Instagrammification

We spend a lot of time perfecting ourselves for social media - that's no secret. Filters and carefully angled snapchats with witty captions. And we suck it up like some type of addictive substance, the intangible we long for but can't possibly have (mostly because its all manufactured) - aimlessly scrolling and scrolling and liking pretty sunsets and videos of puppies as our own sunset screams outside the window we never peek through.

Honesty alert: I spend entirely too much time comparing myself to strangers on the internet. Their perfectly placed throw pillows and blankets. The precious little puppy sleeping soundly on the couch. Beautiful, homemade meals and all the right lighting from those tiny little globe lights on their favorite outdoor patio some place warmer than here.

I absolutely love seeing this snippets of others' lives - wedding and engagement photos, backyard barbecues, and friends reuniting. Pictures of babies and vacations and perfectly positioned sunshine reflecting back at me from your ocean view - I eat it up. And then, inevitably, my face moves from the screen and back to my living room or bedroom. And I see the unkempt shelf in the bathroom. Or the clothes I still haven't worked up the courage to shove back in the closet. Or the messy bun, smudged make up, and sweatpants reflecting back at me in the mirror. And that's when the shame and the guilt and the negative committee that meets in my head stands up and starts chanting all the self-loathing untruths I let tear me down.

The way we have evolved social media's use makes us unhappy and turns us into internal emotional terrorists. I believe social media has an essentially good core - to maintain connections with minimal effort. However, it's also grounds for comparison and envy and internal turmoil. It has this uncanny ability to take moments you normally find joy in and sick twist and turn it into a popularity contest. Who wore it/planned it/photographed it better than I did? I've paused to ask myself: Does anyone actually care what my new running shoes look like? Or about my day strolling around Chicago? If it's not on Instagram did it really even happen?

Why do I care if people on the internet think my life looks interesting? 

We don't see life as it truly unfolds when it's been carefully crafted - put through the arduous and very strategic process of Instagrammification. It's not people as they are - it's a distorted, calculated version of life, and I'm just as guilty as anyone else. I've deleted far too many photos where I was perfectly content - alive and happy - but convinced it wasn't social-media-worthy sharing because I couldn't quite edit out the imperfections of my body or face, which gives me pause: Am I only documenting this moment to get thumbs-up and red hearts?

It's easy to resent the supremely fit girls behind the screen and the perfect bowl of soup in the beautiful white bowl with the parsley so elegantly dropped right in the center while I eat my bowl of Lipton Extra Noodle Soup and catch up on Scandal on another Friday night in (which is pretty amazing if you've never done it). But the beauty of your own life is not to be ignored or cast off as less-than. Somewhere along the way I let social media become less about me and more about you. Not the literal you on the other side of the screen - the general YOU. Out there. With all the stuff and friends and fun I need but (I think) I don't have.

We've turned ourselves into little screen-addicted drones - certain that whatever is going over there is better or more special than whatever is or isn't going on right here.

When did I become so ungrateful? When did I become so narcissistic and uncomfortable and envious? I don't have answers to those questions but I do have a response.

It ends now. 

I'm taking stock of what I've got and when I take the chance to look around, I'm one happy girl. I have everything I need and more and with that knowledge, there's a power in finding freedom from the strangers I compare myself to in a non-existent space.

I'm learning to accept and embrace the little life I've built. It's filled with an 8-5 job, laundry baskets, and uneventful grocery store runs. I spend too much time and money at HomeGoods and Target and every morning the most difficult thing I do is get out of bed. Finding a bargain deal is my happy place and I eat wine and popcorn for dinner more often than I care to admit (they're just so good...). I will never be a party animal - you're much more likely to find me in the kitchen covered in cilantro or basil and way too much garlic. I'm stumbling into my own happiness - a simple and quiet existence fueled by my new budgeting obsession and a desire to see the depths of people's hearts.

Far be it from me to never post again or filter out that zit that showed up in the middle of the day. But I promise to share as authentically as possible. And more importantly to be more than a human behind a screen. I want to give you more than likes and tiny hearts - I want to be in the heartstrings of your life, messy and cracked and tangled and warped. I'm in it with you - unfiltered.

If my life was a book, I think I'd like to read it.

We were spilling souls and sitting on comfy pillows late at night. That's what you do when you've got life to let out with someone you haven't shared your everyday with in a while. So we gushed and giggled and thought back to our September selves. The ones full of heartache and anger and confusion - what seems now like a lifetime or two ago. We talked about love and happenstance and the choices that make you. The ones that in a moment leave you decimated and flat out on the ground. The times when you're literally lying on the floor, in a puddle of yourself, crying out to your ceiling and the heavens and begging someone, anyone, to answer the question, "Why?"

But sometimes you are granted the opportunity to turn the corner. To put the rocky seas of hurricane waves behind you and find calmer waters and new people and a love for yourself you would never have found without the down-on-the-floor-my-life-feels-like-it's-over kind of nights. She said to me, after reflecting on all the pain of before and all the joy of today -

"If my life was a book, 

I think I'd like to read it."

I've been having this oxymoronic thought lately about decisions and life and the sum of all we do and all we are and how we get to the place called TODAY. So much of my life is just what happens - circumstances completely out of my control, simple happenstance. But that contradicts what we're often told - that it's our decisions that make us. You walk through life making choices and and at the end, your are a sum of the decisions you've made. But so much of what has changed me, struck me to the core, and guided the path of my story has nothing to do with what I wanted for myself at the time. I didn't choose to have my heart broken. I didn't choose for her to turn her back. I didn't choose to have a job offered to me right at the moment I needed it most. The fabric of life is often sewn together in the midst of the ripple effects from the decisions of others.

If I am to believe that - that so much of the way it all plays out comes from what happens to me - it feels like I am discounting the role I play in my own life. I own my story - I admit to my mistakes and rejoice in the triumphs that have come from the choices I've actually made. I'm not afraid to claim what I've done and how it has turned out.

So I'm choosing to live in the land between. It's not a position of indecision. Rather, I've peeled a little under what we accept to be true - that you decide how your life will go and that's just it - and have found a pattern. A pattern of distinguishable happenstance occurrences that present to you a life path you may not have traveled down otherwise. It's less of a choice kind of thing and more of a let's-just-wander-down-this-path-and-see-what-happens kind of thing that never really ends. Different people pop in and out and leave you with love and hurt and fullness and emptiness. You ride the ups and the downs and all along the way little things lead you this way and that and before you know it you look up and find yourself in a place and a time and with people you never would have planned for yourself back at the start.

One of my very best friends (and perhaps the wisest woman I know) describes the notion like this: the act of decision making is not something you do, but the ongoing process of evolving circumstances that we live into - which brings an inner peace to who you are and where you are and what you're doing in this moment, in this place, with these people. Not always forever, but certainly for now.

I've written about letting go - not planning your entire life - because that just doesn't work, or as I often say, "that's not a real thing." This is more than that. This is the step beyond - where you move past the reluctant acceptance that you cannot decide exactly what comes next and you embrace with vigor and joy seasons that come as they will - with gusto and adventure and a sense that the best things are yet to come with a trust that when you do let go you will discover all the things you weren't aware you were looking for. Like gritty, real love. And authentic friendship. A perhaps a sense of self.

In the last two years I've learned that trudging forward without a roadmap doesn't have to be painful or scary. I admit, still, that I have no idea what I'm doing. But I do believe it's about taking the right risks and challenging the narrow notions of what you once thought a life worth living could look like. You just put one foot in front of the other. And make a little choice. And another. And you just keep choosing. And you might not feel it right away, but it's you blazing the trail of your life one little step at a time. 

There's something special about folks who are willing to Let. Things. Be., instead of taking a saw and chisel to every little moment in life that doesn't turn out exactly the way they expected. There is something abundantly beautiful and brave about accepting the unknowns and surprises in your story. It's like riding on the back of a motorcycle for the first time - absolute fear and absolute freedom. And in the same way, you must lean in to the turns on the winding road if it's going to be an enjoyable ride. 

I choose (as much as I can) to waltz with happenstance. To let life unfold as it will - and to celebrate the fact that all those things I did, in synchrony with all the things every one else has ever done, are the things that brought me here. And the not knowing, the bliss that comes from blindness to what happens on the next page of this life, is the best part. I will excitedly keep turning the page, because this story - my story - is one I love to read.  

The Liars Look Like They Have it Together (And Other Truths)

I'm 24 today. And while that by no means certifies me as an expert on life or qualified wisdom-giver, I've decided to share a few personal truths I keep in my things-you-should-remember-because-you-learned-the-hard-way bag.

1. No one actually has it all together, and if someone says they do you can be certain they're a Grade -A liar. Truth is, we are all just winging it. I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing. Embrace the uncertainty, and stop comparing your beginning to someone else's middle. You were never intended to live out a duplicate life and it would be so boring if it all played out as we expected.

2. It's ok to ugly cry. 

3. There will be days you need to put on your big girl panties and say "enough" and move on. Mourn and be done with it.

4. There is nothing more beautiful than two people who continue, day after day, to choose one another.

5. Ripping off band-aids still hurts.

6. You must always remember how to breathe. It will get you through nearly everything.

7. Be careful with your words. Once they've left your mouth, there are no take-backs.

8. You will be hurt by the people you love most. It's a fact. We are human, and therefore imperfect and prone to inflicting accidental pain. But grace and forgiveness are the best gifts we can give to one another.

9. You will hurt the people you love most. It's a fact. We are human, and therefore imperfect and prone to inflicting accidental pain. But grace and forgiveness are the best gifts we can give to one another, and often to ourselves. 

10. Kindness still matters.

11. Honesty is the highest form of intimacy.

12. You need hobbies. Activities that bring you joy. If it brings happiness to someone along the way, fantastic. And if it just brings you pride and peace, that's more than enough, too.

13. You exist on purpose, for a purpose. You may not know yet what that purpose is, but the most important day of your life will be when you do.

14. People come into your life for seasons and reasons. Seasons can be long - years, even lifetimes. Or they can be short - weeks, days. So when the time comes to release, do it. Just as you were born to play special role in the history of mankind, so are all with whom you interact. For you have served an intentional and meaningful purpose in their lives as they have done for you. Not everyone is meant to be a forever friend.

15. Stop giving your heart to people who make you question your worth. There are many genuine, open, willing hearts out there - they want to be known, and to know you. I pray that you learn to let go of and walk away from those who do not choose you. You deserve a fighter in your corner, not a question mark.

16. You will suck at things, it's true. But you excel in others. Instead of focusing on the few things with which you struggle, invest in your talents and gifts. You will influence the world by honing your best skills as a power for good more so than dwelling on your weaknesses. You can't be the best at everything. So instead, be the best you.

17.  Whatever you decide to jump into - a new job, a new relationship, a new place - be all in. Half-assed anything is not worth your time. Life is too precious and short not to be absolutely enthusiastic about the groove you've got going on. 

18. Learning never stops. Read books - they are the gateway to new lands, scientific inquiry, and can seriously damage ignorance. Words have the power to change you unlike anything else.

19. Be brave. Feel the fear and do it anyway.

20. It's ok to still ask your mom how long to boil rice. Or eggs. 

21. There is no shame in dancing in your room, by yourself (or really, with others) in your underwear.

22. Some things just need released into the void. You will not always get apologies. Your relationships will not always end cleanly. You will not always get to say the things you want to say. But that little tote bag you carry - of shame and guilt and heartache and anger and regrets - it is doing you no good. You must gracefully let go of what is not meant for you because the past is a wicked dictator if you let her be.

23. Some things you need to fight for. There will be moments where you may have to stand, often alone, and shout into the crowd. You will shake your fists and stomp your feet. There will come a time where you have to drag your friend or family member or even yourself away from the darkness. There will be dirt under your nails and scratches on your knees but I promise it will be worth it, because there are things in this existence worth all your passion. Find those things and people, and never never never give up. 

24. Love is a verb. It is a commitment - a thoughtful, conscious effort. Do not search for someone to complete you, for you were created whole. Instead, embrace a complementary soul - one that fills your cracks and crevices and you theirs. A soul that encourages you to be the best version of yourself, without asking you to be someone else. And once you find a soul that grooves with yours, cherish it, for it is rare and it is most wonderful.

Your life is not a waiting room.

As I've started to get a little life under my belt, I've noticed myself wondering about time and intention and a lot about this foggy future concept. And with that has come a few realizations about what it means to be alive. What we're to do this here and now business, while our hearts quietly, loyally, pump away, non-stop, day after day - breathing life into both the loud and quiet moments.  

I'm futuristic. We know this - if you read my posts or know me at all, we know this fact to be incredibly true. I not only want to know what's going to happen today, but also what I'll wear tomorrow, and what I'm going to eat this week, where I'm going next month, and what the big plan is for next year. I want to know if I'm moving cross country or if I'll be nesting elsewhere. I want to know if I live out my days in Ohio or on a lovely beach. I want to know on our first date if you're going to be the one to love me forever. So I rush and I worry and I spend less time taking in the lights around me and instead piddle away my time on trying to sort out the murkiness of all that is to come. I don't live in the here and now very often, but every time I do I'm reminded why it's the most magnificent of experiences. I'm the kind of gal that takes the most precious of moments for granted.

But I don't want to live this way forever. It's not fun. It's not peaceful. It's got it positives certainly - I'm almost always prepared. I don't often forget things. I'm the girl that always brings the coat just in case she might be cold. But as the people who love me most remind me, every day, the mistakes are what make you. The moments in time where you decided, in an instant, to just live your life and be all in, to jump into the darkness and enjoy the windfall along with the inevitable trips,scrapes, and bruises and even more than that, the stories that go along with it. Because no matter what you do, life will keep coming and it's got no intention of telling you what's around the bend. It's full of pleasant surprises and celebrations - clinking glasses and champagne toasts. There will be fullness and happiness and love. But there will also be loss and tragedy and sadness and heartbreak and funerals.

We don't get to live designer lives. There is no picking and choosing what happens to you from the grand catalog of potential life experiences. And instead of fighting again the current that will never relent, we should settle in the flow and ride the waves. And as we do, we should take a moment to look around and soak it in. Because right now, I think life is pretty good. 

We spend so much of our precious time with headphones in our ears and our faces in front of screens. We watch documentaries about nature but never hike the trail down the street. We watch films about love and romance and all the most lovely of things, but we choose to separate ourselves from others for the fear of being known or vulnerable enough to expose our imperfections. We wait for life to happen to us instead of happening to life. 

So let me break it down for you. Your life is not a waiting room. Your hopes and dreams are real and meaningful, but if you don't take the chance to get your nose out of that screen and your head out of the clouds, the best things in life are going to pass you right by. Because now is good. And now is here. And the people and places and love and beauty and time you've got in this moment might not last forever.

I propose a challenge for you and for me. To be present. To be here. To put down the iCal and the gCal and agenda book. To stop begging to know what's next or to have it all figured out. Your story will unravel however it chooses, and I truly believe that whatever is meant for you, will happen. That your plan and purpose will expose itself no matter how much you plan for something (or someone) else. 

I challenge you to this: open your heart to this moment. To holding a hand, to a spontaneous kiss. To laughter in coffee shops and last minute meals. To letting go of the little bag you tote around full of your fears and the hurt you've refused to release into the universe. To fall in love and just let it happen instead of questioning every word, step, motive, stripping away the joy of the whole experience. To embrace the chaos of 7 billion lives, as wonderful and mysterious as yours, orbiting one another. To invest in those who invest in you. 

For today, this coming season, and the rest of your life, I wish for you these things:

I pray that your life is filled with magic and madness and that some of your dreams really do come true.

I hope that you read wonderful books and kiss someone who thinks you're absolutely mad but absolutely fabulous.

I hope that you create something that lives on - whatever it may be - for others to admire and appreciate and for you to know you've left an imprint on the face of this incomprehensibly large but unimaginably tiny blue planet.

I wish you happiness and singing and dancing and joy and peace and patience and kindness and the warmest of sunshine on your face.

I send you hope. For the future, whatever it may hold, and that you choose to let it come as it will, allowing the universe to surprise you along the way.

This life isn't going to be perfect; it was never meant to be. I will drop this truth on you straight: You will never "arrive". That place where you're confidently doing all the right things at all the right times with all the right people does not exist. But this place, doing these things, with these people - it's pretty enchanting if you let it be.