Say what you need to say.

"I'm in love with you, and I'm not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things. 

I'm in love with you, and I know that love is just a shout into the void, that oblivion is inevitable, and that we're all doomed and there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we'll ever have, and I am in love with you."

Augustus Waters. 
The Fault in Our Stars (John Green)

I'm not in the business of denying myself the simple pleasure of saying true things either, Augustus. And I think that's why when I read The Fault in Our Stars, this line blew up the page. My eyes skimmed it once, twice, ten times. How often do we deny ourselves the pleasure of saying true things in the name of fear? 

I am that person, you are that person. The one who fears rejection and uncertainty and imperfection. I continue to struggle in the battles of self-worth, accepting love from others, and presenting the truest and most authentic version of myself. But I fight the good fight every day. I don't win all the time - and neither will you. We are in this messy, muddy, one-day-at-a-time thing called life together. Putting yourself out there for the world to see, to judge, to nitpick and throw their nose up at - I am convinced it is the most difficult thing to do. But it is also the most rewarding.

We all live life with things unsaid. Actions we wish we would have taken. We all harbor alternate lives that have gone unlived because we chose to stay in the safe zone. There are regrets in life and we don't get take-backs or redos. You can't change what has (not) been done. But you can choose to be brave. You can choose to say the words that come to your mouth and are bursting from your seams. You know what I mean. The "don't do it", the "I'm so sorry", the "I love you".

I try to embrace straightforwardness. Saying the tough stuff. There's an uneasiness that bubbles in my stomach and a tightness that swells in my chest when something feels unresolved and there are words still left to thrust into the void of space and time and life between you and me. Putting your heart and soul out on the table - handing the pieces of you on a silver platter over to someone who could readily squash it with hammer in hand - GAH it's frightening. 

But there is a thriving that happens when telling someone: "You are wonderful." "You are beautiful." "You mean the world to me." "You are a good person." And even sometimes: "That really hurt me." "I can't do this." "Stop." I want to live my life with truth on my lips.

I wish I had some dramatic tale of love and loss or a moment of realization - the "Aha! I finally understand and my life is forever changed" kind of story to tell you. But that's not really the way it all works. You live your life, you have regrets, and with time you learn that life is just a bit more of something good without things left unsaid. Life is fuller, life is better when you let the words pour out. When you shut down those silly little voices in your head that lock up your heart. When you step into the light and claim your feelings. This life could all end tomorrow, with all the thoughts in my head and feelings in my heart hidden away from the people who put them there. But I won't let it happen like that. 

There's a freedom in unshackling yourself from the doubts and insecurities you harbor within your little world and sharing them with the people surrounding you. This is a call, a prompting, and challenge - to stay the tough stuff. To make the hard decisions. To embrace the challenge of putting your whole self out there for the someone else to see. Because it's big. And it's scary. And sometimes it can be down right weird to just let it out. We've been conditioned to live within the lines of what someone somewhere at some time deemed "appropriate" behavior. Where we run around in circles acting like we're fine when we're not. I say to hell with that. Screw perfect. I'd rather be brave and fly - fly with my highs and lows and honesty and truth and fullness. Sometimes it's going to hurt, that's just the way it goes. But I refuse to look back one more time and wish I had laid it all out and not walked away. 

There is something magical about letting people know you want them and need them and that they are special and important to you and that there's nothing more you want than to be with them in this very moment and for all of eternity. And sometimes it's grabbing a hand to hold. Or saying how you miss them so much it hurts. It's letting someone else know that you just want to hold them because being as close to them as humanly possible is in this moment the most magnificent thing in the world.

There is nothing more beautiful than being bold and being brave with your life. And there is nothing more hazardous to the human condition than masking your heart's desire. 

We will never know the magic that can stir between ourselves and other human beings without taking the leap. Mail the letter. Send the email. Say the words. It's really really scary, but so is a life of regret and all the words tossed aside in the name of fear. 

There is no time to waste, for time is precious and limited. We are finite, perishable items, and you might never feel ready. It's a disservice to yourself to believe you'll ever be ready or that a place exists where things such as perfect and prepared and finished exist at once. No one is ever ready to do much of anything, and if you wait until you are you'll be standing still forever. There is no such thing as ready, there is only now. So bring all your beautiful words to the surface, speak your truths, and choose to live out loud. Burst at the seams. 

Now.

Now.

Now.

Know thyself.

"You realize that you are your best friend,

and that you can do anything, or nothing, 

And have good moments together."

(Veronica A. Shoftstall, 1971)

These lines come from one of my favorite poems, which I previously posted in its entirety here. These particular lines have been jumping off the page recently, walking right out into the open and playing themselves out in my life like a smack in the face. 

I'm currently living in Austin, Texas for the blink of an eye that we call summertime. And while I was so consumed with visiting friends and sharing stories and enjoying the brief moment I had in Columbus, I didn't stop for a single moment to consider what I would do without the comfort of friends and welcome distractions - that once I arrived at my destination, I would know not one person. Not a single familiar face. So with big eyes and a spirit of adventure, I set off on an exciting journey - brimming with idealism and anticipation for wide open spaces. And while I have enjoyed the autonomy and novelty of an unfamiliar place, I also underestimated the silence of anonymity.

It's no secret that I long to be with others - sipping tea, watching movies, and sharing deep thoughts, passions, and secrets over cheap wine. I define myself by the connections I build with others - the intense pursuit to satiate my extrovertedness by knowing and loving on people. I take such joy and purpose in talking to others, being authentic and real and baring souls. 

I, too, am fiercely independent, a trait I've never been able to conceal. But being alone, in solitude ... just me, and my little heart, and a brain that won't stop churning for fear of missing something while simultaneously overthinking every. little. thing. ... I've chosen to shy away from all of that. I rely, instead, on others to build me up and fill me up while I do the same for them. The intimate relationships I've intentionally created and tended to with others I have not created within myself. All the energy I pour into others has left little time to cultivate and embrace the single soul I will never be parted from - my own.

The past year, or really slightly more at this point, was a time of intense change and transition, and I have the growing pains and stretchmarks to prove it. One of the best lessons I learned, though, through the long nights and the tears and moments of doubt, is that I am completely capable of standing on my own two feet. I've screwed up. I've fallen down. I've scraped my knees and bloodied my hands. But those moments, the lessons in pain and heartache and being alone ... were and continue to be the best thing for me. Understanding of the self cannot occur when you're entertaining others' voices.

But being alone is not equivalent to being lonely. The time alone, the experiences of independence and self-reliance, occurs when we grant ourselves the opportunity to intimately know the reflection in mirror. To realize what we're made of. To understand that being still is just as important as hurling ourselves into the next big thing. We must set aside time be with quiet. To listen to the repetitive heave and ho of our own breath and to feel that little heart inside each of us, quietly pumping a consistent and reliable soft thud - a silent reminder of the strength and value and worth present in each of us if we merely take the time to recognize it.

I've relied on others for so long, for so many things - to make me feel worthy and validated and loved. But I realize now that I do not need others to make me feel whole. We are created as individual beings for a reason. Coupling off, finding a sense of belonging with others is natural. But we are built one at a time and we come into the world (most often) by ourselves. Yes, you were made whole without a need for intervention.

I pray you see the amazing work your hands do and the way your simple presence changes lives. I also hope you can recognize that for yourself in the moments of solitude. That you can look in the mirror and see the life and grace and joy that's there. That in the peace and the still you can revel in your own truths, discovering and clinging to the essential you-ness that exists. Because you are good and kind and worthy and whole and significant. And darling, I've learned the hard way, no one's gonna get you to believe those things except yourself.

It's a difficult journey, one I'm still traveling, as we've been trained to seek validation and self-worth from others. There will be stages in your life when you are alone and your self-reliance is what's got to get you through. Which is why I so desperately believe we must grapple with ourselves and cling to the person within. To spend time with your pretty little self to figure out who you are, what you want, and to stop running from the image in the mirror. For it is not until we are able to see our own brightness, our own significance and value and contributions - to love ourselves the way we love others - that we can truly enjoy the companionship of our our loved ones without depending on them to validate our existence or using them as a means of escape.

Let Love In.

My closet is organized by sleeve length, with all the cardigans hung to avoid creases. My desk drawer at work is color coordinated, painstakingly labeled, and my email inbox is frequently purged. I use a labeled expandable file to hold my coursework. I am concrete. I enjoy structure and fact. It gives me a sense of safety and control. I find comfort in plans and schedules and expectations, so I've created a world of tangible and controlled - a place where I feel safe.

This is nothing new, and if you've known for me for longer than a day or two you could pick up that I've likely always been this way.  I have these (not-so-subtle) quirks, that expose the crazy - the innate need to plan and have a handle on all things at all times. It enables me to move through the chaotic space of life with some semblance of comfort.

I'm a strange little bird, and I've accepted my tendencies as a part of my identity. I thrive on preparedness and don't like to leave space for creativity and flux and the unknown. Uncertainty is crippling. The control and demand for concrete-ness is an intentional armor I don every morning. It protects me from the violent back and forth of the everyday chaos of life but as a result I don't have great sea legs. Flexibility is not my strong suit.

Even more frustratingly, I struggle to trust others who can't be concrete for me. I require frequent reminding that people care for me, that they love me, and in order for me to really believe it, to accept it as truth, I want it in concrete format. I want it to be said or written down. If I can't hold it in my hand or hear the words fall out of your mouth I struggle to believe it. It's the same reason I hated chemistry and embraced biology - you can't see atoms and molecules (for all I know, someone made that whole thing up), but biology...now that's a different story. I always understood biology. It's in your face and you can touch it. There's no denying it's there. 

I'm a woman who needs the smack-in-your-face kind of signs. So I wrote this - an open letter - to the self-doubters, to the control freaks, to those of us harboring insecurities. To anyone, to everyone. We all need to hear this now and again.

I have a dirty little secret. A struggle I keep to myself. One that only surfaces and rears its ugly head when someone tries to get close and pull open that little door inside my chest where my heart is locked, tightly sealed away for its own protection. It's a painful process, an arduous journey, to be let in. I love and I share and I'm all about affirming others. My secret isn't that I put my heart away for safekeeping - many people do. It's that I've been unwilling to believe that anyone would want to see it. To open the door. To trust someone else to value it enough that they won't take it out, take a peek and toss it aside. I've been living with a genuine fear that as soon as I let people in they'll see me for who I am and walk away. 

You see, there have been a few people in my past, as I'm sure there have been in most, that I handed my heart over to. I was authentic and genuine and full of love. And it was great. Until it wasn't. Somewhere along the way something more valued came along and I was cast aside like yesterday's news. And it broke my heart. Though it's mended, it's awfully scarred and that raw feeling of rejection is something I never want to experience again.

So I built a little wall, a chasm, a preventative measure to ensure it won't happen again, to prevent the pain of love and loss and rejection. I'm happy to let you in and share my story. But only so close. And then it's ... "WAIT, STOP! Don't touch that. You might break it again. You care about me? No, you can't possibly." 

Me? 
But I am flawed. 
I am broken.
I am messy.

I've been fighting a constant and uphill battle with worthiness, self-love, and vulnerability. It's easier to keep that final boundary up. It's a lot easier to maintain just a little bit of distance. And that, my friends, is pathetic. Because we are loved. We are cared for. But we have to believe that. This fear comes from within and fed by insecurities and doubt manifests as control and chasms and walls. 

People are knocking at the door of your heart and it's time to let them in.

It's going to be scary. It's scary because it matters. Because when you accept it - the care, the affection, the LOVE - you're handing over yourself. Putting yourself out there for potential rejection but trusting that it won't happen. When people love you, in order to feel the joy and happiness that comes along with that, you must first learn to accept it. You've got to be willing to take that leap of faith and hand over your broken, mangled heart held together will glue and tape. You've got to trust they're not like the ones who hurt you. They won't carelessly toss you aside. They won't leave you. But you have to trust them enough to show you.

Muster up the courage to put your little heart in their hands and believe that they will carefully, cautiously hold and protect it. Stop pushing the people waiting at your door away. You can't live in the past and you can't measure them by the mistakes others have made. Be brave.

But WHY? you ask. WHY do I have to take down the wall? Release the control? Crawl on my knees out of my safe place?

Because.
Because you are worth it. You're worthy of a million little things. You're worth every big thing. You are worthy of love. Of time. Of energy. You are worthy of someone who holds your heart like it's the grand prize. Like there is nothing more valuable in the world. Someone who sees you as you are. And wants you. And chooses you.

I've made a promise to myself. That quote - "We accept the love we think we deserve"- it's time to embrace it by accepting the love that others are trying to give. I'm certainly no expert and I have a lot to reconcile with myself. But the first step is to relinquish control, even just a little bit. Enough to stop putting up a wall between myself and people who really want to know me. I'm done stroking the anxiety that comes from hiding a heart and expecting everyone to hurt me someday. I'm starting at the beginning: releasing the fears, trusting those who want in, and letting myself be seen. Raw. True. Authentic. 

Join me. It's time. Be brave. Let go. Open the door. Let love in.

The Truth About Forever

There's this myth about someone: THE ONE.

I don't believe in it. I don't think it's a thing: there is no ONE.

There, I said it! I'm going to get haters and hopeless romantics beating down my door, I know. But I'm one of those romantics, so before you try to beat me to a pulp, let me explain.

My father, in a rare moment of relationship-centered conversation and wisdom, imparted a nugget of wisdom I can't seem to shake, something that actually turned my world upside down. The groundbreaking comment?: "Don't believe the hype. There is no ONE person meant for you and only for you." 

Without a doubt, there are and will be people you complement, people who understand you, people who will connect with you. And you are fully capable of loving many people throughout your lifetime. Heck, I think you can love multiple people at the same time. (Now, how you handle that is a totally different story, but I digress...) But you get to pick your One.

And it takes a lot more than love.

It sweeps you up and makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Your eyes light up when you see their name flash across your phone screen, when they call you late at night. You know you're in love when your conversations last for hours and you could talk for hours more. You know it when you're ready to pack your bag and fly across country to spend a weekend, a day, an evening together. It can knock your world sideways like a wrecking ball. And in those moments, where you're enthralled and enamored and non-sensical...it's absolutely the most amazing and frightening feeling.

But that doesn't last forever, and for good reason. The act of falling in love is temporary madness. Emphasis on the temporary.

Being in love isn't enough. You can have two people absolutely, madly, divinely, in love and watch it all crumble. Why? Because relationships take commitment. They require sacrifice and compromise. And finding THE ONE, the person who is willing to spend forever (or at least willing to commit the next 50-70 years with you), looks a lot more like weighing pros and cons.

There is something we must all come to understand about love, relationships, and the novelty of happily ever after. One does not naturally lead to the next. Let's establish some ground rules. I do not believe love is a choice. I think you can fight it, kicking and screaming, because it's big and it's scary and it's inconveniently timed. Love is a feeling, an intense and uncontrollable emotion that does not respond to willpower. Relationships, commitment, and the stuff that really matters, the stuff that's worth clinging to life for... That's what's left when the love, the all consuming lustful surges, dissipates. It's what defines The One from The Others. It's not about about the love. It never has been. It's the choice to stick around and stick it out. And both of you have to want it more than not.

So who is The One? How am I supposed to find them?

That question is the inherent problem. It's why so many men and women run around unhappy that they've never stumbled into something made of fairy tale lore. Let me tell you a little secret. They are not lost. They need not be found. Forever is a choice. A conscious, thoughtful effort.

So here's the truth about forever.

The One is the person whose flaws you decide you can put up with for the rest of your life. There is (or should be) a lot of thought that goes into this decision. You will share tens of thousands of meals with this person over your life lifetime. They have to be the one you want to parent your children, to spend your vacations with, be your personal therapist (and you theirs), and the person whose day you will hear about 18,250 times (that's 50 years, if you didn't know -not counting the leaps). The person who, despite their best efforts gets on your nerves and hurts your feelings. They have annoying habits and a wacked out family, but you don't want to spend a day without them in your life because this is the same person whom you've decided is worth it.

Because not having them in your life is unimaginable. Because they challenge you to be a better version of yourself. Because they hold your hair, your hand, and your heart. Because for you they will always get up and show up. Because they know how to make you laugh and they cook your favorite foods at midnight because you're sad. Because they get you, and they remind you of the value of your soul when you doubt it yourself.

It's not always pretty, and it's definitely not going to be perfect. Society and the media have lied to you and give you terrible dating and marriage advice - reconcile that right now. Cinderella and Prince Charming aren't real and they certainly aren't you.

I won't claim to know much about living in happily ever after. I've broken my own heart in pursuit of The One and forever before. I don't have a checklist or it nearly all figured out, but I do know these things. The One has to be worth waking up to every morning and being excited to live another regular Wednesday with. Humor and laughter and play time are non-negotiable. (If I'm about to spend my life with you, we might as well enjoy it.) Authenticity and the genuine freedom to be ourselves around each other all the time is an absolute must. It's not going to work without natural chemistry, attraction, and a good vibe.

I'm flawed. And I mean Really. Flawed. But THE One, the thing that will set him above the rest, will continue to pick me, as I will pick him, every single day. Despite the flaws and mistakes and really rough stuff, I'll have a life partner - for good and for bad. And frankly, that sounds like a much better reason to spend forever together than some stupid glass shoe.

Emotional Exposure

Full disclosure: this post is chock-full of raw soul-bearing. If you aren't ready for some authentic personal truth, now would be the time to stop reading.

Intimacy is my highest value. Knowing people, really knowing them well and deeply, sharing dreams, secrets, and stories are what make my world go round. The afternoons spent sitting in coffee shops, 4 hour Monday night phone conversations, and lounging on couches drinking wine and chatting into the night are what my dreams are made of. I crave time with people and their stories and their hearts and their dreams. I fill my life with hours of others, swapping pieces of them for pieces of me. 

This craving for others, as much as it is the foundation on which I build my life, also creates the cracks. It exacerbates any insecurity or frustration, enabling me to cast self-doubt into moments that should bring me happiness. My intense desire to give and receive affection can at times be nearly crippling. I long to be in constant communication with other humans. Text messages, phone calls, emails, Facebook posts... the works. When I get a surprise call from a friend, I can feel the corners of my mouth turn upward to a smile. I will ride the emotional high as long as possible when I get an unexpected text or receive a forwarded email with the first line, "I saw this and thought of you." But my highs are high and my lows are low. I am a slave to the emotion. When my phone is quiet for hours, the inbox remains empty, and my text message sits unreplied for days...I feel a heaviness. A weight and burden I wish I could put into words. I struggle to explain the somatic response to the intense emotional reaction, except to say I have a physically heavy heart. My chest feels a pressure that isn't lifted until another high comes rolling in, on the back of another meaningful human interaction. It's a vicious cycle, riding the affection roller coaster. 

Extreme extroverted-ness in combination with an affection-sucking and affection-pouring personality makes me intense and a little bit frightening. I lead with authenticity and an open, trusting heart. It pushes people away. I get that. I'm overwhelming, and loud, and pushy. I'm impatient and let my gut reactions guide my behavior. My reliance on others for validation and as a means of self-worth is not okay - I know that. So instead of changing myself, which I don't believe can or should be done, I choose to change perspective. Stop seeking validation, seek instead support. I am surrounded by outstanding individuals. Others who voluntarily choose to love, care, and listen to me simply because they want to. How dare I, or you, or anyone else, spend another moment doubting that we are enough? That we should evaluate our significance by a standard of words and actions of others? It is called self-worth for a reason; it can only be determined from within.

                 

This is where I begin. Moving one step forward, I choose to stop the chase for a sense of wholeness found in the affections received from others. The only love and care worth having is that freely given by another - no strings or obligations attached. I will not chase people. The time has come to release the feelings of inferiority, insecurity, and self-doubt. I have no gap that needs filled, for there are people knocking on my door willing to be a part of my story. Shutting down the tiny voice inside my head, I remind myself that I am worthy. Of love. Of belonging. Of understanding. I am enough.

What's next? I will continue to fill my life with the pieces of others. I will shower people with love and homemade meals. I will enjoy every moment of meaningful, personal-philosophy-discussing coffee dates. I will laugh into the phone until the wee hours of morning, and I will share my couch and full glasses of white wine with anyone who wants a friend. It's who I am. Lover of affection and connection. So come share your doubts and dreams, I've got ears that crave your stories.

Take it in.

I rush and spoil things. I move quickly for efficiency's sake and miss things. I am so enthusiastic about the big big picture, getting the ball rolling, that I overlook the small details.

Some of this is because I try to cram too much into my life. I'm a planner, I like to know what I'm doing every second of every day. And I like those days to be full. Full of people, plans, and events. Full of lunches and dinners and conversations. Then, on a dime, I go from enjoying the hustle and bustle to stressed out, strung out, and not enjoying much of anything. To avoid the stress I expect I make lists, lots and lots of lists. I attempt to organize everything, and everyone, neatly into the life I've structured for myself.

This stems from my desire to be everything for everyone. A best friend, confidante, and reliable partner. It's suffocating - the pressure I put on myself. The pressure mounts and I crack. There are tears and doubts of self-worth. Then I rely on others to pick up my pieces, make me feel worthwhile, and encourage me back to my feet. It's a destructive cycle.

You know what, though? Through the struggle and the aching of falling down so many times only to stand up once again, I've realized something. A great something. You can't structure your life. It's not your job. You can't put people into neat little boxes in your life and expect it all to work out just like you've imagined, in your little Barbie dreamworld. How do I know? Because I try. I always try.

And I fail.

Someone (or something) comes crashing in, wrecking my plans and changing my life. They literally rock my world. And suddenly, seemingly out of nowhere, a new story line begins. Something fresh and raw and beautiful emerges from the rubble that was once my master plan. And it is always, always more wonderful than I could have ever planned for myself.

It's not healthy to live in such a fast-paced, stress-inducing environment. I'm learning the happiness that comes from staying in pajamas and watching television, of talking on the phone for hours because it's good for your soul, and for sitting alone with God.

I'm relinquishing my chains, handing over the doubts and worries that I let keep me down. What's meant to be will be, and what's not... won't. Instead of trying to control every element of my life, I choose to loosen the reigns. 

Especially during the holiday season, now more than ever, it's time to let go of the plans and the stress and the unnecessary struggle. I choose to enjoy the twinkling lights, the warmth of my mittens and the love I receive from those who surround me. It's time to take in the little things. I'm not supposed to be running the show anyway.

You were built for more.

You were built for more.

I can't imagine that we were all put here for the single purpose of serving ourselves. There are 7 billion other souls roaming the earth, and often times I'm more focused on my chipped nail polish than the fact that we are moving around the world in orbit of each other, never actually getting to know or investing in anyone.

When was the last time you asked someone a genuine and honest question about them, something that would open up a little piece of who they are so that you may understand them just a little better? When was the last time you put yourself out there, shared a bit of your passion with another human being merely to connect?

To me, it's vital to put my energy into things bigger than myself. Even if it's just a little change, a slight alteration in my daily habit or attitude, I believe it's possible to alter the flow of time and space surrounding you, creating a butterfly effect that might just reach someone you'll never even meet. Some days that means being extra nice to a difficult person, saying thank you to the cashier and the kind person who held the door open, and expressing honest gratitude to those who are making sacrifices for me. Other days that means volunteering to be somewhere early so someone else doesn't have to. And even more, it can mean engaging with someone who looks distressed in line or actually doing service that will directly help improve the lives of others.

We were made for something more than just aimlessly wandering through space in our bodies, the shells that hold our souls. We were made, and I believe obligated, to leave things better than we found them.

Why do we prefer to stay glued to the screens of phones and sit with our headphones in than have a meaningful conversation with the real, live, human being sitting next to us? Take a moment and think about your life - the complicated ins and outs, the relationships you have and the preferences you have for television shows, movies, and significant others. That person next to you has a favorite food, a history of love and heart break, lessons learned, and pockets full of experiences. But we are never, ever going to know that unless we open up and start to engage with those who around us. Why is that so difficult?

Because connection requires vulnerability.

You must say or do something that has a consequence of which you are not aware. It's okay to be scared, I am every time I put myself out there, which is quite frequently. It's not that I lack fear, but I have the knowledge that the risk is worth it. Brene Brown calls us the "whole hearted." We make the first move, we tell jokes to strangers, we put our necks out there for humiliation, and we say "I love you" first.

When I love, I love hard. With me, it's either all or nothing, I can't half ass a relationship or pretend that I only sometimes care. That gets me into trouble, often times because my expectations are more than others are willing to give. And that's fine, being whole hearted means you can get burned or left behind, often I have been rejected. I know that I can be overwhelming. I just want to give you pieces of myself. But you know what? My emotions are intense and they are true. My heart has been broken, and I've put my faith in others perhaps more than I should have. My lows may be lower than if I guarded myself more, but the highs...they are unmatched. My joy is complete and without reservation. When my heart is full, it is heavy. Not with a tinge of sadness, but with an overflowing weight of love and wholeness. The highs soar above everything else in a manner that's impossible if you don't open yourself up to the full range of possibility. 

Go talk to a stranger, or an acquaintance. Good grief, call up your best friend. Ask them to share a deep truth, to tell you about the time they felt the most sadness, but also when they felt the most joy. Find out what you mom's favorite color is, and what your sister's most memorable birthday gift ever was. Ask your grandfather what he was like as a teenager. And share yourself. Let someone in. Be vulnerable. Connect your soul with another, for there are few things quite so wonderful as the moment when you think to yourself, "Where have you been, all this time?". And sometimes the answer is, "Right here." The best potential for true, meaningful connection is often hiding in plain sight, if only we'd take the time to uncover it.

So give me the whole hearted, the occasionally broken and mangled, and I'll show you something beautiful.