Comparison is the thief of joy.

I grew up in dance, so a lot of my memories occur in a room with mirrored walls. It's not a foreign concept to me and it's not something I ever thought twice about as a young dancer. Fast forward 10 years and my relationship with the mirror is very different. I have a very funny relationship with the mirror, like many girls do. I try my best to avoid it all together, but when I do use it to look at an outfit or put on my makeup, I tend to get stuck. I find myself staring at a reflection that may or may not actually match what others see. Some days I can brush it off and move on. And some days I find myself sitting in the floor in front of my full length mirror weeping with frustration. I went through a period where I was obsessed with my distorted reflection. I'd catch myself staring at the reflection in store windows as I'd jog by or in the rear view mirror of my car. I followed myself everywhere I went.

Recently I've been enjoying exercising at Pure Barre. It has been so good for me and has helped me to appreciate my body for what it can do. The room at Pure Barre is set up a lot like a dance class and has ballet bars…and mirrored walls. Most classes I'm able to secure my spot in the back of the room farthest from the mirror, which is the perfect spot for me. It allows me to focus on myself and block out distractions. During class I find a spot on the floor to focus on and occasionally check the mirrors to make adjustments to my form.

Today I decided to face the dreaded mirror wall and make eye contact with myself during class. I think I spent about 45 out of the 55 minute class comparing myself to the other girls and thinking terribly mean things about myself. I honestly don't think I focused on my actual workout at all. I walked away feeling defeated and deflated. I love my 55 minutes of Pure Barre and usually walk away feeling stronger and with a sense of accomplishment. How could I let the mirror steal that from me? How could I, once again, let comparison steal my joy? How often do we let our opinions of ourselves detract from being present? More often than I’d like.

So tomorrow, as I return to my next class, I will resume my spot in the back of the room and focus on moving my body and appreciating it for its strength and resiliency. I will spend those 55 minutes blocking out the negativity and stressors of the day. And I will walk away with a sense of accomplishment and strength. Because I deserve at least those 55 minutes, and I refuse to let comparison steal my joy!

The Valentines Day when I almost got abandoned...

Valentines day has never been my favorite holiday. For the most part, it’s a reminder that I’m very single. Superficially, it’s a reminder that I have no one to buy me flowers or chocolates, but deep down, I think Valentines day is actually hard because love is a hard emotion. We were created on this earth from love to give love and be loved. And on a day that celebrates being loved by a significant other, it’s hard to remember that there are other ways to be loved. However, since Valentines day of 2009, I have been reminded that love shows itself in funny ways. Let me paint you the picture:

It was my sophomore year in college and I was struggling physically, mentally, and emotionally. My friends stood by me, prayed over me, and held my hand through so many difficult days and nights. By February of that year, things were not getting better and my support system was at the end of their rope. So with projects, papers, and commitments looming overhead, 3 friends dropped everything they had, packed bags, and put me in a car to drive me to Brevard, NC to find some hope. At the time, I remember feeling blindsided and scared and confused and angry and exhausted (in hindsight, I laugh at the pit stops at Chick-fil-a for a computer plug in or the house tours from Sadie). Their master plan didn’t work out, but that’s really not what mattered in the moment. In the moment I was reminded that love comes in so many forms, whether it be from a significant other or from best friends who drop everything to show they care.

One year after the Brevard incident, we got an e-mail from one of the friends. This is what it read:

“A year ago today, four girls dropped everything they were doing, took off work, skipped class, neglected homework, gave up plans, packed up their stuff and got into a car on its way to Brevard.  Each of us made sacrifices that Friday afternoon, knowing that while we would have to deal the consequences later, none of them would compare to the love we had for one girl and the desire each of us had to do whatever it would take to help her.  In those 24 hours, I think each of us realized what it really meant to love and be loved and what it meant to have friends who really cared for each other, more than any one girl could do in her own strength, through God who cares for us more than we will ever be able to fathom. This trip is one that will stay on our hearts for a lifetime.  A time when we laughed and cried, prayed to God in thanksgiving and in fear, seeking direction and purpose for what we were doing. Here's to learning what love really is on a Valentine's Day that was maybe not ideal but one where God really showed us His abounding love and how to overflow that onto others.  Here's to the pain that each of us felt for each other, for the things we were going through.  Here's to the sacrifices we made, sacrifices that some might have called irresponsible, but sacrifices we knew were out of a care so deep none of us could even describe it, not then, not now.”

So every year, on Valentines day, when all couples are reminiscing about their relationships, I take a moment to remember how my friends kidnapped me, drove me to the mountains, and threatened to abandon me with a hippie named Sadie.

In all seriousness, I make sure to read these words every year on this date. To remind myself of how far I have come. And to remind myself what love can look like if you let it in. I am forever thankful and forever changed by a group of friends who helped remind me that I was worth loving.

 

Welcome to the rest of your life.

When I was younger, I had a picture in my head of what my life would look like when I was older. Now that I am older, my life is nothing like I imagined. I imagined that by 26, I’d be happily married, or at least engaged, with the thought of children on the not-so-far horizon. And yet, I’m 26 and the closest thing I have to a relationship is my dog. I definitely thought I’d have my life a little more together than this. I was talking about this with someone today and this is how the conversation went:

M: Is this something you want to be doing for the rest of your life?

B: No. I don’t think so…
M: So why are you doing it now?
B: Well, uhhh, umm, I don’t know. I wanna be doing it now. I guess. Maybe.
M: Well, the rest of your life is right now. What are you waiting for?
B: Ugh.

It’s something you hear all the time, but it really hit me hard today. The rest of your life is right now. There’s no before and after. There’s no waiting for the perfect moment. Life is happening right now and when we deny ourselves of living in the moment, we deny ourselves of the best possible future version of ourselves. It’s human nature, or at least MY nature, to procrastinate and rationalize (I could get a gold medal for rationalizing). “I’m tired today, I’ll do it tomorrow. I’m busy this week, but maybe I’ll start next week. There’s a lot going on in my life right now, so it’s not a good time.” All excuses that put things off. We can continue to put things off, but to be completely honest, that doesn’t really help anything. There will never be a perfect moment and if it’s something really hard that I’m putting off, it’s gonna be hard now and it’s gonna be hard later. But there is beauty (and a lot of anxiety and fear) in doing something hard and coming out on the other side.

Ultimately, we are not promised tomorrow. So don’t let “the rest of your life” start after you lose a few more pounds or have a little more time or get a little more rest. Whether it’s what I want it to look like or not, it’s my life and it’s happening right now.

 

Choices, choices, choices.

“The decision not to choose is, in fact, a choice.”

I have heard many different versions of this same sentiment at some of the most pivotal moments in my life. And every time this statement is met with a giant sigh. For someone who likes things to be black and white, you’d think I’d have an easy time making decisions. But I don’t. And yet every day is filled with a million little decisions, some more important than others. For instance, every day you decide to get out of bed. I know for the majority of us with jobs or families or obligations, it doesn’t feel like much of a choice, but when it comes down to it, you make the decision, every morning, to get out of bed. Or not. For me, that’s usually a minor decision. A no brainer. A more complicated decision for me comes later in the day. Do I eat now or wait until later? Do I eat this or that? Should I follow my emotions or my logic? For me it is a fight of whose voice will win. Will the distorted thoughts convince me to take a step in one direction, or will my logical thoughts allow me to take a step in a different direction? Every day decisions like this have to be made, and honestly, it has gotten easier, but has yet to be one of those no-brainer type thoughts.

Every day I feel like I’m straddling a line. I feel like one of those cartoon characters with a little angel on one shoulder and a little devil on the other. Often I find myself trying to rationalize my decisions to people. “Well, I didn’t do this because…” and often that is met with “You chose not to. You had a choice, although it may not have been easy, and you made a choice in which direction to go.” Ouch. I think sometimes we like to believe that life is a series of events that happen to us, when in reality, for the most part we are responsible for the choices that make up our life (the fact that I just wrote that sentence makes me feel nauseous).

Moment of vulnerability: this is my bathroom currently.

A while ago, I decided to give up my scale. My plan was to decorate it with encouraging thoughts and then smash it to pieces. I decorated it with motivational sayings and words of encouragement, but when it came time to smash and trash, I panicked. The new problem became that I could not bring myself to step on this now “motivational” scale every day. It felt hypocritical. So I did what any sane person would do (kidding), and bought a second scale. These two scales sit next to each other on my bathroom floor and every morning I make the choice to step on the one where I can see the number, or step on the one where I can’t. Every morning, I am faced with a literal black and white decision on which path I want to take. In reality, I somehow want the best of both worlds, which is not actually an option. I do whatever it takes to not have to make those hard decisions. However, it just keeps coming back to me. A decision not to choose is a choice in itself.

So my goal for the New Year is this: I do not promise to make the best choices every day. That’s not a promise anyone can keep. What I can promise, is that each day, as I make my decisions throughout the day, I will be conscious of the fact that I am making my choices, whether they are good or bad. I will try to remember that I am responsible for my choices.

 As my friend Laura said, “you can go through life straddling the line. But that is not a kick ass life. That’s a life of compromise & mediocrity & I want more.”

 

Authentically Me.

“Well I have to hold back sometimes because if I were fully me, I’d be too much for people to handle. But you have to be open and honest with people too, because that’s how connections are made!”

“It sounds very strategic…”

And then the question was asked, “What would it mean to be your authentic self? To be totally, completely, 100% Brooke.”

What would it mean to be my authentic self? Honestly, I’m not quite sure. Every once in a while, I see glimpses. When I confess a struggle to a friend over coffee. Or when I allow myself to cry instead of taking a nap. Or when I’m lying on my parents couch belly laughing to a stupid TV show with my best friend. Most of the time, I don’t really know who my authentic self is. Maybe that’s part of being a twenty-something. Or maybe that’s part of being a human. I don’t know. But I do know who I want the authentic me to be.

I want to be confident. I want to be caring & kind & compassionate & recognize that I can be all of these things and still say “no” sometimes. I want to be loved. Not because of what I look like, or my accomplishments, but because of who I am. I want to be a reliable, trustworthy, & loyal friend. I want to be fun, while still maintaining my morals and boundaries. I want to be able to love without fear. I want to be okay with being alone. I want to be someone who is able to be hopeful in all circumstances. I want to be independent, and yet not afraid to ask for help. I want to be a mother. I want to be a mother whose children never doubt how loved they are. I want to love myself so that I never doubt how loved I am. I want to be a woman of faith. I want to rely on God and be able to fully trust His promises. I want to be excited about my future & learn from my past. I want to feel acceptable & accepted. By myself and by others.

So maybe I don’t know exactly who my authentic self is right now. But I know who I want to be, and that's gotta count for something.

Grace in the "&"

Right now the semicolon project is getting a lot of attention in the media, which is fantastic!

However, throughout my journey over the past year, there is another symbol that has had a profound impact on me. The ampersand. &. The word “and”. Very often in everyday conversation, we find ourselves using the word “but”. Example: “I’m tired, but I got plenty of sleep last night.” (yes, that’s the first example I could think of). By saying “but”, we completely discredit the first part of the sentence. The whole meaning sounds totally different if we say “I’m tired, AND I got plenty of sleep last night.” It shows that the 2 things can coexist. I know it sounds silly, but if you think about it in everyday life, it actually makes a lot of sense.

“And” is actually a really tricky concept for me because I have a hard time with black and white thinking. I tend to think in extremes; that things either have to be good or bad, right or wrong, big or small. So the idea that there is a grey area and that things can be good AND bad at the same time has been a big learning process for me. But because of AND, you can be brave and afraid; exhausted and motivated; scared and excited. You don't have to live with "or". You are free to feel whatever you feel, sometimes even all at once!

So where does the concept of grace come in? I once heard someone say, “there is grace in the “and”’. I am now learning what that means and what that looks like in my life. Travis Stewart said, “there are many ANDs in life. You can be terrified of peanut butter AND eat it anyway. You can be in your eating disorder AND still be loved by the Father.”
 

That is the definition of grace, played out in a real life scenario.

 

The actual definition of grace is this:

Grace: undeserved, unmerited, unearned, favor.

So when there is a voice inside me that says, “do better, try harder, fix yourself,” grace says, “God loves you, no matter what.” When the black and white thinking says, “I know God loves me, but I make so many mistakes,” grace says, “You do make mistakes AND God still loves you.”

 

 Grace tells me that my past doesn’t matter. Grace tells me that I am loved for who I am, not what I have done. Grace shows me that I can be flawed AND loved.
 

 

Too Much & Not Enough

As I sit on my bed and feel my thighs touching together and a soft roll of my stomach folding over my pajama shorts, I can’t help but moan and think “why is there so much of me?” It’s funny because not 10 minutes earlier, I was scrolling through Facebook thinking to myself, “Oh wow, look at her, look at that family, look at their life. I’ll never be good enough, thin enough, strong enough, smart enough. I'll never be _______ enough.” You can probably fill in that blank with plenty of other words too.

So how can someone go from feeling like they are too much to feeling like they are not enough in a literal span of 10 minutes? I don’t know. But I do it all the time, and I know I’m not alone in that.

It’s like the world’s worst rendition of Goldilocks & the Three Bears; you know, too big, too small, juuuuuuust right. It’s like the world’s most frightening tight rope balancing act. You have to be enough, but not too much.

So what does it mean to be enough? The dictionary defines “enough” as: [adequate; sufficient for the purpose; to be ample, or fully]. Makes sense, right? So what comes to my mind when I think of my own personal definition of enough? “Worthy”. If I am good enough, smart enough, brave enough, pretty enough, funny enough, small enough…then I will be worthy. Of love and belonging and friendship and hope. However the flaw in this thought is that I have to earn these things. And if we are being honest, no person on this earth can earn these things. Which is where the gift of God’s grace comes in…but that’s a topic for a different day!

So on one hand, here I am craving and desiring that people will see me as “enough” (which, remember, is synonymous with “fully”). And yet on the other hand, one of my biggest fears is to be seen as “too much”. Too loud, too big, too needy, taking up too much time or space or energy. I’ve always thought that being called “needy” would be one of the biggest insults in life. I’ve thought of needy as being selfish or ungrateful. However, I’m learning that there is a difference between having needs and being needy. And the truth is, we are all people in need.

Daniell Koepke said,

“Your needs don’t make you too much. They don’t make you selfish or weak or greedy. They make you human. We all have needs. And those hungers aren’t something we should feel ashamed of. They’re normal, we didn’t get enough of them as children hungers. Affections we’ve been deprived of by the people who are supposed to care for us. Connections we need to feel whole and spaces we needed to feel safe. Cravings we’ve been taught we didn’t deserve. Appetites we’ve learned to suppress and fill with guilt. Again and again we’ve neglected our needs because we’ve been taught that they were too much—that we were too much…Making your needs known isn’t about being demanding or selfish. It’s about using your voice and speaking your truth. It’s about giving yourself permission to take up space…”

So that’s what I’m learning right now. I’m learning how to accept grace into my life and to live in light of that grace, knowing that that is the only way I will ever truly be enough. And I’m learning to give myself permission to take up space; permission to be “fully”.

But man, am I a slow learner! ;)