Firstly, I hope you like the slightly updated look around here! I want to thank one of my best friends Blair for collaborating with me to get that fancy new header up there looking just the way I wanted it to. It's her photo and about 80% her edit. If you don't already, follow her on Instagram (@below_my_feet) for more shots that'll spruce up your IG feed with all of the ethereal nature missing in your life.
That specific shot captures what I refer to as "the edge of the abyss", where I fancy myself called by Him to meet people in search of healing. A blog post explaining more of that can be found >>here<< if you're new and intrigued.
I recently picked up a book I've been meaning to read for years called The Life of the Beloved by Henri Nouwen. I read most of it the night I bought it and have had tears in my eyes more than once because of it. Henri wrote this for a good friend of his who asked him to write about the spiritual life for himself and his friends, all secular entrepreneurs in New York City. It is a no-nonsense take on the spiritual side of the human condition, where Someone finds us and abides with us in our deepest parts.
Here's an excerpt that has stuck with me:
"Aren't you, like me, hoping that some person, thing, or event will come along and give you that final feeling of inner well-being you desire? Don't you often hope: 'May this book, idea, course, trip, job, country, or relationship fulfill my deepest desire.' But as long as you are waiting for that mysterious moment you will go on running helter-skelter, always anxious and restless, always lustful and angry, never fully satisfied. You know that this is the compulsiveness that keeps us going and busy, but at the same time makes us wonder whether we are getting anywhere in the long run. This is the way to spiritual exhaustion and burn-out. This is the way to spiritual death.
Well, you and I don't have to kill ourselves. We are the Beloved. We are intimately loved long before our parents, teachers, spouses, children, and friends loved or wounded us. That's the truth of our lives. That's the truth I want you to claim for yourself. That's the truth spoken by the voice that says, 'You are my Beloved.'
Listening to that voice with great inner attentiveness, I hear at my center words that say:
'I have called you by name, from the very beginning. You are mine and I am yours. You are my Beloved, in you my favor rests. I have molded you in the depths of the earth and knitted you together in your mother's womb. I have carved you in the palms of my hands and hidden you in the shadow of my embrace. I look at you with infinite tenderness and care for you with a care more intimate than that of a mother for her child. I have counted every hair on your head and guided you at every step. Wherever you go, I go with you, and wherever you rest, I keep watch. I will give you food that will satisfy all your hunger and drink that will quench all your thirst. I will not hide my face from you. You know me as your own as I know you as my own. You belong to me. I am your father, your mother, your brother, your sister, your lover, and your spouse...yes, even your child...wherever you are I will be. Nothing will ever separate us. We are one.'"
That excerpt reminded me of another book called Sit, Walk, Stand by Watchman Nee, in which Nee emphasizes the necessity of spiritually resting in Christ before ever attempting work. Moving forward in that position of rest can be thought of as how you move forward in a car, sitting still but making forward progress. We must know we are accepted and justified in Him first and foremost; there is nothing to earn, there is no work to be done for those ends. That is how we experience "the Living Water" of His presence, after which we'll never thirst again, and how we can be called to "never worry about anything" (Philippians 4:6) because nothing that comes our way has the power to rob us of our identity or our rest.
I was going to go into how I've applied that truth to my own life, and perhaps encourage you to do the same, but the more I wrote the less I felt movement behind it, so I'm stopping there. Lord knows I didn't need help deciding how those truths should hit my heart. So take them as you wish, and pull me aside to talk about them if you feel like working it out more.
In the meantime, rest. Even in your chaos.
Pay attention to the voice that rarely calls glamorous attention to itself. That's where these truths are.
And sit with your innermost self, taking note of your own body-to-soul conversations, and Who is there with you in those depths.
I wholeheartedly believe that to be the sacred ground of His true work on this earth.
A common theme I find in conversations I have with friends, all of us now in our mid to late twenties, is a romanticized cherishing of some era that has now past in our lives. The range of time differs for everyone, but the common thread is that we all felt so much more present in those years than we do in our lives now. We felt more fully known, more fully expressed, more fully alive.
"I haven't felt like myself in five years."
"That was the one place that has ever really felt like home."
"No one has really loved me that deeply since then."
I'm right there too. For me, those years were 2004-2006. Life wasn't perfect; if anything it was one of the hardest times living in my home. But I was in a youth group that loved me so deeply and taught me so much. I had wonderful friends who worshipped with me and laughed with me and did real talk with me. I shared a love with a boy that was one for the books, a love I haven't seen the likes of since. And to top it all off, some of the best music I have ever experienced was being created and performed in those years, some of which I believe I owe my sanity to. Very few bands have hit my heart like the bands of that era.
Ten years later, and my life is unrecognizable, other than my relationship with God. New old friends, new NEW friends, a new city, college come and gone, life-changing memories come and gone, chapters and chapters and chapters of my life now in the past. I can't begin to tell you how much I love my life, and how blessed I feel to have walked every step of it.
But damn. I'd be lying if I said I felt 100% at home anywhere in that decade. It always felt like someone was missing who I wished I could tell my stories to. Like I was lacking resolve. Like I was experiencing life, but never resting in it. Like I was traveling and having a wonderful time doing so, but I'd left people behind or had people ahead of me who were missing out. It felt like I was a widow rebuilding my life in the wake of a loss, my late husband being an entire community and a timeless romance that slipped through my fingers. People have known me and loved me in that decade and vice versa, but never in quite the same way. Somewhere along the way there was a line drawn in the sand between Before and After, and I have always been aware of that line, even a decade into living in the After. My relationships in this After space have been informed by my life in the Before, my ever-increasingly romanticized ideal state of existence. "This reminds me of how things used to be, so that's a good sign." "They remind me of so-and-so, and I LOVED that person, so I'm getting close."
Like pictures and artifacts that people collect and save to remind them of their own story, and who's loved them. I tote these memories along with me everywhere like an anchor keeping me from some form of "unbeing".
I have longed for the day when my life feels like it is fully mine again, with everyone present who needs to be, and I can bury those memories respectfully. Then have the freedom to run around without that baggage, and "use both hands" in engaging with life, and be present NOW. Letting this moment and these people move me like I used to allow to my past moments to do.
Enter: mewithoutYou
This is one of the bands I mentioned that I have to thank for so many aspects of how I look at the world and how I approach my walk with Christ. They were a mentor, a friend, a musical therapy for me. Specifically their record Catch For Us the Foxes. It contains some of the most honest writing I've ever heard.
I saw them live twice during that cherished era of mine. One of those shows was in 2005 and entailed the entirety of that record performed, and I went with my most beloved humans. It is a specific memory I've held onto that captures the magic of my life back then musically and relationally. I was on cloud nine.
Enter: A decade later in the After space, new to Nashville, new everything, in the wake of closed doors and at the threshold of new ones to open.
mewithoutYou is on a ten-year anniversary tour of Catch For Us the Foxes, and they played in Nashville last night. I knew it would be great. But I didn't know it would catalyze the change that it has.
For starters, everyone in the place was in their mid-twenties or older. Which makes sense, given how old the album is. The opening bands got the casual attention most opening bands get at shows, so no surprise there. But the moment mewithoutYou were on stage and began the intro to "Torches Together" the place exploded. You could smell the catharsis in the air. You could feel how influential this record had been on every single human in the room. Not a soul was standing still. And there's something about yelling raw and honest words that helped you love your God as a kid, along with everyone else in the room doing the same thing, that feels a whole lot like worshipping together. Every single one of us a completely different person than who we were when we first fell for this album, maybe a bunch of us not caring for the Christian notion of how God interacts with us, but every single one of us yelling the likes of "we all have our beliefs, but we don't want our beliefs...God of Peace, we want You" with our entire being, moving to the haunting riffs and syncopated drumming mewithoutYou has mastered. I found myself grinning through the entire show because I knew on an elemental level that we were all celebrating the times of life this band had been part of in our stories. We were all celebrating what "home" had been for us.
I thought about the people I'd seen them with ten years ago, thought about where they are now and where I am now. The same songs, the same humans on a stage in front of me, the same feeling of being alive, but without those souls at my side.
I felt the smallest sensation of you can let go now. those times were beautiful. but so are these times.
Perhaps what makes our younger days feel so much more vibrant is that we lived without question or hesitation. We had nothing substantial to compare it to. Life was life, and we lived it, and everything since has felt like a comparison to that freedom.
But we are always that free.
Life is always worth fully engaging in, and we'll never fully understand why until we're in it and we discover its worth for ourselves. So BE HERE. NOW.
I think I'd been waiting for someone to rescue me from an underwater state, pulling me to the surface, and suddenly I'd be able to fully live.
Last night, in contrast, was a gentle tap on the shoulder and the notion of "Did you know you can swim?" If I am under water, I have been choosing to be there. The surface has been worth my time all along. We all get older and have more complexities in our hearts, more stories to tell and more scars to heal, but that doesn't take away from our ability to fully be with one another. If anything, it enhances it. If anything, our interactions here in the After space can be even more beautiful and meaningful than before the pain.
Healing and growth happen over time and in waves. But this is a wave long awaited for, and I am already feeling the freedom I've been longing for. The burying of the old and the full awareness of the now.
Once again, mewithoutYou has helped me know myself and know Him deeper.
Last week, a friend from Phoenix reached out and asked how I'm doing out here in Nashville. It was in the middle of a smooth-sailing nannying day, and I have no complaints with school so far, so I responded with, "I'm great! Just working and doing school, how about you?"
He gave me an honest and heartfelt response that I wasn't expecting, and it made me re-think how I'm really doing if I let myself feel it.
Here's the truth, friends.
I have never felt more lonely in my life.
The past year of uprooting and moving has led to a lack in community I haven't experienced in a long time. It's only to be expected when you move away from home, stay in the new place for seven months, only to move to a new place again. Home gets used to life without you and keeps less in touch, first new place didn't experience a whole lot of you to miss (except for one or two treasured friends), and the second new place is still getting to know you.
Somehow my heart finds a way of internalizing the whole thing and becomes convinced that I am "un-community-able", that I'll be alone forever with only polite acquaintances and the occasional invite to a social event. I've cried myself to sleep believing that lie. It's a tough lie to rid yourself of when the last year of your life has practically been in solitude.
I'm on my way out of the dark. I'm signed up to go through the membership process of a church I fell in love with, and after that I'll be placed in a small group there. I'm being more intentional with time with my roommates and friends they've introduced me to. I am re-thinking where I'll be working the next two years I am in school, with my primary focus being on where I can potentially make some great friends.
These will all take time. A lot of it. My experience of moving as a kid lends me to believe it'll be a lonely first year, but things will naturally pick up if I put myself out there for connections.
J.K. Rowling said, "Rock bottom became the solid foundation on which I rebuilt my life."
There are fewer times in life I can think of that could come closer to what "rock bottom" would feel like than this time in life. Even in the midst of actively pursuing my career and living in a wonderful city. The hardships of this past year have progressively weighed on me with little to no relief, and my future feels empty of expectation.
But what a beautiful foundation to start rebuilding on.
One free of clutter, free of expectation, free of stubbornness in any particular direction.
I have nothing to go off of. I have no reason to get in the way of the Artist.
I've had a life filled with goodbyes.
So much moving, a bunch of break-ups, a ton of closed doors.
This "rock bottom" feeling has a lot to do with who I'm leaving behind to move forward.
But if I've learned nothing else in my time on this planet, I've learned this:
Life is self-sufficiently good.
Come what may, life is good.
Come who may, life is good.
Go what may, life is good.
Go who may, life is good.
I cannot escape the beauty of living, even as I swim in a sea of goodbyes with no island of new hellos in sight quite yet.
So, let's rebuild. And enjoy the ride along the way.
There seems to be two facets of my Marriage and Family Therapy education (at least in the beginning). One is conceptual, theoretical, and cognitive, while the other is practical and hands-on. I am currently in two in-person classes and one online, and one of these in-person classes deals heavily in the hands-on aspect of therapy. Body language. Facial expressions. Filler words/Word choice. Tone of voice. Posture. Eye movement. Hand movement. ME.
You can have the most brilliantly therapeutic thoughts the world has ever seen, but they would fall on deaf ears if you are poorly presenting yourself in conveying those thoughts.
Though it doesn't sound "hands-on", the process of mentally attuning to the client and his/her story is also part of this class. Stepping into someone else's shoes, seeing the world from someone else's eyes, being fully present in the room with them as you two collaborate for healing. Try actively listening on that level in your next conversation, keeping your physical presence in mind as well, and you'll see how hands-on that mental process really is.
That is what I have been called to do for the rest of my life, for the majority of every week and for several clients at a time. I am so excited for it, but I am also growing more and more aware of how important self-care is going to be in that field.
Practically every job I have had has been to pay the bills, and therefore I could give myself some mentally-checked-out days where I simply keep my head down and push through, giving very little of myself to the moment or the people around me. Whether it was lack of sleep, personal life distractions, feeling sick from eating poorly, or anything else, I am used to having the luxury of mindless jobs that allow for subpar human interactions on rough days every now and then. Those days are soon to be over.
So it is time to embrace the discipline of self-care. Taking my needs and even some of my "important wants" seriously, so that I am a fully-functioning human for every client that walks through my door. The same way I would want a fully-functioning doctor or a fully-functioning pastor in my life.
And the funny thing is, I have always noticed how scholars, therapists, doctors, and even pastors seem to take VERY good care of themselves, even if they aren't painfully wealthy. They're the ones who buy personal espresso machines, have cabins in the mountains, have hobbies they heavily invest in outside of their vocation, etc. I never really had an opinion on it, but absolutely noticed it. It is all making sense now, and I'm for it, and I'll absolutely be among them soon enough.
People who have high-capacity jobs (mentally/physically/emotionally/spiritually) need to love themselves well in order to love others well. I believe EVERYONE should do so, but self-care is part of the training for these folks, and it's necessary if they want to avoid burn-out within a few months in their field.
"Self-care" can sound like a cop out for over-indulgence or vanity, but you wouldn't think so when you see it in action. It's simply putting time and energy into recharging in meaningful ways, putting your personal needs on the same priority level as you're putting your vocation. An athlete trains his/her body as purposefully as they intend to perform with it. Self-care is training for care professionals; the more purposeful the self-care, the more effective the execution of caring for others.
All of this has me thinking about the types of things to prioritize for fully-functional living. Most of these things I already prioritize, and others have been in my mind as future priorities for when it's go-time and mindless working days are over. I encourage you to think about yours, and here are a few of mine!
Quality coffee.
Spending the money and taking the time to acquire the best locally roasted beans and brew the best cup of coffee in existence every day. Coffee is an old friend I can count on for encouragement, and it helps me feel centered and ready to actively interact with the day ahead. The process of brewing is therapeutic in and of itself (Chemex hand-pour 4 lyfe). Getting out of bed with the knowledge that, immediately following, I am going to do steps A, B and C that will guarantee me a cup of happiness soon after...it starts the day off with joy.
Painting.
I wrote an entire post about it a few months back, and it's just as true today as it was then. A necessary outlet to make time for.
Sleep.
I can't stress this enough. I have trouble falling asleep (and sometimes staying asleep), so simply allotting more time for sleep is useless, because all that achieves is more time lying in my bed fully awake with my eyes closed. I vividly remember being in high school and staying up until 3am or so talking on the phone to my boyfriend, then sleeping some, then getting up at 5am to get to school at 6am for Chamber Choir practice, then proceeding with a 7-hour school day like it was nothing. HAH. Ten years later, and mama don't play like that no mo'. So I've given in to the powers of a mild natural sleep aid supplement, letting it nudge me over the edge into Dream Land. Some of the best sleep I've gotten in awhile, and there's no tired buzz in my ears waiting for the next chance to nap during the day.
Healthy relationships.
Ones that help me stretch and help me rest, help me grow and help me pace myself. Where I'm safe to be big and be small. Where I'm inspired to work hard, to play hard, and to love well. This sounds like an easier priority than it actually is. Sometimes you love who you love even if they weigh you down and make you miserable, friend/family/romantic partner alike. Boundaries with those loves can be painful, but holy crap SO necessary. You have no idea what a loss you are to the world when someone steals you away for themselves, rather than props you up and shouts about you from the rooftops so that even more can know you. It isn't selfish to walk away from people who serve no good purpose in your life, because we were created for good purposes. Do life, do vulnerability, do love with people who propel you into your fullest existence. With anyone who does less on a continual basis, let them know they matter to you but keep moving. And, of course, be that person to your loved ones, mutually propelling each other forward and lifting each other up.
Humor.
This manifests itself in various forms, my favorite form being in the type of healthy relationship described above. But humor lowers blood pressure, releases happy chemicals, and binds people together who partake in it together. I know I need to keep people/things around that make me laugh. Funny people, funny TV/movies, funny pets, etc. Laughter practically tells your brain you are happy, which makes you happy, which makes you smile and laugh, and the cycle continues. Gotta have those funnies.
Eating well.
For those who don't know, I have IBS that didn't show its ugly face until about a year and a half ago. Since then, I have had to think drastically different about how I eat in order to function well. Sometimes I cheat for the sake of satisfying cravings or for the sake of social settings, but I always pay for it afterwards with aches and stomach cramps. I have spent the past six months or so taking the disorder seriously and taking note of what triggers it and what soothes it if triggered. The last thing I need with a client in my office is a stomach cramp to distract me from hearing their story.
Quiet and space.
We all say we like it, we all say we need it. But the older we get and the more responsibilities we own, it seems like it becomes less of a priority and more of a luxury for most. This. Has. To. Be. A. Priority. For. Me. No. Matter. What. I don't have specifics on how often or how long, but enough to do the job. Even when kids are in the mix of my life, I will do what it takes to have a consistent avenue for quiet space. Naturally, this will be after the newborn days where I'm in 100% mom mode and wouldn't be working anyway.
The mountains.
There's something about being in the mountains that fills me up and brings me to life in powerful ways, and I want to honor that in myself. I always want to make the time and have the means to get lost in the woods for awhile. I always meet myself there in a new way.
Travel.
It could be the fact that my childhood never stayed put in one city too long, or that all of my favorite artists, authors, and interests seem to stem from some big "elsewhere", but regardless of the why, traveling is in my blood. I'd say it's in my entire family's blood, seeing as how we moved around so often with the Air Force and now my dad is an airline pilot bouncing around the country every day. It doesn't feel right to go too long without visiting somewhere else. It doesn't feel right to want to see another place and then not begin finding a way to get there. I know travel is good for the soul, and no one on their deathbed wishes they had done less of it (unless they were away from family or something). A passport, a quality suitcase that will last long enough to make memories, and quality clothes/shoes that will do the same. With the time and the budget to enjoy the ride. The world is calling, and I must go.
These may change, these may go away and others arise, who knows. But self-care is absolutely necessary, and I am already feeling that importance while reading for class or doing assignments. The process begins now. Because life is already moving, and when the time comes to have clients I want to hit the ground running.
Even if I wasn't in the caring profession, understanding and loving myself enough to make things like these a priority is so so important. Making time for them somehow helps me use those times more intentionally, and therefore go back to "work" more intentionally, and so on and so forth.
Love yourself well, love life well, love others well.
I'm only a few months into doing so, but I can tell you now it isn't too shabby of an existence. :)
Friends has been my favorite show since I was about 19-years-old. My first roommates-to-soon-become-best-friends had all the seasons on DVD, and we all bonded by watching them together, me for the first time and a thousand times more. Chandler shamelessly stole the show for me, beginning to end.
I haven't really watched them in about two years. I went through the entire series with a boyfriend I didn't part ways with too well, and that kinda ruined it for me for a long while. Then I moved to Portland where the DVDs weren't on hand and were too expensive to buy. Then I moved to Nashville where they still weren't on hand. UNTIL Amazon had a crazy sale last week and I snatched the entire boxed set for myself for a steal.
A lot of life has happened since I last went through the seasons in sequence, watching the story unfold chronologically, giving the first few seasons their dues before it all gets 1000% more fantastic in the later ones. It took me a second to realize that they all start out around 25- or 26-years-old, like myself.
All relatively clueless about how their lives will play out, even the ones who know exactly what they want to do for a living.
Some with plans that were so clear, so solid, that somehow fell through their hands, and it's time to stumble through starting over.
All hopeless in their own way in the world of romance.
All with stories, all with hurts, all with future stories and future hurts.
All doing their best to get by, and loving each other in the process, and calling it "life".
After watching the first few episodes of the first season tonight, I have a smile on my face from all the laughs (Chandlerrrr) and a peace in my heart that wasn't there previously. Even twenty years ago, folks my age were doing exactly what I'm doing at 25: working to pay the bills, celebrating wins and grieving losses, keeping their chin up in love and just growing into themselves with one another. Sure, it isn't with the same five people in the same few spots in town together, but I've been blessed to the brim with community in bloom.
When I think of what life would have gone like if I'd had everything my own way, my life would be unrecognizable. I would've married the only guy I've ever loved, probably pretty young. We would've had kids, stuck with jobs that made the most sense financially, stuck around Phoenix, kept the same friends, and never think to reach for the stars and chase dreams in huge uncomfortable ways. Steady. Predictable. Comfortable. Happy.
But life has a way of not taking orders, for better or worse. And you keep swimming. And sometimes it's like floating on your back on a sunny day, sometimes it's all you can do to keep your head above water as the waves crash over you. And I think that's what I love most about this show, it's all about doing the tough stuff and the fun stuff and the beautiful stuff together, come what may.
Monica puts it perfectly in the first episode to Rachel, who just ran out on her wedding day and cut up her parents' credit cards for a new and scary beginning of adulthood:
"Welcome to the real world. It sucks. You're gonna love it."
This post is about products I love, most of which are beauty products, and it only feels right to start out with a little bit of my raw story.
My personal journey with beauty products has been interesting, to say the least.
I can honestly say that I struggled with my self image (what woman hasn't?) up until about a year ago. I always felt out of balance, always felt like I needed to go to a bathroom with a mirror every few hours in public to make sure everything was still looking the way I wanted it to, always felt like I never QUITE looked the way I wanted to. I remember not feeling pretty until I was about fifteen. And it was only because a boy I fell flat-on-my-butt in love with told me I was beautiful enough times for me to attempt believing it. It only took ten years for me to start feeling beautiful all on my own.
Some of this was simply puberty kicking in and making everything a hormonal hot mess. Some of this was puberty + Mean Girls' "girl world" being a reality and knowing that every teen girl in the room is combing over your looks to find your flaws when you walk into class (or at least the insecure ones). Some of this was puberty + girl world + social anxiety I struggled with, and still do some. I associated the anxiety to feeling unattractive, and thought that once I felt pretty the anxiety would go away.
Regardless of the whys, I say all of this to explain why my junior high, high school, and early college years were spent grasping for beauty products to make me feel better about myself.
Makeup to cover up my uneven skin tone, fake tanner to even out my complexion everywhere else (and to look tan, because that was a thing unfortunately), hair thickening products to give my thin hair some volume, which then led to teasing the crap out of my hair and making it a huge curly lion mane everyday (and making it a sticky tangly mess), and all the acne cleansers in the world to cope with my oily skin that I continued to cake makeup onto.
It was always a fight.
It was always a negative experience.
I hated the canvas I had to work with, and did my best to look utterly flawless by the end of my time in front of the mirror.
To go into my journey out of that shame in depth would be an entirely different blog post, and if I get enough feedback on readers wanting more of that story and how I've come out on the other end, I'll be happy to share it (Spoiler alert: The real struggle at hand was sooooooo much deeper than how I looked. It always is).
But for now, that's enough to get your feet wet in the river that has been my path in finding products that not only work for me, but are healthy for me. It feels like I've tried everything under the sun, or at least everything under the Target/Walmart/Walgreens sun (I've been a kid on a budget, after all).
It's no longer a fight. It's actually fun! Not because I've found products that cover me up the best, but I've found products that work WITH me and bring out who I am and how I was created, rather than covering up everything to become whoever I "want" to become (Another spoiler alert: I was never happy with my personally-created self, because the maintenance was exhausting).
As I have been on the hunt for quality products at the best price (again, what woman isn't?), I have found myself drawn more to personal blogs than to shopping website reviews for feedback on what is out there. There's something about the personal touch, the "I'm telling you my opinion in a space where you can get a feel for who I am in all aspects" effect that blogs have that make those opinions and reviews stick so much more for me.
It also broadens my horizons on brands and product types that I would never have thought of myself when I venture onto blogs, since reviews on shopping websites are simply there if you are searching for that particular product already.
So I'm joining the blogging ranks and sharing, from a special level of my heart (as my story shows), some products I'm using as of late and absolutely loving.
I'll go in the order of what I'd use in a morning routine to make things simple.
my skin needs, especially when it's warm outside and my skin is prone to breakouts. It deep cleans, smells amazing, and doesn't strip my skin of its natural oils. I use this before anything else just for the smell to fill the shower!
Lush BIG Shampoo: This sea salt shampoo gives my hair a gentle and natural-feeling thickness that I can't get anywhere else. I don't use this for every wash since I color my hair and the salts would fade my color too fast, but it's my favorite volumizing shampoo to date. When I'm not using this, I use Mane and Tail.
John Frieda Intense After-Color Conditioner: This is basically a full size bottle of the deep conditioner you would get in an at-home hair color box. I don't use John Frieda hair color, but this conditioner has been a wonderful hair mask that I keep in while I finish up my shower and don't wash out all the way, since my ends can be pretty dry without some help. And my color isn't fading, so something is working! :)
Johnson & Johnson Baby Oil Gel with Aloe and Vitamin E: My favorite shaving gel to date, even though you have to thoroughly clean your razor after every few strokes. It has eliminated razor bumps on my underarms and leaves everywhere feeling unbelievably soft for hours after. It's worth the razor maintenance, I promise!
At the sink:
Clarisonic Mia 2: Now, this may seem like a splurge, but for me it has rendered itself absolutely worth the cost. Imagine an ice skating rink that needs cleaning, and think about the level of cleanliness wiping it with a towel would achieve as opposed to a Zamboni. A Clarisonic is the Zamboni for your face. And at the rate my face likes to shed cells and moisturize itself, a Zamboni-status cleaning system is a necessity. I absolutely love it.
Mario Badescu Glycolic Foaming Cleanser: My favorite part about this cleanser is that a little goes a loooooong way. I only need a pea-size dot on my Clarisonic to get a great foam and a great wash. In fact, too much can leave my skin way too dry, so watch out. This doesn't have any physical exfoliating beads, which I prefer since my skin is sensitive and gets irritated with too harsh of a cleanser. This one, when the portion is correct, is just right.
Philips Sonicare Toothbrush: Think of the Zamboni analogy again, but for your teeth. I decided to invest in this brush since I am in the process of using Invisalign to get my teeth straightened out again, and when something is pressed against your teeth and preventing whatever else is on your teeth from being naturally rinsed off, it's important to get seriously good cleanings in with every brushing. It's awesome!
In my room at the mirror:
Prosacea Gel: Once I stopped blindly covering up my uneven skin tone on my face and actually did some research, I discovered I have mild rosacea on my face and arms that there are products for. I use this on my face immediately after washing, with a moisturizer quickly following, because my cleanser and this treatment can be pretty drying if left without some moisturizing help.
Heritage Rosewater & Glycerin: Guys. This is probably my favorite product on this post, and one that I myself found on a blog review. It is a liquid spray moisturizer that is light (since it's mostly water), smells subtly floral, and has given me some of the best redness-reducing results I've ever experienced. I spray this on my face after Prosacea and spray it on my upper arms where I have redness as well. It is soothing and cooling, which is something those with rosacea need desperately in a product. And at that price, forget about it. This is staying on my vanity the rest of my life!
Clarins Bright Plus Brightening Hydrating Day Lotion: This is one of the more expensive products I use, mainly because it accomplishes so many things in one bottle: it brightens, hydrates, and is an effective facial sunscreen. It doesn't muddy my complexion like other screens have, and it hydrates without oiliness. A little goes a long way with this one, so 1.7oz is a hefty amount in the long run. It's the perfect protective "seal" for my clean and hydrated face.
Neutragena Ultra Sheer Dry-Touch Sunscreen: This is the King of Sunscreens for someone with moody skin that doesn't respond well to greasier alternatives. I can rub this on and head out the door a minute later without feeling like I'm oiling up to be fried on a grittle, and it doesn't leave me smelling like I'm a kid going to the beach all day, either. Since I wear it everyday and everywhere, these aspects of this sunscreen make it worth the price every single time.
Smith's Rosebud Salve: This Vasoline alternative has been fantastic as a long-lasting lip balm with the tiniest hint of rosy pink color for a polished natural glow. I've also used a little bit in my eyebrows for subtle shaping when needed. It lasts all day and doesn't dry my lips out like other balms seem to do, so this one is a keeper as well.
In my hair:
Surface Bassu Hydrating Oil: This was a gift from my colorist in Portland when I told her I was having trouble with dried out splitting ends. I put this on my ends while it's wet, whether I'm blow-drying or air-drying. My hair soaks it up like water on a hot desert day. Plus it's a great hydrating oil for your skin, too, so my legs enjoy the leftover oil on my hands once my hairs are happy.
Surface Trinity Protein Cream: This was also from my colorist since, along with split ends, my hair likes to break off and therefore never give me any serious length. I spray this protein cream in my hair, wet or dry, when it needs some extra love and I also want some of my natural waves to show.
L'Oreal Paris EverStyle Volume Lifting Root Spray: This product is near and dear to my heart for several reasons. I have been using root lifting sprays since I was about thirteen, since my hair is pathetically flat and limp without them. There are some that did nothing, and others that did WAY TOO MUCH and left dried alcohol residue in my roots that I'd have to methodically brush out before attempting to wash my hair. I only found this spray about two weeks ago...(*que Tangled lanterns scene*) and at last I see the liiiight! It is alcohol-free, smells amazing, and is effective without the beauty pageant theatrics of other brands. I can run my fingers through my roots and it simply feels like I have thick hair, not like I have thin hair with gunk in it. Oh, sweet victory.
Not Your Mother's Beach Babe Texturizing Sea Salt Spray: This is a fun product to use when I'm going for a natural wavy look, which seems to be more and more these days. I spray, scrunch, and blow dry, and I can add as much as I want as I go since it's good with wet or dry hair. Love!
Batiste Dry Shampoo (Dark and Deep Brown): This is another product near and dear to my heart. As a blonde for most of my life, I could get away with using baby powder on no-washing days on my (you guessed it) super oily hair. It was a cheap and relatively effective way to prolong my style, however it wasn't always easy getting the extra powder out of my scalp, and it lent itself to look like dandruff one too many times. I tried dry shampoo a few times as a blonde, but it seemed to run out after about two spray sessions and wasn't as effective as baby powder, so I stuck with my dandruff head look. When I decided to go brown (DARK brown), I knew baby powder wouldn't cut it anymore and I needed to find a dry shampoo that actually worked. This was the first one to catch my eye in Ulta since it's specifically for dark hair, so I grabbed it and gave it a try. SWEET LORD, I'm never powdering again. It's lasted me so long, each spray is so effective and lasts all day, plus I don't have to brush out any grey residue that other brands have left. It does, however, give your water a brownish tint in the shower when rinsing out your hair, so just be prepared for that and you're golden.
Thus ends my Beauty Saga!
I do use a few makeup products, but perhaps I'll save those for another post. I'm becoming more and more particular about what I use and how much I use it, since my background is full of overuse and using too many at once. For another time.
For fun, here are some more of my favorites that aren't beauty products, but they have benefited my life in their own special ways:
Mrs. Meyers Cleaning Products: All of them, for everything, forever. They are cruelty-free, aromatherapeutic products made with essential oils. I am obsessed with the lavender and lemon verbena scents, and currently have some dish soap, hand soap, countertop spray, and dryer sheets of these delicious smells. They are light, effective, leave no residue, and get you excited to clean yo thangs!
Capri Blue Candles: They last forever, look adorable, and smell divine. My personal favorite is Volcano, I could eat it for dessert.
Kaufmann Mercantile Products: This is a dangerous new discovery of mine. The cookware, the drinkware, the decor, the wool blankets, the everything. I need.
Fair Trade African Handwoven Bolga Baskets: My mom loved and sold Longaberger baskets when I was a kid, and now I understand why; baskets are just wonderful, and incredibly versatile. Find a few that you love and you can find all sorts of ways to incorporate them into your house decor and storage systems. I see myself with a few of these handwoven African beauts in my near future.
Everlane Products: I love their honesty and breakdown of how much their products cost to make, along with their affordable pricing. I just got their reversed denim dopp kit in the mail (because I have a concerning obsession with stowing travel-size toiletries in my purse) and it's wonderful. They'll definitely be a go-to for basics in the future.
I think that's enough free advertising for one post. ;)
I'm off to enjoy the quiet rain on this Nashville summer day.
It's a strange sort of life to live; when the road before you is set, with only Him beside you, and you aren't sure of who or what will come around the corner to become part of the journey.
When the only constants are the two of you.
And the road.
The long road of your purpose and your life's work.
It's strange because it sounds so much more fulfilling than it feels.
It's about as romantic as breathing; not at all in the unconscious moment, only a necessary function to exist, with yet another breath needed immediately after the last. Incessant. Without question. Simply the next step.
Learning how to feel beautiful without being told you are.
Learning how to see the warm value in things/people/concepts that are utterly opposite of you and your way of thinking, even things you proactively avoid.
Learning how to breathe through the tension of greys, unknowns, and knowns that hurt for now.
Learning how to speak to yourself as you would someone you love.
Learning how to determine the difference between flawed/human friends and unhealthy friends.
Learning how to accept that life is hard, and we aren't guaranteed particular blessings on this side of eternity, but that we are promised prosperity in His plans, making any ounce of goodness in our lives a tender mercy.
Learning how to be alone. Not physically alone, going about your day. But alone in the sense that, before His feet, it is you and no one else. How to be alone with Him, and understanding that all His efforts on this earth were for that very intimacy.
Learning how to love yourself well, feeling worthy of such love, and in turn having so much more to offer others.
Learning how to hold the entirety of another human. Hold their grief in one arm and their music in the other, knowing they're even more mysterious still. Delving deeper into the friendships that seek to hold each other fully, hold each other well.
Learning how to let go of dreams. Of visions you once thought were so close to reality that you could smell them in the air in front of you. Of hopes that somehow slipped through your hands.
Learning that life isn't fair. But life is good.
I need Thee every hour, in joy or pain; Come quickly and abide, or life is vain I need Thee, oh I need Thee Every hour, I need Thee Oh bless me now, my Savior I come to Thee.
This post starts off with a fun fact about myself you may not know.
I have what is called synesthesia. It is a "neurological phenomenon" in which stimulation of one sensory or cognitive pathway leads to automatic, involuntary experiences in a second sensory or cognitive pathway (thanks, Wiki). It is "a union of the senses," and there are several ways these connections can come about. Some people see music, others taste words they read or hear, some see numbers/letters in specific points in space in front of them.
Mine is a combination of the most common forms, which are grapheme-color and chromesthesia; these both deal with colors. Letters of the alphabet, numbers, days of the week, and months of the year, all have an involuntarily subscribed color that is fixed and have all been present since I can remember.
A is red. B is blue. C is yellow. D is green.
1 is blue. 2 is emerald green. 3 is yellow. 4 is purple.
Monday is red. Tuesday is blue. Wednesday is orange. Thursday is green.
(see how they coincide with letters? Who knows why!)
January is blue/white. February is brown/yellow. March is pink.
So on and so forth. They never change in essence (sometimes in hue or shade). There was a study done on a blind man (he eventually lost his sight, he wasn't born blind) who had this form of synesthesia, and the electrodes used for the study showed his brain lighting up with activity in the visual cortex when hearing words like "Monday" or "November." He could see without sight.
Chromesthesia deals with sounds and colors...cars honking, doors opening, everyday sounds that are recurring through life. This includes music as well. There are PUH-LENTY of synesthetic musicians out there, guaranteed. I generally decide how I feel about music based on the color schemes the song stirs up in me.
I'm also starting to think that this is why I am drawn to clothes and home decor that are neutral or muted colors. Highly colorful outfits and rooms feel like sensory overload and are exhausting. I'm already experiencing a hundred colors a minute. Every word I type here equals a burst of color I wish you could experience with me.
Ahhhh, so peaceful.
This is all fine and dandy, and it makes for a fun conversation with new friends.
But something happened about five years ago that has finally caught up with me.
I decided to select a few close friends to be the receivers of a unique Christmas gift from me; I bought small canvases, acrylic paints and brushes, and painted each of them what their name looks like in my mind when I hear it or read it or think about them. Names do a funny thing with me...they start off roughly based on what the individual letters in the name are colored and shift from there as I get to know the person. Some people's don't change much, and others change drastically. There is no simple, linear explanation as to why someone's name results in the colors it does, and I kind of prefer it that way. So I "painted the names" of my friends, including an individualized letter on the back of each canvas explaining the painting, and gave them out thinking it was a fun little gift and nothing more.
...uh. It was definitely more.
More than one of them cried. More than one of them sat me down and told me how much it meant to them. More than one of them still have their paintings and text me pictures of it if it catches their eye during the day. Mind you, these were nothing museum-worthy or even high-school-art-gallery-worthy. My technique has significantly improved since then, and even today it's amateur. But my friends have treasured those pieces more than I could have ever imagined they would, and I'm beginning to understand why.
I'm a high-functioning introvert. I deeply enjoy humans, and I especially enjoy my chosen tribe of humans.
But when I love, I love quietly. And quiet love can take some time to understand from the outside.
I think when I painted my friends' names, when I shared the colors of my thoughts toward them, my quiet love suddenly had a voice it hadn't had previously. Things I couldn't put into words suddenly didn't need to be said, but could be seen on a canvas.
I don't think I'd realized how quiet my love had been until it was in color. And giving those Christmas gifts showed me the power in the simple act of sharing with someone their shade of blue in my weird brain.
Since then, life's happened. Work, school, fluctuating budgets, bills, adulthood, it all happened more and more. And somewhere along the way, I found less taxing hobbies that had more to do with relaxing after a long day and less to do with expressing myself. Life was as colorful as ever, but the colors went unacknowledged in the face of daunting life changes and working towards goals.
I've also grown up in important ways amidst all the life change, and my quiet nature has found a comfortable balance between being in community and recharging in solitude. I'd like to think I am a steady, genuine presence in the lives of those around me and open to getting to know people, as well as letting others get to know me.
Recently, though, during a tough process of sorting through some of my shadows, I heard His voice ask a very clear question:
How would you live your life now if you had never been ashamed of who you are?
The question opened the floodgates of an ocean of answers, worthy of an entirely separate blog post. But I had a distinct vision of myself deeply at peace, quiet, joyful, gentle...
...and painting.
Painting was as clear as day. It seemed so random but felt so right.
Fast forward a few months to life gaining traction here in Nashville. Working two jobs, excited for grad school in the Fall, living with some quality women in an adorable house, making new friends, and life is wonderful.
But something was missing. And I knew it was painting. Specifically painting the colors in my mind's eye like I once had.
The moment I pinpointed that as a potential creative outlet, I was hit with inspiration and urgency. Words. Memories. Scenes. Suddenly I needed them OUT. I frantically made a list on my phone of everything I wanted to paint, and I hope I got them all down in the end. I left that moment knowing that painting was no longer an option I could do without, but a channel I'd forgotten I needed to feel at peace with myself. To sleep at night. To feel like a fully functioning human. To reach homeostasis, with the internal matching the external. The colors within required an avenue out, and it was painting.
Today I finished my first piece of many to come. I'm not sure what I'll do with them in the long run...some will be gifts, but few, if any, will be for simple decoration (neutrals and muted colors, remember? ;)). I have a few lofty ideas for them, and I'll let you know if I follow through on any of those.
I recently talked with my sister about how I feel like the last three months have felt like God is setting me up for the rest of my life. She, being one of "my persons" who's seen me through thick and thin, wholeheartedly agreed.
They say the brain has generally ceased developing (in a "growing up" sense) by the age of 25. Who you are by the time you're 25 is most likely going to be who you'll be for the rest of your life, as far as wiring, instincts, and lifestyle go. And I think it is no coincidence that my life took some serious shifts in thinking/acting between May 3rd, 2013 and last Saturday when I turned 25. Undoubtedly the most eventful year of my life, and inarguably the most life-changing.
I moved away from my home of fifteen years and lived in a foreign city with strength I didn't know I had.
I faced my darkest memory to date with strength I didn't know I had.
I embraced 100% solitude with strength I didn't know I had.
I acknowledged the ocean of shame I'd been treading water in my entire life with strength I didn't know I had.
I made a second move, relatively unexpected and unplanned, with strength I didn't know I had.
The takeaway: I lived life with strength I didn't know I had. Because I finally began to understand what true strength is; how to hear it, how to sing it, how to walk upon it, how to breathe it in, how to dance in it.
I grew keenly aware of my instincts, keenly aware of Who put them there, and keenly aware of how to respond to them.
For example, here's a story not many of you know in detail...
I now live in Nashville, Tennessee.
I knew in late February, clear as day, that it was the next chapter, despite it making ZERO SENSE on so many levels. I loved my grad program in Portland. I loved my two jobs in Portland. I loved my budding friendships in Portland. I could see myself getting used to the idea of Portland being home, even if the spark wasn't there yet.
Nashville had been a shadow of a thought for awhile. There was an MFT program through Lipscomb University that caught my eye. A lofty idea. An open door as an option, and I assumed the stars needed to align in such a way to make it a viable choice.
Stars never aligned. At least not in the way I thought they would.
I was driving home at 11pm one night, deeply sad and disappointed about a conversation I'd just had, not looking forward to what the next few weeks/months would feel like because of it, and I heard my own voice in my head say "Now I know Nashville definitely isn't happening."
thunk.
My gut instantly felt hard as a rock, churning around, restless and constricting. Alert and alive.
The cloud of doubt and question vanished before me, and all I could see was Nashville.
Not a full second passed between me consciously thinking "Now I know Nashville definitely isn't happening" and me then thinking in a quieter voice "I'm moving to Nashville."
When? Probably after my term at George Fox ends in early May.
Where would I live? Dunno. Don't have connections there.
Where would I work? Dunno. Don't have connections there.
Is George Fox an unsatisfactory school? Nope. It's changed my life even after a few months.
Has Lipscomb accepted you for their program? Nope.
Is there a particular reason/person to move for? Nope.
Why then?? Dunno. But yes. Absolutely yes.
Within 24 hours of making this decision, a friend in California I'd known in Phoenix randomly texted me asking about life. After the brief update, it felt right to add "...and I'm planning on transferring grad programs to one in Nashville." Weird, since I hadn't told a single soul yet. His response: "Oh I know a few people in Nashville! I'll get you in touch!" I joked: "Welp, let me know if any of them need a roommate, haha." And the conversation ended.
I planned a budget for a move in early May, worked two jobs and saved as much as I could, and began looking on Craigslist for roommate posts. 88% Sketchy/creepy, 10% Decent but too expensive, 2% Manageable on all fronts and got an email from me. Fall through here, fall through there, the search continued.
My dad found himself staying in Portland on one of his trips during all this, and we ended up having dinner and talking for a few hours in a really meaningful way. I told him about my plans, expecting him to poke holes in my reasoning and/or strongly encourage me to stick with what's already working just fine in Portland. His reaction was the exact opposite. He encouraged me forward, he offered to make the drive with me to Nashville when the time came, and even told me he'd help financially. I dropped him off at his hotel and felt more loved and validated by him than I probably ever have in my life. That, if nothing else, solidified the truth that God Himself was putting down the stepping stones leading me to Nashville.
One day I was working on an assignment for my class at my favorite coffee spot, breezing through it with no struggle or frustration. Then suddenly:
you can stop this now.
...huh? This is due tomorrow. I'm already halfway finished.
you can stop this now.
And I began to understand.
I believed beyond a shadow of a doubt that Nashville was my next step. In the transferring process of grad programs, only a certain amount of credits are transferrable. The class I was taking at the time wouldn't be transferred to the Nashville program, so it was useless if I was moving. But if I didn't move, dropping the class would put me behind a semester and mess up the process I had going for me in Portland. Dropping the class also opened the door for moving to happen an entire month earlier than previously planned, because this class was the only thing to stay in Portland for.
I felt like I was being nudged toward the edge where I'd have to make an actual leap of faith.
Do I drop this class and truly choose moving? With nowhere to live, nowhere to work, and before I've even finished the application process to Lipscomb? Or do I cling to it "just in case", just to be safe?
Do I jump from Portland before I have anywhere to land in Nashville?
My brain was upset.
NO. DON'T DO THAT. WASTEFUL! UNNECESSARY RISK! UNCOMFORTABLE! YOU LOSE CONTROL OF THE SITUATION IF YOU DO THAT. CLING TO WHAT YOU KNOW!
A quieter voice was insistent.
you can stop this now.
it's time.
The inner commotion led me to stop what I was doing, walk out the door of the shop, drive home in silence and prayer, get home and sit on my bed with my laptop in front of me, getting the online process of dropping the class set up. All that was left to do was click the "Drop Class" button, and the tears started streaming down.
I trust You. And I believe You're leading me there.
If that's true, then I genuinely don't need this class, and it's actually taking away from my ability to prepare myself for this next step.
The door is open, and You are pointing forward.
Forward is out of my line of sight. I'm terrified. But...
I trust You. And I believe You're leading me there.
...
...click.
More tears. But even more peace.
More roommate searches. More job searches. I started focusing most on nanny jobs through Care.com, because I was really loving the setup I had in Portland.
Something felt absolutely right about planning for a weekend trip out there (shout out to the pops for the gift of Buddy Pass privileges) to meet potential roommates I may find or families to talk with that I may nanny for.
I had no leads in either of those categories. I had the smallest of connections to potentially have a place to stay nearby when I visited, but it was shaky.
I was planning a trip...with no plans. But it was right, I knew it, and I found myself yet again leaping with nowhere to land yet.
While setting up that trip, one roommate situation shined through the others on Craigslist, so I sent an email and we set up a Skype conversation to chat.
Things were polite. Both the girls seemed down to earth and great.
But it wasn't right, I could feel it. And that was discouraging. I was going to stick with it if it was my only solid option and meet them when I visited, but something told me to keep my ears open.
So I prayed.
I know this is the way forward.
But I also know what it's like to live in a place that doesn't feel like home.
Please.
If it's out there, let me find a home.
The NEXT day, I was on my lunch at work when my California friend texted me again, weeks after his first text.
"When are you moving to Nashville again?"
Again, with the same friend, I found myself verbalizing for the first time what had only been a thought previously.
"Well, now I'm actually thinking it'll be the beginning of April, in a month or so."
And he proceeds to inform me of two of his friends new to Nashville who are looking for a third roommate in their new place. He described them briefly, gave me one of their numbers, but I was texted by one of them before I even had the chance to first.
"KATELYN!!! I hear you're moving to Nashville!?!"
I remember having the biggest smile on my face. Because I knew I'd found what I'd been looking for.
The three of us talked on the phone, clearly felt the love like crazy, and we talked logistics of what the next month would look like. They'd just found the cutest cottage in the perfect location for a fantastic price, and my name found itself on the lease, and suddenly I'd be sleeping in my future new room with my future new roommates on this little trip a week away that I'd been planning before there was anything to plan.
Sometime in the next few days, I found what felt like the perfect nanny position on Care.com, fell in love with the family just in how the mom described her kids and her dogs and her husband, and I knew I wanted this job 1000x more than any of the others I'd applied for that I'd either never got a response from or things fell through. I applied, re-read my application email about a hundred times, and sent it through, praying so so hard to be able to meet with this specific family during my planned trip.
I distinctly remembered the pain of moving somewhere without a job lined up, and I wanted to do whatever it took to not be in that position again. So much prayer, it felt like every exhalation was a prayer of trust and peace and grace.
I was in a Wendy's drive-thru when my phone alerted me of a new email. It was the mom of the family. She wanted to meet me.
That joy. I'll never forget it.
After a few back-and-forth emails, I had plans to meet with the entire family for breakfast on one of the days of my trip.
The trip itself was incredible, validating, and all-around a beautiful experience. By the end of it, the three and a half weeks to moving couldn't come sooner.
A few days after coming home, I got an email saying I got the nanny job.
Before I knew it, I was walking through the door of my new home, exhausted but ecstatic, ready to make a life in Nashville.
This all took place in the span of five weeks or so.
I am a changed person in the midst of such a journey, and that is only a fraction of what the last bit of time has entailed for my soul and my heart. It is a testament to what He has been up to the last six years or so of my life. All the steps toward vulnerability, toward loosening my grip on my own will, toward trust, toward learning His voice and His touch, toward the outskirts of my comfort zone...all steps necessary for this process to have taken place.
It was tough at first to express all the colors of my heart in this moment of life. I feel strong, yet weak, yet confident, yet humble. It felt too complex to feel all at once, then I heard this new worship song at church last week, and it broke me, and I knew the words I needed to sing.
I've heard You call my name
I've heard the song of love that You sing
So I will let You draw me out beyond the shore
Into Your grace
As Your love, wave after wave
Crashes over me, crashes over me
For You are for us, You are not against us
Champion of Heaven, You made a way
For all to enter in
'Cause You make me brave
You make me brave
You call me out beyond the shore into the waves
You make me brave
You make me brave
No fear can hinder now
The promises You've made
This past year has been my year of bravery, being brave enough to jump and know He'll catch me. Brave enough to trust my instincts and my prayers. Brave enough to be confident in His path, even if others (or my logical brain) raise their eyebrows or shake their heads. Brave enough to be weak under His strength.
Brave enough to surrender my fear, and walk into the unknown of His steadfast promises.
Yeah, I'd like to think God is setting me up for the rest of my life with that kind of footing as I walk into true adulthood.
Welp. Other than this blog and Instagram (which I trimmed down to posts within this past year), I am officially off the grid of social networks for the first time in probably ten years (if we're including cute little Myspace).
I can't describe to you the freedom I am experiencing in that. Even knowing that you're probably reading this because you clicked on the link in my Instagram profile...which takes a few more intentional steps to see how I'm doing as a human than a streaming Facebook news feed dangling the link in your face...that's pretty great to me. Even if I get 5 views rather than 500, damn, you're the only five people I'm really writing to anyway. :)
Anyway, yes. Freedom.
Not because Facebook was an addiction of mine, or a platform for drama, or I'm on a high horse about technology sucking the life out of mankind.
I'm simply learning more and more that the human process of figuring out life is an absolute mess, even when you have a good head on your shoulders and all the best intentions in the world.
And after taking an objective look at how my Facebook and Twitter portrayed who I am and where I've been, I decided I didn't like the idea of my messy and flawed human process documented with words and photos for someone to comb through and assess me by. The past 7+ years have shaped me into the person I am today, and I share the memories of those years with those who were meant to be part of them. Who I am today is something entirely different, and my future as the person I am is so much more relevant to my relationships than my past journey in getting here.
Along with that, it didn't sit well with me that someone would need to use those platforms to get to know me in the first place. If we don't have the ability/desire to know each other in real life, what is the point of status updates and years' worth of pictures of me? Or, if they already know me, it didn't sit well with me that they'd use those platforms to keep up with how life is going for me...rather than an intentional text/phone call that take a little time and effort.
There's also a level of entering into the professional world rather soon, and if I were to ever hop back into the Facebook realm, I'd want to start afresh with a very intentional mindset on what/when/why I use it at all.
Moving on my own and away from "my people" into a new city...for a grad program all about the human condition...have, if nothing else, taught me that we are neurologically interwoven with a lifelong need for human connections. We can't survive without them. And our brains are wired for those connections to be three-dimensional and physically present with other humans. Technology doesn't have the capacity to support the type of connections we need, and I doubt it ever will. I have tried so hard to live vicariously through technology in hopes that my life may as well be happening in the same city as the people I miss who don't live here with me, and it always left me feeling unrested. Meanwhile, my co-workers want to talk about their relationship situations and their families, and my classmates are sharing some of their stories when something we're talking about in a lecture really resounds in them...there are humans right next to me reaching out for the connections I've been staring at my phone for trying to feel with people thousands of miles away. I'd lost touch with the concept of my community being with whoever I lay eyes on, not whoever has private access to my Facebook statuses and pictures.
So I'm feeling free.
Free to let my distant human connections be what they are, and put actual time/energy into them if they really are worth it.
Free to let my local human connections grow in organic ways that take advantage of our proximity...coffee hangouts, grabbing lunch/dinner, anything involving the actual humans I'm living my life next to.
Free to let my hunger for human connections push me to genuinely talk with someone I may not have in a more comfortable state, like the stranger sitting next to me at coffee or the customer at the drive-thru window who's forced to sit there anyway while their drink is being made.
Free to live in the reality that we were never meant to have 500+ friends to keep up with and share our lives with, but respect the comings and goings of those who cross our paths and keep our attentions most focused on those put in front of us this very moment.
This may be my last post for awhile...mainly to push myself to share my heart with real humans rather than whoever can find me online. I'm sure I'll have a few painfully inspirational rants to share, knowing me. And I also know that I've had some genuine encouragement to keep writing, and that what I've written in here has really made some impacts. I want to honor that. So I'm not going anywhere in the long run.
But for now, I leave you for the treacherous road of living life with flesh and blood humans. If that can't be you, text or call for some you-and-me time. If you don't have my number, but want some you-and-me time, but we can't do that in real life...well...let's cross that bridge when we get to it? Hah.
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