Of Boldness and Blunders

I’m declaring this the year of being bold, I wrote with only a few hours left of my twenty-fourth birthday. Of being bold and assertive. Of pursuing dreams until God closes the door. I want to build a life that has meaning, and that it will involve doing hard things and being uncomfortable.

Such a declaration was nothing close to an automatic miracle. Waking up the next morning, all I could think about was the fact that I’m near a quarter of a century old, and its way past the point of being time. I’ve wrested with selflessness versus taking charge of my needs and desires for most of my life; I’m not necessarily afraid of rejection itself, but more so the reasoning behind the rejection. It’s almost like I would rather live with the potential outcomes than face reality head on. As I’ve said previously, the possibility of getting what I want is a lot scarier than not doing so. It comes down to having more to lose, and not wanting to subconsciously take responsibility when I might not be at fault.

For a time I associated such a word with class and sophistication, combined with a take-no-prisoners attitude. I envisioned women in colored blazers with heels, flawless eyeliner and jangling jewelry. They’re the Beyoncé’s and the Taylors and the Lady Gaga’s of the world. Bold embodies the women I met when I was sixteen years old, and have looked up to since high school. It’s strange to say that I’ve never sensed that in my own being; I’ve more so identified as the shy one, the unsure one, the one who spends way too much time overthinking and preparing for the worst. I’ve hidden away and longed for more, and regretted it every time.

When I do step up, when I take a risk and go after something, I feel a lot better afterward. More confident. Free. No longer carrying a huge weight on my shoulders. Even if things don’t go way that I’d like them to, at least I can move forward and keep my anxiety levels down. It’s not always easy or comfortable, but it’s what I need to do it order to grow. It might be the writer in me, or it might just be the perfect time to begin tapping into who God made me to be.  

This newly lit fire in my heart is a tough one to explain, and the pieces will come together in their own time.  Based on past experiences, I’m well aware of the fact that I’m capable of taking risks, and making things happen one way or the other. I once stood in front of my entire seventh grade class and read a poem that launched my writing career. I went to both high school and college in completely unfamiliar territory, and wound up meeting a number of people that changed my life for the better. I don’t have to be an expert to understand that I have it in me, and that it’s more so a matter of manifesting that kind of courage on a regular basis.

Assertiveness has many definitions, but it boils down to keeping it simple and using your time wisely. Ask for whatever it is, without embellishment or justification. I’ve never heard anyone mentioned above try to explain themselves or hand out reasons like candy; they do what they do and don’t apologize for bringing up uncomfortable subjects. Bear in mind, it’s not always about the big and monumental that go the distance. God needs people to move mountains, but I can imagine that He has just as much of a need to tackle the small things as well. Never underestimate the power of a single voice, the determination of one, or the impact of what might look tiny, but has a lot of momentum behind it.

It’s what dark horses are made of.

Proclaiming it is one part, and living it out is another. I would rather let people make their own judgements and critiques, because trying to convince anyone to see from your point of view is like running on a hamster wheel. I go with the expectation of learning and evolving and becoming…nothing else. It takes patience and perseverance, but I’m confident that it can become second nature as time progresses. I’m sure I’ll stumble and shrink back into old habits, like waiting until the “right” moment or set of circumstances to take action. I’ll probably overthink and over-analyze until I’ve worn out my slippers, and I hope that my loved ones will hold me accountable for that.

Celebrating a general new year is great, because it’s where we can recognize that we’re all human and we long to make something of ourselves. But there’s something about birthdays that’s just as special; it’s a more intimate and personal way of starting over, of celebrating all that you are and where you’ve been. The choice to be bold is not necessarily about starting over, but a continuation of what has been in the making for close to ten years. I’m just digging a bit deeper, my voice is becoming a bit louder, and my self-image is becoming sharper. When I really think about it, I’ve haven’t accomplished anything without taking a chance, along with asking for and accepting help along the way.

Here’s to the bold ones: the ones that stand up, show up, and shine because they were created to do so. May our actions demonstrate our words, and our lives become testaments of strength and continuous butt-kicking. May we lead by example, making an effort to know and understand as much as we want to be known and understood. And here’s to the loneliness,beauty, determination, frustration, triumph, and all that comes with it.

At last.

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For The Complex Ones

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

Where do I go from here? 

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

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

 Be simple.

 Don’t make mountains out of molehills.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Unrecognizable

What surprised you this year?

I've been sitting here for a while, unsure of how to respond to this topic. There wasn't any one specific event or even a series of happenings that caught me off guard, but I won't say that this year was entirely predictable either. However, it's not what what has happened on the outside that has me taken aback, but how I've been responding and reacting to it inwardly.

I can't hide the fact that I've been an angry person, regardless of whether it was justified or not. Part of it did relate to my parents' situation, along with both my personal and professional lives looking nothing like I had envisioned  as time went on. I had a lot of outbursts, and each time I asked myself why the hell I'd get so worked up, since some of it had no bearing on me. It might have been something specific in the heat of the moment, but the cause went much deeper.

A few days after Thanksgiving, we all gathered at my mom's house to watch football and eat leftovers for the majority of the day. I was sitting on the couch and happened to overhear a conversation involving a subject that makes me uncomfortable at best, and has me seeing red at worst. It was like I had become The Hulk, except I had to shove down my feelings down and keep my mouth shut. And whenever I hold back, my defenses go up and I snap pretty easily.

Even after there were plenty of opportunities to talk, I was still crabby and stubborn. I cursed and cried and thought a lot of things that I wouldn't dare say out loud.

What on earth was wrong with me? 

Anger is healthy. Sadness is healthy. But eventually I began to grow tired of what was now becoming a ball and chain, and just wanted it to go away. Don't think, don't feel...just stop.

But I couldn't do that, at least not in the long run. I finally wrote it down it my journal:

When I can't express my feelings, I get cranky.
When I'm ashamed, I get defensive.
When I can't connect with other people, I get depressed.
And when I sense that anyone is trying to change me (or change how I feel), I lash out.

Who am I? What have I become? 

I would admit to my therapist a week later that I didn't recognize myself anymore, and that I didn't like what I saw. My heart was as hard and cold as it had ever been, and I often wanted to project a "Don't Mess With Me" attitude toward anyone I came into contact with. I've always had a bit of a rough and tumble side, a warrior spirit, which has kept me going through numerous surgeries and obstacles. However, my mindset was beginning to cross over to some pretty dark places, and I was a little afraid of where it would lead.

I'm not a controlling person, but I did wish that I had some influence over how everything was being handled. Though no longer a child, I resented not getting the kind of protection that kids usually have when their parents are splitting up. I was hurting not just because of what was happening, but because I felt like I couldn't be honest about it. I lost a large part of my identity, and had no clue what to do except sit there and grieve. These feelings dominated most of the summer, apart from wanting to escape from them. And despite was it looked like, I kept a lot to myself; most of my support system was from a distance, and I didn't want to risk the pain of trying to make everyone else understand my experience. 

Being stuck inside my own head made relationships somewhat difficult, and at this moment I'm wrestling with an interesting mixture of gratitude and regret. I'm not going to speak for anyone, but there are probably some that were upset by the way I acted. I can't imagine the kind of impression I made on those that I was just getting to know, and might have pushed away as a result. I'm not sure whether to apologize or simply say, "thank you" for being there when I was not in the best place. Maybe it's a balance of both.

There's freedom in taking a step back, in realizing that I can't be responsible for others' choices or happiness. I'll have to set boundaries when appropriate, and there are still triggers that need to be dealt with. But I feel a lot calmer now, a lot more at peace. It's all on a day by day basis, baby steps and then some.

And that's why I'm looking forward to starting over.

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When Morning Breaks: Moving Onward, Looking Up

Weeping may stay for the night, but joy comes in the morning.
-Psalm 30:5

I've often spoke of the multiple transitions that I've been experiencing since finishing college, much of which has been taking place in moments rather than in stages. The last year or so has felt like one incredibly long night, and one that is filled with grief, loss, fear, anger, uncertainty, exhaustion, and occasionally despair. Every so often the darkness threatens to swallow me whole, causing me to wonder if my friends and family would be better off if I just went away for a while and didn't come back until I got my shit together. In the grand scheme of things, I'm fully aware of how important it is to acknowledge and embrace emotional ups and downs, despite the societal encouragement to go numb all together.

Since every journey is different, you really can't put a timeline on the healing process. There is such a thing as getting through it, but never quite getting over the pain, the piece of your life or your heart that was buried underneath all the devastation. There is indeed a time for everything, whether it involves mourning or celebration; for me it is not a question of what exactly, but of when.

When is it time?

Time for what, exactly? I don't want to say "let go" because that seems to imply that you go through a whole range of motions and then act like the whole thing never happened. "Move on" is rather cliche, and is more applicable to relationships; in my case, relationships aren't necessarily ending, but some of them will look and function differently. When I truly think about it, it comes down to this:

When is it time to stop wallowing and start living?

I'd been angry and depressed for a while, and to such a level where I felt like an animal gone rogue. Having no control over the decisions that were being made, I felt like it was the only way to truly protect myself from what was going on around me, and to make sure that I wasn't taken advantage of. Lashing out didn't do a whole lot in regards to motivating the people around me to listen, but neither did holding it all in.

Some have and will call me selfish, and I'm not going to deny it. I came to a point where I was tired of being the rock, the parent, the one that held the fort down while all hell broke loose. I didn't know how to support one without resenting the other, and I've always believed that you have to take care of yourself first before you can take care of anyone else. Isn't post-grad usually the time when most people establish healthy boundaries in order to find their own footing? I was constantly being told that I needed to focus on my own life, so that's what I did. I wasn't always compassionate, nor was I always mature. Now that the smoke has begun to clear, understanding might be a little bit easier to come by.

I've learned a lot, much of which I'm not quite ready to share with the world just yet. Though I don't agree with how certain aspects were handled, I pray that this next chapter gives both of my parents the freedom to find their own sense of happiness and make better, healthier decisions for themselves.

So what now?

I'm re-discovering my identity, one that is fully anchored in faith instead of the events of the last decade or so. I'm learning about truly being comfortable with who I am as a person, to own my perspective instead of questioning it. The beauty of being where I'm at now is that I feel like it's less about what I have to prove, and more about what I have to give/offer. I shouldn't have to constantly explain or justify my reasoning, as long as I don't harm myself or others in the process. I still care, but I'm not putting my lively-hood on the backbone of other opinions.

It comes down to choices, really: you can use happenstance as an excuse to blame other people for your wounds, or you can put on your boots and keep walking. The older you get, the more autonomy you have to go your own way. It's why I don't fear getting married or being committed to someone, because I'm aware that history doesn't have to repeat itself.

If nothing else, I'm afraid of missing out on life because I held back.

That doesn't mean it's easy, or that it won't involve falling down, picking myself back up, and starting over again. It's going to happen a lot. A lot of my personality has been a defense mechanism in what has gone on, not just with my parents' situation, but for most of my life. There is a part of me that will always have this feisty, don't mess-with-me attitude that is more than determined to accomplish what I've set out to do. From this point on, I can be stubborn and hard-headed while having a soft heart. I can take things in baby steps while still building something worth holding onto, whether it be creative or relationship-oriented. 

Yes, it's very possible. 

I still have moments where I feel like I'm going through a bit of an aftershock: like I'm a character in a horror movie who's standing in a clearing in the woods, waiting for the monster or whatever to come out and attack her again. It will take time to get used to this "new normal" as it's called, but it will happen eventually.

I have trouble finding adequate words to express how grateful I am to those that rallied around me, who still walk with me to this day. I'm grateful for the validation and reminders that I wasn't alone, that I had people to confide in and carry me (both literally and figuratively) when I needed it. I'm thankful for those that prayed, listened, loved, and still continue to do so. And...I'm grateful for a kick in the pants every so often. 

I'd like to think of myself as a strong person. Resilient. Determined. Brave. Raw. Nothing can hold me down, and nothing can keep me in.

I don't know what the future holds, but I know who holds the future. 

Let's move.

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)

Ocean Wide

I wrote this is honor of my best friend, who recently began a new chapter in her life in the Peace Corps. May God go with you, sweetheart. 

Ocean Wide

I can easily recall the ocean of my youth

A child looking out, wondering about

 All the mysterious creation contained beneath the water

Sharks, jagged edges, and perhaps even mermaids

An over active imagination’s paradise

Yet I feared submersion

Of having my dreams dashed by the powerful forces below

So I stayed on shore as the rolling tide teased my ankles

Begging me to join

Ten or so years later

Fourteen, sixteen, teetering on womanhood

The adventurous spirit within me awakens

I am cautious, but I long to be free

A day trip in a beach town I break away from the confines

Gallivanting into the waves on my own

Diving in between to feel the sting of salt in my eyes and nose

Dancing against nature

Only to realize that I’ve wound up on the other side

But I went unpunished, and later basked in a palette of colors

Shades of blue and pink surrounding me

Realizing what made me feel alive

The way I felt back then

A mirrored reflection of how I feel right now

One moment I’m terrified of the vastness before me

Yet eager for the opportunities that lie ahead

We’re now at age where it’s considered normal, if not expected

To go off in directions

Anything can happen

And whether that’s good or bad is as unpredictable as a rising tide

Some of us will only be separated by a phone call

Others by a couple hundred miles

Perhaps for a select few

An Ocean wide

There’s no way to know how things will change

How we’ll grow and evolve

How we’ll look, think, or feel once we meet again

But let’s not let love be dependent on stages and places

Rather, unconditional faith and support in one another

Seeking to understand, rather than just be understood

I don’t know what the future holds. But I know who holds the future

Let’s hold onto that promise, along with each other

My friend forever

No matter how far

photo credit: Avila Beach Pier 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.

On Technology And Being Alone

Put down your devices or be ruined by them. This is the message preached by various videos gone viral over the last couple of months. At first I went along with what you might call the "technological backlash," having spent a lot of time in therapy working toward a healthy balance in regards to using my phone and computer. It wasn't until I watched a particular TED Talk near the end of the semester that my perspective started to shift. Profound and thought provoking, I had to choke back tears as we discussed it for my career and leadership class. I related to it on such a deep level, and realized that perhaps being so connected isn't as cut and dry as people think. 

There's no arguing that (rapidly advancing) technology has a dark, even ugly side. I've witnessed the internet bring out the worst in some, and I've had relationships that were built on a false sense of security because we communicated almost entirely online or via texting. Yet when it comes to addressing this unsettling reality as a whole, attitude really does make a difference.

The problem is way bigger than being glued to Candy Crush or sharing ridiculous cat videos on Facebook. That being said, the solution is much more than demanding less time on social media and pointing out why we're supposedly better off without it. 

Electronic communication and the internet is not the heart of the issue. Rather, fear and loneliness is. 

Like Sherri, I'm convinced that we are the way we are because we don't know how to be comfortable with being alone. 

And I say that because for nearly a decade, I was one of those people. 

From the time I was twelve, the mere idea of physically being by myself was absolutely terrifying. Part of it may have very well been pre-conditioned; at the age of ten I can recall being told by a school counselor that I needed to be actively playing with other kids instead of just watching or walking around on my own. By the time I reached junior high, I genuinely believed that weekends without a packed social schedule indicated that something was wrong with me. High school and college were a little bit different because it was more about experiences and not wanting to miss out on them. But age and maturity didn't make me immune to the sting of rejection; the build up to the weekend made me anxious and desperate to plan things in advance to avoid being left out. And when a lot of those weekends were spent watching movies instead of going to parties or night clubs (at least for the first two years as a college student), my overactive imagination went into overdrive.

In that time, online communication and texting was less about hiding and more about just personal preference. I've always said that writing is like a second voice because it gives me the ability to articulate thoughts that are difficult to talk about in person. Back then, it was easier to discuss a subject in a text or a Facebook message first because I could choose my words carefully and not run the risk of being misinterpreted. I admit that I initially started blogging because I didn't know how to contribute my own opinions in a face-to-face discussion. And even though I'm older, there's still some truth in that for me today, but it really depends on the topic.

But I still found myself over-analyzing, second-guessing, and ultimately working myself up to where I just didn't know what to do anymore. I tried limiting my time on social media to twice a day, and when that didn't work, I would try to only check it when I saw notifications on my phone. Yet it wasn't long before I started to feel the way that some do when they go on certain diets; they mess up or "cheat" and experience instant shame or frustration. 

I struggled very much with anxiety for most of my senior year of college, particularly as graduation neared. At one point I even sat down with my therapist and discussed on the possibility of going on medication, as I've noticed that my mind tends to shut down and leave me unable to think about anything whenever I become seriously overwhelmed. (I initially thought this was due to texting, but it also happens when I'm in public places that are extremely crowded). The combination of that and having a creative mind that goes in all different directions can be a ridiculous recipe for a breakdown, which did happen once or twice. 

"It's not just about your habits," she explained. "It's also about the story you keep telling yourself whenever this kind of thing comes up." 

It was a story in which a lack of response meant that they didn't want to talk to me or see me. It meant that they didn't care and I didn't matter. Is this story true? For some, perhaps so, but  a lot of it can be chalked up to simply being lazy or being forgetful. We all do it to some extent.

On the other side, a lot of people experience those feelings and wonder if they could have said or done something different. It's so hard not to take it personally, and in some respects after a certain point it does become personal. But the bottom line is that you can't control what other people think or do because of it. What is said or done in love and kindness should not result in guilt or shame. 

Yet I wonder if this kind of mindset would exist if generation after generation wasn't raised to believe in vulnerability as a bad thing. If people were comfortable enough with not only telling, but showing a loved one that they cared, would the person on the other side of the screen be driving themselves crazy?

How would it be if people believed that all emotions are valid, and that they have every right to express them out loud?

 How would it be if our culture stopped focusing on the meaning of life based on age or gender, but based on what it means to be human?

In my personal experience, it's all about awareness. Despite that I use my phone and computer a lot, I do have instinctive limits. I can't explain what it is exactly, but I get this feeling whenever I sense that I'm using one or both too much. It's like a combination of anxiety and annoyance, and when that happens, then I know it's time to take a break. Of course, I still do things to help increase that awareness: I rarely use headphones anymore and choose not to take my phone with me when I go for walks or work out. Paying attention to the triggers helps me moderate how I use it without having to avoid it altogether. 

Finding comfort (and even contentment) in actually being alone is something that I'm still working at as well. It took a long time for that little voice in my head to quiet down; the one that constantly asked what are they all doing without me? One of the concepts pointed out in the video is that spending time alone teaches us how to relate better to others, and to better understand ourselves. When I genuinely reflected on it, I realized just how much growth took place when I was completely by myself. Some of those times were incredibly lonely, where I often wept like a baby and had to grit my teeth in order not to slip into a deep depression. But when I re-read various journals and just allowed myself to be still, I was filled with an indescribable amount of peace. Once I found true joy in that, I discovered that my faith grew deeper, I became a better writer, among other things. I actually find myself craving it when I'm around people for long periods of time, although I'm learning how to cope when I can't. 

Once I learned to be comfortable with admitting that I was lonely, it seemed like the stigma fell away. When that happens now, I see it as a natural reaction that is temporary and will eventually pass.

Yet that doesn't change the fact that cyberspace now resembles that of an addiction, and electronics are the ones that feed it. 

But it's not just what we do that exemplifies this culture. It's the way we view it. 

In other words, we romanticize the past and villify the present. There needs to be a balance that's healthy but understanding of the world we live in. 

I don't think kids under the age of thirteen should have a smartphone or a tablet, but I'm also not a parent. Technological overload doesn't mess with the human mind, but a lack of boundaries and moderation does. 

The internet can destroy, but it can also unite. I never discovered that so many others had the same questions and doubts (regarding the current state of Christianity) until I got into blogging. There's no verbal communication, but the stories did and still do speak to me. And I'm grateful. 

Texting is terrible for planning and having important conversations, but I love the fact that I started a prayer circle because of it. 

Social networking has its hangups; it does cause jealousy and insecurity, but it's not right to blame those who are simply trying to share their happiness with others. There are certain types of posts that I would rather not see on Facebook or Twitter, but it's not my place to go running interference. The only thing that gets under my skin is when I find out about the death of a friend or family member through someone else's Facebook post, rather than get a phone call or even just a text beforehand. While I get that those affected don't want to openly talk about it, it's still disrespectful to others that knew the deceased person, even if they didn't have the closest relationship. Pardon going off topic, but it's a serious matter and one that I feel very strongly about.

 Contrary to popular belief, I don't get the hype over a supposed "golden age" where everybody talked to each other all the time. If I didn't want to socialize, I read books in the middle of class, and I can imagine those of previous decades hiding behind newspapers or just flat out ignoring those around them. Would they talk more if they didn't have distractions in front of them? Probably. But sometimes it's more a matter of someone simply wanting there own space. In circumstances such as public transportation or crowded areas, most likely they're doing what they feel is necessary to keep themselves safe.

And though traditional means of communication are changing, there are other avenues opening up alongside that, particularly in terms of careers. I love being creative with various platforms, from coming up with catchy slogans that will fit one hundred forty characters or discovering various means to promote an upcoming story collection. Technology is providing certain kinds of jobs that didn't exist a decade or so ago, and being able to network has mind finding a job so much easier. Also, why bash a tool that has helped me stretched my creativity and help reach more audiences with my writing? 

That's the underlying issue in all of this; people spending all this energy arguing and fighting against things that they don't use or aspects that they're not even part of. No one's saying that you have to be involved with social media or own a smartphone, and not doing so doesn't make you better than anyone else. Technology would be less overwhelming (and concerning) if there weren't crusade-like arguments that perpetuate all of it. 

I get that some, if not most networks are often a breeding ground for negativity, and it can get really old after a while. But why try to convince somebody who probably isn't going to listen, and instead just change a few settings so you don't have to see that stuff? (de-friending or blocking seems a little bit drastic). The fact that anyone spends time and energy trying to dictate what others do online says more about them than it does about those being criticized. It says "I refuse to take responsibility for my own actions," which is the kind of attitude that contributes to more problems than just what goes on in cyberspace. 

If you are seriously concerned with what someone else is doing on the other side of a computer screen, then be an adult and talk to them about it. Otherwise if it's just something like seeing too many selfies or pointless articles, maybe it would be a good idea to just stop scrolling and get off of the computer for a little bit. Again, no one is forcing you to do anything. Everyone should be able to express themselves freely and not feel like they have to cater to their friend/follower list. I'm very conciancious of what I share and the fact that not all will appreciate it, and that's OK. I'm doing it because I came across something that made me happy or made me think, and I want to do my best to create a positive environment online. I'm not going to apologize for that.

It's not bad to occasionally reminisce about "back in the day"; who doesn't like talking about their extensive CD collection, along with everything that came before that? But fighting against (inevitable) change and always longing for what used to be seems like a battle that will ultimately go nowhere. 

Like loneliness, technology is not necessarily a good thing or a bad thing; it's just part of life. You can either embrace it and roll with it, or waste your days being cynical over something that you can't control. 

Trust me when I say that once you do, it definitely gets easier to deal with.

photo credit: Anne Worner via photopin cc

Privacy Cravings: The Sacred (Part 1)

For most of my years, I have considered myself pretty open about my life; there are things that I won't necessarily shout from the rooftops, but neither will I deny it if anyone asks. What exactly do I have to hide? Yet in this digital age where it's possible for people to document their lives on a minute by minute basis, whether it be through pictures, tweets or statuses, part of me now suddenly finds myself shrinking back when it comes to updating on "real time." I can't pinpoint a specific reason exactly; it's not that I totally want to disengage from technology, because I do consider Facebook and Twitter to be positive forces when used appropriately. But when online platforms somehow morph into online diaries  (which happened a lot when I was a teenager), then it becomes a problem. 

Recently, there was a bit of an uproar in regards to this subject: there were a period of days where at least one person would say something along the lines of "I hate it when people post..." almost to where it turned into a laugh-out-loud rant. Then I came across 7 Ways To Be Insufferable on Facebook which I might have considered interesting had it not come across as conceited and taken on a holier than thou tone. Everybody that engages in social networking will say or do something ridiculous and most likely more than once. Demanding that users do or stop doing things because supposedly "nobody likes it" is not going to produce change. While I'll agree that there are things better left off the world wide web, I cannot control it. It's actually rather simple: if you don't like it, don't look at it. And if a person is going to take trivial stuff that seriously, perhaps the problem isn't just other internet users. 

However, there are times where I see something and wonder not about the actual post, but the motivation behind it. Do some users update Twitter and Facebook because they genuinely care about the subject, or is it just for the sake of reaction? I'm not as concerned with the political fiends or the gym buffs, but more so with the romantics. There's no shame in applauding your significant other/spouse in regards to their achievements and your milestones together. On the other hand, when you constantly proclaim your love over the internet, whether it be literally or giving a detailed synopsis about what you did that day, I scratch my head. What are you trying to prove? 

I understand that not everyone has the same views on how to treat a relationship, but I'd like to think that connection and possibly real love is fostered face to face, not screen to screen. When you constantly broadcast details that should remain between you and that person, it suddenly becomes everyone else's business; as much as they shouldn't be nosy, anything that goes online is almost fair game for criticism or questioning. Being able to distinguish the difference between gratitude/humbleness and a honeymoon-like phase probably makes it easier to stay rooted in what matters. 

With that being said, I wonder if it's a bad thing if I choose not to share every single detail, not necessarily just online, but also in terms of "gushing" around friends. I'm definitely a believer in vulnerability, but dissecting the event or a conversation is not going to get anywhere. Overall, I'm just really selective now a days about who I confide in; it really depends on that person's attitude. 

Lately, I'm more focused on my social media profiles being positive and encouraging to others. When used in a healthy amount and for the right reasons, Facebook and Twitter can be a good thing. As a writer, it's very important for me to be active in using the internet in order to get my name out there. I've connected with a lot of people through things like LinkedIn, and ultimately it has given me a lot of insight in terms of the career path that I want to take, which I might not have found otherwise. 

But it's not just about what you post/upload, but when. It's almost normal to take a picture and then spend five to ten minutes afterward trying to put it on instagram. Tweets document the most trivial stuff in regards to when and where something is taking place. In my personal opinion, the worst is hearing the news of a loved one's passing on Facebook before getting a phone call or text. I say that because I've been on the tail end of it several times, and it's all the more devastating, not to mention inappropriate.

I'm not saying that it's ultimately a bad thing to share photos or news with others, especially those you don't get to see often. Rather, I think sharing right away often takes away from the sacredness and beauty of the moment, because then it becomes more about presentation then anything else. Instead of trying to keep everyone else in "real time" focus on celebrating, mourning, or doing whatever you need to do with those that you're surrounded by. You have to be present in order to get the most out of an experience, or process something in a healthy way. The internet can wait, and it will still be there in the days and weeks to come. 

This is not meant to knock anyone down or demand change. This is more for the sake of pondering in an era that is largely based on virtual and constant connection. More so, I've learned that the number of views, likes, and comments is not going to fill you in the long run. If you take the time to put down your phone, get off the computer, and devote your attention to what's right in front of you, you'll eventually find out what will.  

photo credit: Brandon Christopher Warren via photopin cc

Through The Rain

I knew that he was gone when I saw faded glimpses of lightening flash behind us, followed by the low roar of thunder. It started to drizzle slightly, upon becoming a torrential downpour as the four of us made our way out of the concert arena and into the impossibly crowded parking lot. At one point the rain was coming down so hard that I had to shut my eyes in order to ease the sting of sweat, make-up, and water that were now seeping from my eyelids. I clung desperately to my mother with both hands, praying that I wouldn't slip or get knocked over or lose my glasses. Don't let go! Just get to the car....

In a way, that is how life has been for me,  particularly in the weeks and months after my friend's passing occurred. My lack of experience with loss was almost like walking in complete darkness. The inability to mourn and grieve freely caused both my mind and body to go into autopilot; after my family had gone to sleep, I would sit in my pitch black room and cry as quietly as I possible, or read the stories that were posted on his memory page until my head ached from staring at the computer for two hours straight. This went on for a week and a half until I got back to campus, the day of the funeral service.

I believed that once I could get away from my hometown, I would feel better. And in a way, I did; I had more people to talk to about it, but I can't remember how much we actually talked about it at first. And while it wasn't often because of busy work and summer class schedules, down the line I kind of started to hate rehashing the same thing over and over again. I wanted to move on, and yet the mere idea of it felt like betrayal.

Self-medication became the norm; when I wasn't with my friends, I tended to go out on the town alone, sometimes multiple nights in a row. It wasn't so much about the drinking as it was just being around others, even if a lot of them were strangers. I did meet quite a few of them, but rarely anything went beyond the dance floor, save one guy who got my number, texted me an hour later, and hasn't contacted me since then. It was the darker side of Cinderella, except I went to bars instead of a ball and walked out with an empty heart rather than a missing shoe.

But the levee gave way soon enough; during the first two weeks of August, I could barely function without something triggering a tear-fest. There were periods of time where I would just sit on my couch and cry, not knowing the reasons why or how to stop. In a way, they were the tears that I should have cried at home or even at the funeral.  At the urging of my grandparents, I finally made a motion to talk to one of the group leaders of Intervarsity; up until then I had gone out of my way to not talk to pastors or anyone involved in the organizations that I had been part of, at least regarding everything that was going on. I was terrified that I would just be met with a bunch of cliches about how my friend was in a better place, and that if I just kept praying, went to church, read Bible verses, etc. all the pain would go away. I didn't want any numbing cream with a Jesus-approved sticker, and I didn't want to risk the rejection. Unfortunately, I had gotten to where I couldn't keep silent without it eating me from the inside out.

It was a long and exhausting conversation; it didn't automatically make everything better, but it was the start of setting myself free from this emotional prison that I had kept myself locked in for weeks. Spiritually, I was practically bone-dry. I didn't know what to pray about exactly, but I did read the Bible and write when I felt the need to. On a very random morning,  I came across a verse that has practically spelled out where I was at: when my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then you knew my path (Psalm 142: 33).

It has been almost four months since, and I am not going to deny that I am a changed person because of it. I have a love hate/relationship with alcohol and I occasionally get angry when others seem to put getting drunk before their own safety or that of others. However, I do try to make the most of the time that I have with friends, and I feel like I'm getting better at figuring out what matters and what doesn't.  Looking back, I now have a deeper understand of why I felt and reacted the way that I did:

The very idea of knowing I could lose a loved one in just a span of a few hours (or moments) was absolutely terrifying. After the news was confirmed, I reached out to multiple friends as a way to keep myself calm; I didn't care that it was two in the morning or that each text was somewhat long and sappy, I needed to feel connected somebody. In the days that followed, I wrestled with whether or not I just have waited to absorb it before telling anyone else, particularly those from college.  While I don't regret telling that I care for them, I am sorry that they might have been uncomfortable about it. Nothing done with the intention of showing or giving love should not be felt in shame.

The root of my pain wasn't solely in the tragedy, but also in the disconnection from my friends and family afterward. I understood that there are appropriate places and settings to grieve, yet I felt like I couldn't even do that in my own home. I spent so much time and energy putting the needs and feelings of others above my own, and I paid for it later on. As I mentioned in an early post, I feared being called selfish or undeserving.Back then, I would have rather been alone than to risk being looked down on, even though both make me miserable.

And I know everyone deals with this kind of stuff differently;  More specifically, "being strong" may work for my parents or my siblings, but it doesn't for me, at least when something had happens. I can't pinpoint the reason though, considering they all seem very reserved in that regard. Comparing pain levels (i.e. someone always has it worse then you) does not make it diminish or disappear.  While that may be true to an extent, everybody is hurting in some way. There are other phrases to use in order to put it all in perspective without denying another person's (or your own) pain. 

There is such a thing as feeling before you can feel better.  For those on the other side of the fence,  It may be personal nature to go into problem-solving mode, but that's not what the grieving person needs. They need to be held. They need to be loved on. They need to be given the space to just let it out. When you don't know what to say, those are the times when actions will do more than words ever will.

It doesn't take much for me to care about a person. I don't have to see or talk to them all the time in order to learn to love them. Being observant as I am, I can learn to do so in one night. Hence, it is possible to make a list of things that made my friend so special, despite our lack of conversation and interaction. Along with that, it is possible for one act of kindness to impact my perspective on someone. Not just in our friendship, but for other friendships as well. 

When I reflect on that rainy night, I was literally holding onto my mom; looking at this from a spiritual standpoint, it all seems like a metaphor for what I've been through and how I've grown since then. Realistically, I haven't been holding onto my parents, or anyone else for that matter. In the times where I can't see, where I'm blinded by whatever is going on in my life, there's only One that I can hold onto.  

Then again, maybe I'm not holding onto Him; rather, He's holding onto me. 

photo credit: ViaMoi via photopin cc