The Most Beautiful Bonus

When I first my amazing fiancé Mike just over three years ago, one of the things he was so incredibly proud to share with was me was that he was a dad to two equally amazing kiddos — Lucy and Jude.

I won’t lie, friends.

I was a little intimidated.

Okay, a lot.

I was a lot intimidated.

I love kids. Huge fan of tiny humans. And even pictured myself having one or two of my own some day. But at the time, I wasn’t sure I was ready, equipped, prepared for what that might mean. Would they even like me?

These were all questions that rumbled through my head and heart.

But then I went and kinda sorta really fell in love with Mike…on our second date lol. And all of those thoughts flew out the proverbial window because I knew these incredible kiddos were going to be a part of my life.

I remember the first time I met them.

Mike and I had talked seriously about when the perfect time would be to make this most special of introductions. As a parent, you want to protect your kids’ hearts as much as possible. I didn’t want Mike to ever feel rushed or under a certain timeline. I wanted it to be right. For all parties involved.

We decided about five months into seriously dating that I would come over to their apartment for breakfast.

Oh my goodness, when I tell you how insanely nervous I was. I wanted them to like me so badly. Mike was quickly becoming the most important person in my life, and I was getting to meet the most important people in his. This was a huge moment. I didn’t want to screw things up.

As soon as I walked in carting my homemade banana bread (which the kids still talk about to this day, ha!), I instantly felt like I was home.

They were seriously the sweetest, kindest, and most inquisitive kids that I had ever met. Truly an extension of Mike. Lucy walked up to me, after having only known me for exactly 2.5 seconds, gave me a big hug, and said, “We finally get to meet the person that dah can’t stop smiling about.”

A puddle.

I melted right then and there.

It’s been three years since these amazing kiddos became such a big part of my life.

Three years since I’ve taken on the most special role I’ve held to date: Bonus Mom. (My incredible mother-in-law told me one time that I’m not a stepmom, I’m a bonus mom and it completely changed how I felt and viewed my role in their lives.)

Three years of learning, growing, adapting, trying to find my way in this very unique dynamic.

If I’m being completely honest (which I will always be with you), it hasn’t always been easy.

Coming into an established family is hard. It’s really hard.

These four people — Mike, the kids, and their biological mom, were a family unit at one point. They shared a life together, memories together, laughter and love together. It can feel sometimes like you’re the odd dock out. Even now, after all of this time, I do have moments where I think about all the time I missed out on, the things they (collectively) have that I will never be a part of.

Another thing? I don’t quite know my place sometimes.

They already have a mom. One who loves them very, very much. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be for a parent to have their kids being partly raised by another woman. Everything I do, every decision I make on behalf of the kids, is lead with thoughts of empathy and respect because of that. But I also want her to know that I love them as if they were my own. I may not have given them the gift of this life, but life absolutely gave me the gift of them.

I will never, ever replace her, but I will always be the first person to give them guidance, support, advice, an overabundance of love, and will do I everything I can to make sure they’re happy and healthy.

Being a bonus mom can also feel a little lonely.

When I’m having a bad day, am doubting my parenting skills, or there is particular tension or disagreements with the other half of the co-parenting unit, I don’t really know who to talk to, to vent to, to ask questions, and get advice from. Mike is wonderful, and is always there to talk through things with me, of course. But sometimes I would love to get an outside perspective, someone who isn’t so close to the situation. There just aren’t a lot of people who share this unique position, and as such, I’ve had to really learn as I go.

But I guess that’s being a parent in general, huh? You will doubt yourself. You will wonder if you’re doing it “right.” You will probably make mistakes along the way, and get lost, and constantly worry about them (CONSTANTLY!) and will call your mom in tears, asking her, “How did you do thisssssssss?!”

And you know what?

That’s okay.

It’s all a part of the journey that’s distinctly unique to you.

I think one of the biggest lessons that I’ve learned so far, however, has been one of humility.

There is a level of selflessness that comes when you are caring for another human (or humans). When you once had all the time in the world to do whatever your heart’s content, you are now a full-time chauffer, cook, homework helper, laundry queen, counselor, and sometimes, disciplinarian (although, woof, I am realllllllllllly, really not good at that part lol).

And sometimes, all of those things don’t get appreciated, at least as outwardly as you’d think or would like.

This is also something that makes me especially grateful to my parents for (besides really just being the GREATEST examples of what loving, supportive, caring, thoughtful and the best parents should be. Thank you, mom and dad. A million times thank you.). They did so much for my sister and I when we growing up. SO. MUCH. They still do. And I’m discovering that as a parent, bonus or biological, you don’t do these things to get recognition (although anytime the kids thank me for taking them to practice or making them cookies, I melt all over again). You do them, because you love them. You want them to have a full and beautiful life. You want them to grow and develop and become well-rounded young adults. You want them to be happy.

So yes, being a bonus mom can be hard. Heck, being a parent can be hard.

But it can also be the most wonderful thing you will ever do.

Being a part of Lucy and Jude’s lives, and creating our own little family unit that is so full of love, has been the greatest thing I will ever do.

Mike and I are a team. A pretty fantastic team, if I do say so myself. And I love, more than anything, raising Lucy and Jude together.

Helping to shape their outlook on life.

Guiding them through the messy bits, the hard bits, the uncertainty and doubt.

Celebrating their wins, their accomplishments, the times they were afraid but did the dang thing anyway.

The smiles, the hugs, the laughter, and heart talks.

These are the things that make everything worth it.

So no, I’m not a regular mom.

I’m a bonus mom.

And I think that’s really freaking cool.

Dear Management: It’s Not Me, It’s You

Dear Management,

I hope this letter finds you well. I’ve been trying to find the words to express how I feel for some time now.

You see, it’s been over a month since you unexpectedly let me go, and while I carried the weight of pain, confusion, and shock on my shoulders for a good long while, I’ve finally been able to move on, to take a breath, to see you for who and what you are.

And goodness, what I saw wasn’t pretty.

And that makes me sad.

Because I thought we had something special.

You brought me onto your team over a year and half ago with open arms. And during my time there, I not only made real connections with my amazing coworkers, but I did great work.

Work I truly believed in. Work that I was proud of. Work that helped take your company to the next level.

I remember thinking to myself during those early honeymoon period days that this was the best thing that had ever happened to me career-wise.

“How did I get so lucky?”, I asked myself over and over again.

But then…something changed.

Red flags started to pop up, slow and soft at first, but then quicker and louder.

I was worried all of the time, restless, anxious, and stressed. I felt like any small infraction was going to be the tipping point. I started to question not only my work, but who I was as a person.

I’ve always considered my kindness and positivity one of my greatest strengths, but I was told, over and over again that all I saw were “butterflies and rainbows.” I was mocked repeatedly. I was made to feel small.

“You’re too nice,” they said. “You need to stop being such a doormat,” they said.

When I finally did stand up for myself, for others who I saw were being mistreated, I was punished for it. Gaslit. Told that leadership wasn’t ever going to change, but instead it was me to had to simply learn how to deal with it.

And deal with it I did, or at least tried to.

I kept my head down. I continued to give 110% every day. I worked so hard, for so long, and I didn’t get so much as a “Thank you”, a “Good job!”, a “We see the work you’re doing and we appreciate the heck out of you!” In fact, you did the opposite; you straight up told me that my position, my work, wasn’t valued. It wasn’t the priority. And if I wanted that appreciation, I would have to look for another job, at another company.

That was the moment I truly felt like I didn’t matter. That I was disposable.

Do you know how that feels, Management?

Let me tell you. It doesn’t feel great.

Initially when you denied my raise, then a week later, told me we could revisit and discuss that matter again, only to be laid off that very next week, I did take it personal.

I thought it was me.

Something I did. Or didn’t do.

Was I not the best writer I could be? Was I too nice? How could they just let me go so easily?

Well, former bosses, I want you to know that you can rest easy, because I know now, without a shadow of a doubt, that it wasn’t me. It was you.

You can pretend the blame rests on me, because that’s easier than addressing the harder issue. I’m the one in the wrong because I didn’t communicate my qualms so easily as you did. Never mind that you were the one who shut down those lines of communication in the first place. You can ignore the double standards you set up, the atmosphere that your arbitrary policies and passive-aggressive emails created. Just focus on how I messed up. Life is easier when you assume someone needed to be let go because they weren’t an asset. At best, they weren’t the right one. Your perfect fit. We’ll ignore the part where a “perfect fit” is someone who sits with and ignores injustices, or the type of person that no one wants to be or be around.

And you’re right: maybe there was more I could do. Maybe I could’ve found new ways of communicating. Maybe I could’ve been the one to make you realize where you were going wrong and help you try to fix it. Maybe I was too wrapped up in my own very hard life challenges that were going on (that you didn’t seem to care about) to really see things for what they were. But I was exhausted. Emotionally and mentally and physically exhausted. You pass a point in a toxic situation and there’s no turning back. In a weird way, you did me a huge favor. And in a weird way, I should be thanking you.

But I hope, despite all of this, we can remain civil. As much as you have hurt me, I can’t burn that bridge just yet. In some messed up, co-dependent way, I still need you. There are people who might call you, asking about me as a person. I’ll try to keep it to a minimum, since I know how awkward of a situation that must be – new administration talking with old – but it’s bound to happen.

I wish only the best for you.

Maybe someday you’ll realize the error of your ways. Maybe someday you’ll come around and change how you act and interact. Maybe you’ll recognize that we’re all flawed human beings who need an extra moment of understanding before reacting. Maybe you’ll actually practice that “culture” that you’re always preaching. Or maybe you’ll just find that “perfect fit”, someone who is completely okay with a lack of support or respect or communication. Someone who will nearly kill themselves to fulfill those unrealistic expectations you have. Someone who will never try to challenge or question you. And you can sit back in your meeting room, office coffee warming your palms, and congratulate yourself and finally, finally finding that right someone for your company.

But Management, that person is not me.

Best regards,
Your now happy and much more confident ex-employee

The Mountains We Have Climbed

On the days when it feels like you will never get through this season, this period, this transition — please remember all of the mountains you have climbed before. Please remember all of the nights you spent convinced that the anxiety wouldn’t leave, that you’d never move beyond where you were in that very moment.

Whether you realized it or not, the time passed.

Without you having to even try, joy emerged from your days. One day, something small brought you a little ease, and then a little more. You waited. You realized that everything was going to be okay, even if it doesn’t always feel okay. You let the waves crash, and then you let them recede.

Whether you realized it or not, you found courage.

You did things you once did not believe you could do, even if those things were just finding the will to wake up and face each day. You felt worse than you were capable of feeling, you suffered loss that you couldn’t have conceived prior. You were awakened to reality, which is sometimes cold, and sometimes hard, and sometimes brutally unfair.

But also, unimaginably sweet.

Because while you were mourning what you thought would be, you also found softness. You discovered how important it is to love the people nearest to you, and how invaluable they are. You began to appreciate what you didn’t see before. You began to know that you were enough, because you decided what was enough.

Whether you realized it or not, you became resilient.

You explored the perimeters of what your heart could hold, and how much it could process. You discovered that your strength is limitless, you just don’t know what if it’s never been tested before.

And over time, what was once impossible became easy.

The life you have today is a mere dream of the past. The things you do right now were once the things you only could have ever prayed to have. The people in your life are the ones you gazed out the window for years and wondered if they would ever arrive, if someone would ever show up that made you feel so deeply understood, cared for, appreciated and loved.

You do not have to have everything in order to make the best of anything, because the truth is that goodness is something we extract from life, something we savor, something we choose to see. It’s not always something we can achieve, or find.

So when the day comes that it feels most like you will never move beyond where you are right now, please remember how far you have walked, and through what. Please remember all of the times you were stuck and were sure you would never get out from under the crushing weight of your own disappointment and defeat. Please remember all of the times you were truly heartbroken, truly let down.

Then remember all of the nights you dreamed of being where you are right now.

The days you spent working and planning and hoping that it would all work out. In one way or another, a path was made where it did not exist before. The opportunities showed up. The doors creaked open. You met the people who you’d spend years if not the rest of your life with, people who were once strangers becoming friends, family.

You discovered things about yourself you did not yet know.

You learned what it takes to feel safe, and not. You learned what you enjoy, and what you don’t. You learned what you value, and what you don’t. You learned, because you discovered, the honest truth of who you are and who you’re going to be.

You found yourself, not because you were searching, but because you were cornered. When discomfort in life peaks, we are left to look around and wonder why. Through that reflection, we discover all the pieces that are out of place, and then we find the courage to put them back together.

You will move the pieces in front of you today.

You will arrive to the horizon you’re gazing at in due time.

Instead of fearing that the road will fall out from under you, return to what life has shown you: that things can be scary, but that a way is always made. That even if you don’t believe you’re worthy, you’re always given enough. That even if you don’t believe you’re lovable, you’re always loved. That even if you don’t think there’s a way forward, there always is.

When it feels most like nothing will ever give and the mountain ahead of you won’t ever be scaled, remember how you crossed every one that’s behind you: one step, one hour, one moment, one glimmer of hope at a time.

The Ebbs and Flows of Rejection

There’s always that one person who is going to disagree with you, to dislike you, no matter what. It seems harsh and reductionist, and it’s a tough reality to stomach: that you could have done absolutely nothing, and yet someone will come along and decide that you are somehow not enough. That you are flawed, or come up short, or any myriad of lesser-thans that you could ever possibly be. Even if you weren’t even trying to please them, even if what you were doing was solely for your own enjoyment — because there still are those little happinesses in the world — they will make the official proclamation that you have somehow failed.

You can’t please everyone. So it goes.

But still, if the Internet has taught us anything, it’s that these small maledictions are the ones that stick with us the longest. They are the ones that, even if they come from the faceless and nameless, torment us. As if we could have done better. As if we owed it to someone else, somewhere else, to do better, to do justice by their thoughts, their feelings, their beliefs. And no one set of credos has the ability to take away from yours — the world is vast and open, and all that airspace above our heads holds everything from WiFi to power lines to birds and the little lightbulbs of inspiration and ideas that come along if we let them.

And when someone comes along and takes a swing at these things, it hurts.

It’s normal, of course, as is the habit of dialogue and debate and discourse. You can’t stop someone from disagreeing with you as much as you can stop them from drawing breath. And they shouldn’t have to agree with you. There is nothing in this world that says they ought to open their arms wide and welcome you in. We know this, at the core.

Why then, is rejection always so painful? Why do we care?

I’ve been back on the job hunting scene now for just over three months, and while I’ve had some incredible opportunities to speak with and interview for some even more incredible positions, all that I can really focus on is how much rejection I’ve faced.

Which has been…..a lot.

I know people say that you can’t take it personally; it’s just business, after all. It comes with the territory.

But I’m here to tell those people, whoever they are and however well-intentioned they may be, are crazy. How can you not take it personally? When you pour your heart into something, when you allow yourself to get excited and hopeful and inspired about the potential that could be, it’s nearly impossible to not be disappointed when that gets taken from underneath you via a two-sentence email.

It’s nearly impossible to not be sad, or confused, or upset.

To not care.

Because you should care.

You absolutely should care.

You see, that fear of rejection is what keeps you from applying to your dream job, but it also is what drives you to study for your interview. It’s what makes you terrified to ask that cute guy or gal at the bar for their number, but it’s what drives you to dress your best for your first date. Every point has its counterpoint, every con has its pro. The silver lining to rejection is acceptance, but it’s not other people’s acceptance we should seek so blindly — it’s our own.

It’s only when you begin to accept yourself for who you are — when you talk yourself down from the ledges of changing every last detail of what you think and what you say and who you like and what you don’t — that rejection seems a little less scary, because the people who would reject you won’t bother. To them, you will be a lost hope. They need you as much as you need them.

There’s no rejecting someone who doesn’t need approval to keep going. You can resign yourself to the idea that they will keep doing what they want to do, or you can accept it, or you can embrace it. But your rejection will fall on deaf ears. The relentless and the stubborn and most optimistic people care about being rejected, but they don’t let it stop them.

Therein lies the difference. Therein lies the key.

You can’t please everyone — nor should you even try. If you’re not doing something worth having a strong opinion about one way or the other, what are you doing? And there will always be the people who hate something on principle. They will want to hate it, and there is no helping them. There is no pleasing them, either, because giving in to what they want will only ever lead them to rejecting your next big endeavor, too, and the next, and the next. So it goes.

People say to focus on pleasing yourself. And while that is the push to rejection’s pull, that’s not quite right, either. Devote yourself, instead, to doing something worthwhile. To something that leaves you not always pleased, but satisfied. Fulfilled.

Naysayers will reject you no matter what. That is what they will always aim to do. You can’t prove them wrong all the time, by any means. You can, however, prove yourself right. You can create in yourself a person who you don’t reject.

Because if anyone should embrace the person you are busy becoming, it’s you.

If You Ever Find Yourself Feeling Apathetic, Remember This…

When we’re faced with a constant and unrelenting barrage of pain and suffering, uncertainty and big, enormous problems for which there is never an easy or comforting solution, it’s not uncommon to begin to feel apathetic.

That apathy mostly manifests itself as disbelief and disregard.

In the face of crisis, and without sensing that they’re gaining any traction toward a solution, people begin to drop off. They devise alternative beliefs, and come up with every fathomable reason to dismiss someone else’s truth, replacing it with a narrative that is a bit less harsh, and a lot easier for their heads and their hearts to handle.

The truth is, when we are overloaded with so much negativity, we can all start to become used to its presence. It seems to neutralize itself and normalize as a steady constant that we are vaguely aware of but still not immediately alarmed by.

Maybe you have felt this lately.

Maybe you will feel this as the weeks and months press on.

If you do, you need to know that apathy is really a response to overwhelm. The overwhelm is absolutely understandable — but friends, the apathy can’t be.

This past week carried an unspeakable weight for a lot of us, myself included.

To the Asian American/Pacific Islander community, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. To the victims and their families of the senseless act of hate and violence that occurred in Boulder, Colorado earlier this week, to a community I love so much and one that has made me feel so welcomed, my heart is shattered for you.

I’ve sat with this overwhelming amount of sadness, anger, and fear over the last few days. As I tried to carry out my normal routine of going for my morning runs, grabbing coffee, making dinner with my boyfriend and trying to find joy in the smallest of moments, I felt a surge of guilt; I was clouded, lost in a fog.

I looked around me and wondered how people could go back to living their lives so effortlessly.

But then I realized something.

It’s not that they don’t care about what’s happening in the world around them, it’s not that they’re indifferent to other people’s suffering, but that eventually, they hit their saturation point for their own discomfort, and from there, they set up mental walls that help them regain a sense of peace.

This is, ultimately, just a coping mechanism. A form of self-preservation, if you will.

I guess what we all have to learn is how to strike a balance: how to at once keep our heart and mind open while not becoming completely consumed and overwhelmed.

When we first start to become aware of the fault lines within society, our instinct can be to insist that they aren’t so bad, until, of course, we recognize that they are and ultimately feel helpless. We pour every ounce of our already waning mental and emotional energy into devising and acting on a solution only to realize that this is so much bigger than you, than me, than any of us — it would make the most sense just to give up.

Except it doesn’t.

If you ever start to feel apathetic about what is happening in the world, please know, you are not too small to have made a difference. We are not irredeemable. Change that sticks is slow, and steady, and takes time. You do not have to be sidelined by suffering to still acknowledge it exists.

And I hope that you do.

I hope we all do.

I hope that you aren’t lulled back to sleep by the next trend, the next problem, the next crisis.

I hope that you keep your feet on the ground, which is far more important than keeping your finger on the pulse of social media, appearing to be one way without translating it into something real.

I hope that you never deplete yourself to the point that you aren’t capable of feeling empathy, of imagining how deeply injustices can run, how our very foundations must shift if we have any hope of healing.

I hope that you know you are not always at the center of it, but you can always contribute, you can always be a piece of the force that moves us all forward.

And that momentum? It’s important.

Don’t let yourself become worn out and give up.

It is hard to keep our eyes open.

It is far harder not to.

This One’s For the Risk-Takers and Change-Makers

“WE HAVE TO CONTINUALLY BE JUMPING OFF CLIFFS AND DEVELOPING OUR WINGS ON THE WAY DOWN.” – KURT VONNEGUT.

Fear. It’s a funny thing, friends.

It’s also a very necessary thing. If you go back in history, fear was what enabled the cavemen to identify a dangerous situation. It’s what heightens your senses, pumps adrenaline into your system, and it helps you survive whatever it is that’s scaring you. But life isn’t that difficult anymore — there are fewer stakes raised, and we live in a pretty safe, comfortable environment – relatively speaking.

Because of that, our fears are the things we now manifest inside ourselves. The things we let fester, the dreams we never pursue, the chances we don’t take, the places we never move to, the people we don’t admit to loving, the jobs we never apply for. There are so many things to be afraid of, but most of these things reside inside our own heads.

BECAUSE WHAT IF WE FAIL? WHAT IF WE NEVER RECOVER? WHAT IF, WHAT IF, WHAT IF?

But what if we don’t?

What if we do the scariest thing of all — what if we actually get everything we ever wanted?

One of my track coaches used to always say that “you should get uncomfortable because being uncomfortable is where you begin to see real change.” And it’s true — not just in the biological sense that your body responds to harder work by adapting and becoming stronger, but because your mind becomes stronger, too. You begin to withstand the scary things, the things you never thought you were capable of. And in this, you become more resilient.

BECAUSE BEING SCARED IS FREAKING UNCOMFORTABLE.

In all honesty, I think being afraid is supposed to be — it lights that metaphorical fire under your butt in order to tell you to work towards being more comfortable. But there are two ways you can do this: either retreating, and avoiding the scary thing in the first place, or working through it to the other side. Riding out the uncomfortable and the scary until you’re stronger and things aren’t as scary anymore. Fight or flight. Do or die.

And of course, in order to really understand how to withstand the scary things life throws at us, you have to get to the bottom of why you think it’s scary. Why it gets under your skin, why it terrifies you, why it dregs up memories of all the other times you faced scary things and didn’t come out stronger on the other side. There’s a whole host of reasons, really, and each will vary from person to person, but I think one of the things that connect this fear we all experience isn’t all that unique.

WE’RE MOST AFRAID OF BEING HAPPY. OF HAVING A GOOD LIFE.

Not that we don’t want to — oh, of course, we do. But we wonder if we deserve a good life, if we ought to have one, and so this doubt creeps in and we’re left second-guessing ourselves when we have to stand up to the thing that is in the way of our happiness. Of whatever it is we want. After all, what would happen if we wound up getting everything we wanted? What if it all got taken away?

But that is a risk with everything you do. So you might as well face the scary parts head-on because chances are, the outcome you want least might happen anyway. Whether or not you tried.

And if you don’t try, the what if — the magical, fantastical, best-case-scenario — will never happen at all.

My life has had its fair share of missteps, mistakes, ope, and oops moments and I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Because it’s in that vulnerability, the scrapes and bruises, and scars that you grow, you learn, you prove to yourself how strong you really are.

DO THE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU.

I recently did something that was very uncharacteristic of me. Something that both terrified me to my core and also filled me with this new sense of power, of hope, of excitement and relief.

I quit my job.

Yep, me. The forever and always girl with a plan and a form of attack.

Stable.

Cautious.

Calculated.

I’ve never really been one to leap before I look, but after being mistreated at my job, unhappy, burnt out, stressed and anxious to the max, I decided it was time for a change.

Over the last few months, I’ve thought long and hard about self-worth: acknowledging it, owning it, celebrating it, and doing whatever it takes to make sure you’re being treated in a way that reflects just how incredibly amazing you are. 

For a very long time, I had a very narrow perception of what my self-worth was. Deep down I knew I was intelligent and talented, kind and genuine, and brought a fair amount of goodness to this world, but I didn’t always fight for the girl who was all of those things.

Until now.

The last year has taught me many a lesson – it has for so many of us – but the one thing that stands out most to me is deeply valuing who I am as person, as a professional, and not accepting anything less than what I deserve.

I don’t know what lies ahead for me, but I do know that I’m excited for the future, for doing something I love while also making a positive impact on the world, working for a company or organization I can put my whole heart into, and most importantly, one that believes in and respects me.

I’m also proud of standing up for myself, for recognizing that I didn’t have to accept how I was being treated. No one should. Am I scared? Abso-freakin-lutely I am! But that fear reminds me that I’m alive, and brave enough to go after something that sets my soul on fire. And to me, that’s worth it.

SO TAKE THAT RISK.

Be bold.

Be courageous.

And if you do wind up with everything you ever wanted, it’s because you did that work. You put in the effort, you found the grit within yourself, you realized that the scariest things in this world can sometimes be the most wonderful.

We’re scared of change, is all. But change is good for us. Change is how we learn.

And there’s nothing more fulfilling than that.

Trust Me When I Say…

…that even if your plans have changed, even if your timeline is different, even if this year has not unfolded the way you thought it would — you are not falling behind, but instead, are right where you need to be.

The course of our lives is not contingent upon things happening precisely as we think they should. In fact, it’s often the unexpected that opens us up to opportunities that weren’t crossing our radars, ideas about life, and love, and the world itself, that we hadn’t stopped to consider. If you know that it’s time to slow down, to simplify, to take it easier, to savor your days, to adjust your course — you are absolutely right.

You are not straying from the path, you are finally finding it.

You are learning that real growth is not always just constant forward motion. Growth is also staying still. Growth is deep rest. Growth is stopping to reconsider where you’re headed before you arrive there. Growth is letting yourself settle, it’s letting yourself blossom, it’s letting yourself see how much good is already in your life before you hunger for more.

You are allowed to take days to grieve, to do nothing. You are allowed to press your plans back until they make more sense. You do not exist on a single schedule, your fate is not to arrive at each set point at precisely the second you think you should. That’s not what you’re here for. That’s not what this whole thing is about.

You cannot miss the exit.

There are no wrong turns.

Life is a living, breathing thing — because it’s an extension of you.

It’s the ways in which you explore the corners and contours of your soul, the way you find pieces of yourself through love, through trial and error, through reaching, through supporting and learning and caring and doing good. Every part of our lives exists to teach us something. We are not only making progress when we are clearly, discernibly growing. We are also making progress when we take time to simply be.

The irony is that it’s often the plans that go wrong that teach us more, and show us more, than the ones that go right.

Those words even signify our perceptions of how we are meant to be in the world, that we cannot possibly do anything but what was pre-determined, otherwise we’re failing, and off-course.

The truth that I am asking you to consider is that even if all you did was wake up and keep breathing today, you did what you are supposed to do. Even if all you could manage was to take care of your most essential tasks, you have done more than many can. If you’re able to reach for something just beyond yourself, you should applaud yourself and feel profoundly grateful for your courage, your strength, and your grit.

You should not feel ashamed that you aren’t able to wake up and do that every single day.

Because you and I? We are human beings just trying to sort through the realities and imperfections of being on this planet, with all of these people, trying to coexist and make sense of it all and come out on the other end a little more okay than we were before.

Our lives are not defined by how clearly and seamlessly we reach each goal, but what we are able to savor from each day.

Who were we, and how did we show up, in the simplest moments, in the easiest ways? We are far more defined by the way we make others feel than the way we think they feel about us. We are far more impacted by learning to see what we have as enough as opposed to thinking we’re only okay once we have more. We are far better for taking time to rest, to regenerate, and seeing this not as a stagnation, but a beautiful, and essential, part of being who we are.

May this be the year that you learn slowing down is nothing to be ashamed of.

May this be the year that you realize your life isn’t on any schedule but your own — and you can amend that.

May this be the year you realize you are not only as good as your latest accomplishment was great.

You are not falling behind, you never have been.

The journey has only ever been about learning to find a semblance of peace each day, and it’s often in the quiet, in the unexpected, and in the simplest things that we are given the greatest opportunity to do just that.

The Upside Down

A good 99.98% of my days are warm and flaxen.

Even when it’s rainy, even when it’s nighttime, there’s still a brightness. The atmosphere is golden-hued, like the world and everything in it is backlit by the sun. There is a constant thrum of expectancy. Something good is going to happen, even if I don’t know what it is. I’m always looking forward to the next exciting thing—a dinner, a vacation, a new book, a warm cup of coffee. Even when things aren’t so good, even when there are little annoyances, even when my day is a complete dumpster fire, there’s still the sense that everything is okay. I’m hopeful. I’m grateful. I’m happy. There’s always tomorrow after all, and even if something is worrying me, I can still objectively take a step back and look at my life and declare that it is good. 

Really, really, really good.

I’m so accustomed to seeing the world this way that it’s not even something I notice on a regular day. I think most of us are like this, you know? When life is generally good and things are relatively easy, it just flows. We’re along for the ride, and we’re so focused on the map and our destination that we don’t acknowledge the vehicle driving us there. We don’t hear the hum of the road under us or feel the wind from the cracked window. Kind of like our breath—we only notice it when we take the time and energy to focus on it or when it’s taken away from us.

I feel the need to emphasize that even on my best day, there is always an undercurrent of anxiety. I think that people who don’t struggle with mental health issues are under the impression that when things are good, our symptoms are totally absent. As much as I wish that were true, it just isn’t. Anxiety is my constant companion. Most of the time, because of coping skills and the incredible support system of people who I love standing by my side, it’s completely manageable. I’m able to function and enjoy life, but it’s always there.

Still, even with that annoying companion, most days have that subtle glow. Most days are good and light and warm.

Until they aren’t.

I had my very first anxiety attack a few months ago. I remember sitting at my desk, my heart beating out of my chest, my inability to do something as simple as take a breath, the feeling of not being in control of my own body. It was one of the most surreal and paralyzing moments I’ve felt in a long time.

I’ve had a few more since, the last time being when I was in Florida last week. The weight of everything going on in the world right now, paired with the news that my grandfather had tested positive for COVID and a very stressful work week was just too much for me to handle. And despite having an incredible time in a beautiful place with the person I love so much, my anxiety still popped in to say hey girl heyyyyyy.

I was in the shower after a run and fainted. I woke up on the ground scared. Confused. Embarrassed. How could I let it come to this? Why do I let the stressors of life get to me like they do?

I’m an empath to the kajillionth degree. I feel things and I feel things hard. When I can’t fix a problem, or when others are hurting, I take that pain on myself. And it often gets to be too much.

My boyfriend said something the next day that really resonated with me, and maybe it will for you as well.

“You can and should only focus on the things you can control. There is so much happening right now; it would be impossible for you or anyone to try and take it all on at once. Breathe. Take it one day at a time. And look after you.”

When my anxiety turns to panic, when my mental health becomes something I have to actively focus on, the very fabric of my world changes. I don’t just mean metaphorically. The world around me literally looks different. The atmosphere seems thick and heavy. I move through the world differently. Slower. I’m disoriented and disconnected. Everything is just… wrong. I’ve left Hawkins, and I’m in the Upside Down. (Have you seen Stranger Things? If you haven’t, quit reading this right now, turn on Netflix, and get your life right. I’ll wait.)

In the show, the characters go to the Upside Down, a kind of parallel dimension where the monsters live. Everything is dark and tinged with blue. The air is full of poison and floating matter. It’s unnatural and unsafe. It’s just not right. 

This is exactly how my world looks when I’m in a “season of anxiety,” as I’ve begun calling it. I feel like I’m trapped in the Upside Down. All I want are those warm and flaxen days back. I get upset with myself for not appreciating them when they were here. Will they ever come again? Am I going to live in the Upside Down forever?

But then.

Always, always, always.

A ray of sunlight pokes through. The dark blue world around me starts giving way to splotches of gold. Slowly at first, but then it spreads like paint on a canvas. The toxins slowly clear the air. My fingers and toes start to thaw, and for the first time since I can remember, I take a long, cleansing breath.

I call my time in The Upside Down a “season of anxiety” because it always passes. It’s always just a season. A shitty season, but a season nonetheless. Sometimes it lasts an hour, sometimes it lasts for days, but it’s always temporary.

Against all odds, I always make it out. I always get back to that place where I can take a step back, look at my life, and declare it is good. Really, really, really good.

If you’re feeling a bit lost, scared or unsure, please know that you’re not alone. The world is a heavy place right now, and we’re all just trying to get by as best we can.

But also try and look for those golden-hued moments. They’re there, I promise.

xoxo

Just Breathe

Hi, friends. How are you? Are you doing okay?

I realize that’s kind of a silly question, more rhetorical than anything given *gestures vaguely* our current circumstances. Whew. This year has been one heckuva decade. It’s weird to have one common, global talking point, no? This virus — systemic racism, the tumultuous state of our democracy and of course, the actual COVID virus. It’s leaving nowhere unexplored and no one untouched.

Last week, I met up with a friend and we caught up on life while taking a stroll around the park. As we walked, my face half-covered with a kitty cat face mask, sweat slowly dripping down my forehead, she looked over at me, and exclaimed: “Goodness, I cannot wait for this crazy year to be over!” I looked at her, not fully comprehending her statement in the moment, and simply nodded back. Later that week, wrapped up in a never-ending group chat, I happened to read a similar statement from another friend of mine: “2021 please hurry!” This time, I felt my interest spark: are there people out there simply waiting for 2021 to come along to make things better? If so, why?

I will be the first to admit, 2020 has definitely not been the best year of my life. I couldn’t have predicted losing a job I had started not a mere four months after I began. I never saw myself experiencing my first (and subsequent second and third) debilitating anxiety attacks. I didn’t envision the heartbreak, sadness and fear that would fill my heart, and the hearts of the world at large when Breonna Taylor, George Floyd and Jacob Blake’s (to name just a few) lives were tragically taken, or the aftermath that would follow. And of course, I could have never imagined the advance of a full-blown pandemic that would completely alter the course of our lives forever, causing everything we had known to change.

But despite the heaviness, the challenges and the pain that this year has brought thus far, there were also moments of beauty, growth and peace that I have experienced throughout this, as my friend put “crazy year.”

For one, I fell in love. And it’s been the truest, deepest, most sincere and beautiful love I’ve ever experienced. In the midst of one of the most uncertain and stressful and scary times of my life, he has been my one constant, my light, my biggest supporter and cheerleader. And I am forever grateful for that.

I made time for family, for friends, for consciously making an effort to stay connected and letting the people who matter most in my life know how very much they mean to me. I began writing again, reading, having slow mornings and lazy afternoons. I found peace when I was exploring the great outdoors, and I felt like for once, I could breathe.

Long-standing issues of racial inequality, systemic racism and police brutality were once again brought to the forefront of out minds, but instead of mourning and taking a stand for but just a moment, we got loud, we got angry, we got inspired and educated and united, and we turned this moment into a movement. A movement that will continue until we see the social justice and equality and equity that we have been fighting for for so long.

This year has forced us all to take pause, to reflect, to focus on the things that truly matter.

If you are reading this article, I urge you to stop waiting for 2021. It will come, and the virus in all of its forms will still exist. But with any hope, we will be better prepared to take on its challenges, bringing with us a new found sense of strength, hope and the thought that the power to make this life a better one, for all of us, lies in our hands.

But for now, take a moment to breathe.

Reflect on all that has gone well.

Acknowledge the moments of peace and solace you experienced this year.

Live, and be grateful for this moment.

For in the end, that is all we truly have.

A Small Bit of Wonderful

 

The smiles will be lost to memory long before the laughter stops echoing in our heads, and the hazy feelings will linger in varying degrees. The hangovers will be forgotten as soon as we say, “Never again,” so intently in the moment, so disingenuously in reality. We will immortalize these memories one pixelated, filtered photo at a time. We’ll text and call and post and tweet that we’ll do it again, do it soon, do it together.

I was 11 the first time I ever said goodbye to anyone. My grandmother was ill for a long time, and we knew it was coming, but that didn’t make it easier. We grieved, we coped, and we honored her memory. She’d lived a long and incredible life, and inspired everyone she knew, me especially.

Years later I said goodbye to another person I loved, though it felt different, harder in a way. With the anniversary of my cousin’s passing just a few days ago, it’s reminded me of how truly precious and fleeting this wonderful and crazy and unpredictable life thang is. It was a few days after my 24th birthday. Nick, who had been dealing with severe depression, took his own life. There were so many questions left unanswered, and guilt, a feeling that I could’ve done or said something to prevent this from happening. I was inconsolable. Not only because I missed him — I did and still do, terribly — but also because he had so much to live for. We all did. We were so young. Youth is often wasted on the young, as they say.

He hardly had that chance to waste it though, before it was wasted on him. It felt unfair. It was unfair. Loss always is.

No matter how much we try to evade it, loss is inevitable.

It hurts every time, and we can’t outrun the hurt. We’re not supposed to. And that will be okay. We will grieve and mourn. We will honor and remember them. They are indelible, not just on our minds, but in our hearts too. We will learn how to live anyway, not quite for them, but not without them either because still, we will keep little pieces of them with us always.

Because living in the here and now is less about living fast and risking the consequences, but more about living deliberately — making our lives worth living, and living them the way we would have with the people who maybe didn’t have the chance we still do. So we laugh more and stay up later and travel further and run faster and take bigger risks and love harder. We search for that one mark only we can make in someone else’s memory, in someone’s life, in the great expanse of knowledge and in the world. And we don’t stop until we find it, and even then, we keep going. We keep living.

Though we may one day be gone, our memories won’t be.

How we made other people laugh and think and feel won’t be, either. The things we did and said and made and contributed will be our legacy, and whether it’s conscious or not, we aim to leave good ones. Legendary ones, even, in our own small ways.

So laugh louder and hug fiercely and brave the late nights that turn into early morning hours as best you can. Make more, do more, stop worrying about the possible negative outcomes. The ends will outweigh the means as long as you keep pursuing both simultaneously. Love someone so much your heart is fit to burst, and love as many people as you can this way. Love everyone this way, if you can help it. Everyone deserves that kind of radical love, and being free with your love doesn’t make it any less special.

Make a tiny masterpiece out of caring for others. Start with a small bit of wonderful.

You’ll eventually realize that was always the only thing you needed, the only thing that mattered.