Goodbye Netflix

I have a confession. I have a problem. And the problem’s name is Netflix.

I am very grateful for the childhood that I had. I spent time running through the woods with my dog and riding my bike all over the place. I had a dress up box full of handmade costumes and a dad who loved to build treehouses. It was a good life. And for the most part, it was devoid of a lot of screen time. Aside from the occasional episode of Recess after I finished all of my homework, I was not allowed much time at all in front of the television. My parents got rid of texting on all of our phones when I was in high school. The first few times my parents offered to buy me a smartphone, I said no. Even my freshman and sophomore year of college when cable was included in my housing costs, I didn’t own a TV. I actually don’t own one now either. 

If you spend any time with kids today you will probably see them looking at some sort of screen whether its an iPhone, iPod, Kindle or whatever. And I don’t blame or judge parents at all. I work with kids and there is something beautiful about turning a movie on and watching hyper little energy monsters become calm and quiet. But like many people in my generation, I have been sucked into a culture of screens and media and streaming and a constant flow of noise and distraction. 

It wasn’t really a problem at first. And truthfully, I don’t think that my social media or Netflix usage is inhibiting me from living a productive and full life. I still pay my bills and clean my apartment and get exercise and go to work on time and spend time with people I love. But it has become my coping mechanism and my outlet and sometimes, my companion. And I don’t like it. 

I don’t like realizing that multiple episodes have gone by and I’m still on the couch. Or hours that I could have been resting have been spent watching fake people live fake lives that seem better than mine. It has become a part of my life that I don’t like. And that I am not proud of. 

This has definitely been a slow building issue and it does seem to be seasonal. When depression rears its ugly head up in my life (we’ll talk about that later) it is usually the first warning sign. I find myself running to it during rough seasons when I just don’t want to deal. I have gone to it to escape because sometimes it is easier than actually looking at what is going on in my own heart. There are a lot of factors. My stressful job. Being alone. The weeks I spent not working or driving after my car accident. The late nights preparing for my overnight shifts. 

This last year, I have learned to rest in very important and needed ways and I’m grateful for that. Rest is so important. But I can rest without Netflix. I can commune with people without Facebook and I can cherish memories without posting them on Instagram. 

I am not addicted to Netflix or any media form. I have no problem turning it off. I frequently go without my phone altogether. It has not destroyed my life or my relationships. I deactivated my Facebook account last summer and didn’t even miss it (I shamelessly activated it again to share my blogpost). But the truth is, I don’t want spend my hours watching someone else live their life. I don’t want comparison slowly chip away at my soul as I scroll through edited photos of the other people’s highlights. I want to live and live well and full. I want to have adventures, big ones. I want to learn new things. I want to work hard and make a difference. I want to grow closer to Jesus every day. I want to love people around me better. And I can’t do any of those things when I spend my free time letting episode after episode play on my computer screen. 

I have been trying for the last few months to reduce my media usage. I am honestly not sure how successful I have been. Like I said, I can go days without my phone and be very satisfied. I started only watching Netflix if I was also doing squats and pushups and jumping jacks. But I am seeking a lifestyle change and sometimes you gotta make big steps and ask the internet to keep you accountable for habits to break so that’s what I’m doing. 

I make no judgement on anyone that watches TV or spends time on social media. Netflix, Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter, those aren’t the problem. They aren’t bad things. Turning them into my coping mechanisms and their usage into habit, that is the problem. So I’m challenging myself and anyone that wants to join me (believe me, I’m not expecting anyone to) to a purge of Netflix, or Facebook, or media altogether, whatever it is. I know you’re supposed to put a time frame on stuff like this but I don’t have one, this is a lifestyle thing. 

So please keep your eyes out for my #insteadofNetflix adventures (on social media, how ironic I know) as I celebrate this full life and world that I have been blessed to live. I’ve never done this before and I’ll probably make mistakes but I promise to do my best and be honest and real on this journey. Feel free to ask me questions and ask for prayer or encouragement or to invite me on your adventures because I’m about to have a lot more free time on my hands ;)

Hope prevails

I get a little insecure about writing a blog. I feel like blogs are for accomplished individuals, those who are good at cooking, fashion and/or home decor or moms who want to encourage all of the other mothers out there. I am none of those things. It is always the thought that maybe someone out there will somehow be encouraged by my spilling my guts to the internet in a way I sometimes struggle to do in person. So here you go world, my guts. Hopefully you are that person waiting to be encouraged. 

Growing up in church I have heard a lot of messages about hope. It doesn’t seem to matter what age I am, I always seem to have a sort of weird out of body experience whenever I listen to these messages. Sort of like when you dream but your dream is a movie and you are watching yourself. It is kind of like that. I hear the word hope over and over and all the random thoughts flow, hope. What is hope? Who is Hope? Who am I? This entire paragraph is just a long intro to what I really want to say that basically has nothing to do with what I am talking about. What I want to say is that whenever I hear about hope, I get very distracted and struggle to listen to what they are actually saying. But recently I listened to a message on hope that rocked me to my core and here we are. 

Hope is a powerful thing. It is a thing of substance. It is not a naive, childish way of looking at the world. It is not based on wishful thinking or luck charms. It not reserved for the naturally positive or for those who have not yet had those life experiences that seem to rip your heart out. It is a powerful thing. It is growing thing, planting deep roots when it is allowed and getting choked out when it isn’t. 

The last year and a half or so have been hell. I can honestly, without exaggeration say that the unimaginable has happened in my life and the lives of those I hold dear and to be honest, the punches keep coming. It has been tidal wave after tidal wave of shock and grief and in the eyes of many, I could have easily been justified to grow angry and label myself a victim and stay there.

I have always considered myself to be a strong person and a positive person, sure in myself, knowing who I am and looking at the future with anticipation. But in the aftermath of some of the potentially life altering tragedies that have occurred, something ugly grew up in my heart that I didn’t know existed. Doubt, anxiety, overwhelming fear and an intense anger began to cloud who I was. I don’t blame myself for those emotions. In my mind, the worst had happened. 

I began to direct this anger at the very person who deserves it the least, the One who has been there for every step, every tear, who moved heaven and earth to win my heart, the broken mess that is is. I hurled my bitter cries at God, so full of doubt and uncertainty. I walked through a season of grieving unlike any I had ever experienced and in order to process, I sort of hit pause on some dreams and plans and just let myself be angry. I don’t hold this against myself because I know that God doesn’t either. Grief is a process and it shows up in all sorts of ways. I took a step back from my own life and indulged myself in what I affectionately called my hermit summer. Do what you gotta do. Let yourselves grieve people. 

In the midst of me taking a break from life, I began to build an alter for my misery. I still loved God so much and I clung to Him but He was not the thing I worshipped the most. Hope cannot grow in a heart watered by fear and pessimism. It cannot grow under an alter made of shame and anger and depression. I continued to walk towards God because in every part of my life, He has been my sure constant but discouragement had taken a hold of my heart.

This hermit summer continued into the fall and winter as more of life circumstances came crashing in and my heart dealt with the trauma. In all of this, God never once left my side, never gave up, never turned His back, never spoke an angry word, never let me go hungry, never abandoned me. He truly kept all of His promises, just like He says He does. But I was not myself and I was not whole and I knew it. 

As I continued to crawl and then walk and then run to God with all I could and act on His promises even though I didn’t believe them and chose to get up and love God and people everyday, I learned a lot. I learned that creating boundaries is the most loving thing you can do for your people and yourself. I learned that trust is not an emotion. I learned that God’s character does not change even when everything else does. I learned what a religious spirit looks like and how to ignore it. And I learned that God is far less conditional than we even know how to teach people in the healthiest of church bodies. I learned that I can be sad without being defeated and I can afraid without being sidelined from life. 

I kept going and kept believing and God kept healing and loving and being there and although it sounds cheesy, hope began to shine through my darkness  and discouragement like the sun in the early morning. Coming just when you think it won’t, melting off the disappointment and the shame and the lies. I said it earlier and I will say it again, hope is a powerful thing. Hope says that it doesn’t matter what happened last time, this is who God is. Hope promises that your story will not end in tragedy. Hope proclaims the truth over your life even when everything else speaks death. Hope stands next to you as you stare into your overwhelming circumstances and whispers, “we’ve got this”. Hope reminds you that the promises of God are going to happen because Jesus already did EVERYTHING necessary to complete them. Hope stands tall in you and says “this is me” because it knows that Jesus already did all that was needed to break off every attack, fear, hurt, pain, wound, disappointment, bitterness, negative word and everything that keeps you from freedom. Jesus did it all. Our hope is not based on some lofty, unattainable desire for the best without any proof or evidence. It is built on the person that is Jesus and the cross and His blood He shed and the victory that He already won over everything.  

I sit here writing this not rid of all of my overwhelming circumstances. I’m not without problems. I sit here facing some big obstacles. I sit here very sad about some very real and recent tragedies that have pledged my family and my life. I sit here with debt and some health things and some decisions and some scars both physically on my body and figuratively on my heart and some circumstances that I would desperately love to change. I sit here knowing that I made mistakes today and I still have ugliness in my heart I gotta give to God. But I also sit here victorious. I sit here so secure in who I am and who God is. I sit here full of dreams. I sit here knowing that God has me. And it sit here full of hope and able to tell you from someone who has faced tragedy and heartache more than I wish on anyone in a lifetime that despite everything and anything that has happened or ever will, hope prevails. 

Choosing different words

It started with the zoo. I woke up on a beautiful Thursday morning, very tired and a lingering migraine from the night before still making my temples throb. I threw on a pair of overalls that I stole from my mom years ago and my new bright red converse and headed out to celebrate the recent employment of my dearest friends. 

My roommate Kylie loves the zoo and the movies and dance parties and gold, sparkly things and Chinese food and has somehow managed to wade through childhood into adulthood with a beautiful innocence and grace towards the world. Kylie doesn’t walk around carrying her baggage like a medal of honor and her heart has stayed free from cynicism. And this is something that I will admire about her forever. 

As I said, Kylie loves the zoo and was recently hired for her first big kid job as a first grade teacher next year and so to celebrate we, Kylie, my other roommate Katie and myself headed to the zoo. The Fargo zoo is hardly a wonder and we had adequately seen everything in about an hour but still it is the zoo and it is one of Kylie’s favorite places. I would love to say that I was in the moment but I wasn’t. I was definitely enjoying myself but truthfully my mind was swirling with all the things I needed to do on my long overdue day off. We went to the zoo, headed to our favorite smoothie place and then I headed home to get ready for a mandatory work bonding outing at an indoor trampoline park. 

I should start by saying that I really like my coworkers. They are truly some of the best people I have ever worked with and they make showing up to work everyday worth it so normally the idea of getting paid to jump around like a fool would sound so appealing but between the migraine that was persisting, feeling worn down and my general irritation about having to do anything to do with work on my much coveted day off, it was the last place I wanted to be. So I texted my boss and told her I wasn't coming, to which I got the reply that it was mandatory so I should try to come if I could. 

It was not a demanding text or rude and I have a really great relationship with my supervisor. She is someone I trust to confide in. However, that text sent me into a full on melt down. With big tears streaming down my face, I called my mom, ranting about how frustrated I was, how overwhelmed I felt and how unreasonable I thought it was that they were forcing me to this work event. If anyone has ever had a migraine or headache for that matter, they know that crying profusely is the exact opposite of what you are supposed to do. After talking to my mom, who basically told me in different words that I needed to suck it up and go because it wasn’t worth losing my job over, I sucked it up, washed my face and headed to the trampoline park with a load of bitterness in my heart. 

I got to the trampoline park and exploded at my coworkers all of my frustration for being there, how burnt out I was and how I was so tired of this. And the more I talked to the worse it got. They were so gracious and accepted my complaints because they had all been there before. I sat there drinking Starbucks with the others that opted out of jumping and then headed home for a full day of roommate celebrating. 

Something changed in me that day. I have a particularly difficult job and sometimes I feel like I spend half of my life working and half of it trying to work off the stress of my job. But I also have a wonderful job and I get the honor to take care of some kids and love them when they are at their worst and to be someone that tells them that no matter what has happened, I believe in them. And it is an exceptional feeling. There is a reason I show up there everyday. 

I also live with some of the greatest humans on the planet and the last month has been one wonderful thing to celebrate after another. Jobs and weddings and graduations and birthdays and bridal showers and new apartments. One of the biggest joys of my life is coming home to excited greetings and happy notes and group hugs. It has been so impossibly busy lately with all of the celebrations but what a seriously great problem to have. 

However, something shifted in me that day. Suddenly, I didn’t see the kids that I get to love or the roommates who dropped everything to hang out with me on my birthday or the package after package I got from my family after my birthday. All I could see was the schedule and the busyness and the stress and the budgets and the bills. 

I have been on a mission to get out of debt. That is a topic for another post someday but this need to get out of debt has driven to working two jobs often working twelve hour shifts. There is absolutely nothing wrong with working hard or wanting to get out of debt and that mission has not changed in my heart. But I have been using this busyness and this stress and the fact that I work so hard to act like a real jerk lately. I haven’t been grateful. I haven’t been appreciative. I have spent more time complaining than anything else. And all of this busyness has driven to falling asleep with anger and to hiding my irritation in watching Gilmore Girls instead picking myself up off of my bed of self pity, getting into the Word of God and getting His truth. 

All of this came to head until I was sitting there talking about how my negative views about weddings to my roommate who is engaged and asked me to be her maid of honor. Real classy move I know. As I was driving to work afterwards, I realized how very unlike myself I was being. I love celebrations and I love weddings and I love being in weddings and I love planning parties and I love making a big deal out of every accomplishment. I love celebrating my roommates’ upcoming marriages and I pumped for the wedding I get to be in next week!! And I love my job. This is what I went to school for. This is what I chose. This is what I want to give my life to. 

I made some apologies and this morning I got real with God about all of it. Four pages of journaling later and writing Him a letter about how wrong my heart has been, I am realizing that I am so sick of my own excuses. Excuses don’t do anything but let us feel justified to not do the things we think we are supposed to do. I am all for giving yourself a break and realizing your own needs and taking care of yourself. I think we need to be honest when we are overwhelmed and when we need help and when it is just too much. I think we should take naps and go for walks and go to counseling and to cry on our best friend’s couch. I think burn out is a very real and toxic thing. And there are true life events that knock the wind out of us and when those happen, we’ve got to give ourselves time. I think we need to acknowledge the problems and letting things go on unsaid and suffering in silence is what leads to heartache. But personally, I am so tired of hearing myself say that I am busy. I am so tired my stress being my justification to not value what I have. I am so tired of this being my constant state of emotion. I have been given so much but all of that has been clouded by my fixation of my lack.

I knew someone once who used to always respond to the standard “how are you?” question with “I am blessed and highly favored.” and they were one of the happiest people I have ever known. It would be very out of character for me to start answering people like and I don’t plan on it but I have never forgotten that. I am not sure what other purpose this post has aside from processing but I  guess I am committing something to the internet. I am tired of choosing to see my stress and my lack and my busyness. I am tired of doing nothing to change my heart or situation or attitude but expecting the people around me to continue to put up with it. I am tired of the words tired and busy. I committing to choose different words. 

This has nothing to do with this post but here is a really pretty picture by Liv Photography of my roommates
and myself sitting in a pretty field laughing. 

Adulting

I have rewritten this first sentence three times trying to describe what the year 2015 was for me. I thought I could sum it up in one sentence but that is never going to work. More happened than I can ever or ever will share but I will summarize. In 2015, life hit me like a ton of bricks. I spent the first part of the year fighting the seasonal gloom that cold weather and a lack of sunshine brings with zero dollars to my name, trying desperately to prove myself to people, to my friends, my bosses, myself and God. And I failed. I couldn’t be everything I thought people needed me to be and I crashed and burned and suddenly it felt like I was drowning in insecurities and doubts. I spent the summer very angry at my perception of who God was, hiding at a job that didn’t require much of me and safely tucked away with a few lovely roommates and friends who loved me past my anger and hurt. I went to counseling and cried a lot. I read books and cried a lot. I slept and cried a lot. I spent a month at my parents’ house and cried a lot. And God kept showing up and telling me it was okay. Even when I would sit in my car in my apartment parking lot and yell at Him, He showed up. And when I completely ignored Him, He showed up. And just when I felt my head coming above water and my heart hoping again, I slammed into the car in front of me on a busy interstate four hours from home and found myself with a totaled car, a broken arm and a few months of recovery. So I recovered and rested and slept a lot and watched a lot of Netflix. And again, God showed up. There really wasn’t much for me to do or anyone else to talk to, so I spent a lot time with Him. He was there. He was there for every physical therapy appointment when I could barely move my arm and every lonely day I spent at home. He was there when my checking account ran empty because I wasn’t working. He was there for every disappointment, every broken dream and for every battle I fought with myself over who I was and what I deserved.

I got a new job, one that required a lot more of me. And I got a new car (thanks parents) and I kept going to counseling and I kept reading the books. But I wasn’t crying so much anymore. I started to really feel God’s love again. I found out who I was and who He was, how great He is and I fought a tough war against bitterness. As my arm healed, so did my heart. God is crazy about me, for no merit of my own and there is nothing I can do to change that and that alone will blow my mind forever. It may have taken some pretty severe heartache for me to get there, but I did and I am so glad. 

But like most habits, the need to prove myself was not an easily broken one. But God has stubbornly refused to give up on me and now that I have freedom, I have stubbornly refused to go back. 

I turned 24 last week and I have grown up quite a lot in the last year. I finally learned how to budget, complete with envelopes and everything. I drink a lot a water,.I take my vitamins. I went to the dentist. I pay my bills. I make my bed about 50% of the time. It only takes me about three days to get my laundry folded and put away after washing it rather than seven. I exercise and use a planner and eat veggies (most of time time) and I have a retirement fund. I even learned how to cook a few meals other than tacos and pasta.

All of these are good things. Things that I am glad I do. Things that took a lot of work to get good at. However, there has been a shift in the last few months. I think I had this idea of what a grown up was in my head. According to me, I should be debt free, have a masters degree, have started my own non-profit, have a house, a dog and probably a husband. And a book deal in the works because by the age of 24, I should have done something worthy enough that other people want to read about it. And I should have a fabulous job that allows me to travel the world. I know it sounds crazy when I write it all down but that is the kind of pressure I have put on myself. Through comparison and striving and not really knowing how much God loves me and not really know who He is, I developed this false idea of what being an adult is and what it means to grow up. 

But guess what. I am a grown up. I have debt. I sometimes stay up too late. I sometimes drink more coffee than I should. Occasionally, I watch Gilmore Girls instead of folding my laundry. I hate doing the same thing every single day. Routine drives me crazy and the idea of working the same job from now until my retirement makes me want to pull all of my hair out. I am not wired that way. Last week, I wanted to became a massage therapist and Mongolian grill chef. Why? Because it sounds fun! I do not fit the mold of “being a grown up”. And that is beautiful thing. 

So recently, I decided to stop trying so hard. To just give myself a break and to let God take care of some of the burdens I had unnecessarily put on my shoulders. I decided to let go of some of those things I was doing that made me feel like a “real grown up”. And again, God showed up. He met me and has provided and come through and healed and brought resolution to things I thought would NEVER be resolved. All of the stuff I was failing at doing on my own, He has done all while I was napping or something. 

I am not advocating for my life style but I have learned what being a grown up is to me. To me, being a grown up is knowing you value, no matter your vocation. Being a grown up is loving those around you best and treating the people God has given you with the best kindness you can muster. Being a grown up is buying yourself a smoothie on days you’re tired of being single. Being a grown up is apologizing and admitting that you are wrong. Being a grown up is saying no to things you can’t afford. Being a grown up means asking for a raise when you deserve it. Being a grown up is having crushes and doing something about it. Being a grown up means letting people know when the hurt you and forgiving them anyway. Being a grown up is standing up for yourself and teaching others how they can treat you (a seemingly unachievable thing called boundaries).  Being a grown up is knowing when you have had enough and should just go to bed. Being a grown up is liking a clean apartment but not beating yourself up that you haven't vacuumed this week. Being a grown up is entertaining the idea of being a an astronaut or a baker or whatever else or going to art school. Being a grown up is giving others a break when they need it. And giving yourself a break when you need it, all the while knowing what you are capable of and not settling for less than that. Being a grown up is having a good day even if you did wake up late, didn’t have time to shower, ripped your jeans at work and had to put duct tape on them until you got home and changed (that happened yesterday). Being a grown up is realizing you can’t do it all, giving God the credit and asking Him for help because you know you can’t do it without His help anyway and thanking Him like crazy when we He does. 

In short, growing up is what you decide it is.