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.