Affirmation

I work at a university library. We're a small school, the kind of place where students are involved with at least 5 extra-curriculars and are taking 19 credits. It's easy for our students to feel overwhelmed, particularly our women. There's a lot of pressure (external and internal) on young women today. That's why my heart was so warmed when I saw this in the women's bathroom at work. Our young women have each other's backs! Check out these affirmations that were left to help lift others up:

You are loved
You look good
Damn girl
You sexy
Get that coffee
Success starts w/ you
You're unique
Be positive
Be confident
I love you
You got this
You're beautiful
You're perfect
You're amazing
You rock
Be you

We all need to remember this sometimes. That we're all these things, and that we've got women who have our backs.

Things I Sometimes Need to Be Reminded Of

Things I sometimes need to be reminded of, and my guess is that you might too:

• It’s okay to start a book and not finish it. 
• The dishes really can wait. (Until they really can’t.)
• Live in the moment, but plan for the future.
• Put down your phone already. 
• Much of the time, the latest internet post isn’t as important as your time. 
• Accept praise.
• Accept failure.
• Dance. 
• Just because everyone feels this way at some point in their life, that doesn’t lessen the truth of your experience. 
• Embrace it all, but keep striving for more. 
• Practice patience with others. 
• Practice patience with yourself (this is harder than being patient with others).
• You don’t always have to be strong. 
• You don’t always have to have the answers.
• Keep your expectations high. It’s worth it. 
• Don’t forget sunscreen. You’ll regret it if you do. 
• Know your limits and embrace them. 
• It's okay to be wrong sometimes.
• Be careful about how/where/when you roll your eyes. 
• Compromise in various situations (it’s necessary), but don’t compromise to the point of losing sight of the big picture.
• In due time.
• Just go for a walk. 
• Comfortable shoes are worth it. 
• Simplify.
• Show appreciation for the little things, the big things, and the people that make them possible.
• Breathe.

I know I’m missing some (see “You don’t always have to have the answers” and "It's okay to be wrong sometimes"), so what are some of the things you say to yourself to help you step back and reflect?

Confessions of an Imperfect (Someday) Mother

Definitely not me. 

I am really excited to be an imperfect mother. Now don't get me wrong: I'm not pregnant and don't plan to be anytime soon, but I'm learning from those around me just the kind of mother I would like to be. I'm realistic. I know I will be a messy parent; I know that kids don't sleep through the night; I know it's tempting to give your child anything and everything that you or they can possibly imagine; I know I won't be able to provide anything and everything we could possibly imagine, and I'm okay with that. My someday kids probably won't have the latest video games, the fanciest Halloween costumes, or perfect birthday parties. They won't be allowed to dye their hair until they can drive themselves to the hairdresser's in their own car and pay for it themselves. And I've already given up on being the overly fashionable mom (helloooo comfy shoes! Why have I denied you for so long?!?). They are going to have to deal with a mom who dresses for comfort when it is cold out (Cuddl Duds, why am I just now discovering your awesomeness?!?) and wears ugly hiking sandals for as long as she can before winter sneaks in.

Why am I so excited about the fact that I'm going to be a flawed figure for my (as of yet nonexistent) children? Because perfect doesn't exist. I'm not saying that I don't have high expectations for myself, because I do. Rather, it is a prioritizing of my self-expectations. For me, bonding time is better than any toy or electronic gadget I could ever give a child. My kids may not always get what they want, but they'll get what they need. By presenting a realistic picture of what it is to be a human, woman, (someday) mother, (someday) wife, daughter, and friend, I'm helping my (someday) children understand how to accept themselves and love themselves not in spite of their imperfections, but because their imperfections are what help make them who they are, and I already know that my (someday) kids are going to be flippin' awesome.

Image used under Creative Commons license.

Blogger Envy

So. I recently found out that the founders and writers of two blogs I have faithfully read and adored for years are people that I have actually known and associated with at different points in my life.

Known and....disliked?

It's okay, guys. I knew both of them a long time ago and all parties involved parted ways cordially and with little thought of each other since. Plus, as Cara taught us in a recent post, it really is okay not to like everyone. As long as you still play nice, of course.

Anyway, when I found out that these blogs I read all the time were written by these two particular women, I was floored.

I don't know about the rest of y'all, but I read blogs a lot. Like all the time. And I read a ton of different types of blogs. Cooking and fashion and books and news and sports and travel and typography and photography and family and...everything (except politics. I don't do politics). Basically, if you are a decent writer and can make me laugh, then there is a good chance that I read your blog. I'm a bit of a blog stalker, too, so I don't personally know 90% of the people whose blogs I read.

Don't judge- you know you do it, too.

So, for those unknown 90%, I have to imagine what these people are like. Logically we may understand that people present a fairly limited picture of themselves online, but the longer I read someone's blog, I think the more I forget that fact. I start picturing these people as they present themselves in their blogging lives and, because we are mostly our best selves online, I get blogger envy.

These people are so awesome! These people are so talented! These people are so clever! The people are so beautiful, eloquent, well-dressed, good at parenting and can juggle, too!

Imagine my surprise, then, when I found out that two of the people that I have been idolizing for several years now are, in fact, people that, truth be told, I do not really care for in real life.

It shouldn't have been that big of a realization, but folks- IT WAS.

This is a mantra we hear over and over. Don't let others make you feel bad about yourself. I consider myself to be a person who is actually pretty comfortable with who I am, but even with that confidence, the envy manages to worm its way into my psyche, creeping in through this wonderful thing we call the internet. Thanks a lot, technology.

I try really hard to take all these wonderful blogs and bloggers for what they really are- pleasant snapshots and anecdotes of other people's imperfect lives. As one who loves writing on blogs myself, I know what a wonderful outlet they are. Sure, these people probably take better pictures than me and bake better cakes. They all do dozens of things better than I do, but there's a good chance there are a lot of things about them that, should we cross paths in the real world, I would not care for, and I certainly would not want to emulate myself.

Those two bloggers still create wonderful recipes and take beautiful pictures and are raising great kids and have very successful businesses. I still eagerly read every word they write. But. BUT! I no longer want to be just like them when I grow up. And that's okay.

The Silent Thief: Motherhood, Depression, and Finding Myself

Today's blogger prefers to remain anonymous. 

When I had my son, 3 years ago, he was sick and early and had to stay at the hospital for a while. It was HORRIBLE, but as soon as he was home we easily got into a groove and life was perfect.

While I was pregnant with my daughter, I was really sick and uncomfortable.  So when she was born I hoped and prayed that things would get back to normal.  Happy, crazy, busy, fun, and normal.  But it didn't.  I figured it was just the stress of two kids, or that I was tired, or my husband was gone too much, or whatever.  After months and months, it didn't get better.  I just kind of adjusted. I figured motherhood with two children was just that hard.  I thought, "There is no way I could EVER have more. This is too much!"  I never had energy to do anything, I couldn't handle going anywhere without my husband, and we never left our apartment.

Finally, just before my daughters first birthday, I recognized that I was not okay, that something had to be fixed. I talked to my wonderful husband, we called the employee support line, and they referred me to a therapist.  It took me a few weeks to call her and then I almost chickened out of the appointment.  When I finally went, she was late.  I got in the car and almost drove away,  but I somehow got the courage to go back in.

And it was great.  She let me talk, I cried, she understood, and she told me I was depressed. I thought "No, I am not depressed, have you seen my kids? And have you met my husband? I have NOTHING to be depressed about!" So we discussed what depression really is, and I learned that you can have a perfectly happy life, and still be depressed. Chemical imbalances in your brain cause you to not be you, to be angry and sad and stressed all the time.  I learned that depression is a real medical condition and it was very humbling for me.  I was of the "you can handle it, just work through it, depression isn't that bad, or really real" school of thought. I was so wrong.

At first she thought it was my thyroid, which had been diagnosed as being under-productive a few years earlier.  I went to an endocrinologist and he told me my thyroid was fine.  I had been misdiagnosed.  I had been taking meds for years for something that wasn't wrong.  I stopped taking them, and felt a little better.  But it still wasn't right. The endocrinologist referred me to a psychiatrist, and I called after a few weeks.  They were so busy they couldn't see me for 3 months. I told them not to worry about it.  I then waited another week, and looked up a different one.  I called pretty quickly, and they said they could see me the next week.

I was very nervous to say the least.  I had been finding ways to put off dealing with it every way I could. I felt so weak, and like I was at fault. I worried that my husband would think he didn't make me happy. I worried that I must be the worst mother ever because I didn't find enough joy in my children.  I worried that I would go and they would say to me "It's all in your head, grow up,  you're fine you big whiner."  I went and he was the nicest guy.  He knew how I felt before I could even explain it.

Apparently, I had a classic text book version of depression.  There are 3 kinds of depression. Mine was chemical rather than situational.  I agreed to try taking medication and went home. I took it for 4 days and I noticed a HUGE difference. For the first time in a year I felt like a real person again. It was bright outside again, I wanted to play with my children.  You know the movie Tangled?  She sings  "And at last I see the light, and it's like a fog has lifted." (You just sang that, didn't you?)  As cheesy and rehearsed as that sounds, it was exactly how I felt.  I couldn't believe it.  It wasn't a magic cure-all and I have still had to deal with my emotions, but it was great.

My doctor told me I had undiagnosed Postpartum depression that had just gotten worse and worse. He said that PPD is often referred to as the "silent thief of motherhood joy" (or any joy, really)  and that so many women suffer from it, but never know or seek help. So many women are missing out on the wonderful happiness that you can feel when your body is working the way it was intended to work.  It's really scary for me to share this story, because it's SO very easy to think, "I am so weak, I should be better/stronger/bigger than this."  I am working through that, and I do believe there is a medical cause for it, but it's so easy to slip into that.

To the thoughts of insecurity and not being good enough. It's the easiest thing to listen to someone who doesn't think depression is real, and to feel like less than a whole person for being so weak. I have learned that depression is a real condition, and it can be helped, just like any other illness. It is very real.  It is not just in your head. You are not alone if you are depressed, it is something so many people struggle with. Don't suffer alone.  It's not your fault.  It can be better.

It is scary and hard to admit a weakness.  Everyone feels that. No one likes to admit that they are weak at something, that they are less than they want to be in some way.  But you need to know that any problem or illness you have can be dealt with. For me it was depression and I had to find my path to treatment and ultimately working through it and being happy again.  No matter what it is you are going through, you are never alone.  Sometimes the hardest thing to do is ask for help.  But it makes all
the difference. If you have no strength left, find enough to ask someone else for help. Let them help you, let them give you some strength, you can do it. You can be happy again. I am.

Being Good Enough

A couple of months ago, I was having one of those nights that I'm pretty sure most new mothers have at least once every couple of weeks. (Actually, I'm not sure how long this period lasts, but I'm pretty sure right now I can still lump it officially in with normal baby blues.) I was sobbing to my husband about how I was failing at everything and not doing enough, and I hated that I could never get everything done, and who knows when the last time I managed to vacuum was, and now that the baby is crawling she'll probably find something I didn't vacuum up off the floor and choke on it, but she's just so clingy right now and she hates the noise of the vacuum, and so on and so forth.

And after I'd collected myself a little, my kind husband said, "Meg. Think about what you did today. You got up and nursed the baby. You ate breakfast. We played with the baby. You worked on your lesson for church tomorrow. You nursed the baby again. You took half an hour off to read a book while the baby napped. We went to babysit your brother's kids. You came back, put the baby to bed, finished working on your lesson, and cleaned up the kitchen. Just when were you going to do something else?"

He then went on to tell me that if I was feeling overwhelmed and he wasn't, clearly we needed to reexamine our division of labor. (For the record, my husband is a rock star. He cooks dinner at least as often as I do, is great about taking care of the baby, changes his share of diapers when he isn't at work, and is really good about picking up after himself and doing the dishes without me nagging him about it. I wasn't feeling overwhelmed because he is a bum - just because we're still figuring our lives out.) We talked about adjustments we could make to help me feel more in control of my life, but also talked about how ultimately, I might also need to adjust my expectations about what success entails at this point in my life.

Because honestly, I'm still pretty new at this whole, "My life revolves around a tiny person now" thing. I don't know why I assumed that less than a year in I should have the whole thing figured out. When my daughter is learning something new, I never get frustrated at her because she doesn't do it perfectly at first. I clapped for her the first time she rolled over, even though it took another two months before she could do it on purpose every time. I watched with delight as she tried to sit up and would fold in half and tip over while she tried to grab her feet. I relished her ridiculously ungraceful army crawl with her legs flying in the air for no apparent reason. And then one day, she suddenly had all of these skills mastered.

Except it wasn't sudden, because it took weeks of less-successful practice before she figured out that skill. And now she'll move on to learning to walk and talk and pee in a toilet and a myriad of other skills that she will take some time to master, and I will celebrate her progress along the way - not just when she's totally grown up and has her act together.

So why don't I celebrate my own growth the same way? I may not get the vacuuming done very regularly right now, but I am very good at making my baby laugh. I've figured out how to make baby food; nursing is something that has become completely second nature; I read my baby's cues and know when she is tired, hungry, overstimulated, or just lonesome for Mommy. I've gotten very good at a lot of things that I didn't have a single clue about twelve months ago. And right now, that's more than good enough.

My "Fitspiration"

Look, there's a lot of stuff out there about health and fitness. "Fitspo" is a thing now, and if that floats your boat, more power to you. All that matters is that you feel really, honestly good about it. If you do, then that is awesome, no questions asked. 

You may be shocked to learn that fitspo doesn't work for me (but then again... Yeah, you're probably not). This article explains the problems I have with the fitspo trend, and you should read it, because it was also the inspiration for the image I created and shared at the bottom of this post. To sum up:

• Lots of fitspo is actually advertising. (Obviously problematic.)
• It's often sexualizing under the guise of being empowering.
• It's often unrealistic/extreme/sensationalistic.
• It generally involves comparisons, judgment, and/or shaming.
• Many of those women are probably photoshopped.

So I compiled some inspirational images that do work for me, and thought I would share them with you.

(Needing your body to be fit so you can love it = the same thing.)

(Maybe it's none of anyone's business either way.)
(Also, I know several people this size who do run marathons.)

Naming My Anxiety

I'm going to get rather personal for a minute and, in all honesty, I'm quite nervous about it.

Have you ever struggled with a feeling or experience you couldn't really define or name?  Have you ever gone through something, thinking you were crazy or over-emotional or maybe just pms-ing?  I have gone through some less-than-ideal situations over the last five years.  I tried my best to keep it together and roll with the punches (so-to-speak), but sometimes your best doesn't quite cut it and that is more than okay. Figuring just that one thing out took way too long.

Nothing that has happened to me was overly traumatic or devastating.  A lay-off, being out of work for a few years, finally finding a job and suffering through while the situation became more and more unhealthy, watching my Grandmother through her last days with us.  These are things that people deal with every day all over the world, these things and worse.  There's another lesson that has taken me too long to figure out (and still takes constant reminding), my problems were big for me.  They were huge and they were stressful and they caused pain and doubt and fear for years, and that, too, is more than okay. 

Toward the end of my stressful job, I began to be abnormally emotional.  I cried at the drop of a hat.  I had been looking for a new job for 8 months with no hope of finding one.  Work was painful.  I came home crying during lunch breaks just to let off enough steam to make it through the rest of the day.  I was constantly worried I would lose my job, or have to leave to save my sanity, and that would leave me jobless yet again.  I couldn't become an even bigger burden to my family, who supported me through everything.  I was exhausted mentally, physically, and spiritually. I would take bathroom breaks and just sit on the floor, in the dark, and cry uncontrollably until I could breathe again.  Finally, my mom told me to quit my job and move home to help her take care of my Grandmother.  I felt a literal weight lifted from my shoulders. For a moment, I breathed easier.  And I still cried.  A small pebble hit my windshield one day and I burst into tears, thinking of the money it would cost if I had to replace the whole thing.

Then, one day I was driving and listening to Steve Martin's audio book, Born Standing Up.  He describes having a panic attack and it was like a light bulb turned on inside my head.  Again, a weight was lifted.  He described a version of what I experienced and he gave it a name.  And maybe that's the most important thing that has come of this, understanding what a name can do.  I have since heard other people describe panic attacks and the things that bring them on.  Now I have a name and I have several accounts confirming that it's a real thing.  I'm not just sad or worried or stressed or overwhelmed or too sensitive.  All of those things seemed too small.  Depression seemed too big.  Occasional anxiety and panic attacks are super sucky, but manageable.  It's something I could suddenly wrap my mind around and try to understand.

Once I moved in with my parents, I tried to overcome some of these issues.  I realized that social situations were the problem, and now, as they are returning full force, I realize that unpredictability and lack of control are what cause the anxiety and, in turn, the panic attacks.  For a while, I just pushed through, taking very slow baby steps, as I tried to make new friends and make a new space that felt comfortable and safe.  I faced setbacks with the death of my Grandmother and I am facing them again now.  The difference now is that I know what is happening, I can recognize the onset of an attack and I can maybe try to stop it or work through it before it becomes a real problem.  But most importantly, I have friends and family around me who care what is happening and listen to me when I feel crazy for no reason and make me do things that are hard because they know I can do them.

I know I'm not alone in dealing with this.  And honestly, I've told very few people, because (as much as I know this is not true) it still feels weak and shameful.   I'm sharing this publicly now because I also know that the more support and knowledge we have, the easier it can be to work through.  I know what I feel is sometimes more than what others feel.  I know that sometimes my thoughts are just plain wrong and far too self-critical.  I know that what I feel and go through pales in comparison to what some other people deal with.  But maybe acknowledging all of this can help someone else give their struggles a name.  Or maybe it can just help me unload just a tiny bit more weight off my shoulders.  One way or another, maybe this can do some good.

A Pavlovian Philosophy of Sex

Our dear friend Krissie posted a truly lovely article on Facebook yesterday, and I want to share it with you. It's quite long, but it's definitely worth reading to the end. Occasional skimming is acceptable if you deem it necessary--the important thing is the message.

I've come to realize something profound that I don't know if I've ever heard anybody actually say.

It is not the impossibly air brushed females on magazine covers who are causing women to hold themselves against a standard of perfection. No, it's not that at all. Holy crap. Why am I just realizing this? Why doesn't anybody seem to realize this?

It is the men that stop and look at those magazines.

And that simple, repeated act is how we constantly, and never-endingly declare to women that they are not good enough, and will never be good enough.

We stop, and we look.

And women notice.

This post is written with a pleasant freshness and honesty that will probably make you want to give the writer a hug at various points throughout; and, like it promises in the introduction, it presents some compelling arguments that will maybe make you examine your own life a little bit.


There was one particular paragraph that resonated with me more than the rest (which is not to say that the rest did not resonate). Please, it says.

Please. Let's stop ogling the very things that are causing this tragic mind game. Let's stop walking by the never-ending porn that surrounds us with our jaws dangling so carelessly. Let's stop salivating every time Pavlov rings his freaking bell.

It is the last sentence of this paragraph that strikes me, and I believe it makes a vital point: That essentially, we as a society have learned that the most important thing in life is sex.


In our feelings about sex, just like Pavlov's dogs, we have allowed ourselves to be conditioned. Women let themselves believe that desirability is the ultimate indication of worth. Men let themselves be taught that they are nothing but sex machines. Our society says we need to be sexy, so we try to be sexy. Society says something will make us sexy, so we try that thing. We'll even try to learn to have more confidence--not so we can stop worrying about something stupid, but because we've heard that confident people are sexy. This thinking, I'm sad to say, is truly warped.


The fact is that sex is a biological function. Its purpose is the propagation of species; it is a necessary and practical part of existence on this planet. Why, then, have we commercialized it, set it on a pedestal, and become obsessed with it?


We stress endlessly about the way we look; we spend thousands of dollars on makeup and workout systems and gym memberships and Spanx and liposuction and plastic surgery and lingerie and hairstyles and clothes. We know perfectly well that none of it means anything, but we do it anyway. We know already that none of those things will make a person healthy, that they are purely about appearance. But we buy them anyway, because more than almost anything else, we want to be desirable. We "know" that looks don't matter; we "know" it's what's inside that counts. We tell ourselves that we know these things--but time after time, our actions say otherwise. 


This is why I'm glad to have read this article, and why I have posted it here for you all to read. It's time for us to stop conditioning ourselves, and let Pavlov go find something else to do. It's time for us to remember what's important, and--for once--to actually act on our knowledge. 


And finally, finally--it's time to start ignoring the bells.

Lesson Learned, Miki: Channel Your Inner Drama

Here's essay #9 by Miki Esplin. 


It's been almost 10 years since I came to the U.S. It feels like I have gone through many changes, trials, great happiness, and transformations in a very short time. I sometimes feel I am on a crazy ride and I need to get off for a bit so I don't get dizzy... Woo!


I was thinking about becoming lovely and for me, a wild, quite odd person who DOES NOT blend with the crowd, I feared my essay will be misunderstood. Which brings me to the lesson I have learned.


The fear of not being understood made me terrified and anxious communicating with people on deeper levels, human levels, bluntly-said levels. This fear made me try to talk and act in a way that I perceived to be "the right way."


Realizing I was acting out of fear, which is never a good thing, I went upon a learning journey to get to the root of the fear and yank it. What I learned is mostly awesome and somewhat sad but true.


When I am true to myself, respect my true core, and respect others' place in life, I am doing the right thing. With that said, being true and not always understood leads to the loss of "friends" or "loved ones."


Seeing life in a positive lovely way sometimes requires stepping in mud and having no one say, "Aw, you poor thing." The loneliness that comes with retrieving your real self is the "downside." The upside is that I have a true sense of who I am: complex, funny, silly, blunt, naive, loving to the point of puking, weird, unique and quite imaginative and dramatic.


Instead of letting that drama come out in my relationships, the drama is to be channeled into my art. Writing. Photography. Music.


The beautiful irony in that is that writing will lead to exposure of feelings and experiences that can make people, once again, not understand me. But the greatest lesson is that my truth and my art is ME.


Those who love me will stick with me, appreciate my sincere intentions and remember always that I love them in my odd, silly, sometimes overwhelming way.


I have released the need to be loved by everyone. How? I have learned that I love myself- and just like I would not give up on a person I love because they are not what I "decide" they should be, I have full confidence that I will not give up on myself, with all my weaknesses and oddness (which I now embrace).


Learning to have a positive outlook on yourself and others is a wonderful inner journey. As we know, we are our thoughts. Which is why repressing hard things can control me- so God gave me art!


I embrace imperfection- It's PERFECT and lovely and I love unconditionally. Peace.

Lesson Learned, Emily: Love the Curl

Contest entry #6 by Emily McBride. Don't forget, tomorrow is the last day to submit an essay.

When I was just starting Kindergarten, my hair fell in long, light-brown ringlets. People would ask my mom how much time she spent curling my hair every morning, to which she replied with a smile, “It’s natural.”

As I grew taller, my hair grew thicker and heavier, leaving me with unruly and uneven curls. I didn’t like my hair anymore and my flat iron became my new best friend. But this wasn’t an easy straightening job. My hair was thick and long and extra curly in the back. Every morning I would drag myself out of bed an entire hour early—just to straighten my hair.

I faithfully straightened my hair every day, and if I woke up late or didn’t feel well, I would just put it in a ponytail. I didn’t know how to control my curls, and I didn’t want to control my curls—I just wanted them to go away. Straight hair was in. I was so jealous of my friends that had naturally straight hair, who could just get out of the shower, part their hair down the middle, and let it dry in the sun.

At some point toward the end of high school, I got sick of straightening my hair. And I also became more sure of myself. I experimented with my brother’s hair gel and my blowdryer one day in the bathroom. I came out triumphant, with sticky, but nevertheless, curly, hair. I started wearing my hair curly to school on the days where I just didn’t feel like I getting up so early. And as time went on, I grew more adept at working with my curls. As I figured out which mousse held best and discovered that blowdrying my hair upside down worked wonders, my straightener began to serve me less and less.

Now, I sometimes go months without straightening my hair—and not because I’m lazy. I have a fancy flat iron now, one that cuts the straightening time in half. But I’ve embraced my curly hair and have come to love it. Short or long—I like my hair best when it’s curly.

So, what’s the point of my hair history? Am I saying that curly hair is better than straight hair? Or am I saying that it’s not worth it to spend time getting ready in the morning? No, not at all. What I’m trying to say is that part of becoming lovely is accepting and being grateful for who you are and working with what you have. Not only does it help you feel better about yourself—but it’s often more convenient, too :)

Perfection

I came across the following quote by author Anna Quindlen, "The thing that is really hard, and really amazing, is giving up on being perfect and beginning the work of becoming yourself." You see, I am a perfectionist. I get caught up in the little details and the little worries of life because those are the things that are most often staring me in the face and begging for attention. Why do I give those things such importance?

Looking beyond the imperfections, embracing them even, is difficult and amazing and really a whole lot easier than striving for perfection. My days are better when I let some of the "little things" in life go by without a second thought, especially those "little things" that are personal. Things like remembering that it's okay to say no when asked to do something I really don't want to do. Things like whether or not my hair is frizzy or my makeup is done. Some days, it's just not going to happen, because I'm a human being who is occasionally lazy. Go me! I could continue with examples, but I'm sure you can all think of some for me.

The most important point I would like to make is, when you are trying to be perfect, it can keep you from becoming who you really want to be. You spend all your time and energy keeping up the appearance of perfection and the real you, the one with all sorts of awesome quirks and flaws, just gets pushed aside. No one is perfect. Not a single person on this earth. It's refreshing to take a moment and remember that, isn't it? Perfection is overrated and unattainable, but happiness, honest to goodness happiness with who you are as a person, is something worthy of your time and effort.

Queen of Your Own Life

On the Today show one morning last week, Kathy Kinney (formerly of the Drew Carey Show) and Cindy Ratzlaff were guests talking about their book, Queen of Your Own Life: A Grown-up Woman's Guide to Claiming Happiness and Getting the Life You Deserve--which is exactly what it sounds like. These women have decided that it's time for them to take control of their own happiness and get out of the negative patterns they've been living for most of their lives.

I thought this was really great. Women, and people in general, have a tendency to look to other people for their happiness--if you aren't getting enough recognition at your job, if you aren't going out on dates, it's easy to let those kinds of things determine your happiness. But these women have decided that they don't want that for themselves anymore.

"We weren't born knowing how to be happy, it's something we have to practice." This was said on the show, and I think it's an excellent point. There's something about the human condition that makes people gravitate toward negativity--complaining about a crappy job can be a bonding thing with your coworkers, or getting together with girlfriends and bashing all the terrible boyfriends you've had. It's true that these kinds of things can help connect people, but they're also bad habits that can really affect the overall quality of your life.

So instead of doing that, one of the ways you can practice being happy is to focus on all the good things about yourself and in your life. We've talked before about the power of affirmations and positive thinking, and the Queen of Your Own Life women are doing the same thing. They have this statement on their website:

Let’s pretend that a reality television crew followed you for 24 hours, recording everything you said, wrote and thought about yourself. Then they transcribed all of your self-descriptive utterances into writing and gave the list back to you to read. What kind of picture would emerge about you?...

Any time you catch yourself casting dispersions on your own beauty, strength, intelligence or abilities, stop. Think of new, positive words to replace the old ones. Here’s an example:

OLD WORDS: “Why can’t I figure out how to upload these photos to the online printer? I’m such a chowderhead!”

NEW WORDS: “Look at me, learning a new skill. Woot! My goodness I’m adventurous. Even though this is hard to learn, once I do learn it—and I will—there’s no stopping me.”

Positive speech is one aspect of their new lifestyle (and can I just say that I love the word chowderhead?), and it can really have a big impact. Like I said, we've talked about it before, but try it out--take some time and pay attention to all the little negative things you say throughout the day, whether you're kidding or not, and then make an effort to replace those comments with positive ones. Be nice to yourself, be nice to your coworkers, try giving people the benefit of the doubt. Focus on good things around you, and take charge of your own happiness.

This Queen of Your Own Life thing is a fun, slightly silly way to approach a serious change in your life. You can even have the official crowning ceremony if you want, like they did--if you're interested in doing that, you can get free certificates from their website, including a crown of arms. So have some fun with it, and whether you do the crowning ceremony or not, be queen of your own life--decide for yourself what your happiness will be, and don't let your circumstances dictate it for you.

How Good You Are

Image from Le Love

Be Imperfect

You are not a walking mistake.
You are not a problem to be solved.

--Adyashanti

With all our talk about improving ourselves and becoming lovely, we want to make sure that we don't get carried away with the renovations. The point to remember is that change is the natural way of things--there will always be things about you that you feel you need to improve. That doesn't mean that there's something wrong with you. (You get dirty every day, and then you have to shower, but you don't feel bad about yourself for needing the shower to get clean again.) Before you can really make any changes, you have to accept yourself where you are, and be able to see your imperfections without hating yourself for them.


(Image source: Allison Reynolds)

Don't Be a Victim of the Mirror

I'm a librarian in embryo, so naturally I enjoy the song "Librarian" by My Morning Jacket. I was surprised when looking through the lyrics to see some actual depth in the song besides, "Take off your glasses and let down your hair for me." Bear with me for a minute through the cheesy librarian references and some kind of forced rhymes.

"Duck into the men's room, combing through my hair

When God gave us mirrors, he had no idea.

Looking for a lesson in the periodicals

There I spy you listening to the AM radio

Karen of the Carpenters, singing in the rain

Another lovely victim of the mirror's evil way

It's not like you're not trying with a pencil in your hair

To defy the beauty the good Lord put there."

I remember the first time I heard about Karen Carpenter dying of an eating disorder. I thought, "How could someone with such a beautiful voice care so much about her weight that she ended up destroying her heart?" Obviously there's a lot more to anorexia and similar diseases than just wanting to be skinny. At the same time, I don't think I know a single woman who is completely satisfied with how she looks, no matter how together her life is. She needs to lose five or ten pounds. Her hair is too thin (or too thick, long, short, brown, stringy, etc.) Her eyelashes are too short. Her lips are too big (or too small). We never think, "Wow, I sure am great at my job," and then feel like we are good to go, nor do we think (often enough), "My, aren't my eyes a lovely shade of green? Isn't my hair shiny this morning?"

We've talked about this issue before - think positively about how great you are and you feel like you are great. I'd like to add something to that. Don't "defy the beauty the good Lord put there." You are great. People love you, and there are reasons that they love you. Don't forget to count those when you're tallying up who you are.

In closing, I'd like to add this quote by e.e. cummings. (I told you I had e.e. cummings quotes saved up. Just wait. There are more.) "To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting."

Destination: Beautiful

I spent last week at my grandparents' house visiting with them and cleaning whatever I could get my hands on. Three days were dedicated to the kitchen and during those three cleaning days, I watched whatever marathon happened to be on at the time. Lucky for me, one of those days brought me a What Not to Wear marathon (Megan, Miri and I are all equally in love with this show and I'm pretty sure we could talk about it with regard to specific episodes and people if it came down to it).

On one particular episode, I found myself holding back tears several times. There was this beautiful woman, successful, married, mother of a little girl, who could not believe she was pretty. Now, if you watch this show, you'll know this isn't necessarily out of the ordinary. A lot of the women on that show dress the way they do because of one insecurity or another. But when Stacy and Clinton asked this woman when the last time she felt beautiful was, she couldn't answer them. She just stood there thinking and not saying anything.

And I stood in my grandparents' kitchen, with my hands covered in soap suds, trying not to cry like a little baby. It broke my heart to think that she couldn't think of one single time when she felt beautiful. Think of it. Even when you only consider the "big" moments she had in her life- wedding, graduation, prom, etc.- she couldn't even default to that. She drew a complete blank.

It made me realize that no matter how unhappy I am with how I look, there are always times to look back on where I truly felt beautiful. Incidentally, prom is not included in that list. My fake college prom, however, is.

(See that guy there? With his arm around my shoulder? Yeah. Maybe that was the first and last time we ever met each other. But we went to a free college prom and I got roses so go me!)

It made me realize that there are other people who feel this way. This isn't a new revelation, I promise, but it is something that I was reminded of. It also reminded me of the challenge Miri talked about when we first started this blog. Look in the mirror and be happy with who you are. Tell yourself you are beautiful, do it long enough, and you will start to believe it and you will start to feel it. If no one else is saying it to you, say it to yourself.

Happy Moments

I was browsing my blogs and came across this lovely post from Abbey Goes Design Scouting. It refers to this essay from Cooks Illustrated* called The Bliss List. The author makes a list of happiest moments.

I love this idea, especially on those down days. What better way to get a lift than to think back to your happiest moments? So here are a few of mine.

• Christmas at my grandparents' house growing up. Everyone was there. Every couch, cot and bed was full. There was always a fire in the fireplace. There were three Christmas trees decorated for the holiday and a wreath on the front door filled with Tootsie Roll Pops.

• I spent a summer living with my sister in northern Virginia in a tiny basement apartment. There was one room (I slept on the couch) and half a kitchen. It was awesome. One night in particular, my mom met us for dinner then came back to the apartment with us. She ended up staying the night (she slept on the arm chair) because we got drawn into a viewing of You've Got Mail. Nothing exciting happened, but it was just the three of us and I always love when it's just the three of us. Also, my mom started indirectly quoting The Godfather, which is amazing.

• The wedding of my two friends, Jamie and Mike. The day was beautiful, we ate Subway and played Pictionary between the ceremony and the reception, and we danced till they kicked us out of the reception hall.

• Becoming an aunt. Times six.

• Playing Charades with Corynn. Her velociraptor impression makes me laugh just thinking about it.

• Oddly enough, hanging out in a hammock on a porch by the water during someone else's vacation. I was there to nanny but I had an allergic reaction so I couldn't take the kids to the beach. While they were gone, I had free time. I spent all of it reading in that hammock and it was divine. Heaven on earth.

There are a few of my happiest memories. What are yours?



*For those who might have trouble with our links: http://www.cooksillustrated.com/byissue/default.asp?doctypeid=12&selDate=153 and http://gogoabigail.com/blog/2010/01/19/daily-dose-of-green-29/

Flaws are Beautiful.

"I like flaws and feel more comfortable around people who have them. I myself am made entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions." --Augusten Burroughs

Those Days

Do you ever have days when you just feel off? When, try as you might, everything you do feels wrong? Not that things necessarily go wrong or anything truly bad or frustrating happens, but you are frustrated simply because you don't feel like yourself?

I have those days. I HATE those days. I could eat whole pints of Ben and Jerry's on those days.

To me, it's like whatever it is inside me that makes me who I truly am has taken a vacation without giving any notice. If I was a cartoon, there would be a picture of the inside of my head with one of these:
Unfortunately, I am not a cartoon. There will be no solution presented to me after the break and no happy ending in 30 minutes. There will be no white knight arriving at my door to rescue me from my truly disfunctional day, completely disregarding my severe lack of shower and makeup.

All I can do on those days is hope and pray I can keep it together until bedtime and continue to hope and pray that tomorrow, I will be me again.... and probably eat a whole pint of Ben and Jerry's.

But then there are those days when you couldn't be more happy with yourself. Where you can conquer the world. Laundry not only gets cleaned, but folded AND put away! Dishes are done and real-life, healthy meals are made. It's like the sun shines down on you alone and birds sing your praises and everyone is your best friend. And poor Ben and Jerry are eschewed with a firm hand, never to be heard from again.

I have those days. I LOVE those days.

The trouble comes in trying to find where the difference lies. Is it attitude? I don't think it is, because you can try and try to be happy no matter what during an off day and it just doesn't change things. They are different from bad days. Is it some outside influence? I would also have to say no to that. I think it really is just a need for opposition. You can't have the good days without having the bad days. You can't be "on" if you are never "off."

So maybe it's all about embracing those off days, as uncomfortable and frustrating as that may be. Allow yourself to take a break mentally and physically. Try not to focus on how your inner self is probably off lying on a beach in the sun somewhere. Lay down and take a nap with your kids. Read them a book. Read a book for you. Watch some TV and eat some Ben and Jerry's. Let the laundry and the dishes wait. Eat cold cereal for dinner (your children will think you are awesome, I promise). Embrace the off days and maybe they will be fewer and further between and you'll actually have more time to just be yourself.