Yes, I am a grown up

Greetings--from my floor, clad in sports bra & leggings, at 2 pm on a Tuesday afternoon. Blender Bottle in hand, laundry and dishwasher running, Ellie Goulding coming from the phone speaker. It's the middle of the week, I'm not working while these things are happening, and I, the actual Queen of Restlessness, am content. 

Last week a friend of mine asked me in passing what I want to be when I grow up. Immediately my brain sent up a red flag: "Home girl, you are grown up. Why are you being asked this question? Why can't you just pull it together?", but it only took about 30 seconds for that to reset. And directly following my self-criticism came a sense of gratitude.

I'm 21, three months away from 22. I'm a full time nanny, a part time event coordinator, a super randomly part time retail sales associate, I babysit probably more than is healthy for a person with three other jobs, I'm happily dating (also a full time thing), and I am somehow amidst all the above required to be around at home because I have a furbaby. I'm a classic example of someone who probably won't finish her Bachelors' until she's 35, and more than likely won't need it by then. In terms of having my ducks in a row, I'm the bottom of the totem pole; I'm potentially not even on it if we're being honest. Additionally, I have a strange case of panic disorder that only hits at the most obnoxious, inconvenient times. I can watch someone's leg get cut off and very calmly transport them to the hospital and fix it all in a matter of hours. But if my food takes too long at a restaurant? Or I hit traffic on an on-ramp? Or (so help me) my gas light comes on late at night? The leg thing comes back and suddenly it is a catastrophe and I will not survive. Moral of the story: I am a hot mess in every true sense of the term. But I work hard. And I'm driven. And I know what I want. And I know how to take the steps to get there. Does that mean they're all always successful steps? Absolutely not. I fall short often, and hard.

So why gratitude? Why not remain in that moment of self-deprecation? Because by the books, you'll find my story in the failure section. I didn't do it right. I didn't go through the motions properly, and I probably never will. But as I got over my moment of childish defensiveness, I realized something important. Yes, I am a grown up; but on the flip side of that: no, I am not required at this exact moment in my life to have it all together. As children, we hear the "what do you want to be when you grow up?" question countless times. We're expected to have an answer, no matter how generic or robotic. We're expected to repeat that answer and quietly receive the follow-up input that's inevitable from earlier generations. We're expected to listen to financial advice, lifestyle critique...an entire laundry list of things we may not even understand. There's this gap between the oxymoronically encouraged concepts of embracing one's youth and just growing up. Our twenties are supposed to be developmental, so why is it that in our twenties we're expected to be settled where we are?
I'm growing and learning to listen and filter what I'm told. The more I filter, the more I'm reminded that regardless of what anyone in my world expects of me, the only expectations I'm required to meet at this exact moment are my own. I've got huge goals for myself, there is no doubt of that. But guess what? I don't have to be there yet. I can look at a short-term goal right now. So my expectation for today is to be content. To be at peace. To be in this moment, on my yoga mat, in front of my computer, with my protein shake and my easy playlist and my sleeping puppy and to soak up every moment of being in this place. Because I'm 21, three months away from 22, and this too shall pass.

Don't Just Survive

It's time! Today I start Thriving, and I'm going to use this one blog post to document all 4 trial days, so here goes.
I feel like I should take a moment to throw out a little disclaimer: obviously not every one's results are going to be drastic and/or immediate, this is literally just for the sake of sharing my personal experience. I'm engaging more and binging less during the day which is probably the reason for my weight loss, but the reason that is happening is because this Thrive stuff is keeping me from crashing throughout the day and feeling like I need a pick-me-up or losing my motivation to be active. So if you read this, are inspired, and want to attempt the Thrive experience, I'd be happy to link you up, but it's super important to realize that your results will be tailored to your body and its needs. Do with that what you will.

Monday, Day 1.....

Bonus: how cute is this patch?!

I got home late last night, so I woke up to run on my 5ish hours of sleep and then I remembered--I'm doing this wake-me-up stuff! I took my little vitamin capsule first thing out of the gate, threw on my little patch, and topped it all off with half of a vanilla shake as I was getting out the door at 7 [side note: I usually HATE vanilla shakes, but I actually enjoyed this one]. Other things that I usually hate include my drive to work because Charlotte drivers just aren't great and on top of that I am only half awake so. on a scale of 1-10, I have 0 patience. This morning I was about half way through my drive when I realized a few interesting facts: 1) I was singing along to the radio before 9 a.m., 2) I hadn't yelled at anyone or anything on the road, 3) I was alert, 4) I felt NOTHING. The fact that those first 3 were happening simultaneously amazed me enough, but the best part is part four. It's about 12:30 p.m. now and I'm still super awake and super energized, but I feel nothing. No weird caffeine buzz, no energy drink haze, no crash...I'm literally just functioning well. I had so much energy patience while getting my LO ready for preschool and out the door, I ate some Greek yogurt for breakfast (with a cup of coffee that I barely touched), and did some yoga while the baby slept. This might sound like a pretty average morning, but my usual morning routine is to tank coffee while I hustle to get LO out the door, which usually involves lots of exasperated sighs, tank more coffee while I make myself a massive breakfast, and then crash on the couch until my coffee kicks in enough to attempt either some exercise, cleaning, or school work (generally by that time the baby is up again).
It's now 2:30 p.m. and I'm still firing on all cylinders. I'm eating a salad (on purpose) while I wait for my macaroni to finish boiling and then I might probably will eat the whole pot, unless this miracle substance doesn't make me want to do so. This is usually the time of day when I crash and have to really rally to make it through the afternoon, but not today!

Okay, end of the day. I spent about 7 hours with one set of little ones, another 4 hours with a second set, went to the gym and lifted for an hour, and got home at 11:50 p.m. feeling perfectly fine. Sleepy, but not totally drained. I yawned a grand total of one time today, which wasn't until 10:15 p.m.

Tuesday, Day 2.....
I didn't wake up quite as quickly this morning, but I still feel so good and it's 8:30 (not a thing for me). Side note: I'm so intrigued by this stuff that I signed up to be a promoter literally 4 hours in yesterday, so there's that. My order should be arriving by the end of the week, and hopefully Thursday as opposed to Friday so that I don't have to go without. Also I weighed myself this morning, just for fun, and I am down 3.2 pounds in roughly 24 hours!


My order will be here THURSDAY, which is the most perfect timing! I ordered both men's and women's stuff cause I had a lot more guys ask me about my little "Jesus patch" than I expected.
About the day: I worked my regular nanny day from 7:45 a.m. to about 4:45 p.m., I went for a 35 minute jog, I bolted right to a 3ish hour babysitting job, and still squeezed in a lift at 10 p.m., feeling as strong (and awake) as ever.

Wednesday, Day 3.....
Still awake, still happy, and still not feeling any kind of weird buzz or any kind of side effect really. This is the third day that I'm drinking my morning coffee because I actually enjoy a cup of coffee and not because I need it to glue my brain together. I spent the majority of today rolling on the floor with the baby and I felt pretty hyper productive through a lunch date, errands, catching up with my housemates, leg day (always the best), and now this. And homework. I've got that too. I'm a little bit more sleepy tonight but I still have it in me to do the important things like procrastinate homework by writing this blog and watching The Voice. Tomorrow is Day 4 out of 4 and I don't count on tomorrow not working, but tomorrow is my final review!

Thursday, Day 4.....

Directly on the crook of ones dominant arm=
probably not the best place to put an adhesive skin patch

I'm sleepier this morning than I have been the past three, but I still feel like I can tackle the day. Four consecutive nights of not going to bed at a decent hour and having to wake up at 6 a.m. probably has a little somethin' to do with that, and this isn't some kind of miracle formula that's going to make up for me making poor sleeping habit choices. I also placed my patch in a questionable place today which probably doesn't affect its effectiveness, but I'm curious to see how it holds up throughout the day. I haven't lost any additional weight these last 24 hours, but I wasn't expecting to and really wasn't counting on this thing to drop my weight so much as give me the energy & motivation to do so on my own. Baby had a hard morning, but it didn't drain me like it has in the past.
3 p.m. and I come to my keyboard with remorse (a little). When I went to pick up my 2 year old nanny baby from preschool today, she informed me that she wanted donuts and her teacher followed up by telling me it was Hero Day at Krispy Kreme-buy one dozen, get one free. Game,set, match. I now know that Thrive is no match for the Krispy Kreme HOT sign. But I only ate one two the whole day and didn't want any more after that.
I went for a run when I came home from work and that wasn't great, but I was suuuper dehydrated. Tears + not replenishing enough water + direct sun does not make for a happy runner. I also had ice cream that the boyfriend forced upon me at dinner, but I didn't want to finish much more than half of that because for the first time in forever my sweet tooth has not been ruling my body.

All in all, I'm beyond happy with my results. This is not some kind of life-saving remedy for the weight loss/energy problems, but I can say that using it makes me feel more awake, more alert, more energized, and overall healthier. And let's be honest, it should be more important to us to be healthy-if skinny comes along with it, then that's awesome.

If you have any questions at all, please reach out and ask them!

I highly recommend trying this stuff for yourself, and if you want to do so or just know more, get in touch with me and/or visit kristijoy.le-vel.com/

#AllTheThings

Hi, it's me again, the self-proclaimed queen of doing all the things. I watch all the Netflix, eat all the foods, sip all the drinks, work all the jobs. All the things.

Perhaps I'm the only one, but I have recently realized in myself that while change terrifies me, I am obsessed with novelty. I love new seasons, new apparel, new words, new episodes on Netflix...new is kind of my jam. The most definitive word I could come up with for this piece of me is "neophiliac" although I don't think I'm quite as intense as the dictionary definition [that may just be denial].

My most regular experimental victim is my body, which pretty much runs on a weird rotation of whatever I feel like doing on any given day. You name it, I've done it. From South Beach to military crash diets, vegetarianism, lactose-free; weight-lifting, running, HIIT, Zumba, yoga--you get the point: all the things. I think I've settled on a few things that work for me but my diet is an incessant struggle. Pretty much I eat to keep myself awake and mobile. I thrive on coffee and snacks that serve to both keep me busy and give me surges of what might be energy (jury's still out on how real that is), and I don't think I can live like that much longer. 

Last week I noticed I'm often dehydrated so I decided to work on drinking a gallon of water a day. I'll be the first to admit that I have not managed to finish the entire gallon every day, but I have noticed a significant difference in the way I feel and look the mornings after I have reached my goal. I feel less bloated, less dry, and look less swollen, which doesn't sound like much but if you know me you know that mornings in my world are sucky and I have always struggled with feeling gross when I wake up which tends to set my day on a not-great path.

Now, a gallon of water is no simple feat for someone like me whose life blood consists primarily of espresso and although it's challenging, it's not quite enough to counterbalance my afternoon snack attacks or my evening Netflix-and-eat sugar crashes. So I'm trying another new thing starting Monday. It's called Thrive and to be honest, I have not done my research but it worked for my boss and I'm getting pretty sick of having 0 energy, so why not? If you're curious about it, you're more than welcome to look into it on your own: https://kristinmockler.le-vel.com/, but I will be documenting my thoughts on Thriving and sharing them on Thursday evening/Friday morning. Stay tuned for developments!

Sometimes when you're being a kinesthetic learner and, to the perception of the outside eye, not paying attention in class (Zooey Deschanel quotes on Pinterest do the trick), inspiration strikes. That's my current situation and in a few minutes my Econ professor will be less than pleased with the volume level of my typing, but it's fine. [sidebar: I really am not suffering, I know how to filter him]

For all I know, this post is redundant, but I couldn't tell you for sure because I've stopped doing that cute thing where I spend hours reading back through my own blog. Life is doing that equally cute thing where it allows me zero time for things like blogging and reading and especially blog-reading.
Moving on:

All too common the thought (especially in women) that we are "not enough" is a common denominator in every moment of day-to-day life,

I fail to take proper care of my body. I am an insufficient employee. I don't produce high enough grades. I am a failure as a mother, wife, girlfriend, sister, daughter.

and it is so easy to read a self-help book or an empowering article and tell ourselves that we are sufficient, put on our big kid pants, and face the day with a brave face and an overloaded mental back-burner. The number of times a week that I go through the motions of pulling it together is probably pretty high, but to most of us it is second-nature. It is a learned habit that no longer affects us regularly, only when life hits extra hard.
But now that I have learned how to handle feeling inadequate, a new weed has taken root and begun working its way through the cracks in my thought wall.
I am too much.
I spend too much time on my body. I work too much. I worry too much about my schoolwork. I am too outgoing. I am too emotional. I am too involved.
I am too much.
Now, to say that I know where this thought came from and I know how to tackle it would be lying to myself. I have absolutely no clue. One would think that in conquering my misconception of inadequacy, I should be able to find confidence and even joy in believing my own adequacy to conquer the terror that is daily life. Cruel trick of fate: contentment stopped by for a visit and then went off on vacation again and although my life is in a happy, positive place, I somehow am not properly geared for it. I have compassionate, invested friends, a caring family, and a happy, simple relationship, and somehow I am constantly terrified by the idea of my unbridled self tearing my own life apart. How does that even make sense...?
I am scared of my personality overwhelming my family, of my needs overwhelming my friends, of my emotions overwhelming my boyfriend, and leaving me in a place of loneliness with nowhere to invest the excess that is me as a human. The result is the locking up and concealing of that personal excess and leaving myself in the same place of loneliness that I'm trying to avoid. Trust me, my mind is a place that no one wants to inhabit or investigate right now. It is more often than not a pit of chaos where I tuck away all of my feelings and thoughts and needs so that outwardly I can keep it together-outwardly I can care for others and complete daily functions without affecting anyone else with my needs.
But what does it actually mean to be too much? Excess is defined as an amount of something that is more than necessary, or a lack of moderation. Excess often holds a negative connotation; it is an undesirable trait. We trim the excess fat off our meats, we remove excess words from our writing...excess is something we don't want, it is something we are not inclined toward or prepared for. But excess in and of itself is not a bad thing-excess can be channeled and utilized.
Excess passion can be distributed into action, excess emotion can be translated into compassion, excess involvement can warrant productivity. Because life was meant not only to be lived, but experienced. There is the opportunity to witness beauty in every breath, and a little excess capacity to be affected by life's little moments may be just what some of us need.

"Don't let someone steal your tenderness. Don't allow the coldness and fear of others to tarnish your perfectly vulnerable beating heart. Nothing is more powerful than allowing yourself to be affected by things...feel it all-look around you. All of this is for you. Take it and have gratitude. Give it and feel love."

Upward Falling

The past month has been one hit after another.
A month ago I was in a wreck and told to lay low for a week or two.
A day later I underwent a pretty not-awesome relationship loss.
The following week, my dog's health declined and for a few days his death was almost imminent.
A week later, I came down with a virus that tore up my throat and respiratory system.
My mom's health took a hit a week ago and I spent the week between hospital and home, scrambling to make sure she was okay--to make sure everyone else is okay.

Since the day of that wreck, I have been a wreck; when people ask how I am doing, I find it harder and harder to respond with the peppy, expected: "I'm great". For a few days I spent every second alone in tears, asking myself and God why He just kept taking from me when I thought I was at my peak. I had lost everything but my joy and I was terrified that even that could start slipping at any second.

But today I woke up and rolled over and decided to do something about it. My shoulders aren't tight anymore, I'm no longer disoriented, and this mess stops now. So I took a run, to clear my head and to kind of kick start myself back into a routine, and goodness did it hurt. It was the kind of pain that breaks you, it was weakness pain. My body wanted to quit, my mind wanted to retreat, and my spirit wanted to lie down, and when I was finished, I felt the full displeasure of my legs and my lungs.

Life has been a mess, I have been a mess, and that is still the case for the time being. You know how a lot of times we have revelations of God? "But God moments", if you will. Well that's not a thing for me right now. And after eating and stretching, I sat on my yoga mat and just pouted for a minute. Where is my moment? When does this get better? Why can't life just cut me some slack?

"My heart beating, my soul breathing, I found my life when I laid it down.

Upward falling, Spirit soaring, I touch the sky when my knees hit the ground."

Hillsong United, Touch the Sky

I don't need a moment, I've got a lifetime. I don't need to just snap out of my trials, and the fact of the matter is that I'm not going to. And that's okay, because when my life crumbles, the pieces are falling upward and every time I need to be rebuilt He constructs something stronger and more beautiful and more powerful than my own vision. 

{I have seen the task that God has given people to keep them occupied. He has made everything appropriate in its time. He has also put eternity in their hearts, but man cannot discover the work God has done from beginning to end. Ecclesiastes 3:11}

Held.

Sometimes life just hurts.

Sometimes I feel weak, alone, and empty.

Today was one of those days. This morning I was drenched in God's presence, but as soon as I stepped out of the church building life smacked me in the face simply because it was April 19th and April 19th is an emotional day. I spent most of the day angry. Angry at my family for having the nerve to address me on a hard day. Angry at my friends for not responding immediately to my texts. Angry at God for taking away one of my biggest inspirations and forcing me to live the past two years, and the rest of my life, without her. I ugly-cried way more than I like to believe is possible, I screamed at the top of my lungs, I slammed my fists on my steering wheel. I lost it. I was overwhelmed, I was exhausted, I was broken, and I thought that I had completely drained myself of the God-connection I had fed and prayed for and soaked in only hours earlier. So I did the only thing I could think to do-I wrapped myself in a blanket, I turned off the lights, I turned on our then-favorite worship music playlist, and I read three years worth of old messages. Tear-jerking, gut-wrenching messages that reminded me of how difficult her journey was and refreshed my anger because she didn't. want. to go. But then I turned my focus. I read my messages to her. Heart-breaking messages that reminded me of how broken I was.

You know, it's amazing when we just take a second and gain some perspective; when we step back and look at the bigger picture. Because throughout those thousands of confessions and rants and breakdowns, the healing was palpable. Just by her listening and loving and being. One of the last messages I have from her is a whole description of how she shared her story with someone to encourage self-forgiveness. She opened herself up and made herself vulnerable. She let her story speak for itself and do its work in someone else's life, and "through that talk...I am now able to say...it is well with my soul...."

He knows us and He meets us. He met her right where she was, every time. She found God in her pain and her failure. That's where He met her and that's where she allowed Him to hold her-right in the middle of it all.

Here I sit in the wake of hours and hours of grief and confusion and here He holds me. Here He wipes my tears and here He speaks into me. Here in the middle of my ugly and my angry and my screaming and crying, I feel held and I feel at peace. This day may never get any easier as the years continue to roll by. This day may always be filled with crocodile tears and gruff sobbing and hysteric screaming. And that's okay because He can take all of those things and in the midst of it all simply hold me to His heart.

It's okay

Okay is not a good word in our society; in fact it is generally a bad one.
Okay is the last acceptable answer before someone asks how they can help.

Okay means not good, not good means bad, bad means not good, so on and so forth, and Heaven forbid something not be good.

I am the actual queen of not being okay with just okay. I've come to terms with the impossibility of perfection, but good isn't perfect. Good is just better than bad--better than okay. Good is the in-between. Good is the healthy medium where I have found peace in not being able to please the masses. Good is my comfort zone. Good is good for me.
Bad is not. Bad is uncomfortable, it's judge-able, it's frowned upon. Bad is ugly and ugly is bad and bad is not good--it's a sick cycle.

But sometimes it's okay--even good--to just be okay, or even to be not okay. Not okay usually hurts. Not okay usually involves some rejection and some ugly thoughts and ugly conversations and, on occasion, some ugly crying. We aren't perfect, we aren't expected to be perfect; we are just so incredibly human, and nowhere in any definition of that word will you find correspondence with perfection. It's okay to ugly cry yourself to sleep, it's okay to let things hit you a little harder than they should, it's okay to be a little dramatic, it's okay to rant, it's okay to scream and yell and hit things. Because on days where internally I feel nothing but ugly and not okay and consequently angry, I stumble across old messages and notes from the first person in my life who taught me that being okay {and not okay} are in fact, in the truest sense of the word, okay.
I miss her and I wish that I could say that she would fill every one of my many holes.

"you know I love you more than yesterday and somehow less than tomorrow"

But the fact of the matter is that I'm a mess. In the deepest parts of me I am a mess and will always be a mess and know how to be nothing other than that, and that's okay with me and it is okay with God and it was okay with her.

"keep your head up princess...or the crown falls"

She knew it. She understood it. We were matching messes.

"I love God...I love him in my darkness. More so in my light. But when it's dark...when I can barely breathe...sometimes I will just sit in my driveway and light up a cigarette and stare into the night sky and spill my soul. Because for once I'm not afraid of not being loved back."

Because for once I don't have to be afraid of rejection.

Because for once I don't have to be afraid of okay.

He Gets It

I by definition am a worrier. I am 100 110% type A. I want control of everything. I need to plan, to make lists, to maintain 4 different calendars (true story)--just to feel like I have things in order. Organization is my life blood (second only to coffee) and the more structured my days and the further in advance they are planned, the happier I am. That's how I've always been, that's probably how I always will be.
Surrendering control has, from the beginning of time, been my biggest struggle and continues to be. That's just how my brain is wired. I like nothing less than to rely on others, because that takes the control out of my hands. My emotions and probably my sanity are locked in a glass case that only I have the key to--and so help me if someone does something that may take a piece of control from me and drops a little rock on my case. It's a world-shaker for me.
Sorry for sounding like a crazy person, but c'est la vie.

All of that being said, I had this really interesting breakthrough today. I'm not going to get crazy and say that I had an entire revolution and all in a moment dropped control of my life at the feet of my Father and experienced a weight lifting off my shoulders, because that is hard. And a really difficult, painful process for me that I have to relive constantly, day in and day out. Life change sucks when you're like me and this past week a life change presented itself. {world-shaking}

Side note: finding jobs is N O T easy or stress-free when you have an awkward class schedule and no degree.

Anyways, my glass case has been shaking pretty hard. Like, imagine a rock slide coming down on your iPhone and that's about how my crazy brain sees the idea of a "what-if?" in my life. My emotions might show. I might be seen as not having it together, as not knowing what I'm doing, as unsuccessful. And THAT would be the end of the world, right? That's how it registers for me.

See, I am in a relationship with a God who knows me more deeply than the deepest ocean and loves me more fervently than any Nicholas Sparks character has ever known. And in these moments of shock and disbelief and hidden terror, He whispers in my ear a reminder that He's got this. He's got me. But I'm me and a) I don't like when things get too close to my face and b) I have a habit of disregarding things I don't immediately agree with. So I pull away from those whispers and they fall on deaf ears. That's when I am reminded of just how well He knows me. Because if someone doesn't get the whisper, they're sure to get the shout, and shout He does. Today was one amazing thing after another. I had a super productive morning and in the middle of it received a call about setting up an interview, which is crazy because I literally just started job hunting 20 hours prior. I got so many reminders from friends and family who are so crazy good at allowing Jesus to use them to be His voice when He really needs to get through to me (Thanks, Jessie Chamberlain).

Ya know, I think we I have this skewed view of encouragement where I confuse it with uplifting. Sometimes encouragement is just a reminder that everything is fine. That maybe I'm not sure and maybe I'm not going to be sure for a while and that's okay. And just like that, I felt peace. Peace that was inexplicable and overwhelming and just washed over all my stress and worry and took over my mind. Maybe it's just for today. Maybe this job won't be the one for me. Maybe nothing will happen for me yet. But amidst the maybes, there's a resounding definite--I will definitely be okay, and God's perfect plan will definitely come about.

Mothers' Day 2014

As I sit here in my little housewife apron waiting for the clock to hit 5:15, I am reminded of how blessed I am to have a mother who has dedicated so much of her time over the past 19 years to preparing me for adulthood and all that comes with it. After two hours of pre-cooking preparation, I can't help but dream about how Mothers' Days will be when I have a husband and children and pets and a home (and obviously a kitchen that I won't be using on that day) of my own. But more than that, I think of the other 364 days of the year that I spend in between jobs or in my bed or on the couch or out with friends and how blessed I am to have a mother who takes the time to fulfill unnoticed the role that I'm playing today while her family proceeds with their own lives and interests.

But even more than that, I'm reminded of how blessed I am to be able to celebrate two mothers on a day such as this. For those who don't know (and haven't figured it out through photos), I was adopted at birth and have yet to meet my birth-mother. However, I established contact with her this year and this is therefore the first Mothers' Day on which I've been able to reach out to her and wish her a Happy Mothers' Day. It's an indescribable feeling to know the unconditional love of two mothers. One that no one could fathom until they've felt it.

I've always had a hole in my heart that I plugged and denied having up until recently when I realized how badly I desired a relationship with the woman who conceived me and brought me into the world and whose blood courses through my veins. Her desire to know me as a person, inside and out, is incomprehensible to me. I've always had an underplayed fear of disappointing my parents, but with my birth-mother that becomes less and less of a concern with every conversation. Her love for me is unconditional and that's something that I personally have always been too blind to understand. I've never allowed myself to see the true depth of a mother's love--a love without rules, without expectations, and without borders. My birth-mother opened my eyes to the beauty of a mother's sacrificial love. I cannot speak from experience, but I imagine that relinquishing one's beloved child to another set of parents is one of the hardest things a person can do. But she did it. And while I'm sure her choice caused her a lot of suffering, her pain subconsciously gave me the best life: a life that led me to become the person I am today.

My [adoptive]mom and I have always had problems, and while we get along much better now, Mothers' Day was always a hard one to celebrate from the heart. But now that we are both adults and have a mutual respect for each other, I am able to see her more clearly as a person rather than the dictator that I viewed her as when I was a child. She has suffered long and hard to raise her children (especially me) and she teaches me daily what it means to be a strong woman of faith and integrity. It took me as long as 19 years to realize just how thankless her job as my mother is, but thanks to my birth-mother I have been able to put aside my tainted view of my mom and to see just how difficult her role as my mom has been. While it is one difficult thing to give up ones child, it must be another thing entirely to give up ones self to raise the child of another set of parents as her own. My birth-mother made an incredible sacrifice, but it allowed my mom to sacrifice herself to the task of raising a child who had no genetic connection to herself. A child whose genes even at times clashed with her own and caused her an incredible amount of strife. Sacrificial love has no better image than that of either of my mothers and I couldn't have asked to be adopted by a better friend or mother. 

See, I think we're all guilty of misinterpreting the true meaning of Mothers' Day. We think it's a day for us to spoil our mothers to show our love for them. But I think it's more than that. This Mothers' Day I feel more loved than loving. I think that's what Mothers' Day is all about. Not returning the love that mothers show us daily, but giving them a day off in order to in turn show us how much they do for us and to honor them for their ceaseless displays of sacrificial love.

PS: I know I mentioned spending a lot of time in the kitchen and yes, that does mean that a bunch of recipes will be headed this way soon.

all stuffed everything

I stuff everything. And when I say everything I mean everything from my schedule to my recipes.
I'm somehow finding bits of time for myself throughout my busy insane days, and tonight I found time to actually spend an hour in the kitchen to stuff peppers.
This recipe should feed six, even though I only used 3 peppers...primarily because we only had three peppers in the house.
(I ended up with masses of leftover filling)

What you'll need:

6 Bell Peppers

1 lb. Ground Turkey

1 Onion, chopped

3 Roma Tomatoes, chopped

Handful of Mushrooms (approx. 1/2 cup), also chopped
3/4 cup Brown Rice

Salt & Pepper

1 Teaspoon Worcestershire Sauce

1 Tablespoon Dijon Mustard

Hot Sauce (I used Tabasco), to taste

Chili Powder, to taste

Oregano, to taste

1 (8 oz.) can Tomato Sauce

1/2 cup Colby Jack Cheese

Mozzarella Cheese

What you'll do:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Remove the tops of the peppers as well as the seeds.

In a skillet, saute the onions until they're translucent, then add the meat & brown. Once the meat is cooked, add the tomatoes, mushrooms, rice, & Worcestershire sauce. (I also diced the tops of the peppers and threw them in for fun.) Simmer over low-medium heat for 10 minutes before stirring in the dijon mustard, hot sauce, chili powder, & oregano. Turn off the stove top & stir in the Colby Jack cheese until it's melted.

Finally, place the peppers open-side up in a casserole dish or something with a lid.

Stuff the peppers with your meat mixture, pour water over mixture, top with Mozzarella cheese, and bake (covered) for 15-20 minutes.

Another Year

Another year has come and gone, and per usual I'm looking back at it (through a piercing headache) and seeing nothing but a blur of memories, successes, and a substantial spattering of questionable choices.
This year I fell in love, hopped in and out of multiple jobs, and, most importantly, threw myself into an independent lifestyle--I wouldn't give up a single second of 2013.
This time last year I was in Hawaii with my family laughing, eating, and wrestling my phone out of the hands of my then 3 year old cousin. Today I'm sitting at my desk wrapped in a towel playing with my cat Boo and thinking about my outfit for work later.
In that span of time I've met and lost some of the most beautiful people and experienced the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Here's a quick photo recap of the past year.

Columbus River Walk

Night Out at Montreat

Valentine's Day with Keisha

Julia's Baby Shower

The day Liz & I got random piercings...spring break.

Halloween in Hawaii

The best roommate I could've asked for.

Philly trip for my WWC boys

Lost this beauty--not a day goes by when I don't miss her

Leigh & Max's engagement party

Saying goodbye to Dezaree

Mothers' Day

My bestfriend & roomie

Summertime with the family

And memorable summer nights with Elizabeth ;)

July 4th with the kiddos!

Mom's Birthday

First 5K!

Family Dinner

Georgie's Birthday

The best big brother life could've given me

Loves of my life

Dad's birthday dinner

Sick li'l Toby--so glad he made it another year

There are so many memories I could talk about and so many pictures I could hunt for, but I'm satisfied recapping my year with the ones above.

2013 wasn't perfect, and 2014 won't be either. This is real life, and we've all made it this far. So congratulations, y'all--here's to another blessed year filled with ups and downs, joy and sorrow, love and hate, and triumphs and trials. Let's do this thing.

tonight's thoughts

It's been a while. Per usual, life caused me to forget that I have an occasionally functional blog and I actually really enjoy narrating my life experiences on the World Wide Web. Thanks, Life.

Anyways, tonight I'm jet-lagged and exhausted (a permanent state of being, I guess), curled up in my dimly-lit bedroom with a can of Cheerwine in hand while my cat plays with a straw. I tried calling her, I tried taking away the straw...anything to get her attention, calm her down, and convince her to curl up with or at least near me while I aimlessly peruse Pinterest. And in that moment, watching my little Boo playfully ignore my wishes, I realized how needy I am capable of being.

Weak isn't a word many people would use to describe me. I can act like a b*tch, but as a general rule I just am. And that's not a bad thing--like that's not me putting myself down. It's just a fact of my life. But in my involuntary nature of dominance and strength, I just re-discovered an inherent and powerful weakness...I'm needy.

{seriously, who takes away their pet's toys in an attempt to gain their affection.}

For the longest time, love in my life amounted to nothing more than a superficial notion. Guys "loved" me because I was attractive--I was an eye-pleasing accessory that just turned out to have a generally appealing personality. My parents showed pride in me (which I translated to love) when I performed well in school or dance or sports. Love became an object and the only beings that were incapable of demonstrating love for me superficially were animals. So yeah, I soaked up what I could get from people like a sponge, getting squeezed out and re-quenched only to be emptied again with each endeavor to fill myself.

But I've almost kind of got my life together now so the question of the hour is: why do I still seek fulfillment as if I don't have everything I need? I do this thing where I know someone/something loves me and then I leech love from them like a mosquito does blood. I play this role of someone who has it all together. I pretend to be this trophy acquaintance (daughter or sister of girlfriend or employee or friend--fill in the blank based on context), but the truth of the matter is that I'm still pretty cracked. I don't have all the pieces to the puzzle and even if I did, I sure as hell wouldn't know how to fit them all together.

All that being said, tonight I realized that I'm screwed up. 

I come from a well-off family, I've never been deprived of anything, I live [mostly] stably on my own, I'm ambitious academically as well as socially and professionally, I have a sound relationship with my Heavenly Father...none of that makes me perfect and it never will. 

But somewhere along the line, God is going to use that reality to fill the holes of my spongy, needy little soul and put it at peace with the right people.

And that's all my caffeine-hyped, jet-lagged little brain can muster for tonight.

My Awkward Stage.

It's no secret that I'm a very independent and spontaneous spirit. Everyone who knows me knows that full well.

But there's also a tiny little piece of me that's still a people-pleaser, and I don't think that will ever change.

This is all just hitting me now--I really couldn't care any less about how my friends and others around me perceive me. It's my life, not theirs. 

Some little spark in me, however, is always alive that wants to please my parents. We may not get along, and I'm usually not very partial to them for that reason. In the long run, though, I'm still their kid, and I still want them to be proud of me. And they're my parents--they raised me--so it's not like my relationship with them could ever become irrelevant like a friendship potentially could. I think that's the only thing that keeps me caring. Some resolution has to be reached; no matter how many days, months, or years it takes, it's inevitable.

After my incident in October, I felt like the ultimate failure. I felt like they would never approve of me again and I was from then on responsible for piecing myself together and making something of myself again. Which I did. I became a better person, and I started living life spontaneously, but avoiding doing anything sinful or wrong. So here I sit with my pierced navel and tattooed ankle, preparing to make an independent trip to Georgia in a few days and anticipating my two summer jobs, wondering why the hell my parents can't just like me. And it breaks my heart because I refuse to change myself for anyone...that includes my family. At the same time, I want them to be happy to have me as their daughter, "good girl with bad habits" reputation, piercings, ink, and all. Roadblock.

I know they love me. And maybe I'm just blind, because I know they're "doing their rotten best" (as my mother would say), I just don't think our personalities are compatible; my brain just can't handle being someone's child and an adult at the same time.

"At least 2 dead, 105 injured as two bombs hit Boston Marathon finish line" --National Post

Today's events (which are still unfolding) at the Boston Marathon were devastating, and my heart breaks for everyone affected by them in any way. But I just have to take a moment to spout my thoughts on reactions that I've seen and heard regarding the tragedy's "behind-the-scenes".

Just hours after the bombings and already I was seeing rants on social media about how the government did this to us, how our own nation is out to get us, and how we can't believe what the media tells us about the events. True, the media is able to filter what we know and what we don't, but that doesn't change the fact that these two bombs ended the lives of two innocents and damaged over a hundred others, one of the deceased being an eight-year old boy. So in light of all that, I just wonder: when did it become anyone's job to hyper-analyze the situation and theorize about it?

The fact of the matter is that today's events were rooted in someone's evil intent. Whether or not I ever know who that someone is, and whether or not they are ever brought to justice, I do know that people of all ages and all walks of life have been devastated by that someone's actions. Do I agree that whoever did this is a coward? Absolutely. Do I agree that the government has not always been honest with us? Of course. Do I believe that evil people ought to be found out and punished? With all my heart.

But does that mean that I have a right to sit at this computer and spew conspiracy theoretic word vomit while multitudes of people mourn the day's events and the lives damaged by them? Not a chance.

The same things happened with 9/11, the Sandy Hook shooting, and almost all national emergencies. But just think about it: while hundreds and thousands of people are out there taking action and proactively responding to repair the damage done, what gives us the right to do anything other than respond to this wake-up call in the best way possible for each individual?

I believe that evil exists in our world, but I refuse to believe that anyone is evil enough to stage the kind of evil involved in these incidents.

In the long run, God is in control. Regardless of who committed these crimes, they have no power compared to that of our Creator. He's the one we need, and the one whom we should be trying to hear from and channel as we respond to this catastrophe. Believe it or not, people are inherently good. We're created in God's image. Goodness is in us, it's just suppressed in certain cases. But look at the ones already making an impact just moments after the blasts--not all hope is lost, people.

Love and Equality

Well, since today and tomorrow are "Equality's Days in Court", I've seen a lot of opinions both sensible and foolish being expressed through social media, and they've gotten me thinking. So here goes.

I believe in equality.
But there is much more to the term than the idea of marriage, traditional or homosexual.
Yes, I wholeheartedly believe that government ought not to be left to dictate and define what marriage is (ya know, separation of Church and State--government is not responsible for defining morality), which is my primary reason among others for supporting the equality movement.
But let's just be real with ourselves for a minute--put aside personal bias and pride and really search ourselves as a people. The question of whether or not gay marriage is legalized is not synonymous to the question of whether or not equality becomes prevalent.
The government is able to dictate whatever they please, but if the government tells you that you're no longer allowed to discipline your children, does that stop you from telling your thirteen year old daughter that she'll be in trouble if she breaks your household rules? No. A government is only as powerful as its nation allows it to be.


So if the government legalizes gay marriage, what about this action will bring about "equality"? Why give the government the power to tell us what a family is or is not? If gay marriage is legalized or prohibited, there is no guarantee of acceptance on either side. Everyone holds their own opinion regarding the topic, and no matter the government's decision (on any topic, really), there will always be a group of people who refuse to accept it. It's inevitable.
That being said, shouldn't the idea of equality be left up to individuals without the guidance of their government? Not everyone is going to agree with me on this--I know that, to each his own.

But I also believe in love. Not like a Nicholas Sparks' novel kind of love, but real love, powerful love, love that can change lives. Love that is as close to unconditional as we can get. Love that wraps its arms around people for who, not what, they are. Love that is without personal bias and reaches out without discrimination. Love that forgives, but does not forget; love that is not afraid to speak honestly, but also not afraid to be open-minded. Love that loves endlessly and without expectations.
Love that can be extended to homosexuals and heterosexuals alike, regardless of your religious standpoint.

A Different Kind of Perfect

Nobody's perfect, we all know that full well. The problem is, we all want to be perfect, regardless of the fact that perfection is unattainable.

There is nothing wrong with striving for perfection, but we have to realize what kind of perfection we strive for. More often than not, we strive for popular societal perfection which never ends well. We become people-pleasers and try to fulfill everyone else's expectations for us, leaving ourselves empty and thin-spread.
There's only one perfection that matters, and in order to achieve it we have to experience unconditional love. God is the only one who can love unconditionally, but I believe he personifies this love through certain people that He places in our lives.

For instance, as I type this, I'm having a conversation with my best friend. I've started to do so much better since my October incident and I slipped up last night. Not terribly, but I backslid a little bit. I got a sweet taste of my old life and loved it...until it was over. It all hid me like a tidal wave then, and it scared me and angered me at the same time. I can't afford to take any steps back--I can't afford to turn back down that road that almost ended my life only less than half a year ago. She has every right to judge me and dissect me, tearing me down for every time I've screwed up and had to come clean to her about it. However, I still felt comfortable pouring my heart out to her because I knew she wouldn't do any of those things. All she said was: "Aww baby, I'm so sorry. But don't beat yourself up about it. Just do better next time. Nobody is perfect and we all slip up."
I couldn't say it more perfectly.

How often do we need that reminder? Whether or not you're a believer, there's no denying the beauty behind this kind of love. And once we can accept that kind of love, it becomes easier to see the perfection behind our imperfections. Imperfections are not flaws, they are simply part of who we are. There is only so much we can do before we need to come to terms with the fact that the only type of perfection we ought to strive for is personal perfection. We have to be able to accept unconditional love as it is personified and learn to apply it toward ourselves. We were not created to live out anyone else's vision for our life but God's, and that can only be done by searching ourselves and aspiring toward what is best going to help us meet personal standards. There is nothing more rewarding than coming out of a situation knowing that you did all within your power to meet a standard of perfection--knowing that you are your own kind of perfect, and that is something that can't be taken from you.

The Mess of Life

For any and all of my readers, imaginary or existent, I apologize for my turn in tone lately. Things are changing for me and despite my formerly upbeat recipe posts and what not, life's a mess and that's what I promised to portray when I started this thing: the good, the bad, and the ugly. So here's another piece of my disastrous life and the redemptive, though skewed, beauty that comes when I reflect on it.

I met the most incredible person last year. We started talking, I started getting attached...we all know how the story goes for a girl my age. And now he's gone. Not forever, of course, but enough for me to get emotional as well as to realize that I'm a complete and total train wreck almost all the way around.
Sometimes I just need to know that someone's thinking about me. Maybe it's an 18-year old thing, maybe it's a female thing...maybe it's just me. Regardless of why, I've been feeling really sincerely needy over the past few weeks. Not that I haven't been obnoxiously needy before now, but it's different this time because I know it and I don't know what to do about it. I don't think that it's necessarily wrong; change is hard and the things I've been putting myself through have inspired personal changes that I never would have planned. Truth is, even though I'm making decisions on my own, I want someone to help me. Whether or not I'll push them away is an entirely different story, and I'm subconsciously unwilling to accept the fact that the root of my problem is that I don't want to grow up so fast. I need to--I'm supposed to--but I'm still fighting it.
I want someone to feel for what I'm going through and sympathize and walk me through it; I want to be wanted and coddled. But every so often it hits me: this is my journey, and I'm doing it all to and for myself. The one person I want to lean on the most is inaccessible and there's a reason for that: I've got to get myself on my feet. I've got a destiny, whatever that may be, and it doesn't include me living on a crutch. So here go the baby steps that are somehow going to propel me through the next 3 months as well as the rest of my years, no matter where they lead or what they hold.

trust issues

There's so much on my mind tonight and I don't even know how to organize this post. But here it goes.
Distrust is something I've struggled with all my life and this evening has just been one reminder of that after another. We've all got trust issues whether we like to admit it or not, and we all struggle with the reasons behind them as well as reasons for letting them go. They're impossible to escape, and their inevitability usually makes them appear undesirable.
I've never been afraid or ashamed to admit that I am filled to the brim with distrust, and I'm also not afraid to admit that I'm 100% okay with each and every ounce of it being there. It reminds me of my past, grounds me to my present, and excites me for my future. My innumerable amount of trust issues guard me and keep me alert consistently. I don't walk into a room trusting everyone in it, I actually walk in assuming nothing about anyone. Not distrusting in particular, but not trusting either. It's their job to earn my trust as well as to not lose it.
Well, now that I sound like a stone-cold, heartless bitch...whatever. It's the truth. And it works for me. Because while I can't say that I guard myself from all pain, I can never say that I trusted someone or something too much. I can always say that some piece of me, no matter how minuscule, always knew the truth. I think distrust is a necessary mechanism for existence as a living, breathing, fully-functioning human being. Without it, we are blind and completely vulnerable, which in my mind can't possibly be beneficial. Vulnerability is a fabulous thing in moderation; but, it is very true that distrust, which can seem like our nemesis, can often be our saving attribute.

And it continues...

“Tears stream down your face, I promise you I will learn from my mistakes...lights will guide you home, and ignite your bones, and I will try to fix you.” ~Coldplay

That song may or may not be relevant to where this goes at all...but it got me thinking today.
I thought my life had slowed down and things would go back to normal, but it turns out I was wrong. There’s always going to be someone who is affected more by a situation than anyone else. This weekend I went home for the first time since my incident (for those of you who are wondering, I might as well throw it out there: I gave myself alcohol poisoning.), and for the first time in a while I realized just what my purpose is. Not my whole purpose of course, but it’s pretty clear that I have a reason to be on this earth other than the obvious. In the back of my mind, I've always told myself that I wanted to impact people but I've never been able to figure out how to go about that. However, this weekend while having a conversation with a friend from church, I realized that I don’t have to be a preacher or a public figure to influence people, I simply have to live. I've always been able to connect with those younger than me whether they be babies, toddlers, children, or teenagers. During this conversation that opened my eyes, my friend reminded me that so many of the young people I've been loving on all these years have come to look up to me and idolize my actions. They look to me for fashion cues, ways of speaking, even approval in their extra-curricular activities. I've always hidden my mistakes from them because I want to be nothing less than perfect for them.

Actually, I've done that with everyone. But how can I have a real influence on anyone being fake? As soon as that thought entered my mind, I realized that I had two choices to make. Be real and hope that others can love me through and learn from the mistakes I've made, or continue giving my people a view of my life through rose-colored glasses. The right decision is pretty clear: accept my mistakes, put them behind me, and live--not a perfect life--but a life that I’m proud to advertise.

I remember in my pre-teen years when I met my very first role model: my 3^rd cousin (I think that’s how we’re related…maybe). She was tall, confident, beautiful, smart, and overall an incredible person; or at least that’s what I thought until I found out from my mom that she had gotten pregnant. Not that I think that having a child out of wedlock is a condemnatory thing, but at the time I had her on such a high pedestal that a slip-up like that crushed me. She had no idea and to this day probably still doesn't  but I know for a fact that my actions affect not only myself and my family, but also my “girls” and my babies.

I want to be their fortress, not the person whose problems they live and learn through.

I want them to want to emulate my life, not avoid it.

        

Just a few of the reasons I wrote this. And a few reminders that my life isn't just about me.