One of the greatest, most memorable and eye-opening thing I learned in college also happens to be the hardest thing for me to live out. It's a great piece of knowledge, something everyone should know. To know it is wise, to live it even better. It comes from the passage in Scripture about the greatest commandment...
"Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?"
Jesus replied: "Love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments."
Matthew 22:36-40
It's a passage many of us have heard, practiced, memorized or had drilled into us..."love your neighbor as yourself"..."love the Lord your God with all your heart..." but many of us miss something vital in those words. Most people see that we should 1) Love God and 2) Love your neighbor. The thing most people miss, though, is that in order to love our neighbor as ourselves, we must first, love ourselves. So the order really goes...
1) Love God
2) Love yourself
3) Love your neighbor
The first time someone pointed this out to me, actually, the ONLY time someone pointed this out to me, I was dumbfounded. As a self-proclaimed church kid I was completely sold on the concept of loving God and putting everyone else first. Seems accurate, right? I mean, after all, God did send his Son to the earth to die for everyone else....Jesus was the ultimate example of humility.
The way God worked it out though, is that to love others I must love myself. If I can't love myself, how can I be an example of love to others? Personally I find it difficult to love others when I don't love myself because when I loathe myself the way I often do, I get so wrapped up in my own pity party that I don't even have time to think about others (unless of course I'm comparing myself to them, which only elicits more hatred).
Like most people, I go through phases. This last week I was in a "I hate my life and every part of myself" phase. I had every reason and no reason to feel the way I've felt. I've spent most of my days insecure about how I look and what I have, feeling totally inadequate as a woman, a christian, a friend and human. I've cried. I've worn workout clothes to avoid my closet and the inches hidden around my waist. I've complained and been irritated and vented to friends, my mom, my sister.... I've been in one heck of an ugly phase, but I think I'm moving on. It's time I start loving myself for more than what I look like, and at the same time...it's time to learn to love how I look no matter what I'm wearing, if I've worked out enough this week, no matter what the number on my scale says (which I actually don't even know because I refuse to step on it).
I want to love me because God loves me. Because he has grace on me and loves me despite my flaws. He loves unconditionally and it's time I start doing the same.
Love Just.
Sunday, May 12, 2013
Sunday, May 5, 2013
Every.Single.Day
I have more adrenaline than I know what to do with right now. I guess that's what happens when you spend the majority of the day in bed, on your way to bed, or talking yourself into why being in bed is what you should be doing at a given moment. But that's what Sundays are for though, right?
In other news, I did something really bold and uncomfortable today. I went out of my comfort zone and took a leap of faith.
I don't know if I've mentioned it here, I don't think I have actually, but I have this sort of weird eat-sleeping disorder thing. It doesn't have a name, I don't know it's source or why I do it. No one has yet to figure it out nor have they found a solution for it. I've seen doctors, a nutritionist, and a therapist. I've changed my diet, my sleeping habits, taken supplements and tried to get more vitamin D. I exercise, I eat healthy foods, and I'm gluten free. I've tried to talk it out, talk to myself, and ignore it all the same. But nothing seems to work. Absolutely nothing.
So here it is (it's simple really): I wake up, every-single-night after I've fallen asleep to eat. I go straight for the kitchen, have what is sometimes a small snack, sometimes something more hearty. Sometimes I wake up 2-3 times for the same purpose, usually an hour or two after falling asleep. I am aware of what I am doing. I know that I am eating and I generally remember the experience the next morning. However, I am most definitely NOT in control of myself as I do it. What I eat varies each night, having nothing to do really with what or how much I ate prior in the day.
As you can see, this is kind of a weird thing. It's actually really uncomfortable and even embarrassing to talk about. I must admit there is quite a bit of shame involved in the whole thing. It's an area of my life I cannot control. It's weird. It's not normal. And it's very disruptive. Sometimes it ruins my day, starting off on such a negative foot. It used to ALWAYS ruin my day...I'd say the night eating got to it's worst when I was at my worst. I don't know if my depression caused the night eating, or if the night eating caused (in some way) the depression. Either way, they felt one and the same. Thankfully I am no longer struggling with depression. Anxiety on occasion and insecurities more often than I would like to admit. But depression is, in my opinion, a thing of the past.
Which brings me back to today. I've had this feeling in my gut for the last few weeks that I should seek prayer for this issue. I've asked for prayer at various times from various people about it, but never from someone right in front of me who would take time in that very moment to lay hands on me and pray for actual spiritual and physical healing. Today was the day I decided to seek such a thing out.
My church offers every single weekend for people to be prayed over by our church elders for physical and spiritual healing. I've always thought this was great, but never felt I had a reason to go. Until now. I was prayed over by a pastor a few years ago over something in my life, and I remember that time as a very memorable turning point. If it worked then, why wouldn't it work now? I know prayer doesn't work like that necessarily...it's not a "do this then that" kind of thing, but when you get to your wits end with no answer no solution and nowhere to go, it becomes your one and only hope. I know, however, that prayer should be my FIRST go-to, but that's unfortunately not my nature...or anyone's really. It's something I'm working on...
Today, after church, I slowly sauntered over to the space I assumed was reserved for prayer. I wasn't sure how the whole process worked, but I walked in knowing I would soon find out. Immediately I recognized the woman who checked me in--a receptionist at the church. And then before I knew it I saw a good friend and her family walk in. I acted as "normal" as possible, inside feeling more uncomfortable than I have in a while. I swear, it was like buying tampons from the cute check-out boy or running into your mom's friend at the gynecologist's office. I knew there was nothing to be ashamed of, but there it was...shame...popping up at a key time.
The prayer time itself was brief and purposeful. The elder, who also happened to be my boss' husband *awkward* anointed me with oil and prayed over me. I walked out feeling much the same as when I walked in, this time with a greasy forehead and a tiny, minuscule glimmer of hope. Not much...I wish that glimmer was more like a ray, but it's a start. I know my God is more powerful than I could ever possibly imagine and I am choosing to trust that he can and WILL heal me when he so pleases. I am useless. Nothing I do or say will make me more worthy of healing. I am on my hands and knees, giving it all over to him. And I will continue to do so every.single.day.
Saturday, May 4, 2013
Just Write
Sometimes I get the impulse to write, even though I don't necessarily have anything to write about. I love writing, but tend to pressure myself into always writing with purpose, write well, and write what makes sense. But sometimes, when you're a writer, you can't always make all three happen. If you're one of those awesome published people, then sure, you probably can, but I am not one of those people. I would one day like to be one of those people, but until that day comes, I will continue to just write.
I've had at leastthree four different blog titles I've written under in the last five years, each one with a slightly different theme matching the season of life I was in. At the same time, each one has become less and less specific, but with basically the same undertones (20's, growing up, faith, job, friends, travel, life, learnings). After all, I am only one person with only so many different perspectives on life. There was "Gluten FreeDumb", there was "Scribbles", then there was "Anthropology of a Girl" and now "Love Just Write". For one OCD reason or another I always want what I am writing about to match the blog title. I didn't want to talk about my feelings about being in my 20's under the title of what was supposed to be a food blog. And when I didn't want to talk about crafts or shopping anymore, I switched over to Love Just Write.
At a certain point under each title I always seemed to hit a wall with nothing to say, so I stopped writing. Then to fix that, I would write some version of a "rambling" post just to get me in the motion of writing. It was my way of telling myself, "you don't have to be perfect, it doesn't have to make sense. Just write!" I'm a perfectionist at the core, which can be really great, or really debilitating. I'm trying to work through the debilitating part...be ok with imperfection because the imperfect things are the things I love most in life. Art. People. Flowers. Nature. Questions. Writing. I love the personality, wisdom, and learnings that comes with imperfection...be it in a person, situation, or writing. It's freeing. It makes me feel normal. It gives me a sense of peace and a little bit of hope. It tells me, you're ok.
As you can see, my journey to Love Just Write has taken some time. Do I have followers? No. Do I even have a fancy layout for my blog? No. I don't really have any of that. But I do have a safe place to write whatever I want. To talk about all the things and people I love. To talk about what it means to love justly and a place to just write.
Even as I started this post, I had only jumbled thoughts and feelings to account for. I could have let that scare me away from writing, but I didn't. I love writing. I love what it does for my soul and I hope one day it can bring that same pleasure and peace to someone else's. In the meantime, I will continue to just write.
I've had at least
At a certain point under each title I always seemed to hit a wall with nothing to say, so I stopped writing. Then to fix that, I would write some version of a "rambling" post just to get me in the motion of writing. It was my way of telling myself, "you don't have to be perfect, it doesn't have to make sense. Just write!" I'm a perfectionist at the core, which can be really great, or really debilitating. I'm trying to work through the debilitating part...be ok with imperfection because the imperfect things are the things I love most in life. Art. People. Flowers. Nature. Questions. Writing. I love the personality, wisdom, and learnings that comes with imperfection...be it in a person, situation, or writing. It's freeing. It makes me feel normal. It gives me a sense of peace and a little bit of hope. It tells me, you're ok.
As you can see, my journey to Love Just Write has taken some time. Do I have followers? No. Do I even have a fancy layout for my blog? No. I don't really have any of that. But I do have a safe place to write whatever I want. To talk about all the things and people I love. To talk about what it means to love justly and a place to just write.
Even as I started this post, I had only jumbled thoughts and feelings to account for. I could have let that scare me away from writing, but I didn't. I love writing. I love what it does for my soul and I hope one day it can bring that same pleasure and peace to someone else's. In the meantime, I will continue to just write.
Friday, May 3, 2013
Week 1 -- "My Mom's Blueberry Crisp"
1. In "My Moms' Blueberry Crisp," Shauna tells us about her food memories and the foods served around her family's table when she was growing up. What are some of your memories from your family's table during your childhood? [Shauna Niequist, Bread and Wine]
Mixed with Love
I guess you could say I've been a lifetime foodie. Growing up I often used the phrase "born on the second pew" to explain to people my relationship with the church. As the youngest of four kids I made it to church for the first time just weeks after my arrival and I haven't looked back since. Sure, there were those few years in college where sleeping in and a late breakfast in the caf became my Sunday routine, but as a church employee who now runs three weekend services every single weekend, I like to think I've made up for that time-and then some.
My relationship with food started just the same. In fact, one of my very first memories as a pre-schooler involves food. I vividly remember waking up in the middle of the night, hungry, and went straight to my mom's room for help. As a shy little girl I must have been more than hungry to actually wake my mom up in at such an un-ideal time. I didn't and still don't like to inconvenience people with my needs, so I must have been pretty desperate. With my stomach growling, my mom's hair up in one of those messy, mid-sleep buns and her cream quilted silk robe that zippered up the front, we walked down the stairs to our dark, wall-papered kitchen for a mid-night snack. Early as it was, my mom eager to get both her and I back to bed, my mom threw together the first and easiest thing that would satiate my appetite. White bread smothered in creamy unsalted butter. From that moment on, I was in love.
It's hard to choose a favorite recipe, meal, or food memory from my childhood. I am a firm believer that anything made by my mother's hands is better than anything by my own. Meatloaf. Spinach Casserole. Tostadas. Cranberry Bread. Peanute Butter and Jelly. You name it, it's better when mom makes it. I think it must have something to do with love. There really is nothing more comforting than a homemade meal and the love and conversation that comes with it.
If there was one food that my childhood centered around, it would have to be Texas Sheet Cake. I have more memories around that than any other and the legacy continues on year after year. With my grandpa from the south and my grandma from Louisiana, we ended up with a handful of southern recipes in our repertoire...and I couldn't be more thankful for every one of them.
One of the beauties of a large family is the plethora of birthdays that gathered us around the table on what felt like a monthly basis. With minimal finances to spread around much less splurge on a birthday, my mom made it a priority to celebrate each of our birthdays with our meal and dessert of choice. Corrina always chose Texas Sheet Cake. Daniel always homemade Lemon Merengue Pie. Missy usually Carrot Cake. And myself-I liked to switch it up, but with my birthday so near (and occasionally on) Thanksgiving, pie was a frequent dessert of choice. While TSC was the showcase on Corrina's birthday, somehow we found an excuse for it at least a solid half-dozen times a year. Grampse's birthday? Texas Sheet Cake. Memorial Day? Texas Sheet Cake. Sunday afternoon? Texas Sheet Cake. Potluck? Texas Sheet Cake. Saturday Morning? Texas Sheet Cake. As you can see, TSC was a frequent bystander at family "events".
With it's moist interior and lumpy glazed frosting melted into every crevice and corner, no one can deny the beauty of TSC. Everyone has their favorite slice-most of us kids fighting over a corner (for the additional frosting) or the middle (for the additional moisture). It's always better the next day, but who can promise it will even be there? In the warmth of our San Diego climate, most things ended up in the fridge for us--hiding from heat and the ants that came with it. TSC was no different, other than the communal fork that laid hidden in the crumbs under the protection of plastic wrap that was hardly necessary. Bite after bite TSC lasted little more than a day in our house and for good reason. I'm sure this had much to do with the additional adolescent pudge that found it's way to my mid-section. But who cares? I had my good friend, TSC to thank for it.
With the discovery of gluten sensitivities in a handful of us as adults, TSC makes a few less appearances throughout the year. But when it does, even I, gluten allergies and all, are willing to splurge and sacrifice the potential threat it imposes for just a few luscious and memorable bites of heavenly goodness. Slowly we've spread the recipe amongst a few close friends that appreciate it's goodness as much as we do. But even in the hands of others, it's still not as good as when mom makes it. My brother is convinced mom does something different to it when she makes the recipe. I'm convinced too, but I'm pretty sure it has more to do with love and prayers she stirs into it than a pinch of this or spoonful of that. Food is pretty great, but so much better mixed with love.
Allison Elizabeth
Mixed with Love
I guess you could say I've been a lifetime foodie. Growing up I often used the phrase "born on the second pew" to explain to people my relationship with the church. As the youngest of four kids I made it to church for the first time just weeks after my arrival and I haven't looked back since. Sure, there were those few years in college where sleeping in and a late breakfast in the caf became my Sunday routine, but as a church employee who now runs three weekend services every single weekend, I like to think I've made up for that time-and then some.
My relationship with food started just the same. In fact, one of my very first memories as a pre-schooler involves food. I vividly remember waking up in the middle of the night, hungry, and went straight to my mom's room for help. As a shy little girl I must have been more than hungry to actually wake my mom up in at such an un-ideal time. I didn't and still don't like to inconvenience people with my needs, so I must have been pretty desperate. With my stomach growling, my mom's hair up in one of those messy, mid-sleep buns and her cream quilted silk robe that zippered up the front, we walked down the stairs to our dark, wall-papered kitchen for a mid-night snack. Early as it was, my mom eager to get both her and I back to bed, my mom threw together the first and easiest thing that would satiate my appetite. White bread smothered in creamy unsalted butter. From that moment on, I was in love.
It's hard to choose a favorite recipe, meal, or food memory from my childhood. I am a firm believer that anything made by my mother's hands is better than anything by my own. Meatloaf. Spinach Casserole. Tostadas. Cranberry Bread. Peanute Butter and Jelly. You name it, it's better when mom makes it. I think it must have something to do with love. There really is nothing more comforting than a homemade meal and the love and conversation that comes with it.
If there was one food that my childhood centered around, it would have to be Texas Sheet Cake. I have more memories around that than any other and the legacy continues on year after year. With my grandpa from the south and my grandma from Louisiana, we ended up with a handful of southern recipes in our repertoire...and I couldn't be more thankful for every one of them.
One of the beauties of a large family is the plethora of birthdays that gathered us around the table on what felt like a monthly basis. With minimal finances to spread around much less splurge on a birthday, my mom made it a priority to celebrate each of our birthdays with our meal and dessert of choice. Corrina always chose Texas Sheet Cake. Daniel always homemade Lemon Merengue Pie. Missy usually Carrot Cake. And myself-I liked to switch it up, but with my birthday so near (and occasionally on) Thanksgiving, pie was a frequent dessert of choice. While TSC was the showcase on Corrina's birthday, somehow we found an excuse for it at least a solid half-dozen times a year. Grampse's birthday? Texas Sheet Cake. Memorial Day? Texas Sheet Cake. Sunday afternoon? Texas Sheet Cake. Potluck? Texas Sheet Cake. Saturday Morning? Texas Sheet Cake. As you can see, TSC was a frequent bystander at family "events".
With it's moist interior and lumpy glazed frosting melted into every crevice and corner, no one can deny the beauty of TSC. Everyone has their favorite slice-most of us kids fighting over a corner (for the additional frosting) or the middle (for the additional moisture). It's always better the next day, but who can promise it will even be there? In the warmth of our San Diego climate, most things ended up in the fridge for us--hiding from heat and the ants that came with it. TSC was no different, other than the communal fork that laid hidden in the crumbs under the protection of plastic wrap that was hardly necessary. Bite after bite TSC lasted little more than a day in our house and for good reason. I'm sure this had much to do with the additional adolescent pudge that found it's way to my mid-section. But who cares? I had my good friend, TSC to thank for it.
With the discovery of gluten sensitivities in a handful of us as adults, TSC makes a few less appearances throughout the year. But when it does, even I, gluten allergies and all, are willing to splurge and sacrifice the potential threat it imposes for just a few luscious and memorable bites of heavenly goodness. Slowly we've spread the recipe amongst a few close friends that appreciate it's goodness as much as we do. But even in the hands of others, it's still not as good as when mom makes it. My brother is convinced mom does something different to it when she makes the recipe. I'm convinced too, but I'm pretty sure it has more to do with love and prayers she stirs into it than a pinch of this or spoonful of that. Food is pretty great, but so much better mixed with love.
Allison Elizabeth
Friday, April 26, 2013
Reminiscing
Sleep has yet to take hold of me tonight. Every so often I close my eyes or press my head in the fluff of my pillow, hoping the night will steal me away, but over and over my mind becomes stimulated with thoughts of life...who I am, who I was, who I want to be, and how I got to where I am today.
Such thoughts got me to thinking about what's to come, which is one of me very best friend's wedding in just a few weeks. As the maid of honor (with a matron on my side), I am therefore responsible for giving a speech. While these types of things aren't my favorite, they doesn't worry me.
Thinking of this speech led me to digging through some old pictures. And, well, you know how that goes. One thing leads to another, leads to another, and to another. For a girl without Facebook, I did some quality stalking tonight. Looking at photo after photo from the last 5 years felt like I was snooping on someone else's life. The difference here, however, is that I actually remember the moments that made these photos. I remember how I felt and what we did and the season of life I was in.
As I get older I realize that in time all things soften. The details of such memorable moments begin to fade and the emotions attached feel like they belonged to someone else.
Like I said before, looking at each photo reminds me of so much. The joy and the laughter. The places I've been and the moments that defined friendships. I also remember some of the fears and pains that plagued me during specific seasons. While it felt as thought life were inching by at a snail's pace, I look back and see how much I have done, how much I've accomplished, who I have met, the relationships that have changed, and the woman I've become through it all. Despite the hard things, many of which I would have traded in for table scraps, I like to think I've become a better person through it all. I am not the same as I was 5 years ago. I have seen the world and learned a lot about who I am, faults and all. I have also gained strength and character, which I deemed undesired and unnecessary long ago.
I am happy to take with me the lessons I've learned, experiences I've had, and the people I've met along the way. But I'm also happy to leave behind the pain that tortured me on so many days. It's so easy for me to remember the hard stuff (even though it softens in time) forgetting all the great memories of things past. I look back and realize how much I had to celebrate in those seasons, even the difficult ones. Even in the midst of pain I was able to laugh with friends and laugh at myself. I often take things too seriously. I get caught up in the moment and overwhelmed by my thoughts. Now I look back and think, "what was I so worried about?" In many of the pictures I saw tonight I remembered how I felt taking or looking at each photo:
Such thoughts got me to thinking about what's to come, which is one of me very best friend's wedding in just a few weeks. As the maid of honor (with a matron on my side), I am therefore responsible for giving a speech. While these types of things aren't my favorite, they doesn't worry me.
Thinking of this speech led me to digging through some old pictures. And, well, you know how that goes. One thing leads to another, leads to another, and to another. For a girl without Facebook, I did some quality stalking tonight. Looking at photo after photo from the last 5 years felt like I was snooping on someone else's life. The difference here, however, is that I actually remember the moments that made these photos. I remember how I felt and what we did and the season of life I was in.
As I get older I realize that in time all things soften. The details of such memorable moments begin to fade and the emotions attached feel like they belonged to someone else.
Like I said before, looking at each photo reminds me of so much. The joy and the laughter. The places I've been and the moments that defined friendships. I also remember some of the fears and pains that plagued me during specific seasons. While it felt as thought life were inching by at a snail's pace, I look back and see how much I have done, how much I've accomplished, who I have met, the relationships that have changed, and the woman I've become through it all. Despite the hard things, many of which I would have traded in for table scraps, I like to think I've become a better person through it all. I am not the same as I was 5 years ago. I have seen the world and learned a lot about who I am, faults and all. I have also gained strength and character, which I deemed undesired and unnecessary long ago.
I am happy to take with me the lessons I've learned, experiences I've had, and the people I've met along the way. But I'm also happy to leave behind the pain that tortured me on so many days. It's so easy for me to remember the hard stuff (even though it softens in time) forgetting all the great memories of things past. I look back and realize how much I had to celebrate in those seasons, even the difficult ones. Even in the midst of pain I was able to laugh with friends and laugh at myself. I often take things too seriously. I get caught up in the moment and overwhelmed by my thoughts. Now I look back and think, "what was I so worried about?" In many of the pictures I saw tonight I remembered how I felt taking or looking at each photo:
- fat
- alone
- unsuccessful
- exhausted
- useless
- ugly
- unloveable
These words are so harsh. It pains me to think I spoke those words to myself, especially when I look back and think how ridiculous I was to feel that way! But you know what? I still use those words. I still fight myself, putting down every part of my being. I've learned, but I still struggle to love and embrace myself for who I am. Perhaps if I starting loving myself then I would stop believing the lies. Actually I know that's true. But what comes first? Not hating myself or actually loving myself? Perhaps both.
I think it's time I start living in the truth of who I am and was created to be. No more lies.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Bread and Wine by Shauna Niequist
I've become a little obsessed with author Shauna Niequist in the last few years. She was first introduced to me by my dear friend Brooke who was and still is convinced her second book, Bittersweet was the perfect book to read in the midst of any kind of transition. Graduations, your 20's, getting married, motherhood, etc. I happened to be (and still am) in my 20's "transition". After reading Bittersweet for the first time, I fell in love and eagerly attempted to convince everyone I knew to read her book. And if they didn't jump on the bandwagon right away I made it a priority and personal challenge to buy the book for them as a gift whether it was their birthday or perhaps just a rough day.
Since then I've bought and given away numerous copies of her first two books (Cold Tangerines and Bittersweet). Ironically, I don't even own a copy of Bittersweet anymore...I've happily left two personal copies in the hands of my sister (and the abyss that is her home where it was seemingly lost) and those of a dear friend who needed to read it just as much as I did.
Somehow I have still managed to read Bittersweet 2-3 times, and Cold Tangerines at least twice. Both have brought such insight, wisdom, and value to my life. Some of my fondest memories from the last few years involve sipping cups of coffee while soaking in every word of whichever of Shauna's books I happen to be in, while lounging about in my most comfy gray sweats and a sweater large enough to fit two of me. The only thing missing from such glorious days are Shauna herself, who I would one day like to thank for all she has done for me and the women I love most dearly. I did get a chance to hear her speak and take a photo with her recently. But perhaps one day we will grab coffee while overlooking the vast blue sea smothered in sunlight and I will get to properly thank her.
Until that day comes, however, I will continue reading her books and supporting her work. I most recently finished her third book, Bread and Wine, that came out just weeks ago. With a different angle but equal insight, this book also speaks to my soul. In attempt to set aside some "self-care" time in my life, I've decided to work through the four-week book club/cooking club discussion guide that's included at the end of Bread and Wine. Down the road I'd love to go through this with some of the people I love and hold dear to my heart, as Shauna intended, but until then I need to love on myself in the brief moments I have between workouts and working, meals and meetings, get-togethers and pre-wedding craft nights. After all, there is nothing wrong and absolutely everything right with a little self-care.
Since then I've bought and given away numerous copies of her first two books (Cold Tangerines and Bittersweet). Ironically, I don't even own a copy of Bittersweet anymore...I've happily left two personal copies in the hands of my sister (and the abyss that is her home where it was seemingly lost) and those of a dear friend who needed to read it just as much as I did.
Somehow I have still managed to read Bittersweet 2-3 times, and Cold Tangerines at least twice. Both have brought such insight, wisdom, and value to my life. Some of my fondest memories from the last few years involve sipping cups of coffee while soaking in every word of whichever of Shauna's books I happen to be in, while lounging about in my most comfy gray sweats and a sweater large enough to fit two of me. The only thing missing from such glorious days are Shauna herself, who I would one day like to thank for all she has done for me and the women I love most dearly. I did get a chance to hear her speak and take a photo with her recently. But perhaps one day we will grab coffee while overlooking the vast blue sea smothered in sunlight and I will get to properly thank her.
Until that day comes, however, I will continue reading her books and supporting her work. I most recently finished her third book, Bread and Wine, that came out just weeks ago. With a different angle but equal insight, this book also speaks to my soul. In attempt to set aside some "self-care" time in my life, I've decided to work through the four-week book club/cooking club discussion guide that's included at the end of Bread and Wine. Down the road I'd love to go through this with some of the people I love and hold dear to my heart, as Shauna intended, but until then I need to love on myself in the brief moments I have between workouts and working, meals and meetings, get-togethers and pre-wedding craft nights. After all, there is nothing wrong and absolutely everything right with a little self-care.
Monday, April 8, 2013
I've learned a lot lately...
Everyone (I use this term loosely) always (again, a loose term) says how much they've learned through a given season. I believe them, and sometimes I catch myself saying the same thing. While I fully believe other people saying it, any time I say it I think to my self, "well, ya, but like what?" In my minds it's always just been another way of saying, "I've been through a lot lately." I know that through trials wisdom is gained purely from an experience standpoint, but if someone were to ask me of a specific thing I've learned recently I'd probably say something like, "well, I've learned that depression sucks."
However, I actually feel like I have learned things lately. Tangible life lessons that are worth remembering and continuing to put into practice. I believe there is power in speaking something and putting it into words, so instead of letting those learnings get lost in my spaghetti brain, I'll write them here. More for me than for you (who I'm pretty sure doesn't exist), but if ever my thoughts become useful to someone else, then glory be. At least then I know my pains and struggles and learnings are worthwhile to more than just me.
#1 Don't procrastinate
Sounds simple right? Probably something you've been told since you were a kid and put off your science project or math homework until the very last minute. Apparently things turn out better when you aren't rushed doing them or stressing at the last minute to figure something out. I've learned recently not to procrastinate for a very different reason. I tend to worry about things that bring fear, that turn into anxiety, that make me avoid said things, hoping the issue will deal with itself. I know now that the issue will NOT deal with itself, and if you simply handle said issue early on, then surprise! No more anxiety.
#2 Just breath
It may sound silly, but sometimes I forget to breath. It usually happens when I am worried about something and thinking too hard. All of the sudden I catch myself taking a breath and think to myself, "have I been breathing this whole time?" I'm pretty sure I haven't been, which can really do a number on the body. It's on days when I stop breathing that I end up with all kids of stomach cramps and bloating. And we all know that does wonders for the already present stress at hand. So all day, every day, just breath. It can solve a myriad of problems.
#3 Nothing good or bad lasts forever
This is my mom's saying. She has a few, but this is one is my favorite. It's most helpful in the hard seasons for obvious reasons, but also forces you to appreciate the good times. Knowing a hard season will eventually end is more helpful than I could possibly describe. It truly is like the light at the end of the tunnel. Looking back, after the year I've had, and recognizing how far I've come and how much healthier I am shows that this statement is true. Even when you're at your worst, thinking life itself is over, it's really not. Eventually you will start to take baby steps towards a healthier place.
#4 You're harder on yourself than anyone will ever be
That's all.
#5 If you just start moving...
eventually you will get out of the funk you are in
eventually you will enjoy what you're doing
eventually life won't seem so heavy
eventually the end of the day will come, and tomorrow is a new day
#6 Good friends will fight to stay friends
Even through the most difficult seasons, if you're willing to fight through it, then it's probably worth it to stay friends. Sometimes friends disagree. Sometime friends aren't very friendly at all. But if you're willing to stay in the game, even when it's hard, then chances are it's worth the fight.
#7 You can't be friends with everyone.
It's just that true. You can be friendly with everyone, but there just isn't always (usually) enough room in life to maintain a deep level of friendship with all those who cross your path. At a certain point there just isn't enough time in the day, week, or month to keep up with everyone to the extent you might want to. I meet new people, great people, all the time. I see how great they are and want to be their friend, but it's just not always possible. And that's ok. This doesn't mean you can't make new friends or add people to your life, but doing so does force you to prioritize the people and time in your life very carefully. It's important to be open to new, meaningful relationships, but don't kick yourself if you can't grab coffee with everyone who says you should.
#8 If you lay down on a Sunday, you will fall asleep. And it will prevent you from going to bed at a normal hour later that day.
#9 Caffeine makes me happy
However, I actually feel like I have learned things lately. Tangible life lessons that are worth remembering and continuing to put into practice. I believe there is power in speaking something and putting it into words, so instead of letting those learnings get lost in my spaghetti brain, I'll write them here. More for me than for you (who I'm pretty sure doesn't exist), but if ever my thoughts become useful to someone else, then glory be. At least then I know my pains and struggles and learnings are worthwhile to more than just me.
#1 Don't procrastinate
Sounds simple right? Probably something you've been told since you were a kid and put off your science project or math homework until the very last minute. Apparently things turn out better when you aren't rushed doing them or stressing at the last minute to figure something out. I've learned recently not to procrastinate for a very different reason. I tend to worry about things that bring fear, that turn into anxiety, that make me avoid said things, hoping the issue will deal with itself. I know now that the issue will NOT deal with itself, and if you simply handle said issue early on, then surprise! No more anxiety.
#2 Just breath
It may sound silly, but sometimes I forget to breath. It usually happens when I am worried about something and thinking too hard. All of the sudden I catch myself taking a breath and think to myself, "have I been breathing this whole time?" I'm pretty sure I haven't been, which can really do a number on the body. It's on days when I stop breathing that I end up with all kids of stomach cramps and bloating. And we all know that does wonders for the already present stress at hand. So all day, every day, just breath. It can solve a myriad of problems.
#3 Nothing good or bad lasts forever
This is my mom's saying. She has a few, but this is one is my favorite. It's most helpful in the hard seasons for obvious reasons, but also forces you to appreciate the good times. Knowing a hard season will eventually end is more helpful than I could possibly describe. It truly is like the light at the end of the tunnel. Looking back, after the year I've had, and recognizing how far I've come and how much healthier I am shows that this statement is true. Even when you're at your worst, thinking life itself is over, it's really not. Eventually you will start to take baby steps towards a healthier place.
#4 You're harder on yourself than anyone will ever be
That's all.
#5 If you just start moving...
eventually you will get out of the funk you are in
eventually you will enjoy what you're doing
eventually life won't seem so heavy
eventually the end of the day will come, and tomorrow is a new day
#6 Good friends will fight to stay friends
Even through the most difficult seasons, if you're willing to fight through it, then it's probably worth it to stay friends. Sometimes friends disagree. Sometime friends aren't very friendly at all. But if you're willing to stay in the game, even when it's hard, then chances are it's worth the fight.
#7 You can't be friends with everyone.
It's just that true. You can be friendly with everyone, but there just isn't always (usually) enough room in life to maintain a deep level of friendship with all those who cross your path. At a certain point there just isn't enough time in the day, week, or month to keep up with everyone to the extent you might want to. I meet new people, great people, all the time. I see how great they are and want to be their friend, but it's just not always possible. And that's ok. This doesn't mean you can't make new friends or add people to your life, but doing so does force you to prioritize the people and time in your life very carefully. It's important to be open to new, meaningful relationships, but don't kick yourself if you can't grab coffee with everyone who says you should.
#8 If you lay down on a Sunday, you will fall asleep. And it will prevent you from going to bed at a normal hour later that day.
#9 Caffeine makes me happy
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