Life Lately: Things Are Happening

Happy 2015, Dear Readers!! After dancing my boots off in the heart of downtown Chicago, I'm glad to be getting back into a solid routine again. I feel incredibly motivated, which is a surprise considering I normally feel drained during the month of January; not only have the holidays passed (and the blues have set in), but in my neck of the woods it tends to get insanely cold to the point where it's dangerous to go outside. Typically this makes me want to hunker down and hibernate, but to my surprise that's not the case this year. This week in particular has been fabulous because I got a lot accomplished, and I credit that to the goal of doing something right when I think of it, rather than putting it off. 

Good things come to those who wait, but good things also come to those who don't procrastinate. 

It's true that I've developed a habit of pushing tasks to the side, more so if they involve important conversations, emails, and the like. I would tell myself that I needed more time to emotionally prepare, or at least wait until nightfall so that if I read or talked about a subject that would naturally upset me, I could let it out when no one else was around. And I would be done for the day so I wouldn't be wasting time crying when I could be getting stuff done. 

These days, it's less about fear and more about weirdness or discomfort. I recently described it to a friend as that sensation I experience when on a roller-coaster; the kind of weightlessness that causes my entire body to clench up, and from a scientific perspective I believe it's called G-Force or something like that. It's not necessarily a bad feeling, but it's not one that I'm fond of either. 

That's what I experience when thinking about the future, about meeting new people and/or joining groups and getting involved with life. It's not scary, but it can be hard to envision myself in that position for whatever reason. 

Yet, often times the only answer is to do it. And the more I do it, the more comfortable I will become. 

The job search is still on in full force, but I'm trying to take a different approach, rather than just applying on websites and doing dozens of interviews at one time. Not that there's anything inherently wrong with that, but it personally became draining by the time December rolled around. I'm learning that there is absolutely no shame in asking for help and/or being mentored by someone that knows what they're doing. As much as our culture emphasizes this whole lone wolf mentality, the idea that true success can only happen by your own strength, I'm finding it all to be completely false. Whatever you accomplish and however you go about doing it, at the end of the day there's always someone to thank, even if you're too stubborn or prideful to admit it. 

Nobody does anything worthwhile without the guidance and influence of someone else. 

It's not easy, especially when you spend a lot of time with people who seem to have their lives together (i.e. jobs, relationships, confidence, and overall experience). I have moments where I wonder when on earth I'm going to catch a break, whether it be getting hired, getting published, and/or connecting/reconnecting with certain people. Life as a post-graduate is unpredictable, and that gets frustrating after a while. 

But I things are happening, even if for the moment they're not monumental or worth shouting on the rooftops about. I will continue to do what I do and celebrate the small victories, along with not beating myself up when I mess up or fall short in the process. 

Yes, this train is moving, even when I don't feel it. And for that I'm grateful.

photo credit: Paul-W via photopin cc

When You're Eighteen

(A couple of weeks after the start of freshman year, right outside my dorm room) 

When you're eighteen, you think that college is the perfect time to start over; you can leave your old town and your old self behind. You think that you'll never get lonely when you're surrounded by all these new friends almost all the time. You don't want to admit to Mom and Dad that it's harder than you anticipated, and that this phase in your life does not happen with John Mayer's "No Such Thing" playing in the background. And as a side note, you'll analyze that song for a presentation


When you're eighteen, you think that making friends will be easy because everyone is supposedly more mature. You do meet many of your closest friends at time: in your dorm room, in the middle of the cafeteria, at a church visit, and surprisingly what turns out to be a pretty fun class. Not everyone accepts who you are (at least until later) and that's hard. But these six or seven people will stick with you when others seem to be going in and out.


When you're eighteen, you discover that you like alcohol and party animals, but sororities don't like you. It's hard to understand why at first, but down the road you'll see that not being "in" with either crowd was a blessing in disguise.


When you're eighteen, you think that you can predict what's ahead, but you have absolutely no clue how much you'll change.

(It keeps reverting sideways and I'm not sure why. But I did like that top).

When you're twenty, you'll discover that you are physically and sexually attractive. Men will see it in you and you will see it in yourself. You like being wanted and pursued, but it's also confusing and terrifying because you sense that they don't care about whether or not you feel safe.  And you feel like it's your fault, because to a certain extent that's what you were brought up to believe. 

When you're twenty, you will realize that when multiple people tell you not to do something, it's best to listen to them. And while it's OK to always try and see the best in people, it doesn't have to warrant trying to be their hero. 


When you're twenty, you will learn to love country music again. It represents three aspects of your life that you cherish the most: faith, family, and friends. And you'll realize that you do need your parents, regardless of how old you get.


When you're twenty, you'll begin to understand that friends do come and go from your life, but God always keeps the best ones close. You might have times where you're apart for a little while, but you'll always come back together somehow. 

(Celebrating my 22nd birthday with a little glam!)

By the time you're twenty-two, you will have kissed a little and drank a lot, and that culture will start to get old after a while. At the same time, it's hard to get out of because there are times where you want to feel anything but hurt or pain.What you do appreciate about those wild nights, it will be because your closest friends had your back the entire time. They'll never judge you, but they will you call you out when you don't stay true to yourself. 



When you're twenty-two, you will be more self-aware than you ever have been. It's a blessing because you know how to stay grounded, but a curse because you resort to beating yourself up a lot. By this time, you will have been in therapy for three years and it will be one of the healthiest decisions you've made in college. Remember that you're a human being and that you do not have to be perfect in order to be loved. 



When you're twenty-two, your eyes will be opened in terms of what it means to love and truly accept people for who they are. You will learn a lot about change and loss, and that there just isn't time to invest deeply in every person you meet. There will be times when it seems like your circumstances (especially those related to your past) are hell-bent on destroying you. But your faith is going to keep your anchored, and you will become closer to your Creator than you've been since you were in middle school.




When you're twenty-two, you will look back and be able to genuinely say that these last four years have most the most pivotal years of your life, at least thus far. You'll know that sometimes it's OK to do things simply because you want to, and you don't need a reason beyond that. You'll accomplish a number of things, including staying up all night raising money for cancer,getting into one of the top creative writing programs in the country,  running in a 5K, doing a bar crawl, and the list goes on. You wish that you had been more assertive and and less concerned about the opinions of others, but everything has a time and purpose. 



But the best part is that this journey is yours. You have very few regrets, because at one time it was something that you wanted, and it led you to where you need to be. As your mom told you, have gained so much more than a college education, and you have so much to give because of that. Keep walking. Keep growing. And keep loving. 


Iowa, Forevermore. 


I'm taking a bit of a break from blogging for a couple of weeks; I need some time to process this transition in my life and to spend time with friends and family, but I'll still be updating my Facebook and Twitter pages if you want to connect through there. See you all real soon!

Reverb: A Final Reflection

We're a couple of days into a brand new year, and I can't say that I'm sorry to see the previous one go. Reverb13 has come to an end, and within this next week I hope to be back to my regular blogging routine. That being said, I have a few final thoughts that I'd like to share. 

This go-around was very interesting; instead of following one particular website or blog that was hosting, I would pick prompts from different blogs, sometimes finding ways to make them my own. I didn't write every single day (which usually is the case each year) but I frequently found myself going days or even a full week without posting something. At first I thought it was because I was stuck in some kind of rut or experiencing writers block; but the truth is, this year has been filled with so much emotion and major ups and downs that the thought of blogging about it was almost too overwhelming. I definitely wrote about it, but did so within the private pages of my journal or in essay form that I only allowed certain people to read. With so many unknowns and what-if's, I simply thought it best not to share at this time, and that's OK. 

Looking back on both my public and private writings, I can only sum up the past year as the year of coming undone. The year that what I thought I knew about myself, my family, and my life began to unravel; not necessarily in a way that was bad, it just gave me the opportunity to look at those aspects with a more mature attitude. It forced me to confront how often I tend to idolize or romanticize things, rather than view them for what they ultimately and truly are: imperfect. Imperfect, but still beautiful and worth appreciating. 

As I ponder and pray about my own resolution for 2014, I can't come up with one singular word that encompasses what I envision. Instead, I'd like to think of it as a cluster: multiple words that point to the same thing. 

Hope

Surrender

New Beginnings

These are the three words, the cluster that comes to mind as I look ahead. 

Hope in what I cannot see. Putting my hope and faith in God alone. Building a firm foundation as I transition from one chapter to the next, so even in the times of instability and not knowing, I can rest in the fact that I have my faith. 

Surrender what I can't control. I'm not going to sit back and let everything just happen; with that mindset, I wouldn't get anywhere in life. There has to be an effort on my part. That being said, I've realized just how important it is to understand that getting there will not be easy. I may reach my end-goal and/or get what I want, but it will most likely be full of unexpected setbacks, detours, and changes. And it's easier to deal with all of that when I stop trying to control what isn't mine to control in the first place. It's trusting in the One that is greater than myself to put all the little pieces together as opposed to trying to force it all to come together on my own. 

New Beginnings are what I have to create for myself, and I'm even more aware of that now than I was in high school or middle school. I don't have to carry my past with me and I can break this dysfunctional cycle that I've been trapped in for years. I feel like a lion that's been in hibernation and will probably come out roaring. But what I'm trying to get at here is that we all have a chance to do things differently and perhaps do something great: you just have to be willing to start walking, and keep going regardless of how hard or scary it gets. 

Despite the setbacks and roadblocks, 2013 was a great year for writing, growth, and connection. I have a feeling that it will only get better from here on out!

photo credit: WanderingtheWorld (www.ChrisFord.com) via photopin cc

Mud and Mess

Mud

Identify something muddy that kept reoccurring in 2013; what was the truth that was underneath once you washed yourself clean?

I had spent the week stressing out over midterms, and by Friday was in need of a drink (or two). It was my junior year and I had just turned twenty-one about a month prior, but was still getting used to a lot of the perks that came with it; not only could I buy my own alcohol, but I was able to legally be in a bar after ten o’clock and no longer feared getting in trouble. There was also a surge of confidence, particularly in terms of guys. I was slowly getting over an incident from the previous year and felt ready to embrace that men considered me attractive. On top of that, I had just cut my first love out of my life and had a huge hole in my heart. I didn't expect to find anybody because I was more focused on simply having a good time.

  The friend I was with that night had gone to talk to someone else, and I immediately hit the dance floor. It wasn't that of a typical dance club, but could still get a little crazy. I spotted a guy named Ryan who was in a class with me last semester, so I went over to him to say hello. Much to my surprise, he wasted no time in getting me to dance and I decided to just go with it. Before long before we were all over one another, and eventually he leaned in to kiss me. Without giving it much thought, I leaned in as well.

Though it was my very first kiss that I'd ever had, I certainly wasn't expecting fireworks. On the other hand, it was weird that I hadn't felt anything. My friends explained later on that the drinking had probably lowered my sensory levels, despite that I'd only had two the entire night. But in that moment I kind of threw my hands up and didn't really care. At least until he suggested that we go to the bathroom. In a bar. In a dirty, disgusting, you-don't-want-to-know-what's-on-the-floor bathroom of a bar. Now, it was typical for a guy to suggest that we go back to his dorm or apartment, and I was most definitely aware of the concept of public bathroom sex. But this was another first and I wasn't going to stick around to find out what he meant. The familiar feeling of being trapped started to set in, and I told him that I was leaving before grabbing my friend and not looking back until we'd made it to my place. 

As I related what had happened, I felt a sense of empowerment: I had done something because I wanted to and not because of what was expected of me. I didn't feel bad or ashamed because I was tired of waiting for a boyfriend or a fairy-tale moment. The majority of first kisses don't even come close to romantic, so it didn't seem to be a huge deal. But it's true when they say that once you start kissing, you don't want to stop. I would go down a path that was somewhat dangerous, but would also teach me a lot about who I am as a person. 

Which leads me to say that I didn't necessarily call it quits right then in there. There were a few more afterward, but it wasn't necessarily every single weekend. Most of the time it was just awkward, aside from the weekend after finals, where there were no expectations in terms of what meant what and I could just go home afterward. That was a rare occurrence though: the others were often forward, aggressive, or flat-out weird. I get that we live in a culture where anything goes, but some of the conversations I found myself having were just mind-boggling. 

On top of that, I was also in a season of dating, which wasn't going well at all. While these guys did want relationships, it seemed like it was only for the title and not because they genuinely liked me. I don't like it when people are clingy or in my face all the time; I'm not one who appreciates constant texting every single day, which most of them refused to understand. There were also those who'd recoil once they learned that I didn't have a ton of experience, which was frustrating. It wasn't that my parents were strict or that I was scared; it just didn't happen right away for me, which I'll get to momentarily. 

It was getting to where I was starting to hate what I was putting myself through, but I didn't want to miss out on anything. I thought that if I gave it time, it would get better. Once I met someone that I found truly physically attractive, then I would enjoy it. Never mind that I usually wound up in predicaments where I was damn lucky to get out unharmed, at least physically. Deep down, I resented that everything was based on assumption instead of communication. I usually felt like shit afterward and kept telling myself that I was done, but I'd constantly end up doing the same thing over and over again. 

It took a couple of months, but eventually I gathered the courage to admit to my friends just how much I was struggling. I thought that keeping everything to myself would make it easier to navigate; I wouldn't be bombarded with advice and various opinions regarding what I should and shouldn't do. Yet keeping my mouth shut ultimately made it worse because the constant thinking and lying to myself began to cloud my judgement. I needed help, but more importantly I needed accountability. 

As much as I believe in personal responsibility, I also stand in friends looking out for and taking care of one another, especially when there's alcohol involved. It's not that I needed a baby-sitter or someone to keep me under control; I'm a pretty independent person as it is and by that point had gotten pretty good at navigating the bar scene on my own. It's more that I needed to be reminded of the reality versus what was in my head. Perhaps it's the writer in me, but it's so easy for me to envision something that's completely different than what actually is. In my case, the guys I met while out on the town were more than likely not the type that I want to have a relationship with, no matter how much time or chance I give it. 

I honestly didn't become truly comfortable with all of that until I took a contemporary women's writers class, where we discussed the writings of modern-day binaries and problems that many women face. Hearing my classmates stories and viewpoints helped me understand that I wasn't the only one wrestling with these things. I wasn't the only one in the unnamed category between being a "innocent virgin" and a "trashy whore."

Simultaneously, it was also a blessing (and a relief) not to be condemned by the people that mattered: my closest friends and my parents. Mom would tell me to stop stressing out, saying that it wasn't a big deal because I'd never gone further than kissing. While that is true, why the comparison? What would I be if I had done that?

I think that I would be human. Just like everyone else, no matter what side of the line you're on.

It has not been an overnight process; with the help of loved ones and a therapist, I've set standards and boundaries that I remind myself to follow each and every day. Centering myself in my faith again has been a huge step, because so often we make a point in cutting out the negative, but not bringing in the positive. I feel like I've come to a place where I'm learning how to develop a healthy mindset when it comes to relationships and human sexuality. It's about staying true to my values, but also staying true to myself. And I'm still working on it.

I can't say that I completely regret going through that phase in my life. I'm not particularly proud of what I did, but I'm wearing a cloak of shame either. In terms of what I could have done differently, I wish I would have been more assertive: saying no to what I wasn't completely OK with, and being honest with myself when I realized how much it was hurting me emotionally. I realized that I can't enjoy being physical with someone unless I get to know them and feel a genuine connection between the two of us. And I can't imagine sharing that part of myself so early on, and on such a superficial level. 

I'm not going to advise people to just go out and do what they want, but I do identify with those that feel torn between cultural norms and personal values. Up until I got to college, I had no idea what it was like to be alone with a guy or go out on a date (unless you include my senior prom, which we went as friends). And while it's normal to be curious and want to figure that stuff out, I can't overemphasize how vital it is to be aware: once you realize that something isn't working for you, stop what you're doing and take a step back. Talk to a friend or relative who might know you better than you know yourself. Pray about it. Just don't assume that time is going to make it better or easier, because that's almost never the case.

For right now, I'm focusing on other aspects of my life. I'm definitely open to a relationship, but I want to be in a good place emotionally and spiritually when that time comes. I'm still learning what in means to put my identity and build a firm foundation in my Creator, rather than idolizing a person or a relational status. It will always be somewhat of a work in progress, but it's also a matter of getting to know someone who's confident  and willing to pursue me, both as a friend and a romantic interest. 

Some of you might be wondering why I wrote this; there's no big reveal or shocker, at least to those that know me well. Yet I felt the need to talk about it because it relates to a much bigger discussion: the demand of perfection and withholding of grace, especially in regards to current generations and dating. That's a subject that I would like to tackle more in this upcoming year, with the goal of not necessarily finding a balance, but maintaining it. More so that I've become passionate about the genders and how we all relate to each other. It's layered, but not as complicated as we've made it out to be.

Have happy (and safe!) New Year!

photo credit: David W Oliver via photopin cc

Stepping in Different Directions

Decisions

What was the biggest decision that you made this year? How has it affected you?


On the outside, it didn't look like that big of a deal because it was informal and we rarely ever talked at that point. But in my heart, cutting my first love completely out of my life was by far one of the hardest things I've ever had to do; perhaps not as a whole, but definitely this year. I didn't want to, but there wasn't much of a choice because everything involving him was starting to become unhealthy. Adding to that, it wasn't fair to put my fears and insecurities onto others; if I was going to get past all of those, he needed to be out of the picture for good. There were no words exchanged, just deleting his number and making sure he could no longer see my Facebook profile. It was a relief, but also just flat-out-weird; I had no idea what to do afterward, and ended up going on a bit of an adventure for the next six months in trying to figure it out. I prayed, wrote, kissed, dated, drank, talked, and cried. Not only was I letting go of a special person, but the person whom I believed I would marry one day. 

Looking back on it almost a year later, I fully understand that it was for the best. It's a pain in the heart when you've invested in somebody for almost eight years, but our relationship had become one-sided. I didn't really know him anymore and I'm willing to admit that I might not have known him at all. But I wouldn't trade any of the time we spent together for the world. 

Not many people are aware of this, but the whole reason we got so close in the first place was because I was going through a very rough time. My self-esteem was a roller-coaster in the midst of changing friends and distant family members, especially my parents. I should have gone to a pastor or another adult at my church that I was attending, but I didn't trust adults back then. He supported me without judgment and ultimately helped me survive. He was the first person who ever told me that God loved me, and convinced me that cutting my wrists and popping pills wasn't the answer, among other issues. I know there were those that looked at us with raised eyebrows, but the idea of having to explain that stuff to anyone else was unbearable. 

That's why I choose not to be angry or hold a grudge; he took care of me in ways that I needed to be, but I had no idea how to articulate. I am not ashamed to say that it's nice to be taken care of, regardless of all the crap out there involving self-reliance or what the true nature of a relationship is. While God should always be one's true foundation, we weren't put on this earth with others to walk through life alone. It took me a long time to get that, and I'm still learning. 

I did go through and grow from a season of dating, but also made the decision to take a step back from that for the time being. Most of the dates were fine and I appreciated the experience, but a lot of the guys weren't the type that I genuinely want to be with. I totally support giving chances when appropriate, but when your instincts are telling you that it's not going to work, it's best to listen to them. I often had a "down the road" mentality, where I thought I would find a reason to like a guy once I got to know him better. And while I believe that can and does happen, the chances are slim when hardly any of your values line up. But the subject of dating in itself is for another post. 

I'm not going to say that I don't miss him at times, but more so I miss the affection and the sense of intimacy that we had. However, not having him around has been like a breath of fresh air: I have standards for a relationship that go beyond just being nice and the willingness to accept me as I am. And it's not just about deserving better, but actually needing better. By looking at the bigger picture, I understand that I need so much more than what I thought I did at thirteen or fourteen. 

Knowing what I know now, I wish I hadn't taken him for granted. But despite all that has happened, I think it all turned out the way it was supposed to. Just because something or someone isn't forever doesn't mean it wasn't worth it. He does and will probably always have a place in my heart: not in hope or wishful thinking, but in gratitude. And that's why I'm writing this; I choose not to be cynical, but instead thank God for that particular blessing and that special time. It doesn't always make moving forward easy, but it makes it doable.

photo credit: letmebeyourswearword via photopin cc

A Bright Light

The Right Stuff

What went right for you in 2013? (Prompt credit: Kat Mcnally) 

In hindsight, 2013 was a bit of a bleak year for me, but I do my best not to look at it that way. In the midst of the loss and grief, there were a lot of good moments; This was mostly due to having finally become totally comfortable with the friends that I have in my life right now. And not that I didn't have them in previous years, but this was the first year that I wasn't terrified of being vulnerable with them. I didn't have to hide or sugarcoat anything, but more importantly, I felt like I could be myself because I've finally begun to accept who I am as a person. 

The following excerpt is from a larger essay that I wrote about healing, which I read at my first literary reading last night: 

Reflecting on these last three and a half years has been similar to looking in a mirror; so much change has happened in one place, where I barely recognize who I was during freshman year. My mom used to ask me, “What happened to that happy little girl who would make up stories about fairies and princesses all the time?” She was still there,  but had been buried underneath a lot of layers, and I needed to be in a healthy environment to find her again.  I’d like to think that the core of our being never really changes, but just takes on different shapes as one goes through different seasons of life. This is particularly true for seasons of hardship and suffering. But just because there is pain doesn’t mean that there can’t be joy, especially when you’re surrounded by those that mean the most to you. 

I see that healing is not a destination that must be reached in order to proclaim that all is OK. It’s a daily process of forgiveness and facing reality head on, along with surrendering what I can’t control. Above all, its all about choosing to actively live, rather than just exist or survive. And I don’t think I would have learned any of that without those who first became my friends and eventually like a second family.

 They’ve heard my stories and seen my scars; those etched into my wrist as well as my memories. They know when I’m happy based on my giggle and laugh at how I tend to recall the most random facts or events. They’re aware of my independent spirit, but remind me that it’s important to ask for help. They see right through my attempted perfectionism and shower me with grace and acceptance.  Some drive me crazy, but that doesn’t mean that I care for them any less. And there are also those who motivate me to stay grounded and be a better person.

 I feel that I’ve been at a crossroads lately: there’s making peace with the past, while accepting that there’s going to be stuff that I’ll never completely get over. As I write this, there are a lot of changes that are beginning to take place, which is a breath of fresh air and heartbreaking at the same time. I’m now an adult and realize that moving in new directions is inevitable, but it’s still a little scary when your future is full of unknowns. I have my own dreams and ambitions, but am unsure as to how to make them a reality. My biggest fear is getting caught up in the chaos and losing sight of how far I’ve come; even more so, that I will lose myself all over again.

What I can do is rest in the fact that God has a way of  bringing everything together the way that it should be;  that the people that are meant to be in my life will always be there, even if it’s just in the doorway for a little while. Nothing will ever be exactly the way I envision it, but that doesn’t have to influence how I see myself. And that’s what real healing is; learning how to live somewhere in the middle of what is both bitter and sweet. I don’t have it all figured out, but I’m not completely broken either. I don't always make the best decisions, yet I choose not to wallow in regret. For the first time in a long time, I can say with confidence that I’m starting to feel whole again. I still have a ways to go, but I’m grateful knowing that I don’t have to do it alone.

Amen.

photo credit: -Reji via photopin cc

Life Lately: Digging Deep

Life has been busy, and my reasons for not blogging these last couple of weeks don't necessarily only relate to it being it that time of year again; the remaining weeks before the semester's end, where everything starts to pile up and suddenly you can't see beyond the multiple essays and projects that are due by the time winter break rolls around. A lot of it has been for emotional reasons as well; I'm starting to realize that whenever I allow myself to be genuinely honest and vulnerable in any work that I do, I start feeling somewhat depressed, drained, and even angry. I kind of seeing it as being similar to when an actor gets really deep into the character role that they're playing, and when the cameras are off it can be difficult to separate the fictional world from real life. 

But what I'm writing isn't fiction, it is real life. My life, and a big part of my personal history. I always imagined that one day I would write my whole story down, but in bits and pieces. I think this is the beginning of it. For now I will write essays, but I can definitely imagine one day writing and sharing a memoir with the world. I just don't feel that twenty one years is enough of experience to write a full autobiographical book. 

In any case, that has been the main reason that blogging has been sparse for a lot of this month; I have so much to write about and discuss, but it's all very deep and in combination with the essays, I'm nervous about it spilling out of my brain like a pile of goop.

When I do get those feelings, it's mostly because I get stuck thinking about the past. I'm currently writing an essay (one that as of right now is at twenty pages) about how going to college and living in Iowa City has provided me a way to heal, mostly through the people that I've met, the relationships that I've had, and how I've grown through all of it. For my other final project, I'm writing about a few monumental experiences that I've had in the downtown area, specifically as a woman and a college student. For that particular class we have often discussed the whole virgin/whore binary, and how there is no language to discuss the in-between. I'm basically going to write about what it's like to be smack dab in the middle. Don't get me wrong, I have talked about it before, but never in terms of how I've honestly felt about it. It will be good and hopefully lift a lot of the shame off of my shoulders, but it's still daunting.

I'm finding that the hardest part about writing, specifically personal essays, is doing so without hurting anybody. However, it seems that the whole concept of "airing dirty laundry" tends to be simultaneous with malicious intent.  I think as long as you make it clear that you're not holding some of grudge against them and that you're taking steps to move forward, the reaction shouldn't be that negative. In my case, I am not out to purposefully harm anyone, but simply give my perspective on the situation. Above all, I'm learning that you can only do so much when it comes to talking about something in a way that everyone can understand it. I've spent years tip-toeing around stuff because I've been terrified of the general reaction, but I'm starting to realize that perhaps that is my biggest problem. I focus so much on how to say it that it never actually happens. 

Tell me, dear writers, how do you deal with this sort of thing? How do you let your brain decompress, particularly when you have a deadline to meet? How do you tell the truth without hurting those involved?

In lighter news, I'm changing my career path a little bit; initially I wanted to work for a publishing company and still write on the side, which in a way is still true. But after doing some networking and talking with people who've been in the business, I see now that doing something social media related may be the better way to go. There aren't any solid prospects just yet, but I'm getting there. 

The main thing right now is just to gain experience, which I do have and continue to get. I am both a writer and copy-editor for a new lifestyle and culture magazine, which will mostly likely launch at the start of next semester.

This week will be a busy one, and I'm all too excited to be able to go home and spend some time with my family for Thanksgiving. Granted, I'll still have work to do, but at least I won't have meetings and other stuff to deal with. 

Life is busy, but also incredibly wonderful!


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Life Lately: In Seasons

It's no secret that over the last couple of years, fall/autumn has become one of my favorite times of the year. While nature begins to slowly change and the air starts to chill, it's also a time where I feel incredibly close to the people around me. I've taken to calling in the "wrapped in a warm blanket" type feeling. Everything is just warm and cozy and comfortable.

These special (and somewhat sentimental) occasions are what keep me sane when the homework load gets heavy, or I experience a bout of senioritis like an overnight flu bug. My friends and I have celebrated a plethora of birthdays, went to an orchard/pumpkin farm and indulged in everything relating to pumpkins and apples (with a semi-photo shoot to boot), cried over the Cory Montieth tribute while watching Glee, and other memories that seem insignificant to the rest of the world. However, they mean the world to me.

As I look back on the fall season as a whole, I've noticed that it's when a lot of wonderful, crazy, and even life changing events have taken place. In the span of four or five years, I've met and found many of my closest friends, grew deeper in my faith, and learned how to deal with painful aspects of my history. And it suddenly occured to me that while some seasons are better than others, life truly does happen in seasons of love. 

It's not always deep conversations over wine or hot chocolate. Schedules are hectic, and there are weeks and days where prayer requests and "thinking of you" via text takes the place of bear hugs and face-to-face interaction. While I do believe in not letting to-do list's and school work dominate quality time, I'm beginning to understand the other side of the coin: it's not a matter of whether or not you want to, but whether or not you can without reaching the point of exhaustion. Right now I'm walking a thin line of packing so much in all at once. It's frustrating because on one hand I feel like I'm on a race against time, trying to make the most of every moment before it all runs out. On the other, that's all you really can do; appreciate the time you do get with people, even if it's small and insignificant when it's happening. 

That's where I've learned to appreciate random run-in's, where all you can do is exchange a hug and "how are you?" that lasts all of five minutes before you have to go to class or run to catch up with whomever. That's where I've not learned not to focus on what place somebody has in my life or try to be best friends when every person that I know. I'm not going to obsess over who has treated me right and who hasn't. It's just not worth the energy, especially now. 

Leaves turn. Things happen. Don't just measure good by what you have or what you can give, but how you grow.

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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. 

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Life Lately

I'm in one of those back and forth modes; the kind where you don't want to complain about how busy you are, because you know what it's like to have too much time on your hands and be sitting around thinking about stuff. Then again, nothing utterly spectacularly is going on right now either; it's like I'm on a treadmill and without realizing it, somebody hit the incline button one too many times. Not that this is a bad thing, because it puts me in the practice of taking my time and not solely focusing on a particular end result. Yet part of me does yearn for something really big to happen, and perhaps it will in the coming months. 

I haven't blogged much for the following reasons: 1. There have been topics I've been wanting to write about, but find that I can't type it all out within an hour. 2. When I do sit down to write, I get fidgety because of everything else that needs to get done before the day is over. 3. Part of me is afraid to even admit that I think or feel the way that I do. I have no intention of putting it on the backburner, yet as of right now I may only be able to blog once a week, rather than two. 

It's starting to dawn on me how emotionally taxing writing is; this past weekend I got physically sick from exhaustion, and I wonder if that has something to do with it. Apart from academic papers, I'm starting to slowly shape what I hope will become my first novel; I'm taking an online novel writing class, which is actually guiding me in the process. For now I'm just building characters and scenes, and most likely be putting it all together either toward the end of the semester or over winter break. 

There's no way to tell what the end result will look like; it is loosely based off an aspect of my life, so that's partially why it is difficult and emotional to put together. I am fictionalizing a lot of it, but the trick is figuring out how, rather than telling it verbatim as it happened. Part of me wants to take a bit of a break, since it is a self-paced online class. If I choose that, I risk falling behind and driving myself crazy by the time December comes around. 

For some strange reason, it has caused me to think about the concept of privacy; what we tell the world and what we keep to ourselves. It's definitely something I want to write about by itself, so I won't elaborate much. I'm just realizing that even though I've become an advocate for vulnerability, it's not always black and white. 

On the other end, I'm beginning to dip my toes into the pool of job searching and whatnot. I have a general idea of what I'd like to do and where I'd like to work, but haven't pinned down the specifics yet. I'm mostly just focusing on networking and getting more information about the possibilities, at least for right now. 

I miss church; I am very much part of Intervarsity here on campus, but my church attendance has been on and off for a long time now. Part of it is the fear of investing deeper in a community when I'll have to leave in a shorter amount of time than I've been there. The other half is that come Sunday, both my mind and body are so incredibly worn out from everything I've had to do that week, and I constantly risk getting myself sick. I get headaches a lot, which can lead to vomiting. It's very frustrating to watch people who look like they have so much energy; they can go on and on and even after a couple of days look like it hasn't done anything to them. However, I know that's just because I'm seeing it from the outside. 

Yes, life is crazy, but in hindsight I'm soaking up every moment of it. 

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Adulthood On a Slide

When the Miley Cyrus Video Music Awards spectacle happened, everybody was all up arms about how she was "too sexy" and basically flipped the bird to her younger fans. I'm not disagreeing with that, but I saw something that may have gone over everyone else's heads: she was trying to announce to the world that she is no longer a child,  when realistically she's just shy of being a  year younger than I am.  While watching her performance I thought, there is a difference between being an adult and being an idiot; she was obviously going for the latter.

A week or so later, a distant/extended relative of my maternal grandmother made a point to compare college to a country club, and then made an even bigger point of informing me that the real world absolutely sucks. That Sunday in church, the closing prayer was "help us grow up before we grow old" while friends are starting to panic  when we're not even halfway through first semester yet.

It all kind of makes me sigh and wonder what adulthood even means these days.

There's no arguing that it's different for everyone, but part of why so many may struggle with it is because people from the age of twelve and onward are given mixed messages, and they end up burning the candle at both ends. On one hand, young kids (particularly girls) are told that in order to gain approval by their peers or be popular, they have to dress a certain way. But then morality cries that girls are completely dismissing their youth by wearing revealing clothing or piling on the make-up.

Then come the teenage years, seven years which can be emotionally taxing and confusing. There are those that have to "grow up" early; they take on a parent-like role for their younger siblings, they have to help contribute to finances or give up a paycheck entirely. Some move out on their own or go to college. Add in curiosity about alcohol, sex, perhaps drugs, and things can get complicated. The icing on the cake is when teens get put into a glass box for the sake of "protection" instead of learning how to actually cope and properly handle it.

Once you're in your twenties, it can go two ways: you're either an upstanding role model with a good head on your shoulders, or a selfish, lazy party animal. You're considered stupid and irresponsible for making choices that your parents probably made twenty-five or thirty-something years ago. Showing emotion and being vulnerable is taboo because few know how or even want to deal with that. You're not allowed to voice your doubts or ask questions; rather, you get your college degree and a warning that it's all downhill from that point on.

While it's true that a lot of those things are stereotypes, it all points to the same pattern: one extreme or the other. And it could just be me, but I'm beginning to think that it doesn't really have to be like that at all. You can still have fun and be responsible, and you don't have to exist on a teeter-totter.

I'm still in the threshold of all of it, but I've come to understand enough that "adulthood" doesn't have to be as daunting as most assume that it is.


You'll never have it "together"

The phrase "I have to get my shit together" is slowly becoming one of those that are like fingernails on a chalkboard. A friend once said it  mid-rant and I had to hold my tongue while trying not to cringe. Let's face it: no matter how hard you try and no matter what you may think, you will never completely have it all figured out. You can plan and prepare all you want, but most likely it won't happen exactly as you envision it to.  It's like trying to carry a multitude of bags in an airport: stack 'em, sling 'em and what have you, but eventually you will get tired and stuff will get messy. In other words, too much preparation only leads to insanity. Emotionally, I missed out on a good chunk of my senior year in high school because I was worried about functioning in college. Do what you can and let God take care of the rest, or at least deal with something when it happens and not beforehand.

Needing is NOT weakness 

It has taken me two decades, but I'm finally in a place where I don't balk at the idea of asking for help. It's easy to stand up and yell "look at me now, world!" in regards to how far I've come and what I've accomplished. Honestly though, I didn't get here without some kind of guidance. Sure, I had to dig my heels in and fight for what I wanted at times, if not all the time. I've made choices when everyone around me thought I would fail. But I have gotten where I am today as a result of love and encouragement, despite all of that. In a way, I've learn to see pessimism and negativity (from others) as a motivation; not to prove anybody wrong, but to continually ask myself, just what am I capable of? How far can I push myself? Most of the time it works, although occasionally I do question the reasoning behind that determination.

It's become common culture for needing someone to be viewed as weak, although life has shown me the opposite. True strength lies in taking the hand of or upholding another, because it shows that one simply cannot go through life alone. Once you stop using anger, isolation, and self-reliance as a form of protection, your experiences with others will become so much richer.


It Takes (A lot Of) Time

There is no such thing as "growing up too fast" and being successful at it. Young celebrities think that they can go from teen royalty to sex icon in just a matter of months, but reality does not work that way. Old habits and routines are not things that you can simply switch on and off; it all takes adjustment and getting used to. And just because you go from one phase to the next does not always have to mean doing a one-eighty and becoming a completely different person; you just learn to take it down a few notches, and/or do certain things in moderation. Overall, you cannot control how others see you or whether or not someone will take you seriously. Shout it and out tell the world all you want, but that doesn't mean that the world will listen. And if you're going to do anything drastic, make sure it's for you and only you. 

A lot of people are probably in the same place you are: they're scared and uncertain, wanting to make sure they don't just end up living in the mundane day in and day out. Be patient, because you will get stuck and possibly even fail on more than one occassion. That's not a bad thing, really; it teaches you how to be humble and recognize that there is something bigger than you out there, whether or not you believe in God or some sort of higher power. 

I still have a ways to go, but I'd like to think that the basic definition of adulthood is simply outgrowing and evolving. Like it or not, we all do and most of the time don't even realize it. Embracing your sexuality is part of it, but it's more about perspective and maturity,  and I think that's where I'm at right now. I no longer carry this gigantic weight on my shoulders, instead of walking in peace and faith as opposed to shame and hurt. Things still do happen, but for the most part I'm calm and relaxed. I'm learning not to take shortcomings too personally, and to see people as human beings.

I don't believe in "glory days" or that the best parts of life always take place when you're young. Though I'm in no rush to get older, I'd like to think that there is something beautiful about every life stage, despite not usually recognize it in the midst of the daily grind. Cherish what you have and be present in the current moment, but don't be afraid to move forward. If there's one big lesson I've learned this year so far, it's that each day is a gift. Age should not mean that you lack anything, but that you gain something; wisdom, experience, whatever it may be, you have more of it. 

My hope and prayer is that in the midst of all of it, that I don't lose my child-like sense of wonder and zest for life. It's a sad misconception that one has to give that sort of thing up once they reach a certain age. What they don't realize is that it's the ability to see beauty in everything, and take notice of the small stuff that keeps you going. When the road gets tough, sometimes it's the truth that all will be OK eventually that helps you to hold on. You can have joy without ignoring pain, and you don't have to ignore the pain in order to love life. Some call it living in the past, but I'd rather see it as setting myself free. 

As I finish writing this, one thought occurs to me: maybe we shouldn't call it growing up, because we never really stop. As I mentioned, you can outgrow things and want to go in a different direction, but there's never a point where you say "I know all there is to know and I've done all there is to do." From now on, maybe I'll just call it growing.

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