The response you don't deserve

I recently had something happen that warrants a response, but I am wise enough not to engage in any further conversation with the person, so my response is going here.

Dear Asshole,

First of all, I just want to say that things just didn't feel quite right from the get go. I clearly need to do a better job of trusting my gut. But that, unlike pretty much everything else that transpired, isn't your fault. I should have known better, and that is completely on me.

You are clearly completely full of shit. There is no doubt in my mind about it. Because I asked you about something very specific that you knew was a deal breaker for me, and you gave me the answer you knew I wanted to hear. Again, I should have known better. Things didn't line up the way they should have, and I shouldn't have ignored that, but how dare you! How dare you claim that you're an honest person and that honesty is one of the most important things to you in a relationship. I'm honestly embarrassed for you.

And that's really just the starting point. Again, I should have known better when you pushed me to make a decision about something I wanted to take more time to think about. And I should have known better than to play along with it when you argued that time wasn't going to change anything. That should have been my sign to walk away. Well, run away. Or move away. Or do anything other than sit around. I am reminded of something I read around the time I started doing online dating. It basically said if it wasn't "fuck yes," it was no. This was not "fuck yes." Not by a long stretch of the imagination. And again, I should have known. I shouldn't have even toyed around with it. I should have walked away and not even bothered looking back.

Looking back is what I do, though. Which you probably know because I told you my reason for wanting to wait was that I am someone who needs time to think through things. So we talked. I explained no fewer than five times what I was thinking and what my reasoning for things were. You argued with me. You were unwilling to actually listen to what I was saying. You choose to be a selfish asshole instead of a compromising gentleman. And when you did finally agree to compromise, you did it in a way that you intentionally put me in a place of guilt. So thanks for that.

And then you made my decision incredibly easy. You allowed me to stop overanalyzing. You let me do what my gut was arguing with my head about. And I told you that. I made it very clear what my decision was. There was absolutely zero ambiguity in what I said. There were zero shades of grey in my response to that obscene message of yours.

Then you have the gall to call me five and a half hours later. I answered, not wanting my phone to go to voicemail, and said something along the lines of, "I don't want to talk to you."

And because that wasn't enough, you texted me too. I, thinking it would make you leave me alone, responded. I summarized what I thought of you in one sentence, while somehow managing to be polite, and ended with, "Please leave me alone."

Again, zero shades of grey in that. Please leave me alone doesn't leave anything to the imagination.

You responded. You asked me to hear you out. To allow you to explain yourself.

And then you called me again. I answered and immediately hung up without even saying anything.

So you texted me again telling me that I would not hear from you again unless I initiated contact. "Great!," I thought. "He got the picture," I thought.

I'm sure it will come as no surprise that I thought wrong.

Because he called me three more times in the next 15 minutes. The last time, I said something. Again. Basically, "I asked you to leave me alone." After that, I blocked his number because clearly "Leave me alone," "I don't want to talk to you," and "Stop calling me." did not make things clear enough.

And then it got better, because he used another phone to call me. Twice. So I blocked that number too. So he, of course, reverted back to messaging me on the dating site because, hey, why not?

And you, among other things, made a comment about us being friends. Or if not friends, asking me to let you know if you should leave me alone.

You know, because me vocalizing that on the phone twice and in text messages twice was not clear enough.

In fact, I don't think it's inappropriate for me to just copy what you said word for word.

"I heard you out when you tried to reach out to me to tell me how you feel. I was very disrespectful and rude. I am very sorry. All I am asking is if we can be friends or if you want me to leave you alone period. Why is it so hard to respond and give me an answer. I listened when you needed to speak your mind. So I guess it is ok for you to speak your mind, but no one else can."

You have no idea how much restraint it took not to rip that apart.

But I didn't. Not to you. Although I'm about to. Not sure what that says about my restraint. Either way, I am at least wise enough to know better than to engage in any kind of anything with you.

1. You really didn't hear me out. I had to explain myself multiple times, and even when you finally heard what I was saying and allowed yourself to compromise, you made me feel guilty about it. The words, "And I'm going to say, 'I told you so.'" are not generally words that create warm fuzzy feelings.

2. Yes, you were disrespectful and rude. I'm glad you realized that, but "very" is a crutch word. You weren't very disrespectful and rude. You were disrespectful and rude and should be embarrassed and feel guilty about what you did. Saying you are "very sorry" is not an apology. It's a string of words that is supposed to sound nice but comes across as fake and ingenuine.

3. No. You're not asking if we can be friends. Because, literally, every conversation we had up until this point, you made it pretty clear that it was all or nothing. That we had to be in a relationship or that you wanted nothing to do with me. You were insistent on one of those two things happening right then, and you were insistent that there were no other options.

4. Again, there should be no question about if I wanted you to leave me alone period. I had made it crystal clear. Although somehow, it was apparently about as clear as mud to you.

5. It's so hard to respond and give you an answer because I already did respond and give you an answer. As soon as you did that thing last night, I immediately responded and made my thoughts very clear.

6. Not sure what you want to speak your mind about. Because I don't think there is any way you can explain away the obscenity of what you sent me. And I, in absolutely no way, even remotely hinted that I wanted what happened to happen. There was nothing to be misunderstood.

7. My choosing not to respond and/or listen does not keep you from choosing to speak your mind. Truthfully, if you had written something else on there, I probably would have read it. I probably would have rolled my eyes, laughed, and shared what you said with the entire world, but I did not keep you from speaking your mind. You did that.

The last thing I really have to say is thank you. Thank you for doing me the favor of making it incredibly easy for me to follow my gut. For keeping me from second guessing anything about this situation. For giving me a way out before I was ever in.

And also, thank you for reminding me why I am so cautious about things. Why I value taking things slowly. Why anything other than "fuck yes" is no.

The pendulum swings

And just like that, the pendulum swings the other way. It seems hilarious and fitting that I wrote my last entry less than 12 hours ago, because this evening when I got on Facebook, the first thing that popped up was a former crush's engagement. My heart dropped, and I about threw up. Not that I'm not excited for him; I am, of course. Not that I still have feelings for him, I don't. It's just frustrating. I won't go into details, but it's just another situation where comparison is the thief of joy. I knew it was probably coming. I am embarrassed I even feel this way. What is wrong with me that I can't be happy for someone about an upcoming unification with the person they love most?

Edit 11/16: Last night after I wrote this, I texted one of my friends I rarely talk to, but is frequently my go to person when I need to whine. Yes, it's weird. I know. It's what works for us. When I first texted him, I didn't even say what happened. I just told him to tell me to stop overthinking and to remind me that comparison is the thief of joy. So he asked me what happened, and I explained. He then asked me just the question I needed to be asked to process the event and why I was feeling the way I was feeling. He asked me what was bothering me. Was it that he was engaged, was it that I wasn't engaged, or was it that he wasn't engaged to me?

And I realized exactly what it was. This former crush and I have had multiple conversations about feeling like we were behind everyone else our age. We have talked about how we can't imagine actually finding someone who would want to be with us. We have talked about how it feels like we're doing something wrong in the midst of being around people who appear to have their lives together. So when I think about it in that context, it makes sense. Because this guy was in my boat for a long time. We commiserated together about our common plight. Except it's not a common plight anymore. It's just me. Just my plight.

I think for me, everything about this situation, everything about my frustration with being single. Everything related to the difficulties I tend to have at work comes down to control. I allow myself to be out of control in some areas of my life, but even then, it's still about control. It's not out of control because I can't control it. It's out of control because I let it be. The things in my life that are out of control because they are uncontrollable are the things that bring me anxiety and frustration. They bring me guilt and envy, and a never ending sense of being completely and totally overwhelmed.

So yeah, at the end of the day, it really isn't about anything other than my inability to control this situation and many of the other significant situations in my life.

Timelines that I don't know

Last night, a group of people from my church had a worship night at a someone's home. It was wonderful for lots of reasons. The time together with friends, meeting new people, worshiping together. But something the family had on a wall in their kitchen was just what I needed to see.

The family had one of those pieces of date artwork. Kind of like this. It had their birthdates, their anniversary, and the birthdates of their children. So I'm looking at these dates, and I realized that they were 31 and 30 when they got married and 34 and 33 when their first child was born.

It's no secret I'm single. No secret that most of my friends are married. No secret that my friends are starting to have children on purpose, or are at least discussing the matter. And here I am. Twiddling my thumbs. Sharing the hilarious stories of the things guys say in messages on okcupid while I try to cover the pang of lonely with laughter.

I may not be on the timeline I had in mind. I may be on a timeline much different than most of the people in my life. But comparison is the thief of joy. I'm on my own timeline. Everyone is on their own timeline. Being single at 26 doesn't mean anything. It isn't predictive of anything. It has no bearing on who I am or on what the future holds. All it means that I am single right now. It doesn't mean I will be forever. It also doesn't mean that I will eventually not be single. I don't know what the future holds. I don't know if my future involves a man or children. Or both or neither. I don't know if my future involves this city, this profession, this living situation. What I do know is that God has something planned. That he works in ways I rarely understand.

Truth, the soul, and my job

Sunday morning, I opened my yogurt and there a Walt Whitman quote on the foil. My bleary eyes mistook it for Walt Disney, so I was a bit confused. I was already running late to get out the door, so I left the lid on the counter for later.

"Whatever satisfies the soul is truth."

"No, it isn't." I thought. We look toward lots of things to satisfy our soul, but there's only one Truth. And then I backpeddled. There's only one thing that can satisfy our souls, and that thing isn't a thing. The only One who can satisfy our soul is the One who created it. So yes. Whatever satisfies the soul is truth. He is the only true satisfier. He is the only truth.

I started thinking about a quote that was in one of my math books in college,

"Have you ever wondered how we come to know truth? Most college students would agree that finding out what is true about the world, ourselves, and others constitutes a very important activity. A little reflection reveals that much of our time is spent in precisely this way. If we are studying geography, we want to know what is true about the geography of a particular region.  Is the region mountainous or flat, agricultural or industrial?  If our interest is in studying human beings, we want to know what is true about humans.  Do we truly possess a spiritual nature, or are we truly reducible solely to atoms and molecules, as the reductionists Would have it?  How do humans think?  What happens in the body to produce a sensation or a movement?  When I get angry is it true that there is a unique underlying physiological pattern?  What is the pattern?  Is my true purpose in life to become a teacher?  Is it true that animals think?  We could go on indefinitely with examples because so much of our lives is spent seeking and acquiring truth." - Understanding Statistics in the Behavioral Sciences [I have no idea what edition it was, but hey, this was from 6.5 years ago]

Did you catch that last sentence? "So much of our lives is spent seeking and acquiring truth."

In other words, if you combine the thought process of good old Walt and the person who wrote that math book, so much of our lives is spent searching for the One who satisfies the soul.

It makes me wonder how many ways and how much time I have spent searching for something else to fill myself. Trying to make something else my truth. 

I think I so often get caught up in what I have going on in my life that I tend to neglect what Who is most important.

Right now, my church is doing a series on faith and work, which could not have come a better time. It was fitting that when I was looking for this quote, I skimmed across a few things I wrote around the time I moved to start grad school. The summer prior to my move, I worked my last of five summers at a summer camp, and it was the 3rd summer with the same class. To say I had become attached is an understatement. One of the things I wrote was, "I'd venture to say that being a friend to a child is one of the best, hardest, most fun, sweetest things in life. And this is one of the many reasons I want to be a school counselor."

I about cried reading that. My job is hard. It's so hard. It's weighty, it's exhausting. It entails so many things beyond my comfort zone, beyond my knowledge base, beyond my experience. It stretches me in ways I couldn't have imagined when I wrote that three years ago. And still, I would venture to say that being a friend to a child is one of the best, hardest, most fun, sweetest things in life and that it is the best part of being a school counselor.

Be the Center - Yikes

It's no secret that I'm doing online dating. I have come and gone from OkCupid a multitude of times, but pretty much always end up back there. In the period of about a year, I've been on dates with three different guys. I had date plans with another who ended up bailing. I have spent some time talking with four more, two casually, two a bit more seriously. Most recently with a more serious one. He lives about 80 miles away, but we discussed going on a date in a few weekends when we are both free. Things were going well. Or so I thought. There were no indicators that they weren't. Either that or I am completely oblivious. I may be a bit oblivious, but not enough to miss out on something that would cause a change. And yet, apparently that changed at some point yesterday when there was radio silence. I was a bit concerned, but figured that maybe he was just having a busy day. That is until I realized that he had also deleted his OkCupid profile.

Yeah, not just a busy day.

When I realized that things were over before they had really begun, I felt a combination of sadness and anger. Of hurt and inadequacy. Never mind the fact that I can't control the actions of others. Never mind the fact that even if it has everything to do with me and nothing to do with him, it really ultimately still has everything to do with him. But it still hurts and it's still hard. If I'm not his jam, that's fine. It's his deal, not mine. I cannot, nor should I, change because of a guy. I was left wondering, because this is the second time a guy I have been talking to somewhat seriously has just disappeared, if I am missing some glaring sign, but I don't think I am.

I woke up this morning hoping I would be wrong. That he would have responded to my text message asking if things were okay.

Nothing.

Hurt and frustration. And then perspective.

This guy did me a favor. It sucks that he doesn't have enough respect for me as a human being to be honest with me, but he showed me that before I got too invested.

I read this article the other day, and decided now would be a good time to read it again. It's basically about how pursuing things with someone when you're not ready and when you don't have your relationship with God going in the direction it should be, you're going to end up causing pain by forcing and rushing things. At one point he says,

So join with me in individually submitting to God. Even if that means there actually isn't a Mr. or Mrs. Right waiting for us. Can we be okay with that? Can we trust God and be okay with whatever the outcome, knowing that we have already received all that we need in His Son? That's a hard question, but until you're in a place where you're okay with never getting married, you won't be in a place [to be pursued].

Yikes.

God's timing is perfect, and while that doesn't necessarily mean I wait around for Mr. Right (or nobody) to show up at my door, it also means I have to be patient. I have to trust that I'm a work in progress and that if I'm supposed to get married, I will. It doesn't feel good. I don't like saying that. Because I don't want it to be an if. I also know I have to be careful not to turn God into a means to an end. God is not a genie or a vending machine. This isn't, "Sarah, if you do what I ask you to and if you really believe in me and are looking toward me first, then I'll give you a husband." This is, "Sarah, I need you to trust that I know what's best for you and to submit to that."

Yikes.

There is a song called Be the Center, and it's basically asking Jesus to be at the center of your life. What would it look like if I lived a life where Jesus was the center? The answer is that I don't know. Because it hasn't happened. And it won't; not on my own. Because I can't do it on my own. Jesus can't be at the center of my life if I don't ask Him and allow Him to be. Because when I ask Him to be at the center, that means I can't remain the center.

Yikes.

Jesus, thank you that you can take "yikes" to "yes!" Thank you that it's okay for me to ask You to be the center.

Word vomit

Earlier in the month, I had a birthday. A few days before that happened, I walked around a corner, caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, and had what simultaneously felt like a flashback and a glimpse forward. It freaked me out, and then, just as quickly as it came, was gone. Surely it isn't possible for me to be old enough to have a job that requires a Master's degree. At the same time, surely I'm too old to have accomplished what often feels like so little. Of course, it is all relative. Part of it is that I compare what I have done to the picture I have in my mind of what I think I should have done by now or the idealization of what I thought would have occurred by this point in my life.

If, as Teddy Roosevelt said, comparison is the thief of joy, am I sucking joy out of my life by comparing it to my own comparisons of what I thought would be? What things in my life am I failing to enjoy because I want something different. Even when the things that are are perfectly fine. Good, even.

What am I trying to say? I don't know. Your guess is as good as mine. Sometimes I just miss writing. This actually makes me wonder what would happen if I did stream of consciousness posts. Actually, no. That would be a really bad idea. I would end up inadvertently sharing something that isn't meant to be shared. It does bring back memories of a high school English teacher. She would make us do journals 3-4 times a week where we literally just wrote for 10 minutes about anything we wanted to. She wanted to get us into the habit of writing, even if it wasn't grammatically correct or there was not a flow to what was written. There is just something cathartic about getting things out there.

I like the speed and efficiency of typing, but I also enjoy the way it feels to write and see the letters I have created. I could spend days upon days doodling, especially if I had a Sharpie pen (ohmygoodness, those are the best!).

I'm realizing that I often post the same things on here. I write it in different ways and occasionally go to other things, but ultimately end back up at the same place. It makes me wonder if I am failing to be adventurous enough. And then I remember that there is no requirement on how adventurous I am in my life. I set the rules on how I live my own life. I don't have to be adventurous if I don't want to be, though that raises the question of if I want to be more adventurous than I am. And to that I would say, "I don't know, maybe."

Part of this is coming in light of self reflection based on some events at work. I need to acknowledge that I don't always have all the answers and that I need to take time to be proactive and do things to enhance my knowledge base as a preventative measure rather than trying to educate myself when a difficult or unusual situation arises.

Okay. I need to stop writing. This basically ended up being a stream of consciousness anyhow. Oh gosh. Sometimes the things I write just feel like a lot of word vomit.

The point at which I stop pretending honesty and vulnerability are the same

I have posted here before about vulnerability. Several times, in fact. In many ways, that was my whole reason for starting this blog. Except I have yet to share this blog with anyone whose reading of what I have written would actually put me in a vulnerable position.

With the exception of two people who know me quite well, nobody I know knows how to find this blog. Even those two probably couldn't if they wanted to because it has been so long since I gave them the link. Vulnerability is easy, and isn't really vulnerability, when nobody who has the opportunity to hurt me reads it. Not that I set out trying to be hurt. That would be ridiculous. But being vulnerable opens me up to the possibility of being hurt. I'm not really too concerned about a random person on the internet hurting me as a result of reading anything I have written on this blog.

Vulnerability isn't vulnerability if I'm not being vulnerable with anybody. The "vulnerability" I have previously attempted in various posts on this blog isn't actually vulnerability. Honesty, perhaps. Openness, maybe. But not vulnerability. Not in the truest sense of the word.

The first three Merriam Webster definitions of vulnerability are, "Capable of being physically or emotionally wounded," "Open to attack or damage," and "Liable to increased penalties but entitled to increased bonuses after winning a game in contract bridge."

I don't know what contract bridge is, nor do I really care, but I love the idea that is provided in that third definition. "Liable to increased penalties but entitled to increased bonuses."

How beautiful is that? It's a trade off. A cost vs. benefit. Risk vs. reward. It's not vulnerability until there is an actual risk or cost and the potential for a real reward or benefit.

Over the weekend, I somehow got thinking about vulnerability, and I started thinking about the people in my life who I am vulnerable with. All of them, every single one, are people who are vulnerable with me. People with whom there is some level of reciprocity. In the context of this blog, I think my fear is not knowing while still being known. Being, in the real sense of the word, vulnerable with people who may or may not be vulnerable with me. But what if my ability to be really and truly vulnerable helps someone else do the same? Conversely, I could play the "what if?" game for days. I can't live my life in a "what if?" state. Well, I can, but I'm making a choice not to. So at some point after I post this, I'm going to share this in a way that is actually vulnerable.

I'm not waving, I'm drowning

There is a song by Ryan Long called, "I'm Not Waving, I'm Drowning," and it's about a guy at the beach who goes out swimming and gets caught in a rip tide. His friends back on shore think he's waving, so they just wave back. When he gets back to shore, he asks them why they were waving at him. They said that they were just waving back, to which he responds, "I wasn't waving, I was drowning!"

The last verse of the song goes,

"I'm not waving, I'm drowning,
Upon your door I'm pounding.
Take from me my fear, take all my shame
'Cause I can't make it anymore on my own."

I started thinking about this a week or so ago in relation to work where there are too many things on my plate for me to appropriately allocate my time. And while that is true and it does apply to work because, believe me, I am about to sink, as I looked at the lyrics this afternoon, I looked at it in a different light.

My small group is reading The Cost of Discipleship by Deitrich Bonhoffer right now, and at our next meeting, we are having a night of reflection about the previous few chapters. So I have been thinking some about this song in light of what we have been discussing.

I am, by nature, a planner. I do not like the unexpected. I like to know what is coming and mentally prepare myself for it. I am a control freak. I didn't exactly pick the right career for a planning control freak, but hey. It's probably for the best.

It has been years since I have had anything resembling a consistent prayer life or since I have regularly taken time to read my Bible. I think part of it comes from fear. Fear of more unknown. Fear of what in the world God is going to ask me to do. Fear that I will fall apart.

But here I am, God. This is me telling you that I'm not waving, I'm drowning. Asking you to take away my fear. Asking you to take away the shame that comes with honesty. Because yep. I can't do this on my own anymore.

I got here in relation to work, but yep. The whole thing. Take my control freak away. Except, if I'm honest, I don't mean it. I still want a little bit to control. Just a tiny piece. I'm afraid to ask you to break me of it, because lack of control is scary to me.

Yeah. I'm not waving. I'm drowning.

Hello My Old Heart

Whenever I hear this song by The Oh Hellos, I get tingles. Because this is how my heart felt not too long ago. I have written about that before (here), so I wanted to share the lyrics.

The Oh Hellos - Hello My Old Heart

Hello my old heart,

How have you been?

Are you still there inside my chest?

I've been so worried,

You've been so still,

Barely beating at all.

Oh, don't leave me here alone

Don't tell me that we've grown

For having loved a little while.

Oh, I don't want to be alone.

I want to find a home,

And I want to share it with you.

Hello my old heart,

It's been so long

Since I've given you away.

Every day I add another stone 

To the walls I built around you

To keep you safe.

Oh, don't leave me here alone

Don't tell me that we've grown

For having loved a little while.

Oh, I don't want to be alone.

I want to find a home,

And I want to share it with you.

Hello my old heart,

How have you been?

How is it being locked away?

Don't you worry. 

In there you're safe,

And it's true you'll never beat,

But you'll never break.

Nothing lasts forever.

Some things aren't meant to be,

But you never find the answers. 

Until you set your old heart free,

Until you set your old heart free.

Hello my old heart.

Hello my old heart.

Hello my old heart.

Hello my old heart.

I love the second part of the last verse. "Don't you worry. In there you're safe, and it's true you'll never beat, but you'll never break." You'll never get hurt if you're locked away. If you hide yourself. If you build up walls and keep people from getting in. Yeah, it's safe. But what is safe if there is nobody to share it with? And ultimately, your heart ends up breaking anyway. Just in a completely different way. 

What is

I traveled back to my childhood home this weekend so I could attend a friend's baby shower. Side note that I had to change my wording from, "home" to "childhood home" because that city isn't home anymore, which is strange, although it hasn't been home for a while. I have said several times over the last few years that I couldn't see myself living there again, and that is more true every time I return, but I digress.

This morning, my mom was looking for some outfits my grandma made for my brothers when they were little so she could see if they would fit my nephew. Side note again, he is turning 1 later this month; not sure how that happened. Anyhow, along with those outfits, we came across a few sweet little dresses I had worn as a baby. I think there were two that were just cute that she saved and two or three that she had made that she saved. We looked at the dresses, and all I could think about was that I may never have a baby to put in them. My mom voiced what I was thinking. At least to some extent. She just commented on how we needed to find a husband for me so I could have children. She knows I want to get married, but we don't have regular conversations about it by any means. I got started to wondering what it's like for her to have an unmarried daughter. If she senses the difficulty and frustration. If she worries about me being alone, and not for safety reasons. She would worry about that no matter what unless I was under the same roof as her. It was the first time I realized that my singleness had an effect on someone other than me.

I can remind myself day and night of all of how independent I am; of how fine I am on my own. Of all of God's promises to me; not ones that promise a husband, but ones that promise what is best for me. And at the end of the day, I always, somehow, still find a way to bemoan my current state of affairs. Not that I won't always find a way to bemoan my current state of affairs, no matter what they are. I think the fact of the matter is that it's not about what I want. It's about being content with what I have. Being content with what is.

Disconnect to connect

Last week, one of my besties from grad school was in town for a few days. Obviously, a dinner date was a must. She is one of those people who instantly makes you feel at east who you feel like you have known your entire life and makes it comfortable to have uncomfortable conversations. Genuineness radiates out of her. Also, that probably sounds super creepy. All that to say, we just tend to have good conversations.

So I picked her up at her hotel and we decided on the pizza place that is always at the top of my list when getting dinner with people who are in from out of town. We sat and talked, and ordered and talked, and ate and talked, and then talked some more. Cell phones was kind of where we ended.

Sort of.

We started talking about how teenagers have such a difficult time engaging in conversations with each other because they're glued to their phones. They text each other when things are too uncomfortable to say. I get it. I have been there before. But we are creating a generation of children and teenagers who are unable to be genuinely vulnerable with each other, and vulnerability is the only real way to create connections. By being connected to everything all the time, we are ultimately disconnecting.

So the next day when I was running errands and stopped to grab lunch, I sat by a window that happened to be next to where the drive-thru line is at this particular restaurant. I don't go through drive-thrus all that often, but I do it from time to time; usually for coffee. Anyhow, I often find myself reading a text message, scrolling through my instagram feed, or checking to see if there are any emails that can't wait. And by can't wait I actually mean I don't want them to wait. There I sit. Partially eaves dropping on the mom eating lunch with her two pre-teens eating lunch at the table by me, and partially paying attention to what people are doing in the drive-thru line. I didn't take an actual count, though I should have, but it appeared that about 80% of the drive-thru customers were looking at something on their phone. One or two were talking on their phone (or listening to a voicemail or some such). Often, the ones who weren't on their phones were ones who had other people in their car with them. In a sense, that's good, I guess. I'm glad that those who had people in their cars with them were engaged with the other people. Or at least not engaged with an object. Sometimes, there is a lot of power in in just being physically present with someone.

We, myself included, live lives in which we are so concerned that we will miss something. So bothered by the idea of being bored for even a minute, that we have to find something to do to fill the space. As if we might explode if we just stop. Not even if we stop, but if we just slow down. It concerns me. There have been times in my life I have, out of necessity, kept going for days and days at a time without stopping. Sometimes just because I had so much going on. Other times because I was not psychologically able to process something difficult and needed to give myself time before I did slow down to adequately and appropriately handle the situation. I guess my concern is that we are so engaged every single second of the day that we are losing the ability to connect with one another. Truly, we are probably losing the ability to connect with ourselves. Frankly, it is terrifying.

Before I moved, I got into a decent habit of taking an hour a day at least a few times a week to unplug myself. Whether it was writing for pleasure, reading, working on a project, or even just cleaning (in which case I did allow myself to listen to music), and as I begin the school year, I am realizing that is something I need to return to. It's easy to get lost in the minutia of the day to day that you forget to take care of yourself.

It's by disconnecting that you can connect. Here's to a school year, and to a life, of intentionally (gosh, I hate that word) unplugging myself in order to delve into real relationships both with myself and with others.

Work, holding space, social skills, and my inability to stick to what is planned

Back in May after having a few of the hardest weeks of my entire life, I posted this, and in that post I shared a link to an article about finding what you believe is the most important work in the world and doing that work. Because that is where God uses you. In high school, my youth pastor would frequently state that we are all uniquely called, uniquely placed, uniquely gifted. God calls us, places us, and gifts us to do things that bring Him glory. It's no secret to the people in my life, and probably not to anybody who happened across this blog, that my first semester as a school counselor was rough. ROUGH. I didn't expect it to be smooth sailing. Lots of people who are in the know have told me it takes three years to really feel like you know what you're doing. Of course the first semester is going to be rough. Forty-eight credit hours and 700 hours of clinical experience could never prepare you. The only thing that prepares you is just doing it. Which is why it is so important to do the work you believe is the most important work in the world. Obviously sometimes circumstances prevent that, but it would be silly for me to work as a school counselor if I believed the most important work in the world was making good sandwiches. Obviously I'm being silly, but you get the point.

I started back to work this week (yes, crazy early, I know), and have read two absolutely phenomenal articles in the last two days. One is an article linking the social competence of kindergartners with their success as young adults. It isn't at all surprising, and yet it's mind blowing. The implications of this study and others like it is that if we are simply managing the difficult behaviors of children who come to us rather than teaching them how to behave, we are part of a system that is potentially setting them up for failure.

The second article is one that one of my friends from grad school shared with me. Well, she shared it on facebook, but it's the kind of article she would share with our group if facebook didn't exist. It's about a term called "holding space," which I had never heard before, though the concept was familiar. Essentially, when you are going through a difficult, trying, or burdensome time, it is vital that you have people who are one step away from that same difficult, trying, or burdensome circumstance that you can rely on. I'm not typically an emotional person, although I think I am about to get to a place where I can't claim that anymore, but I got goose bumps and runny eyes. First of all, how lucky am I to have so many people who hold space for me in so many different ways, often without realizing it. The other is that I work in a profession in which a lot of my job is holding space for others. It feels heavy, weighty, and yet somehow glorious. What a blessing to help take even one small portion of a load off a child who may or may not have anyone else in his or her life who holds space for them.

If teaching children social skills and holding space for them are the two main components of what my job entail, then dang. I have got it made. Sometimes I don't see myself being a school counselor for the next 30-40 years of my life, and while yes that is potentially true, I also cannot imagine being anywhere other than this. I cannot imagine anything else, at least right now, being my most important work in the world.

I'm not really sure what my point here was. Not that that is anything new. I didn't say a whole lot more than what I said in my post back in May other than throwing in some new articles and a new term. When I started writing this evening, I actually intended to write about cell phones, but that can wait.

The single perspective

Since I never post about being single, I figured now was the time. Entrée of new post with a large side of sarcasm, there.

Before I moved, I had largely stopped going to church. Partly because I never really connected myself in the church I attended before I moved and partly because Sundays were my only off days between school, internships, and work, and I just needed to rest. When I moved, I attended church on either my second or third Sunday here. Lucky for me, the first church I tried stuck. A few weeks later, I happened to sit behind a group of women around my age who invited me to the young adults Sunday School class, and that has transpired into joining a small group, but I digress.

I was at church on Sunday, and we are doing a new series about people in the Bible who had an encounter with God. Last week was Abraham. This week was Hagar. And it was just what I needed. I could just about type out all the notes I took and be done with the blog post, but I'll stick to a few favorites.

• Earth has no sorrow that heaven can't heal. God doesn't always change our situation. Often, he brings healing through the situation. Part of that is that sometimes things get worse before they can get better. Freedom from the situation often comes through pressing into the situation rather than running from it.
• God hears me. God sees me. God is going to be faithful through the situation, even though I often don't see how.
• God's redemption can be found anywhere, and sometimes (perhaps often times) it is found in the darkest places. 
• Sometimes the situations that seem the most futile and infertile are the ones that, looking back, are the most fruitful seasons.

And then yesterday, this got posted on the PostSecret facebook page.

It was just what I needed to see. 

There have been several times in my life that a bit of perspective is all I really need. I think I am finally getting to a place where I can see that about being single. I would be lying if I say that I enjoy everything about being single. Or if I didn't mean every single thing I said in my last post. But I would also be lying if I said I can't see how God is using this time of my life to shape me into the person I need to be. Shaping my faith, my trust. Shaping my patience in an entirely different way than how it has been shaped previously. Because while being single is hard, it isn't all bad, and I have freedom that I probably would not have if I was in a relationship. And I need to keep that in perspective.

Single is

"Everyone else is all about multiple bridal showers, gender reveal parties, and baby showers. What does anyone ever do to honor single women?"

When I was asked this question a few days ago, I laughed. Laughed because it's funny. Laughed because it's true. Laughed because the single friends of the women who are having bridal showers, gender reveal parties, and baby showers are the ones who are often there every step of the way. And then I responded.

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

I realized that many women are not or were not single at 25. Okay, apparently half of 25-29 year old women have never been married (source), but I would imagine a good portion of those unmarried women are in a relationship. More than half of the 25-29 year old women I know are married or engaged. So I had a brilliant (hah) idea that I would write what single is. Maybe it's unfair or weird for me to do this. I am, after all, only 25. If at 30 I am still single, I'm sure I'll look back at this and roll my eyes. Regardless, it often feels like people in my life, though they try, just don't get it. Being single at 21 or 22 when you finish college is a completely different story than it is a few years down the road when you are done with your weird post-college jobs that compensate in resume bonus points and a few dollars over minimum wage and you finally get a real job. Of course, being single just out of grad school life and a few months into your first real job is a completely different story than a few years when you have both feet firmly planted in your profession, but hey. I can only speak from where I'm at.

Single is loving life but also wanting it to change.
Single is the guilt that follows the envy of another engagement.
Single is wondering when it will be your turn.
Single is the ache in your gut not knowing when, or if, you'll get the chance to have children.
Single is not being able to identify with songs on the radio.
Single is not having anyone to enjoy a summer afternoon thunderstorm with.
Single is not having anyone to cuddle with on a frigid winter night.
Single is waking up alone.
Single is wondering if there are any decent single men still out there.
Single is wondering what is wrong with you.
Single is being offered a plus one to a wedding and not having anybody to take.
Single is spending Valentine's Day alone. Again. But not minding because your issues with Valentine's Day started in middle school.
Single is watching others kiss when the ball drops.
Single is wondering if you'll have someone to kiss next year.
Single is taking care of everything yourself.
Single is one cup of coffee instead of two.
Single is nobody to hold onto during the scary parts.
Single is nobody to take turns with on road trips.
Single is listing a friend, sibling, or parent as your emergency contact.
Single is laughing at the weird messages you get from guys on OkCupid.
Single is wondering why an acquaintance who treats her boyfriend terribly isn't single.
Single is thinking that the fact that you judge somebody's relationship based on the small number of interactions you witness is probably why you are single.
Single is waiting until movies are out of theaters.
Single is sitting alone looking at your phone while you eat lunch at Panera.
Single is thinking how nice flowers would look on the kitchen table but not being able to justify buying them for yourself.
Single is the desire to vomit when you see a picture of a former crush with his new girlfriend.
Single is wondering how you'll ever be able to afford a decent house on one income.
Single is listening to married people tell you that someone will come along if you stop looking.
Single is your well meaning aunt asking you every time she sees you if there is a special guy.
Single is your well meaning mother asking you if so and so has a brother who is single.
Single is watching your friends take a big vacation before they start trying to have children.
Single is watching your friends have children on purpose.
Single is being a bridesmaid in the wedding of the guy you thought you were going to marry.
Single is eating leftovers for the next three meals.
Single is always coming home to an empty house.
Single is lonely.

I know being coupled doesn't magically make life better. It doesn't make all these things go away. Hell. I would rather be single and lonely than married and lonely. Not everything about being single is bad. Not everything about being married is good. I'm not delusional; just single.

Most important

I'm not sure how it is possible that three weeks have gone by since I last posted anything, and nearly a month since I posted something that was more than seventeen syllables in length.

It's actually not for lack of trying. I have, but words escape me. It probably has a little bit to do with the fact that last week is the first time since mid March that things have not been in a nearly constant state of crisis at work. Another bit has to do with a lot of confusion about my apartment lease and lots of ambiguity from people who should know answers. A little to do with weird family things. But mostly because I don't know where to start. Or if I do start, where I'm going. Or how I can possibly end in a place that isn't weird. My continued inability to decide what is and is not appropriate to share. The fact that I miss hand writing and don't find as much joy in blogging as I once did.

As I think back over my online journaling history, I realize this is something I have been doing for close to half my life. It started because it's what my friends were doing. It morphed into a way of making note of life events, and that turned into a way to express myself when other means failed. Writing is, I think, still my preferred method of expression, but it doesn't feel the same. I guess I feel voiceless here. Ironic considering the entire purpose of this blog was to be open, but I have to hide so much of myself. It isn't even really that I have to hid myself. I have to hide the professional work part of myself. The truth of the matter is, though, that my professional work self is a huge part of my personal self. The nature of my job is that it is often inappropriate to share events of the day with people in my life, let alone the internet. But there are some basic things I can share and still feel I can't. I think out of fear that it will be clear what I do, which is silly. I mean my job isn't so ambiguous that when I tell people what I do they ask what that is, but it also isn't that common of a job. In the three-quarters of a million city in which I reside, there are less than five hundred people who would answer the question, "what do you do?" in the same or similar way I would. Maybe that's why it freaks me out. I don't know. I have never explicitly said where I live. Although it's probably abundantly clear in which area of the country I reside. And obviously I just narrowed it down quite a bit by stating the size of my city.

What the hell.

I'm a school counselor.

Some days I hate my job, and I can't decide if it is because I made the wrong choice and am in the wrong field or if it is because the last two moths have been highly unusual. I'm determined to stick with it for the time being, but I have spent a lot of the last few months with second guessing, self doubt, and feelings of incompetence. And let me just tell you, that is a really hard place to be.

Until one of my lovely office mates shared this article with me two Fridays ago after a particularly rough day that ended in a 30 minute conversation with my principal in which I cried for about 28 of those minutes.

I love the last few sentences,

"Listen to me. You HAVE to decide what you believe to be the most important work in the world and then you have to DO THAT WORK. Because THIS is what happens… God shows up."

Some days I still wonder if this is what is right, but most days, I still feel like being a school counselor is the most important work in the world. How lucky am I to stand outside every morning and get hugs from my little loves as I welcome them to school? How fun is it to watch a child jump and down with anticipation as I excitedly open a picture that has been drawn for me? And how fortunate am I that the purpose of my job, my purpose in the school, is to help children become successful adults?

It's hard. Sometimes I have to do things outside of my comfort zone or outside of my job description. Sometimes I want to call in sick when I wake up with a dull headache. Sometimes I complain about stuff over which I have no control. But at the end of the day, to me, being a school counselor is the most important work in the world.

Three hundred sixty-five

It's incredibly
hard to believe my year in
haiku is over.

Three hundred sixty-three

I should probably
shower and go to bed, but
I am too lazy.

Coincidence

As I have alluded to in my last few haikus, this week has been absolutely crazy. Legitimately probably one of the most difficult, out of control, crazy, hard, weird weeks of my life. And yet somehow hopeful by the end. I can't explain it without going into details or without sharing what field my job is in, which I don't want to do, but suffice it to say, nothing in life up to this point prepared me for what happened this week. I laughed with a coworker at things that were not funny because if we hadn't, we would have cried. I had a long conversation with my boss at the end of the day yesterday that affirmed that I'm where I'm supposed to be. We talked through the events of the week. We talked about how things had been going in general. Then we started talking about a conference that is being held at the university I attended for undergrad. I made a comment about the fact that I went there. She said she had forgotten but that she thought that was what made my resume stand out to her. And I stopped for a minute for two different reasons. It was about 10% that the university I went to for undergrad is nothing spectacular. I think I got a good education, but it's not a prestigious school. Most people from out of state would not have heard of the school. The main reason, the 90%, has to do with something I denied for a long time. In all honesty, the main reason I chose to go to that school was that it was close to the guy I thought I was going to marry. He went to school there my first semester before dropping out, but he was from the area and remained there. Obviously, that is a really terrible reason to choose a school. I regret that that was my reasoning for going there. I have never really regretted going there, though. That conversation with my boss yesterday just furthered that. I have never believed in coincidence, and this just furthers that. Even though I do dumb things, or things that aren't dumb for dumb reasons, it all worked out for the best. Even though this week has been insane, I know this is where I'm supposed to be right now, and I guess I attribute that to the stupid decisions I made as an immature 18-year-old.

Three hundred sixty-two

After this week, this
stunning spring day was just what
the doctor ordered.

Three hundred sixty-one

We made it through an
entire week. I somehow
feel more confident.

Three hundred fifty-eight

Woke up to something

unexpected. The tone was

set for the whole day.

Three hundred fifty-seven

I cannot keep on
doing this. We cannot keep
on doing this. Whoa.

Three hundred fifty-six

Beautiful full moon.
Sunrise Easter service held
inside. That darn cold.

Three hundred fifty-five

I want to make a
pound cake. It would probably
make me gain a pound.

Three hundred fifty-four

Clean out the system.
Rude drivers. It's not hard to
hold open a door.

Three hundred fifty-two

Paper computers.
Uncertainty still remains.
Freshly vacuumed floors.

Three hundred fifty-one

Another day without
an answer. I can only
wait so much longer.

Three hundred fifty

Not knowing what is
to come is stressing me out.
I'm having nightmares.

Three hundred forty-nine

Thankful for a church
where the gospel is preached and
people are friendly.

Three hundred forty-eight

Coffee dates. Tiny
parking lots. Rude bookstore clerk.
Frat boys for neighbors.

Three hundred forty-seven

Towns whose names I would
give to my children are my
favorite. Produce.

Three hundred forty-six

That second cup of
coffee was probably a
bad decision. Oops.

Three hundred forty-five

Make up your mind, dang
it. Perfect day for the park.
Long stunning sunset.

Three hundred forty-four

Heads of lettuce and
a tomato. Heath cupcake.
Pregnant on purpose.

What is

You know you're getting old, or well, growing up when your friends are getting pregnant. On purpose. It doesn't help that I bought a vacuum cleaner last week, either.

I have a few days off work, so I am at home, and I spent the afternoon with one of my friends from high school. She got to my parent's house and after about thirty seconds, pulled out her phone, said "I can't stand it anymore!" and showed me a picture of her ultrasound. I squealed. The same way I squealed three and a half years ago when she called and told me she was getting married. And I am happy for her. SO happy. I think about how excited her entire family is and how ready she and her husband are to have a baby. Excitement as she tells me she wants me there for her baby showers like I was there for her wedding showers. Anticipation as I think about how much their lives will change in a million ways. And truly, I am thrilled for them. I say that in the most sincere of ways.

But then I think back to the high school version of the two of us and how we talked about having play dates with our children and being moms together, and that is hard. Because that, like everything else in my life, is a reminder that I'm single. That it will be years before I even think about babies. And while, yes, I need some more stability in my life before I have children anyway, I think I always thought I would be further along in my family life by the time I was 25 than I am. Not that I'm not happy with my life. Not that my life is unstable. Not that I am not enjoying all the wonderful, crazy, difficult things happening in my life right now. It's just different than I imagined in a lot of ways. And perhaps that is my problem. I have spent and do spend so much time fixating on what I thought would be that I am missing out on what is.

What is is that I am a financially independent 25-year-old who has no debt, friends I wouldn't want to live without, a job in my field straight out of school, the excitement that comes with living in a big city, a home in which I feel safe, information out the wazoo at my fingertips, clean water whenever I want or need it.

What is is that I need to stop worrying or wondering about what will or won't be. What may or may not happen. What is or is not to come and just enjoy all the wonderful things that are.

Three hundred forty-three

Oh the irony

of you selling weight loss pills

and working fast food.

Three hundred forty-two

Accidentally
late. Giant pink elephant.
Calm, steady drive home.

Three hundred forty-one

New brakes. And rotors.
Woof. Being an adult is
expensive. Tired.

Three hundred forty

Truly, if today
was not Friday, I don't think
I could keep going.

Three hundred thirty-nine

Sometimes, shit just hits
the absolute fan. Weekend,
please get here quickly!

Three hundred thirty-eight

These messages are
getting out of hand. I don't
think I can take it.

Three hundred thirty-seven

I might be sent
to a conference for work.
Well that feels quite nice.

Three hundred thirty-six

If not seeing a
snake makes it a good day, I
had a good day. Fruit.

Three hundred thirty-five

Whose burdens do I
get to bare? Oh spring, I am
so ready for you.

There hundred thirty-four

Lemon creamsicle
Children's books and colorful
pillows. Sharing food.

Three hundred thirty-three

I just learned the first
name of Snuffleupagus:
Aloysuis. Cute!

Three hundred thirty-two

I hope this meeting
happens. So much shuffling things
around. Burritos.

There hundred thirty-one

"That's a uvula!"
Well, um, yes. You're right. It's a
uvula indeed.

Three hundred twenty-nine

Like a flame leaping,
burning tall, I want to feel
passion in my soul.

Three hundred twenty-eight

Sweet silent Sunday. 

Stunning stillness. Soft sunshine.

Slow songs. Slips away.

Three hundred twenty-seven

I watch you reach for
his hand. You fumble, but then
they clasp. My heart sinks.

Regret

I have heard it said that you should do things that scare you. The scariest thing I have ever done was move 120 miles away to start a job I was only guaranteed for five months. In the grand scheme of things, that's not all that scary. You're also supposed to do things that you will regret because that means you actually did things. My biggest regret is going to college 100 miles away because it was where the guy I thought I was going to marry was going. I don't even regret that I went there; I regret why I chose to go there. Truthfully, most of my regrets come in the form of things I didn't do. At some point I recall seeing a quote that said, "Good grades, social life, adequate sleep. Pick two. Welcome to college." I picked the wrong two, and I feel pretty confident that you could guess which two I chose.

I look back and seem to have so few memories because I have done so few things. I blame it on laziness. On the fact that I'm a home body. On my introversion. And maybe those are all part of it. But you don't create memories by doing nothing. In general, I tend to play things safe, and that is an extension of it, I believe.

So Sarah, in the coming year, go outside when you want to stay in. Run when you want to walk. Buy too many candles and burn them all at once. Cook something new without regard for how much the ingredients will cost. Try something you have never done before. At least twice. Ask hard questions, make bold statements, be so honest it hurts, do something that scares you, live with vulnerability. Do something hard because you know it will make you better; because it will create a memory - a story. Stop being so afraid that you're going to mess up your life that you don't even begin to live it.

Three hundred twenty-six

I am starting to
wonder if I have lived too
much of a safe life.

Three hundred twenty-five

Dear winter weather,

it is March. This is the south.

Please just go away.

Three hundred twenty-four

It's a cold, rainy,
yucky March day. It's about
to get yuckier.

Three hundred twenty-three

Sometimes my day looks
different than I thought it
would. And that's okay.

Three hundred twenty-two

Paper airplane gift
complete with purple flowers.
I hope you're okay.

Three hundred twenty-one

Fingers running through
my hair. Not yours. Never yours.
Or his. Always mine.

Three hundred twenty

How have I gone my
whole life without Elmer the
Elephant? Yogurt.

Three hundred nineteen

Rarely am I glad
for traffic. Pizza of the
Hawaiian kind. Yum.

Three hundred eighteen

It was a read a
book, fold laundry, stay inside,
chat with friends Thursday.

Three hundred seventeen

Today went better
than I had expected. Day
off. Could it happen?

Three hundred sixteen

Eventually, 

all good things must come to an

end. This thing sure has.

It's not my fault and it's okay

It's no secret that I am doing online dating. At least not here. Really not to anybody in my life other than my family. And that isn't even entirely true anymore because I told all three of my brothers and both of my sisters-in-law when we were together at Thanksgiving, but I digress. The whole thing has been okayish, I guess. I went on a date back in October. The best part of that evening was picking up a carton of Moose Tracks afterwards and taking it over to a friend's house.

I took a break from things for a while in November due to some other things going on in my life, and got back into it sometime in December, I think. Early January, I started talking to a guy, pretty seriously (or so I thought), who ended up completely disappearing right around the time I moved and started my job. Now I am not bothered at all by people deciding I'm not right for them. Totally fine. I'm not right for everybody. That would be impossible. However, as a human being who is talking to or going on dates with other human beings, I expect them to show some basic respect and tell me. Nothing extensive. "Hey, I don't think this is going to work" will suffice. If you want to give me details, fine. If not, fine. Just tell me. I've done it. It's not fun and I don't enjoy it, but I have enough decency to be honest with people.

Shortly after he disappeared, I started talking to another guy. We had planned twice to get coffee. Both times he had something come up. Not a huge deal, and he at least let me know before I went and met him there. The second time it was a little more last minute. He explained why, which is neither here nor there. I told him I hoped the situation got better, and I haven't heard from him since. Or I hadn't until I randomly get a text from him this evening. Seriously? It has been almost a month. I mean COME ON! He apologized, made an excuse, explained why things were better, said I'm "pretty awesome," (really?), and apologized again. I guess kudos for apologizing, even if it took a while.

At this point, I don't think I owe him a response, but it is so tempting to be passive aggressive. I get that life happens. I have had things happen and I have needed to step away from various things, dating included. But I tell people. Nothing extensive. It would have taken him, maybe, thirty seconds to say that some things had come up, or changed, or whatever. Why is this too much to ask for? I mean it's not. If a guy is legitimately interested, I shouldn't be left wondering. I keep thinking about the book/movie He's Just Not That Into You. I know I have to take that with a grain of salt. It's not always that clear cut, but it's a place to start.

After a not so great first date last night that lasted about twice as long as was appropriate, it was a reminder that I am in no rush. I mean I am, I guess. I want to have children eventually and biologically that can only happen for so long, but I would rather be single than have children with the wrong person. There's nothing that says I can't have children on my own either by adoption or through a sperm donor, though I don't think I would ever go through with the later. I would be better off raising a child on my own than with a man who is a subpar father or who is going to disappear without notice.

I'm not sure what the point of this post was other than to remind myself, again, that I am worth enough to wait for the right guy. That it's not my fault if a guy is rude. That it is okay to not be interested in somebody I thought I would be. It's okay to wait. Even if it means that when I wake up on my wedding day I am 82-years-old. That's okay.

Three hundred fifteen

First dates are the worst.
Awkward conversations, bad
breath, poor tips. Freezing.

Three hundred fourteen

Grocery shopping,
people watching. Again, no
work tomorrow. What?

Three hundred thirteen

Four o'clock talking.
Chips and tacos with my faves.
A dreary drive home.

Three hundred twelve

Closed the door for the
last time on life and my home
there. Goodbye, eighteen.

Three hundred eleven

I finally left
my apartment. It only
took four freaking days.

Three hundred ten

As if I need to
be reminded when I am
near a Target store.

Three hundred nine

More movies and snow
day snack food consumption. Car
doors are frozen shut.

Three hundred eight

Ice. Icicles. Sheets
of ice. Movies and snow day
snack food consumption.

Three hundred seven

Errands before the
sky falls and I am stuck at
home, but work is closed!

Three hundred six

Texas caviar
that made me laugh. Backstories.
Great minds think alike.

Three hundred five

It's difficult to
be productive before a
long weekend and snow.

Three hundred four

You know you've arrived
when you don't have the time to
actually eat lunch.

Three hundred three

Productivity

and spaghetti, garlic bread,

and meetings to come.

Three hundred two

Two weird and awkward
situations today at
work. What in the world?

Three hundred one

Later than normal
work meeting. Bad big city
traffic. Nice mail day.

Three hundred

A grocery store
parking garage. Yeah, I live
in a big city.

Two hundred ninety-nine

Balcony at dusk.
Breeze. Book. Blanket. Bright porch light.
Big city. Alone.

Two hundred ninety-eight

Decide: To put all
other options to death. Hash
tag paradigm shift.

Two hundred ninety-seven

I have got to get
over my fear of phone calls.
It's problematic.

Two hundred ninety-six

Observations and
moon dough. And an unhopeful
expectation. Sigh.

Two hundred ninety-five

Yoga to begin
the day. Difficult meeting.
Unexpected call.

Two hundred ninety-four

I stood outside for
half an hour with a wind
chill in the teens. Yuck

Two hundred ninety-three

I am a sucker
for commercials with horses
and Golden puppies.

Two hundred ninety-two

Candle burning, wax
warming, internet set up
kind of Saturday.

Two hundred ninety-one

He is just not that
into me. And that's okay.
Well, it has to be.

Two hundred ninety

What a weird winter
day. Cold, warm, cold. Training on
a software system.

Two hundred eighty-nine

Email, I have my
email! Team meeting. What have
I agreed to do?

Two hundred eighty-eight

Observations gone
awry. Pyramids and a
wonderful letter.

Two hundred eighty-seven

Entered a fallout

shelter. Exited with

two stuffed animals.

Two hundred eighty-six

Sometimes you get a
thirty dollar surprise at
the grocery store. Sweet!

Two hundred eighty-five

Driving four hours
round trip to tie loose ends and
clean is quite tiring.

Two hundred eighty-four

I survived my first
full week! Well kind of. I did
not work on Monday.

Two hundred eighty-three

Online dating is
always good for a laugh or
three. Too much to read.

Two hundred eighty-two

Runners. They are kind
of everywhere and it is
just a bit scary.

Two hundred eighty-one

Twenty minutes of
unhurried time was a great
start to my evening.

Two hundred eighty

Double murder. Um,
yeah. That isn't scary in
the least. Not at all.

Two hundred seventy-nine

I woke up on my
own before seven. That must
mean I'm an adult.

Two hundred seventy-eight

Moving has got to 

be one of the worst things to

ever exist ever.

Two hundred seventy-seven

My legs kind of feel
like noodles. Insanity
was not very smart.

Two hundred seventy-six

First day at my first
"real" job. It still feels surreal.
I can't believe it.

Two hundred seventy-five

Fingers intertwined,
my head on your shoulder. That's
where I want to be.

Two hundred seventy-four

I have moved into
my new city. My big new
city. Exciting!

Two hundred seventy-three

Mid-day panic and
massive freak out. It turned out
okay. Life goes on.

Two hundred seventy-two

Packing never seems
to end. My kitchen looks like
it has exploded.

Two hundred seventy-one

My last burger from
the place down the street. Greasy,
but good. I'll miss it.

Two hundred seventy

My pinky finger
just wouldn't roll. I hope that
doesn't cause issues.

Two hundred sixty-nine

I'm thankful for friends
who will discuss personal
life details with me.

Vulnerable

"Everything good that has happened in your life happened because something changed." -Possibly Andy Andrews, but I can only find one place that gives him credit for that quote, so maybe not.

Earlier today, I found some old recordings I had made on my phone of things I had written in what feels like a previous life. One in particular stood out to me from when I was in my junior year of college. I think in part due to the fact that I am moving within the next 7-10 days. I had my last Chili's night last night, and the quote that kept coming to mind was one of A. A. Milne's. "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard."

What a whirlwind the last few years of my life have been. When I moved here, I anticipated that I would get to know my classmates due to the small size of our program and the number of classes we would have together. I had absolutely no clue that I would make friends who I could not even begin to imagine living a day without. Who I anticipate will be people I will always go to when I need a suggestion or a fresh idea or just need to talk to somebody who gets it. They are the group of friends I have always wanted and needed. They are ninety percent of what has made this city home. Even though it will be hard to leave them, it is worth every single ounce of sadness and difficulty. There is something so beautiful about letting people into your life. Letting them share your story. Realizing that the things you think and do that you think isolate you are often things they think and do too. Getting to a place where you are comfortable enough with them to have conversations about pretty much everything. Really, the word beautiful barely scratches the surface.

Back to my recording, though. Listening to it was a startling reminder of how much I have changed.

"Something I question more than almost anything else is where home is. I can tell you it's not the city I grew up in or the house I grew up in. And it's certainly not in the town I am going to school in. In fact, I kind of hate the town I am going to school in. It could never be home for me. I feel like home is something everybody should have, but few people do. I did once. There aren't really words to describe how it feels. People try to define home every day, and most people fall short. Some say it's the place or person you keep coming back to. Others say it's where the heart is. If that's what home is, I don't really want one. I don't want to keep going back to the same place because that means I have messed up. And if it's where the heart is, that requires giving it away. It requires vulnerability which will inevitably bring pain. I'm not really fond of messing up, and I'm certainly not fond of the pain that is associated with giving your heart away. Giving your heart away requires letting people in, and that rarely ends well."

I think this C. S. Lewis quote sums it up perfectly. "Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in a casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable."

So to my chili's ladies who probably won't ever read this, thank you. Thank you for sharing copious amounts of chips and queso with me. For breaking me out of my shell. For letting me become the person I am. For loving me despite my oddities and insecurities. For making me laugh and being there when I cried.

Thank you for being people who make it safe for me to be vulnerable.

Two hundred sixty-eight

More than anything
else, I am going to miss
Wednesdays at Chili's.

Two hundred sixty-seven

Baby boy is here!
Twenty questions with a cute
boy. It's getting cold.

Two hundred sixty-six

Official offer.
So many phone calls. There's a
baby on his way!

Gift baskets

I am kind of obsessed with gift baskets. Or themed gifts in general. I just think they are fun and love the coordination and item search that occurs leading up to giving the gift. I enjoy giving thoughtful and/or cohesive gifts, thus, the snow day gift basket was born. This one was for a friend, but with the exception of the pajama pants since figuring out somebody's size can be awkward, you could give this basket to just about anybody.

"Snow days in [name of city] are quite the rare treat, but in case you find yourself stranded, here are some things you'll need."

Of course, this tag may need some revisions depending on the area of the country. Where she lives, the whole city shuts down with anything beyond about one inch. 

I came up with this poem on my own; I was actually kind of proud of myself, even if it isn't very long.

• Cozy blanket
• Pajama pants
• Popcorn
• A movie [I got one of those 4-in-1 movies from Target]
• A pair of socks
• Cookie mix and a cookie cutter
• Movie theater candy
• A puzzle. She and I are equally obsessed.
• Two mint hot chocolate pops [instructions and printables here]
• Christmas scent bag [instructions and printables here]. I added two bay leaves to mine and chose to use dried rosemary rather than fresh mostly because fresh is expensive and I made a bunch of these scent bags for other people. Helpful hint: look for the spices in the hispanic food section of your grocery store. They are significantly cheaper and since you are not actually eating this, quality isn't a big deal. You could also do a candle if this isn't your thing.
• Body butter [instructions here]. This particular friend works in health care and washes her hands all.the.time. If I make this basket for someone else, I probably won't include this item. Not because she didn't like it, it was just something I made specifically for her more than it was something that fits with the theme. 

I also thought about including two mugs to go along with the hot chocolate pops, but ultimately decided against it. I think some people like having random mugs. I am one of those people. This friend is not.

So there you have it. My Christmas attempt at creativity. 

Two hundred sixty-five

Ah, a reminder
that my anxieties are
mostly unfounded.

Two hundred sixty-four

I think I may have
worked my last Saturday. Wow,
seems impossible.

Two hundred sixty-three

Sometimes I am way
too impatient for my own
good. It's time to pack.

Two hundred sixty-two

Another New Year.
I anticipate a lot
of new for this year.