Why I Chose Change.

“And the day came when the risk to remain in a tight bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”

I have always liked this quote, but it’s never resonated with me quite as much as it does now. Change is not my favorite thing. It never has been and it probably never will be. But sometimes change is good and sometimes change is everything. I’m learning that lesson, like I learn everything else, slowly. So, metaphorically, I think of before treatment as being in a tight bud. Closed off, taking up the least amount of space possible, walling myself off from the rest of the world. It was familiar and routine and I thought it felt safe. But in reality, sadness, fear, loneliness, rigid rules, and self-hate were what I was feeling, and it got to a point where my feelings no longer felt safe. It came to a point where I had a choice to make. I could stay in ‘comfort zone’, which wasn’t very comfortable and continue to live my life out of fear and sadness. Or I could take a risk and choose to do something different with my life. I could choose to bloom. My comfortable tight bud all of the sudden started feeling claustrophobic. I felt trapped in myself. So I made the decision to take a leap of faith, and what a leap it was. During treatment, I was in a greenhouse with perfect conditions to loosen my bud and bloom. There were definitely growing pains, and sometimes I had to have my petals pried open. And as I began to open up, I felt things I hadn’t felt in a long time. I felt hope. I felt unconditional love. I felt joy and laughter and friendship. I felt what it was like to be taken care of. I also felt vulnerable and scared and shame and fear. But most importantly, I felt. I allowed myself to have feelings and I felt alive. If I had remained in my tight bud, I never would have felt these things. I may never have felt such deep shame and vulnerability and fear, but I would have never felt such immense love and hope. So I guess the reason I chose to change was to feel again. In my tight bud I felt stuck in things like sadness, rules, loneliness, and self-hate. And because I was afraid to bloom, I was unable to experience the full range of emotion. The good and the bad. The fear and the hope. The sadness and the joy. The loneliness and the laughter. My “blooming” process has not been easy and I would not say that I am fully bloomed (although, are any of us ever?), but I am in the process. I am feeling. And like a flower with its petals spread open to the wind, rain, sun, and storms, I am open and vulnerable and willing and scared and excited. Because I made a choice and I chose to change.

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.” –John 10:10

"And if not..."

Hope is a tricky thing. We are called to have hope despite circumstances. We are told that hope is the only thing stronger than fear; that it is the anchor of the soul. And so on good days and bad, we cling to hope. Hope is good. Until the very thing we hope for falls short. They say, “hope deferred makes the heart sick.” Really what they mean is, ‘when you don’t get the thing you hope for, your world feels like it’s crashing down around you and nothing will ever be okay again’.

Now this might seem like a tangent, but stick with me. The other day I was eating a chocolate chip granola bar. My sweet pup stood at my feet and cried and whined and looked at me with sheer desperation. She wanted that granola bar very badly. Those of you who know me know that I love my dog more than anything else, and I have a tendency to spoil her. It hurt me to not be able to share with her and to see her look so betrayed when I finished off the last tasty bite. And yet, I know that chocolate makes dogs very sick. I am withholding from her because I love her. Not because I’m mean and greedy and like to see her disappointed.

I often wonder if it is the same with humans. We hope, beg, and pray for what we want and what we think is best for us. And when we don’t get what we hope for, it’s easy to believe that God is unjust or life is unfair, and to run to a corner with our tail between our legs and wave our white flag. But what if God is withholding the thing we so hope for because He knows it’s not good for us and He loves us. What if we could trust that deferred hope might be the greatest act of love?

The other day I was feeling especially anxious. The first thing that popped into my head was, “And if not, He is still good” (Daniel 3:18). So let’s continue to be brave enough and vulnerable enough to have hope, even if that means risking hurting our hearts. Because in the hope, and even the deferred hope, there is so much opportunity to experience God’s love.

Dancing Like Nobody's Watching

Last night I went to a concert at a church in Burlington. The performers were amazing, but what struck me the most was the young girl in the front row...

To the (maybe 13 year old) girl at the concert,

You don’t know me, and that’s okay. You were sitting in the front row at the concert last night and I couldn’t help but notice you. Not because of your long, beautiful pony tail, or pretty pink shirt. But because of your joy and reckless abandon. You sat in the front row and you sang and danced and clapped and laughed to your heart’s desire. I never once saw you look around or pay much attention to your surroundings. You didn’t spend all night checking Facebook or Instagram or texting with someone. You danced and sang and participated and took pictures to capture such a joyous night.

Dear girl, don’t ever lose your sense of self, because your self is beautiful. Don’t ever stop dancing to look around. Don’t ever stop singing for fear that someone might hear you. Don’t ever stop laughing in an attempt to shrink yourself down. We were created to experience such joy, and I’m not sure where or when we learned to censor ourselves in order to fit in. But sweet girl, what a beautiful reminder to live in the moment and experience the joy as it comes. And to really experience it, wholly and with every ounce of our beings, no matter what anyone else says or thinks or does. At some point in life, someone may tell you you’re too loud or too outspoken or too big or too dramatic. But the truth is, you are never too much and you are always enough.

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.”