. The beauty of getting older is that I’ve realized that I don’t have the time or energy for "meeting up," late at night, or being referred to as something other than my name.  I don’t need the stress, the silence, or the wondering. I need someone who motivates me to be better, who pushes me toward God, and is willing to let me love him the way he loves me.

Has dating changed? Sure it has, and it will continue to do so as time goes on. But it's up to each one of us to determine what it will look like for our own lives, and I know which direction I'm going in.

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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)

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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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)

Body Wars (And Peace)

It's that time of year again; the time where a lot of us look in the mirror and analyze every inch of our reflection. It may start on New Years, or it may start in the last month leading up to a spring break trip or a vacation. Either way, we stare, we scrutinize, and we tell ourselves that it's a matter of practicing good posture or actually sticking to doing those fifty crunches that we were told would make our stomach's flatter in six months. Soon enough, that all-too familiar voice chimes in and gets louder by the minute; it sounds like nothing yet comes from everything around us, from the media to even friends and family.

You are too much of this, and not enough of that.

Growing up, I never dealt with any major weight-related issues, unless you count the time period when I was an infant and had to gain four pounds in order to go home from the hospital. My grandmother affectionately nicknamed me her "Bag O' Bones", and it has stuck to present day. Some of you reading this might be tempted to argue that I've had it easy, and I won't deny that in some respects that's true. I was, and always have been fairly active person, especially coming from a family of athletes. I had a naturally fast metabolism and adopted a liking for healthy meals early on. When I went to college I avoided the freshman fifteen by long walks around campus and learning how to make decent food choices. 

Yet somewhere in there at least one person (maybe two or more) would make some sort of comment about my figure: 

"You're too skinny!" 

"You need to eat more!"

"Why do you even work out? It's not like you need it." 

"We're going to fatten you up when you get home."


It's as frustrating now as it was back then, given that I'm constantly taking care of myself to the best of my ability. I'm well aware of my eating and exercise habits, along what works for me and what doesn't. But it's not so much the remarks in themselves that I find annoying as much as whom those words are coming from; it's sad when those who should be encouraging you to love and accept yourself are the ones trying to convince you that you're somehow not healthy.  And while I do acknowledge the possibility of genuine concern, there are better ways to go about the conversation than making snarky comments about how they don't measure up.

But I've long since thought that for anyone who does that sort of thing, it's less about their opinion regarding the other person and more how they see themselves.

With developments in technology over the years and an increase in vocalization, dealing with body image and what's healthy versus what isn't can be complex. New studies regarding what to eat and what to avoid are being released all the time and it's constantly sending people into a tizzy. There's a love/hate relationship for Victoria's Secret and "Fitsporation" on Pinterest, while celebrities are being glorified or attacked all the time getting older or having babies. A lot of popular music urges people to celebrate who they are, but not without undermining others by referring to them as "skinny bitches."

Do we really have to look at one side as the enemy in order to embrace the other? It seems exhausting and completely unnecessary.

While I was training for my first 5K race last spring, I went to a health specialist at the my University's rec center to make sure that I was doing the proper preparation. Not only was she incredibly helpful, but it was nice to hear that I wasn't necessarily doing anything wrong as it was. She explained that because I'm living with Cerebral Palsy, it's perfectly normal that I have a slightly different diet and exercise routine. And as I went about my days getting ready for my upcoming run, I noticed a change in how I felt because I ate certain foods or focused on specific exercises. As I type this, I'm recalling a line from a commercial that I saw on TV a long time ago; it's been well over a decade, but the message is still relevant now as it was fifteen years prior.

"It doesn't only matter what you look like, but what you feel like."

With that, my health and fitness mantra comes down to one sentence: Pay attention to how you feel while and after you're doing something. This goes for both fitness and food; I like my workouts to involve lots of cardio and movement, where I'm aching by the time I'm done. I'm not one for a ton of greasy or heavy food because they both make my stomach hurt. And in terms of eating, I'm a grazer throughout the day as opposed to eating three big meals at designated times.

No one body is exactly the same, so I don't think you can determine whether someone is living a healthy life based on looking at them. Yes, this country has problems with both obesity and eating disorders, but how one navigates that is not exactly black and white. I get the reasoning behind some countries banning models who don't meet a specific BMI requirement, but who's to say that they're always in control of that? It's kind of insulting to those who do struggle with such life-threatening conditions, because there are other factors that go into it besides dramatic weight loss. As I said previously, if the signs do indicate that something isn't right, there are more genuine and loving ways to discuss the subject then just demanding that they eat.

But there are times where body acceptance does not just involve clothing size or weight.  For me, I've had to come to terms with the fact that I'm fairly petite for someone my age and am done growing. I have moments where I absolutely hate it because it's difficult to find shoes that fit and clothes are swimsuits always tend to fall off a little. I know that certain things involving bonding and babies are not going to be easy, and while that might be awkward to read, it's important for me to think about as I determine what I want in my life and who I want to surround myself with. I'm an adult now, and even not everyone understands that, I have to choose what's best for me.


And that is what it comes down to: being an adult and realizing that you do have a choice. Just as choosing to make lifestyle changes is honorable, so is choosing to accept things as they are, as long as that person is doing so in a safe way and for the right reasons. As much as I wish women would stop complaining about getting back to their pre-pregnancy bodies (or struggling after a certain age), I have no room to comment because I have not been down that road. As much as I wish some of my family members exercise or that my friends would stop smoking, I can't force them to do it. I believe in leading by example, but not in the way that we shame or blame others if they choose not to follow. 

I hope one day that we'll realize that our bodies are not the enemy. Food is not the enemy. Instead, it is that false, monotone voice that spits out unrealistic expectations without experiencing real life. It speaks out of fear, rather than speaking from a place of love. That's where I've found peace; knowing that I am what I am because I'm a human being and a child of God. I don't need anything else to define my worth.

I'm ready to put my weapons down.

photo credit: Tell me that you'll open your eyes via photopin (license)

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.

Cultivating Hope

What a year it has been: a lot of accomplishments and dreams being realized, as well as growth in my faith and in the relationships in my life. But there also was a lot of change, two transitions (at the same time) to be specific. And while those changes were necessary, they were no less emotionally exhausting. And with that being said, I'm glad that 2014 is coming to an end. 

With New Years comes the talk of starting over, which realistically can happen whenever you decide that you want to begin again. I do believe that God's mercies are new every morning, but there's something beautiful about the turning of the calendar year, knowing all that happened is truly in the past. It's a formal permission to move forward, but without the dryness and heavy heart that I've felt when trying to do so at other times. It feels natural, welcoming, and fresh. 

This also marks the end of my Reverb14 journey, which I did somewhat differently this year. I chose not to purposefully write every day because I'm still processing a lot of what 2014 has brought me and I wasn't ready to put my thoughts out there while still in the thick of things. In some way certain changes will carry over into the coming year and I hope to reflect on them when I have a broader perspective, and can share from a place of gratitude rather than hopelessness. 

Going off of that, I want 2015 to be all about cultivating hope. 

May the God of hope fill you with joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope (Romans 15:13).

That verse has slowly become one that I want to live by, despite the fact that I don't always show it. As I began the process of transitioning out of college, I was honestly such a wreck and overwhelmed enough to where I was barely able to function. I couldn't think, let alone do anything without feeling crippled by what was about to happen. The unknown, the concept of going out into the wilderness and trying to find my own way with less structure and fewer milestones to look forward to was terrifying. Worrying and wondering about it was my way of trying to prepare myself, as though it would hurt less and be less heartbreaking when it was time. 

And yet, the anticipation and going through the what-if's was what made it so depressing. You think you're doing yourself a favor by being pessimistic or ruminating in the worst-case scenario, but you're not. It's more a waste of time than it is a way to make things easier. If I could pick some kind of mantra to include in what I'd like to accomplish, it would be that worrying isn't worth it. 

Worrying ain't worth it, OK? 

But I can't do it on my own, which is why I'm making a point to fill myself emotionally and spiritually. When I do that, engaging with others is easier because there's no pressure to prove myself (at least in the way of friendship); I can rest in the fact that I am loved unconditionally in a way that no human being can fathom, and that is enough. It gives me motivation to exercise and eat healthy, as a way to honor and take care of the body that I was given, rather than solely wanting to have a nice figure. In other words, when you feed yourself, you have more of an ability to love yourself. And once you recognize what self-love is, it helps you to give and receive love with others. 

Leaning into hope does not mean ignoring pain, but finding another purpose for it. I'm willing to acknowledge anger, frustration, and even depression, but I will not despair in it. If I stress or worry, I will ask for peace. 

Live lighter, and leave what isn't needed behind. 

Choose joy.

photo credit: Martin Huml via photopin cc

My Tribe

Who did you connect with this year?

The last half of 2013 and the entirety of 2014 was the first time in a while where I truly knew who my friends were. Not only was I aware of it, but I was fully comfortable and therefore able to embrace it. They were a fairly sized group where I could look at each one of them and say “these are my people” without questions or doubts. They don’t all know each other and some of them probably wouldn’t even get along real well (hence why getting them under one roof probably wouldn’t have worked, despite my attempt at it multiple times), but when I picture them they’re all clustered together. Not only did they have an impact on my year, but they’ve had an overall impact on my life.

And as I sit here writing this, it’s hard to describe what that looks like. During my final semester of college I became more open and vulnerable, realizing that face-to-face conversations would be rare (or at least every so often) once we graduated and moved onto the next chapter. I wouldn’t say that I poured out the contents of my heart, and much less to each person that I bonded with, but it was close enough. At some point we shared our dreams, our hopes, and even our fears for the future. I vividly remember admitting how terrified I was of moving back to my hometown, wondering if I would lose all the progress that I’d made and automatically shrink back in to who I was before going to Iowa. For the first time, somebody offered to sit with me during a session or two if it meant that I would start seeing a therapist again (I hadn’t stopped entirely, but it had been a while and I convinced myself that it wasn’t necessary). It was OK to cry and be broken up over my family falling apart. They never failed to remind me how well I was handling the situation and how I overcame so much in the time that they’d known me. Occasionally they would say things in such a way where I’d wind up crying tears of gratitude, but they also knew how to speak the truth when it was needed.

“You hold too many things in.”

“You beat yourself up too much.”

In my heart, I knew they were right. The pain of it was having been conditioned years beforehand to believe otherwise, and I wondered if one day I’d become too much to handle and they would walk away without notice, as some have. It wasn’t a question of whether or not to let them in, but how; it’s one thing to share your story with a person the first time around, to have certain conversations as you learn about each other. But talking about the same stuff, especially the hard things, eventually becomes exhausting for me. Talking is good, but so are hugs and doing something fun in order to take my mind off of something. It’s not running away if you accept that you’re not in control of what’s happening, and have to focus on doing what makes you smile in order to move forward.

I didn’t want to drag them down with my depression, let alone be remembered for it. Then again, they never failed to remind me how well I was handling the situation and how I overcame so much in the time that they’d known me.

Friends, I’ve discovered, are the mirrors that show us what we don’t see in ourselves. My biggest inspirations are the ones that have taught me how to relax, laugh, and look out for others.

And we did have fun: we danced, joked around, bonded over a semi-reality show that involved roses and dating multiple people at once, and so much more. These were the times that I learned how I put more emphasis on being with people that mean a lot, rather than just drinking or doing things for the sake of not being alone. It’s how I discovered that I prefer experiences rather than material gifts because of what you carry with you afterward. It taught me how to just enjoy being with these people and how silence isn’t always a bad thing. I can go a whole night without saying a lot and still have a good time, but that’s just me.

If I could pick a favorite moment, it would be this last October when I visited Iowa City for the first time as an alumnus. A friend and I ran into each other at (one of) my old stomping grounds and we hadn’t seen each other in months. It was hard to carry on a conversation with the place being so crowded, but I do remember us affirming what we meant to one another before going off in different directions. It didn’t mean anything beyond that, but it was nice to hear given that we did have our rough patches, and especially after such a long period of time.

Going off of that, there were tough times with everybody. It’s hard watching two people you equally care for argue over something, even to the point where the relationship changes or disintegrates. There has been discomfort and there has been hurt, but it has taught me that I have to work on meeting people halfway, even if I don’t agree with certain actions or choices. Doing life with other people is intentional and not always based on how well you click or can avoid conflict, but recognizing that they’re flawed and imperfect while choosing to love them anyway.

I will respectfully disagree with the fact that having a tribe means seeing these people every week or talking day in and day out. I am beyond thankful for advances in technology that allow me to send a simple “thinking about you” text or words of encouragement, but I don’t necessarily expect (or demand) a regular response. When you get out of college and get into the workforce, it’s not always possible to keep up with everyone, much less keep up with them all the time. You can proclaim that the only people you need in your life are the ones who prove that they need you in theirs, but what does that even mean? As much as I hate how the term “busy” is used these days, it does happen and people get carried away. The best thing to do is cherish the time that you have, despite the indication of change and possibly distance.

In my personal experience, being part of anything means that I’m never without friendship or support, regardless of how close or far away they are. I feel blessed to still keep in touch with those that live in different states or different parts of the country, and we make a point to let the other know that we’re there. I am in their corner and they are in mine, and that’s what matters. The beautiful thing is though there is pain in leaving and moving on, those circles keep growing: the latter half of this year I’ve found and connected with a great church community, and could write a whole other post on how that has helped me.

No matter where we are or how often we communicate, what I do know for sure is that these people have a special place in my heart, and there will always be some common thread because we shared four years of life experiences together. Whether you have good moments or tough ones, that sense of mutual understanding in good times and in bad is a reason to celebrate, to pray, and to give thanks.

For now, and for always. 

photo credit: KimWright'sPhotography via photopin cc

Palms Up

I picture myself as a modern-day Woman-Woman, using my superpowers of to-do lists and pure force to get what I want. Is there something you would like to try harder at because you believe it would make all the difference? Conversely, what is something that you could stop trying so hard at that might actually help you manifest what you'd like? (Prompt credit: Kat McNally) 

Wonder Woman; those words, the icon, was how I attempted to define myself throughout high school and college. It embodied a choice to overcome limits and make naysayers think twice about proclaiming what I was and wasn't capable of. It was the reminder to do better and be better, and if I couldn't do that, then I had to try harder. Some of it was ingrained in me, while the rest became an armor that I often wore to shield myself from pain. Or maybe less severe pain, because some thing still hurt regardless of pretending otherwise. 

Over time, the want to do all and be all slowly diminished; I've slowly discovered that it takes more energy to hide and pretend than it does to be authentic and vulnerable (albeit the latter is terrifying). Yet I'm not entirely sure of how to do away with that complex, at least without feeling like a walking target. That, and the prospect of accepting that I'm always going to be/act a certain way and that growth is no longer possible.

On one hand, I could tell you that I'd like to be less impulsive; to stop reaching for my phone when I'm experiencing an extreme emotion, or several at one time. I'd like to be less of a worrier where the worst-care scenario is not at the forefront on my mind. More than anything, I'd like to stop fighting for the wrong reasons. 

On the other, all of this can be described in several ways: 

The demolishing of a wall.

The lifting of a veil.

The deflating of a piece of plastic (think floating inner tube).

Turning over your hands and lifting you palms upward.

 This is actually one of my favorites because it symbolizes release and surrender, which in a way is what we choose when being authentic. This is what I often do at church and when I am praying; it's my way of letting God know that this experience is fully about the two of us.

I could go on, but this ultimately shows what it means to have the courage to show who you are. This is not easy for me to do because I have several layers and it's too daunting to peel them back all at once. I'm not saying that what you see isn't what you get, it's only part of it. There are many aspects to my personality and displaying them all at once is draining, and at times seems impossible.

Yet if there's ONE THING, and I mean ANYTHING that I feel inclined to actually work at in 2015, it's asking for what I need. 

I have never been particularly good at that; a constant fear of being labeled as a burden, ridiculously needy, and the like have plagued me for years. Case in point, the number of conversations that involved "I do all these things for you and this is the thanks I get?!" along with the fear of being told no, flat-out and without explanation. No, because having another person wrap their arms around you and holding you there for at least a minute is too intimate and personal. No, because baring your soul to another human being (without advice or a solution) is like asking to do open heart surgery when he/she hasn't been to medical school. No, because few people actually have the time or energy anymore to spend time with someone they care about. Wrap it all up in a tightly twined package and call it "The Way The World Works" (supposedly). 

Silly? Yes. A complete load of crap? Most definitely. But it is what I have carried, yet I am now determined to leave it behind. 

Just Be. Do what feeds your heart, your soul, and your spirit. 

It is making decisions out of love rather than out of fear. Asking someone for something is an act of love because it indicates that you care about them and you want to share an experience with them. It does not guarantee that the other person will agree to be present for you; I've learned the hard way that different people give you different things, and not one alone will be able to give it all in exact. It's a tough reality, but a reality nonetheless. 

It will not be easy. There will be times where I would rather someone else ask me than boldly doing the asking myself. There is still the self-exerted pressure of having to be a specific kind of woman in order to be loved, let alone cared for. However, I'm done twisting and turning; I don't want to change and shape for the sake of having to tolerate someone else if they refuse to do the same for me. 

Surrender. Put the cape down. Palms Up.

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