First of all, let me promise you here, before you roll your eyes, that the next six months will not be filled with wedding planning updates and bridezilla-style rants (oh, did I mention I got engaged on the 23rd?). But I feel that I do need to establish a firm stance on what I've observed and witnessed in my first week of betrothed life.
To modern American culture, I give a big Screw You! A lovely close friend of mine sent me a engagement care package with a few bridal magazines in them, and I also received "the wedding box" from Derrick's aunt, and inside that box was a wedding planning book. I quickly became disgusted by both the magazines and the book and now understand more than ever why divorce is so prevalent in our society. Midway through the wedding planning book, full of great tips on invitation wording, time lines, sticking to budgets...smack in the middle was a whole chapter on losing weight before the big day. Um, what? Why? What does this have to do with wedding planning at all? The fact that this one day, eight hours or less really, is so flippin' important that we must calorie count and schedule extra workouts to get the perfect bod for all your family and friends and new hubby to see, is completely insane! How about we do those things irrespective of a wedding date because we want to be healthy! Not because we want to slim down for a day. Ugh. Not only that, but the bridal magazines and google image searches make it utterly impossible to have the "perfect" wedding day for normal oafs like me. The women in those magazines are so airbrushed its a wonder they still look human, and every page is filled with fantasy images of romantic gazebos strung with yards of whimsy fabrics and delicate lights followed by honeymoon ideas that would drag most new couples directly to bankruptcy. How did we get here? What happened to the church basement reception? The celebration amongst friends? More importantly, what happened to the marriage?
In conversations about wedding planning so far, my most common response to just about any question has been, Oh, I don't really care. The reason? Because I hate that this is what weddings have become. I hate our culture for forcing us to try to live out impossible dreams spending every penny we have on one day with little attention paid to what happens on day two or week two or year two of being wed. Now don't get me wrong, all of this firey wrath toward our culture's misdirection of matrimonial magic will not somehow lead to a schlumpy, jeans-and-t-shirts wedding. We will throw a nice party. We will bring together all of our family and friends, and we will eat, drink, dance, laugh, hug, cry, and party epically. But we do it because the life that follows the day is worth the celebration not because the celebration somehow defines the life that follows.
We will have good food and drink to share but not because I want to flaunt the fact that we can afford it but rather because with that much celebrating, people will get hungry and need to eat. We will have good but somewhat unusual music because it represents who we are and the things that we love and share. We will have close friends and relatives stand with us not to show off how cool we are and how many friends we have (have you seen that trend recently with the 12+ attendants - silly) but because they are dear to us and we want them close by when we seal one of the most significantly life altering decisions of our lives. The rest? Well, the rest I really just truly don't care that much about. I'm sure there will be decorations and lights and details and personal touches that will have to be added in, but they won't define the day, and they certainly won't define our lives together.
So screw you society requiring weddings to be just so to be "right". And screw perfection and pomp and tying tiny little bows on hundreds of invitations and giveaways and programs. And screw matching fonts and pantone color numbers and identical shoes and dresses and suits. My attention is focused on the fact that Derrick and I will be married rather that just get married.
Tuesday, December 31, 2013
Sunday, December 01, 2013
Stress Isn't Sexy
Let me just preface this post by saying stress happens. Trust me, I'm one of the first people who can, from first-hand experience, justify this being said. There are just times when freakouts, tears, meltdowns, and all out wig-outs are perfectly warranted. However, as a general rule, I have come to learn that this should not be, well, the general rule. Here's my probably skewed, far-too-closely-removed, just-been-there-just-done-that perspective on stress from both the internal and external view.
To those suffering from acute amounts of stress and the mismanagement thereof (and I speak as a recently recovering stress-addict myself), stress is not a badge of honor. Now, I know what you're about to say (because I've said it). I don't 'honor' stress! I know you don't. I didn't think I did either. But whether or not you actually consciously think/say it or not, here's the logic.
Stress is hard.
I'm stressed because I have so much to do.
I have so much to do because someone has entrusted me with all of it.
I must be pretty good at things to be entrusted with so much.
I will do all of the things because I know I can.
I am stressed because I do all the things.
Stress is hard.
Do you see what I did there? There is no fatal flaw in this logic necessarily. In fact, perhaps all of those things are true. But somewhere in there, sometimes, maybe even just a little, there's a hint of pride that slips in there. Something like, the stress is good because it results from me being good at things and people trusting me, therefore I should be stressed. And that, friend, is honoring your stress which may result in you wearing it with a little pride.
Stress has more to teach us than this, though. Stress does not control you. And your response is naturally (again, because it has come out of my own mouth), But I can't change my situation. Or, My job is doing this to me. Or, If I don't do this, it will fail. The objects of your stressful life are merely that. Objects. Or maybe people or time or a situation. And if they are only that, then they are, indeed changeable, avoidable, or fixable. Now before you launch into an all out less-than-logical-because-it's-emotional argument with me, I get it. I understand how you feel and I know why you're thinking what you are. But I am not the Pollyanna, puppies-and-rainbows, be joyful in all things girl you're thinking I am. In fact, more often than not, I describe myself as an ambitious worst-case-scenarioist at best. But here's the deal. If you're ever going to find a way to live a lower stress life, you're going to have to change the way you think about stress and who you consider to actually be in control here.
A very valuable word should enter into your vocabulary: no. You may have a lot to do. People see this and ask you to do more because you're pretty good at doing stuff. You think you can so you say yes. And then you're more stressed than you were before. Sometimes things just have to give. For me, blogging primarily fell by the wayside as I floundered away in my stress. Some relationships took a hit. Some of the quality of my work began to get shaky. Because I could not, in fact, do it all. Enter the glory of the word no. By saying no to coordinating the office gift exchange, I have freed up an hour or so to, say, write this blog entry. By saying no to staying late at work one night a week, I can workout instead. By saying no to an exciting offer to work on the next big visionary project at work, I get to spend an extra night with Derrick. By saying no to obsessing over timelines, I allow for the flexibility that is required sometimes when working with others. Each time I say no, I find something that I can say yes to. Priorities begin to shift, productivity and quality in many cases goes up, and I am free of the weight that comes with being the woman who can do all of the things. This is control, folks.
One more lesson from stress for the road: Stress isn't sexy. That's right. I said it. When you're stressed, people honesty don't know what to do for you. They don't know how to help you. And in most cases, there isn't any actual way that they can. But they try. They let you rant on the phone, hug you when you cry, wait patiently to get to see you on your mega-stressed terms. It's no fun. It makes them feel bad. It makes them consider keeping their distance. It makes them walk on eggshells to try not to make it worse. Your stress has the potential to harm and change others. For some of you, this news is more stress inducing than reducing in this moment. Now again, there are times that you just need someone to lean on, and there will be times that people you know will need you. But when you always choose to live in high-stress mode, you're not sexy.
It's time we take a good look at our lives, and realize that stress is not honorable, uncontrollable, or good. It harms you, it harms others, and it can serve as an awful ugly addiction that we refuse to believe can be managed. But it can, and it must be. I have started by making small choices here and there to take back control. Some of them were easy. Some of them have challenged me to rethink everything. But I'm starting to feel sexy again, as if I can be someone that acts more like a people magnet than repellent. And I feel like I know who's in control here, and it's not my job, my dissertation, or my travel schedule. And I know that stress cannot be linked to pride. Doing all of the things does not make me a superhero. It just makes me cranky.
So here's to a low-stress, high-choice, sexy December that I intend to enjoy to the fullest.
To those suffering from acute amounts of stress and the mismanagement thereof (and I speak as a recently recovering stress-addict myself), stress is not a badge of honor. Now, I know what you're about to say (because I've said it). I don't 'honor' stress! I know you don't. I didn't think I did either. But whether or not you actually consciously think/say it or not, here's the logic.
Stress is hard.
I'm stressed because I have so much to do.
I have so much to do because someone has entrusted me with all of it.
I must be pretty good at things to be entrusted with so much.
I will do all of the things because I know I can.
I am stressed because I do all the things.
Stress is hard.
Do you see what I did there? There is no fatal flaw in this logic necessarily. In fact, perhaps all of those things are true. But somewhere in there, sometimes, maybe even just a little, there's a hint of pride that slips in there. Something like, the stress is good because it results from me being good at things and people trusting me, therefore I should be stressed. And that, friend, is honoring your stress which may result in you wearing it with a little pride.
Stress has more to teach us than this, though. Stress does not control you. And your response is naturally (again, because it has come out of my own mouth), But I can't change my situation. Or, My job is doing this to me. Or, If I don't do this, it will fail. The objects of your stressful life are merely that. Objects. Or maybe people or time or a situation. And if they are only that, then they are, indeed changeable, avoidable, or fixable. Now before you launch into an all out less-than-logical-because-it's-emotional argument with me, I get it. I understand how you feel and I know why you're thinking what you are. But I am not the Pollyanna, puppies-and-rainbows, be joyful in all things girl you're thinking I am. In fact, more often than not, I describe myself as an ambitious worst-case-scenarioist at best. But here's the deal. If you're ever going to find a way to live a lower stress life, you're going to have to change the way you think about stress and who you consider to actually be in control here.
A very valuable word should enter into your vocabulary: no. You may have a lot to do. People see this and ask you to do more because you're pretty good at doing stuff. You think you can so you say yes. And then you're more stressed than you were before. Sometimes things just have to give. For me, blogging primarily fell by the wayside as I floundered away in my stress. Some relationships took a hit. Some of the quality of my work began to get shaky. Because I could not, in fact, do it all. Enter the glory of the word no. By saying no to coordinating the office gift exchange, I have freed up an hour or so to, say, write this blog entry. By saying no to staying late at work one night a week, I can workout instead. By saying no to an exciting offer to work on the next big visionary project at work, I get to spend an extra night with Derrick. By saying no to obsessing over timelines, I allow for the flexibility that is required sometimes when working with others. Each time I say no, I find something that I can say yes to. Priorities begin to shift, productivity and quality in many cases goes up, and I am free of the weight that comes with being the woman who can do all of the things. This is control, folks.
One more lesson from stress for the road: Stress isn't sexy. That's right. I said it. When you're stressed, people honesty don't know what to do for you. They don't know how to help you. And in most cases, there isn't any actual way that they can. But they try. They let you rant on the phone, hug you when you cry, wait patiently to get to see you on your mega-stressed terms. It's no fun. It makes them feel bad. It makes them consider keeping their distance. It makes them walk on eggshells to try not to make it worse. Your stress has the potential to harm and change others. For some of you, this news is more stress inducing than reducing in this moment. Now again, there are times that you just need someone to lean on, and there will be times that people you know will need you. But when you always choose to live in high-stress mode, you're not sexy.
It's time we take a good look at our lives, and realize that stress is not honorable, uncontrollable, or good. It harms you, it harms others, and it can serve as an awful ugly addiction that we refuse to believe can be managed. But it can, and it must be. I have started by making small choices here and there to take back control. Some of them were easy. Some of them have challenged me to rethink everything. But I'm starting to feel sexy again, as if I can be someone that acts more like a people magnet than repellent. And I feel like I know who's in control here, and it's not my job, my dissertation, or my travel schedule. And I know that stress cannot be linked to pride. Doing all of the things does not make me a superhero. It just makes me cranky.
So here's to a low-stress, high-choice, sexy December that I intend to enjoy to the fullest.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
The Forgotten Post
I started this post over a month ago, when I apparently had a few spare moments to reflect on life. But then I promptly forgot I had started it. I literally just posted my traditional birthday-ish post when I found this. I didn't want to just leave it behind., so I present to you, the forgotten birthday post.
---
It's usually around this time of year that I get a little reflective of the year gone by. What have I done with the 365 days since the celebration of my birth last year? What has this year done to me? And what is in store for next year? But first, let's look back.
If you'll recall, last year on my 29th birthday, I christened the year as the "Year of Go!" I wasn't sure why I had to dedicate it as such. It just felt appropriate. We can take a quick look back at the "Year of Go!'s" origins here.
Now that the "Year of Go" is drawing to a close, I've started to think back over all of the things that the year brought my way...the lessons learned, the accomplishments accomplished, the joys and challenges...
A few things have happened:
There are seasons. This season of going is not and cannot be a permanent state of being. There are many other seasons to come. Embrace each one to the extent that you can while you're in it. Strangely, there are always things you'll miss about the season before as you settle into a new one.
The condition of one's home is inversely related to the amount of one's responsibilities. Three jobs, a dissertation, a garden, a boyfriend, a few loyal friends...one messy house. Though I still find myself apologetic about the crumbs on the kitchen floor or the loose hairs everywhere in the bathroom, I am a little less cautious about allowing people in to discover it. Stacks and piles prove that someone is living a life in there. Pillows on the floor show that someone actually uses the couch for something sometimes. Shoes by the door display movement and activity. This is real life. And I've got real life all over my house right now.
Natural is okay. You don't have to be made up to go to Target. Stores accept you in flip flops and workout shorts. No one notices (or at least no one mentions) when you stop styling your hair everyday. In fact, let the record show that I recall blow drying my hair about twice this year. In the last year! Prior to that, there were about as many days in any given year that I would not have done my hair.
---
I feel that this post is a little lacking. I'm sure at the time I originally wrote it, I had far more lessons that I felt I had learned. But tonight, I'm content to just be, lessons or not. If I come up with more lessons from the year, perhaps I'll share them at another time. Until then, celebrate on, friends.
---
It's usually around this time of year that I get a little reflective of the year gone by. What have I done with the 365 days since the celebration of my birth last year? What has this year done to me? And what is in store for next year? But first, let's look back.
If you'll recall, last year on my 29th birthday, I christened the year as the "Year of Go!" I wasn't sure why I had to dedicate it as such. It just felt appropriate. We can take a quick look back at the "Year of Go!'s" origins here.
Now that the "Year of Go" is drawing to a close, I've started to think back over all of the things that the year brought my way...the lessons learned, the accomplishments accomplished, the joys and challenges...
A few things have happened:
I fell in love with this guy... Our first few months, we mainly just fought, but during the "Year of Go", we learned a lot about each others' hearts, how we communicate, where our passions lie, how we express ourselves. We calmed the heck down, learned to really talk, and grew closer together. Now we're pretty much inseparable...except for the 95 or so miles between us.I've learned a few things:
I gained a second family. Something funny happens when you fall in love with a person. You get his whole family, too. Adventures with the Ward family are never in short supply. And we continue to navigate the waters of work and personal lives intersecting, but I think of them as family. And depending on the situation, occasionally get introduced collectively with "the kids" which always makes me smile.
I got a new job. I was given the title Director of the First-Year Experience at UD. This would have been a far greater gift in the beginning had it been a stand alone position. I don't think anyone around ever really realized how difficult it would be to keep two full-time student activities positions and a new position all moving forward at the same time.
I finished coursework at Edgewood. I am now ABD and am working crazily to finish drafting my dissertation proposal. It seems crazy that another year has gone by, but it seems really crazy that a nearly three-year journey is hopefully soon to be ending.
There are seasons. This season of going is not and cannot be a permanent state of being. There are many other seasons to come. Embrace each one to the extent that you can while you're in it. Strangely, there are always things you'll miss about the season before as you settle into a new one.
The condition of one's home is inversely related to the amount of one's responsibilities. Three jobs, a dissertation, a garden, a boyfriend, a few loyal friends...one messy house. Though I still find myself apologetic about the crumbs on the kitchen floor or the loose hairs everywhere in the bathroom, I am a little less cautious about allowing people in to discover it. Stacks and piles prove that someone is living a life in there. Pillows on the floor show that someone actually uses the couch for something sometimes. Shoes by the door display movement and activity. This is real life. And I've got real life all over my house right now.
Natural is okay. You don't have to be made up to go to Target. Stores accept you in flip flops and workout shorts. No one notices (or at least no one mentions) when you stop styling your hair everyday. In fact, let the record show that I recall blow drying my hair about twice this year. In the last year! Prior to that, there were about as many days in any given year that I would not have done my hair.
---
I feel that this post is a little lacking. I'm sure at the time I originally wrote it, I had far more lessons that I felt I had learned. But tonight, I'm content to just be, lessons or not. If I come up with more lessons from the year, perhaps I'll share them at another time. Until then, celebrate on, friends.
The Year of Go Up and Went
Faithful followers (the few of you there may still be after a more than six month hiatus), there are a lot of things that are hard for me to believe.
It's hard to believe that another year has gone by, as marked by my recent milestone birthday.
It's hard to believe that I abandoned all personal writing to make room for writing of a more academic type.
It's hard to believe how very blessed my life is in every way.
This past weekend was such an amazing reminder of so much. I spent time looking into the eyes of the man that is shaping my dreams and future. I ate amazingly delicious foods. I ran and ran hard. I enjoyed the beauty of the great outdoors. I enjoyed not one, but two wonderful families. I sipped coffee and wine. I laughed. I cooked. I slept in. It. Was. Wonderful.
Year 29 was deemed the Year of Go. And boy did it ever. I blinked and it was gone. It came with a fair amount of good and bad. I was stressed. I was happy. I procrastinated. I rushed. I traveled. I wrote. I didn't hesitate. I didn't overthink. (At least I tried not to overthink.) Overall, it was a pretty good year. But it is gone. Fitting for the Year of Go, I think.
Year 30's name is Celebration. It's time to change gears. The Year of Go was about as fast I could have imagined it to be. Celebration will be different. It's not about going, pushing limits, or accomplishing lots of things. Celebration is about, well, celebrating. Stopping to intentionally cheer on life in all situations. It's about throwing a party for receiving advisor approval to send in some required paperwork for your dissertation. It's about an extra latte on the days that meetings go better than intended. Throwing up your hands in praise when you get a phone call from a loved one. Laughing at a bad joke. Encouraging others. Drawing loved ones in close. Hugs.
There may be bad days in Celebration. Even in bad days though, certainly there is something worth celebrating. Each day. But there will be many good days. And those will be fully celebrated, on purpose.
So, let's celebrate together, shall we? Let's encourage each other. Let's bring light to each others' lives. Let's love and cheer and laugh and hug and enjoy every single moment. That's the year of Celebration. Time to celebrate.
It's hard to believe that another year has gone by, as marked by my recent milestone birthday.
It's hard to believe that I abandoned all personal writing to make room for writing of a more academic type.
It's hard to believe how very blessed my life is in every way.
This past weekend was such an amazing reminder of so much. I spent time looking into the eyes of the man that is shaping my dreams and future. I ate amazingly delicious foods. I ran and ran hard. I enjoyed the beauty of the great outdoors. I enjoyed not one, but two wonderful families. I sipped coffee and wine. I laughed. I cooked. I slept in. It. Was. Wonderful.
Year 29 was deemed the Year of Go. And boy did it ever. I blinked and it was gone. It came with a fair amount of good and bad. I was stressed. I was happy. I procrastinated. I rushed. I traveled. I wrote. I didn't hesitate. I didn't overthink. (At least I tried not to overthink.) Overall, it was a pretty good year. But it is gone. Fitting for the Year of Go, I think.
Year 30's name is Celebration. It's time to change gears. The Year of Go was about as fast I could have imagined it to be. Celebration will be different. It's not about going, pushing limits, or accomplishing lots of things. Celebration is about, well, celebrating. Stopping to intentionally cheer on life in all situations. It's about throwing a party for receiving advisor approval to send in some required paperwork for your dissertation. It's about an extra latte on the days that meetings go better than intended. Throwing up your hands in praise when you get a phone call from a loved one. Laughing at a bad joke. Encouraging others. Drawing loved ones in close. Hugs.
There may be bad days in Celebration. Even in bad days though, certainly there is something worth celebrating. Each day. But there will be many good days. And those will be fully celebrated, on purpose.
So, let's celebrate together, shall we? Let's encourage each other. Let's bring light to each others' lives. Let's love and cheer and laugh and hug and enjoy every single moment. That's the year of Celebration. Time to celebrate.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
A Little Less
I've spent much of the last few years asking for more. More money. More responsibility. More dwelling space. More garden. More education. And I know beyond a doubt that there are seasons for more. And in the past five or so years, I've learned a lot about living with more. In fact, I feel like as I asked for more, God blessed me more. That is not to say that I asked for more money and He handed me excesses of cash, but rather if I wanted more responsibility, more work, more education, the avenues presented themselves clearly in order to receive more.
But humans have physical limitations. Oh, do we. And this spring semester, perhaps for the first time in a long time of asking for more, I have reached my limits. I work like crazy with a job filled with important responsibilities. I participate faithfully in the discipline of church and leadership there. I am nearly finished with my doctoral degree but have a dissertation to get writing. And I have a loving boyfriend who I adore. But, truth be told, I'm tired. With five weeks to go in the semester, I wonder how it's all going to fit, even for five more weeks. And in reality, it probably doesn't all fit.
So, my heart cries out with a different prayer, this time not for more of all of the things I've prayed so fervently for, but maybe a little less. For the first time I've really felt called to serve in ways that look like less even if they're really not. And for the first time, I think I'm starting to understand why. In my quest for more, I have actually had to experience less of many things along the way. Less relationships, less time for people I love, less community involvement, less personal reading, less physical activity, less reflection and prayer. These things are things God calls us to in life, taking care of our bodies, our hearts, and our beloved. And in my muchness, I have allowed these things to wither. Which has my whole person withering.
In order to experience more, perhaps for a while I need to ask for less. It's a concept that I hope I can move toward even in a busy season of life filled with muchness that can't be avoided for a short time. God blesses our hearts even beyond what we can know how to ask. And even through the stress and busy and muchness, He has blessed me with perhaps a bit of wisdom to feel the permission to ask for less. And hopefully I will soon learn that less really is more.
But humans have physical limitations. Oh, do we. And this spring semester, perhaps for the first time in a long time of asking for more, I have reached my limits. I work like crazy with a job filled with important responsibilities. I participate faithfully in the discipline of church and leadership there. I am nearly finished with my doctoral degree but have a dissertation to get writing. And I have a loving boyfriend who I adore. But, truth be told, I'm tired. With five weeks to go in the semester, I wonder how it's all going to fit, even for five more weeks. And in reality, it probably doesn't all fit.
So, my heart cries out with a different prayer, this time not for more of all of the things I've prayed so fervently for, but maybe a little less. For the first time I've really felt called to serve in ways that look like less even if they're really not. And for the first time, I think I'm starting to understand why. In my quest for more, I have actually had to experience less of many things along the way. Less relationships, less time for people I love, less community involvement, less personal reading, less physical activity, less reflection and prayer. These things are things God calls us to in life, taking care of our bodies, our hearts, and our beloved. And in my muchness, I have allowed these things to wither. Which has my whole person withering.
In order to experience more, perhaps for a while I need to ask for less. It's a concept that I hope I can move toward even in a busy season of life filled with muchness that can't be avoided for a short time. God blesses our hearts even beyond what we can know how to ask. And even through the stress and busy and muchness, He has blessed me with perhaps a bit of wisdom to feel the permission to ask for less. And hopefully I will soon learn that less really is more.
Wednesday, March 06, 2013
"Suck it up."
Today, I was being whiny. Well, actually the last few weeks I've been sort of whiny. I struggle some days with the routine that I've created for myself. Wake up early, work really hard, study really hard, go to bed late. Lather, rinse, repeat. Lately, as I've struggled to maintain such a routine, I've found myself getting increasingly down. Just tired. Just wanting a change of pace.
Sometimes when we get this way, we maybe need to be this way for a while. It's our person's way of notifying the brain and the heart that something isn't quite right, that a change is necessary. And after getting it all out, or making a real change, we feel better. Life gets brighter. We break routine and move on.
Sometimes when we get this way, God chooses to give us the "suck it up" talk. Well, maybe He doesn't actually use the words "suck it up." I don't remember seeing that exact phrase in the Bible anywhere recently. I feel like today I received a clear "suck it up, Lindsey," moment. Do I have a lot on my plate right now? Yes. Is the routine generally not a lot of fun? Maybe so. Did I ask for this life and the career and the school and the relationships that are all happening at once? Yes. Did I ask for even more than this? Yes! And why did I ask for more than this? Why did I ask for a crazy, tight, ridiculous, busy life filled with love and learning and working and helping? Because my heart knew it was me. Tonight, I received one more thing, one more thing that I specifically asked for, that I took specific action to receive, that I moved toward not away from. And it's my time to decide. Do I really want more? Or am I going to be a whiny baby that wants less? Less than what I'm capable of, less than what my heart craves?
This is exactly what the Year of Go is all about. Not about pushing myself to the limits of human ability and sanity (though there's certainly enough of that, too). It's about being grateful for what I've been given. About pursuing opportunities then not running away from them when they actually present themselves.It's about not over-thinking, not over-whining, not fearing, not questioning... Just going. Sucking it up. And going.
I've made my choice. I'm not a little girl. I'm not an incapable, inexperienced, inconsistent wild flailer, freaking out at every little thing. I'm a professional. I'm good at what I do. I can handle more than I am handling now. And I invite it. Deep breath, it's go time.
Sometimes when we get this way, we maybe need to be this way for a while. It's our person's way of notifying the brain and the heart that something isn't quite right, that a change is necessary. And after getting it all out, or making a real change, we feel better. Life gets brighter. We break routine and move on.
Sometimes when we get this way, God chooses to give us the "suck it up" talk. Well, maybe He doesn't actually use the words "suck it up." I don't remember seeing that exact phrase in the Bible anywhere recently. I feel like today I received a clear "suck it up, Lindsey," moment. Do I have a lot on my plate right now? Yes. Is the routine generally not a lot of fun? Maybe so. Did I ask for this life and the career and the school and the relationships that are all happening at once? Yes. Did I ask for even more than this? Yes! And why did I ask for more than this? Why did I ask for a crazy, tight, ridiculous, busy life filled with love and learning and working and helping? Because my heart knew it was me. Tonight, I received one more thing, one more thing that I specifically asked for, that I took specific action to receive, that I moved toward not away from. And it's my time to decide. Do I really want more? Or am I going to be a whiny baby that wants less? Less than what I'm capable of, less than what my heart craves?
This is exactly what the Year of Go is all about. Not about pushing myself to the limits of human ability and sanity (though there's certainly enough of that, too). It's about being grateful for what I've been given. About pursuing opportunities then not running away from them when they actually present themselves.It's about not over-thinking, not over-whining, not fearing, not questioning... Just going. Sucking it up. And going.
I've made my choice. I'm not a little girl. I'm not an incapable, inexperienced, inconsistent wild flailer, freaking out at every little thing. I'm a professional. I'm good at what I do. I can handle more than I am handling now. And I invite it. Deep breath, it's go time.
Monday, February 25, 2013
I'm glad I didn't know you then.
As we sit around the living room at Derrick's parents' house, the conversation turns to work. It usually does with three of us working at the same institution. Talk casually turns to history, great bosses, and personal experiences throughout our short history at UD. A flood of memories come rushing through my brain as we talk, and in my usual far-too-candid way, I recount memories of a different time, a different me when I was younger, louder, bolder, and I was sure "right-er". Memories of me yelling at coworkers, of slammed doors and planned escape routes, of plots of hostile takeovers. These stories came forth as if I was reading a fiction novel aloud.
"I think I'm glad I didn't know you then," she says. Annalee always has a way with honest words. Then, with a little more reflection she added, "It's sort of amazing that you didn't get fired."
It is sort of amazing. The department was in turmoil, relationships were frayed, we were all overworked, under-appreciated, and dealing with more stress that any one year should throw at you. And in the middle of it all, there I was. Yelling, throwing fits, slamming doors, sneaking around, deliberately disobeying. I played the newbie card a lot ("I didn't know. I'm new still."). I played the arrogance card a lot ("I'm right, you're wrong. Deal with it."). Looking back, I wonder who that person was. Where did she come from? How did she get that way?
Times have changed. People have come and gone. And somehow, five years later, I'm still here. And somehow, I've changed. In the growing up and the growing old, I have not completely lost my fire, and the propensity for the occasional tantrum still lives in my belly. I have not completely grown wise, as the shoulder angel and demon still whisper arguments of proper behavior and decisions in my ears. I have not completely figured it all out yet. In fact, perhaps the opposite has happened - the older I get, the less sure I am about how I right I might be.
I look back on many a chicken scratch tucked away in old notebooks, unpublished blog entries still in draft form hidden from view, and the memories of what seems now like a former existence altogether. And one theme sticks out. Grace. Oh the grace of patient coworkers, of caring bosses, of family and friends around me. I could have been beaten into submission, snuffed out of power and privilege, left to learn lessons on my own in the cold corners of the harsh world. But I wasn't. Somehow, I was nurtured. I was cared for. I was encouraged. I was given second (and third and fourth) chances.
Part of me wants to erase the ugly bit of personal history. Part of me wants to sweep it under a rug or hide it in a dark closet. I wish it wouldn't have happened that way. "I'm glad I didn't know you then," cuts to a person's innermost parts because I can't separate the Lindsey of then with the Lindsey of now. But God's grace is lavishly evident in my life, shown through the people all around me, through the second chances, through the growing, and forgiveness, and relationships, and joy. Without the past as it was, I can't exist as I am. And with that knowledge, I can humbly own my history, even though it wasn't pretty or pleasant, because without it God might not have started growing me. And grow me He has, and is, and will. I bear His image, though imperfectly, and mostly through the lens of grace, and through the growth that only a good and loving God can provide.
"I think I'm glad I didn't know you then," she says. Annalee always has a way with honest words. Then, with a little more reflection she added, "It's sort of amazing that you didn't get fired."
It is sort of amazing. The department was in turmoil, relationships were frayed, we were all overworked, under-appreciated, and dealing with more stress that any one year should throw at you. And in the middle of it all, there I was. Yelling, throwing fits, slamming doors, sneaking around, deliberately disobeying. I played the newbie card a lot ("I didn't know. I'm new still."). I played the arrogance card a lot ("I'm right, you're wrong. Deal with it."). Looking back, I wonder who that person was. Where did she come from? How did she get that way?
Times have changed. People have come and gone. And somehow, five years later, I'm still here. And somehow, I've changed. In the growing up and the growing old, I have not completely lost my fire, and the propensity for the occasional tantrum still lives in my belly. I have not completely grown wise, as the shoulder angel and demon still whisper arguments of proper behavior and decisions in my ears. I have not completely figured it all out yet. In fact, perhaps the opposite has happened - the older I get, the less sure I am about how I right I might be.
I look back on many a chicken scratch tucked away in old notebooks, unpublished blog entries still in draft form hidden from view, and the memories of what seems now like a former existence altogether. And one theme sticks out. Grace. Oh the grace of patient coworkers, of caring bosses, of family and friends around me. I could have been beaten into submission, snuffed out of power and privilege, left to learn lessons on my own in the cold corners of the harsh world. But I wasn't. Somehow, I was nurtured. I was cared for. I was encouraged. I was given second (and third and fourth) chances.
Part of me wants to erase the ugly bit of personal history. Part of me wants to sweep it under a rug or hide it in a dark closet. I wish it wouldn't have happened that way. "I'm glad I didn't know you then," cuts to a person's innermost parts because I can't separate the Lindsey of then with the Lindsey of now. But God's grace is lavishly evident in my life, shown through the people all around me, through the second chances, through the growing, and forgiveness, and relationships, and joy. Without the past as it was, I can't exist as I am. And with that knowledge, I can humbly own my history, even though it wasn't pretty or pleasant, because without it God might not have started growing me. And grow me He has, and is, and will. I bear His image, though imperfectly, and mostly through the lens of grace, and through the growth that only a good and loving God can provide.
Tuesday, February 05, 2013
Embracing Adulthood: Sharing Lessons I Learned the Hard Way
Today, I had a heart-to-heart with a few students, and as I was talking to them, I found myself pausing, thinking, "Am I talking to a younger me right now?"
I started listening to myself, really listening to what I was telling these young women in my office. And after they left, I sort of chuckled. The very things I was telling them were the very things that others had told me only a few years before. I envisioned myself in similar situations as these young women faced and realized that I would have probably handled things how they had just a few short years ago. But now, there's the whole new perspective that I view the world with, a new attitude, maybe even a thin layer of wisdom that keeps me from repeating (most of) the mistakes of my youth.
A year or two ago, I found myself in this place that I didn't really want to be. Not quite young but not quiet grown up. Not quite wise but not really a fool. Not quite mature but not completely immature either. I watched the real grown-ups around me making even-keeled decisions as I flipped out, remaining calm when I wanted to shout. As I made mistakes, stumbled and staggered through the not-quite-adulthood I had found myself in, I grew more and more frustrated just wanting to be "there", arriving at full, mastered adulthood.
Today, I'm still certainly not the sage, calm, even-keeled adult that I dream of one day becoming, but my how I've grown. And continue to grow. Today was just such a clear reminder of that, that it's time to embrace the wisdom-seeking adult that I'm becoming. I guess sometimes it takes a little-you in front of you to show you how not-so-little you are.
I started listening to myself, really listening to what I was telling these young women in my office. And after they left, I sort of chuckled. The very things I was telling them were the very things that others had told me only a few years before. I envisioned myself in similar situations as these young women faced and realized that I would have probably handled things how they had just a few short years ago. But now, there's the whole new perspective that I view the world with, a new attitude, maybe even a thin layer of wisdom that keeps me from repeating (most of) the mistakes of my youth.
A year or two ago, I found myself in this place that I didn't really want to be. Not quite young but not quiet grown up. Not quite wise but not really a fool. Not quite mature but not completely immature either. I watched the real grown-ups around me making even-keeled decisions as I flipped out, remaining calm when I wanted to shout. As I made mistakes, stumbled and staggered through the not-quite-adulthood I had found myself in, I grew more and more frustrated just wanting to be "there", arriving at full, mastered adulthood.
Today, I'm still certainly not the sage, calm, even-keeled adult that I dream of one day becoming, but my how I've grown. And continue to grow. Today was just such a clear reminder of that, that it's time to embrace the wisdom-seeking adult that I'm becoming. I guess sometimes it takes a little-you in front of you to show you how not-so-little you are.
Monday, February 04, 2013
Finding the who-I-am in the what-I-do
I have entered an interesting season in this Year of Go, a season of discipline. This semester is gearing up to be one of the most challenging of my life, but I look ahead with confidence that what needs to be done can get done.
Am I going to be working a lot of hours? Undeniably. Am I actually going to be working two, maybe three peoples' jobs at some point? Certainly. Am I going to still be a full-time doctoral student working on both a content course and the beginnings of a dissertation? Hopefully. Will I move a few professionals from multiple office spaces to a new office home? Sure thing. All the while making students, faculty, and staff members believe that my job and life is easy? *Breaking a sweat now* but sure. And making sure to continue to pay attention to the few shreds of relationships I have left? I will, yes.
My coping mechanism for this monster ahead of me? Discipline. I think there are probably many ways to handle such a year. Some people would drop commitments right and left. Some people would may run away. Or curl up in the fetal position in a dark corner somewhere. I am trying to be proactive. A new schedule is emerging that will define my life pretty distinctly in the next six months or more.
6am-alarm
7am-homework
8:30am-work
12pm-lunch
12:30pm-homework
evening-run, homework, personal reading
10:30pm-get ready for bed
11pm-sleep
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
I've also given up watching television. Let's face it, I'm generally not all that entertained anyway when it's on. It's expensive. And it's a HUGE time suck. Gone. And, for some reason, I've added a few additional disciplines: personal reading and a running class.
I was asked yesterday, "What are you learning through all of this new-found discipline?" and at the time, I didn't really have a good answer. But today, on the drive home, I think I realized what I was learning: who I am and what I'm made to do. This may sound a bit lofty and somewhat ridiculous. What could I possibly learn about who I am through a crazy season of overcommitment and military-like precision? Our lives are defined by the what-we-do of everyday. The what-we-do forms us into who we are. When we consume our time with junk TV and violent video games, those things become a part of who we are. When we fill our time with volunteer work, hobbies, work, beautiful music, the great outdoors...the what-we-do forms the who-we-are. This season, intentionally or not, is shaping who I am becoming. I don't know how exactly to articulate the who-I-am just yet in relation to the what-I-do, but at the very least, I know that this is fueled by an unquenchable passion to love God and love people. And the what-I-do of everyday, the constant alarms and meeting reminders, the book clubs, the homework, the time put into it all, is creating a better me for God's glory.
Bring on the discipline, the structure, and the fullness. I rejoice in the opportunity to learn who God has created me to be and what He's created me to do through this journey. And now, my alarm says its time to get ready for bed. 6am comes around pretty quickly.
Am I going to be working a lot of hours? Undeniably. Am I actually going to be working two, maybe three peoples' jobs at some point? Certainly. Am I going to still be a full-time doctoral student working on both a content course and the beginnings of a dissertation? Hopefully. Will I move a few professionals from multiple office spaces to a new office home? Sure thing. All the while making students, faculty, and staff members believe that my job and life is easy? *Breaking a sweat now* but sure. And making sure to continue to pay attention to the few shreds of relationships I have left? I will, yes.
My coping mechanism for this monster ahead of me? Discipline. I think there are probably many ways to handle such a year. Some people would drop commitments right and left. Some people would may run away. Or curl up in the fetal position in a dark corner somewhere. I am trying to be proactive. A new schedule is emerging that will define my life pretty distinctly in the next six months or more.
6am-alarm
7am-homework
8:30am-work
12pm-lunch
12:30pm-homework
evening-run, homework, personal reading
10:30pm-get ready for bed
11pm-sleep
Lather. Rinse. Repeat.
I've also given up watching television. Let's face it, I'm generally not all that entertained anyway when it's on. It's expensive. And it's a HUGE time suck. Gone. And, for some reason, I've added a few additional disciplines: personal reading and a running class.
I was asked yesterday, "What are you learning through all of this new-found discipline?" and at the time, I didn't really have a good answer. But today, on the drive home, I think I realized what I was learning: who I am and what I'm made to do. This may sound a bit lofty and somewhat ridiculous. What could I possibly learn about who I am through a crazy season of overcommitment and military-like precision? Our lives are defined by the what-we-do of everyday. The what-we-do forms us into who we are. When we consume our time with junk TV and violent video games, those things become a part of who we are. When we fill our time with volunteer work, hobbies, work, beautiful music, the great outdoors...the what-we-do forms the who-we-are. This season, intentionally or not, is shaping who I am becoming. I don't know how exactly to articulate the who-I-am just yet in relation to the what-I-do, but at the very least, I know that this is fueled by an unquenchable passion to love God and love people. And the what-I-do of everyday, the constant alarms and meeting reminders, the book clubs, the homework, the time put into it all, is creating a better me for God's glory.
Bring on the discipline, the structure, and the fullness. I rejoice in the opportunity to learn who God has created me to be and what He's created me to do through this journey. And now, my alarm says its time to get ready for bed. 6am comes around pretty quickly.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Embracing Adulthood: Coloring within the Lines
Recently I asked for some honest feedback on a project I was working on. And I got it. The feedback was, sometimes you just need to color within the lines. For those that know me well, you know that I'm not your usual perfectly colored picture in a neat and tidy coloring book. I'm more liked ripped out pages plastered all over the wall after being doused with color going every which way. Well, maybe parts of me are like that.
Lately, I've been observing those that don't necessarily color within the lines. And I've realized something. Generally speaking, this coloring outside of the lines is not so positive. In fact, most of the time, the color that falls outside the lines is viewed as inappropriate, maybe a little crazy, a little out of line. Generally, even though not positive, I think it pretty harmless most of the time. But the thoughts that people think of those that frequent beyond the borders with their crayons are not the thoughts I want people thinking of me.
What I've learned over the last few weeks is that there is a time and a place for everything. And knowing the difference makes one at least appear wise. Failing to know the difference creates the appearance of a fool.
In my personal life, I think it sometimes okay to act or look a slight fool. I don't love to make that a guiding principle, per se, but I think it's okay there. To giggle at something that only I think is funny. To stop dead in my path just to watch a bird go by. To be spontaneous or slightly unpredictable. All of these things are perfectly fine and perfectly outside the lines. But to blurt out thoughts in a meeting. To write an inappropriate or strange letter (in anger or even-keeled). To be the true lose cannon making unpredictable decisions. These are the professional colorings that end up outside the lines that I want desperately to avoid. My professional coloring book needs to be neat, tidy, appealing, perhaps even predictable in order to be truly wise.
This week, I have some very important professional writing to do, and though I want to stand out, to be unique, I do not want to be foolish. So, I will create something within the lines. Not to be cookie cutter, bland, or completely usual, but to be, or at least appear to be, what I hope people see in me as a professional: wise.
Lately, I've been observing those that don't necessarily color within the lines. And I've realized something. Generally speaking, this coloring outside of the lines is not so positive. In fact, most of the time, the color that falls outside the lines is viewed as inappropriate, maybe a little crazy, a little out of line. Generally, even though not positive, I think it pretty harmless most of the time. But the thoughts that people think of those that frequent beyond the borders with their crayons are not the thoughts I want people thinking of me.
What I've learned over the last few weeks is that there is a time and a place for everything. And knowing the difference makes one at least appear wise. Failing to know the difference creates the appearance of a fool.
In my personal life, I think it sometimes okay to act or look a slight fool. I don't love to make that a guiding principle, per se, but I think it's okay there. To giggle at something that only I think is funny. To stop dead in my path just to watch a bird go by. To be spontaneous or slightly unpredictable. All of these things are perfectly fine and perfectly outside the lines. But to blurt out thoughts in a meeting. To write an inappropriate or strange letter (in anger or even-keeled). To be the true lose cannon making unpredictable decisions. These are the professional colorings that end up outside the lines that I want desperately to avoid. My professional coloring book needs to be neat, tidy, appealing, perhaps even predictable in order to be truly wise.
This week, I have some very important professional writing to do, and though I want to stand out, to be unique, I do not want to be foolish. So, I will create something within the lines. Not to be cookie cutter, bland, or completely usual, but to be, or at least appear to be, what I hope people see in me as a professional: wise.
The "Year of Go" is...Going.
I'm just about three months into the "Year of Go", and I just need to take a few minutes to ponder the following question: Is this year real?
I just got home from 11 days in Key West, Florida, in the middle of an Iowa cold snap in January. I spent those 11 days traveling, teaching, and experiencing life with students in a subtropical location crammed full of every possible type of adventure thinkable. And although the trip wasn't perfect, it was sort of surreal. I mean, think about it. The university now only allowed me to go on an all expenses paid trip to Key West, they actually PAID me to do it! Sure, there were plenty of responsibilities. I had to teach history lessons, go running daily with the students, encourage participation and fitness, watch presentations, and help make travel arrangements, but come on. It just doesn't seem right. And though technically I agreed to go before the Year of Go began, it definitely fits into the Go theme just fine...especially because I have spring orientation day tomorrow at work followed by a drive to Madison, class on Saturday, and the rest of the weekend with Derrick. Meh, that's what the Year of Go is for, right?
Continuing on the Go theme, this weekend you may find me cross country skiing if it snows a little more; next week begins a new semester at UD filled, undoubtedly, with surprises, long hours, and many new opportunities; and in early March you'll find me representing UD at a conference discussing vocation on college campuses around the nation. Later on in the year, I'll be juggling a few new and some old extra job responsibilities while discovering my dissertation topic, and perhaps just for some added excitement, inquiring about a new professional opportunity. Oh, and I'm planning on trying my first (and hopefully second and third) triathlon race, maybe doing another half marathon, and taking a running class.
Overwhelmed? Nah. Who needs to be overwhelmed? This Year of Go is turning out to be quite incredible. As long as I cut out stuff that wastes my time (TV is the first thing to go), keep up with adequate sleep (it's almost bedtime already!), and continue to count my blessings everyday, then there's nothing to fear, no need to panic. In this Year of Go, all I need to do is...Go!
I just got home from 11 days in Key West, Florida, in the middle of an Iowa cold snap in January. I spent those 11 days traveling, teaching, and experiencing life with students in a subtropical location crammed full of every possible type of adventure thinkable. And although the trip wasn't perfect, it was sort of surreal. I mean, think about it. The university now only allowed me to go on an all expenses paid trip to Key West, they actually PAID me to do it! Sure, there were plenty of responsibilities. I had to teach history lessons, go running daily with the students, encourage participation and fitness, watch presentations, and help make travel arrangements, but come on. It just doesn't seem right. And though technically I agreed to go before the Year of Go began, it definitely fits into the Go theme just fine...especially because I have spring orientation day tomorrow at work followed by a drive to Madison, class on Saturday, and the rest of the weekend with Derrick. Meh, that's what the Year of Go is for, right?
Continuing on the Go theme, this weekend you may find me cross country skiing if it snows a little more; next week begins a new semester at UD filled, undoubtedly, with surprises, long hours, and many new opportunities; and in early March you'll find me representing UD at a conference discussing vocation on college campuses around the nation. Later on in the year, I'll be juggling a few new and some old extra job responsibilities while discovering my dissertation topic, and perhaps just for some added excitement, inquiring about a new professional opportunity. Oh, and I'm planning on trying my first (and hopefully second and third) triathlon race, maybe doing another half marathon, and taking a running class.
Overwhelmed? Nah. Who needs to be overwhelmed? This Year of Go is turning out to be quite incredible. As long as I cut out stuff that wastes my time (TV is the first thing to go), keep up with adequate sleep (it's almost bedtime already!), and continue to count my blessings everyday, then there's nothing to fear, no need to panic. In this Year of Go, all I need to do is...Go!
Wednesday, January 02, 2013
Embracing Adulthood: The Proper Reaction
Since I was able to articulate the fact that somewhere in 2012, I was able to find my adult self, I figured 2013 would be a good time to write about it.
Today, back at work after a long holiday, I had the opportunity for an adult moment, and I seized it! I received an email about midday from my favorite professor at Edgewood who was scheduled to teach my next course. She explained that she would no longer be teaching the course, and that an adjunct had been selected to replace her.
Lindsey's usual reaction: (In an unnecessarily loud voice) "What?! What the heck?! I've already started working ahead! I've read textbook chapters! I HATE adjuncts! This will ruin everything! This whole course is worthless!" This would have gone on for a few minutes, maybe a half an hour. Ranting and raving is sort of my specialty.
Lindsey's reaction today: (Quietly, to myself) "Well, this isn't ideal, and I am disappointed that I won't have my favorite professor this semester. But hey, now I can take a few more days to enjoy not having to study. And hopefully she has our best interest in mind with this adjunct." Then I moved on to other things.
Truth be told, the reaction sort of surprised even me. Usually my flair for the dramatic leaves me kicking and screaming, even if just for a moment, over every little thing. This should have been one of those things. But it wasn't. I was controlled, somewhat even-keeled, and I didn't dwell. Now, I'm not assuming that this will be my regular reaction to all circumstances. (Some circumstances just need a good fit pitched every now and again.) But I do think that taking a moment to pause and reflect the significance of this tiny moment helps me to realize that maybe this transition into adulthood isn't all just talk. Maybe I actually am a grownup.
Today, back at work after a long holiday, I had the opportunity for an adult moment, and I seized it! I received an email about midday from my favorite professor at Edgewood who was scheduled to teach my next course. She explained that she would no longer be teaching the course, and that an adjunct had been selected to replace her.
Lindsey's usual reaction: (In an unnecessarily loud voice) "What?! What the heck?! I've already started working ahead! I've read textbook chapters! I HATE adjuncts! This will ruin everything! This whole course is worthless!" This would have gone on for a few minutes, maybe a half an hour. Ranting and raving is sort of my specialty.
Lindsey's reaction today: (Quietly, to myself) "Well, this isn't ideal, and I am disappointed that I won't have my favorite professor this semester. But hey, now I can take a few more days to enjoy not having to study. And hopefully she has our best interest in mind with this adjunct." Then I moved on to other things.
Truth be told, the reaction sort of surprised even me. Usually my flair for the dramatic leaves me kicking and screaming, even if just for a moment, over every little thing. This should have been one of those things. But it wasn't. I was controlled, somewhat even-keeled, and I didn't dwell. Now, I'm not assuming that this will be my regular reaction to all circumstances. (Some circumstances just need a good fit pitched every now and again.) But I do think that taking a moment to pause and reflect the significance of this tiny moment helps me to realize that maybe this transition into adulthood isn't all just talk. Maybe I actually am a grownup.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)