ON AUTHENTICITY

"Real life." 
"Authentic." 
"Keeping it real."

These are phrases that are thrown around a lot on the internet.
I've received comments myself even that people love that I "keep it real".. and then go on to talk about these fake people who are fake and post overly staged fake photos of their fake life. Maybe I'm just not following the right people, but upon receiving these comments I usually wonder who these people are.*

Maybe I'm naive, but I tend to believe that most of what I see on social media stems from the truth, and it's just a question of, "to what degree, is this the truth?" For example, that eggs benedict with the paprika sprinkled on top, mimosa with an orange garnish, sitting prettily on a rustic wood table. I assume that's real food, at a real restaurant, on a real table. Did I maybe move the salt and pepper shaker out of the photo? Perhaps. Did I place the mimosa in a more photogenic location? Likely. But that doesn't make my meal any less real. It means I view social media (Instagram especially) as a creative outlet. I enjoy the challenge of trying to see and capture things in a different way- from above, from the side, slightly off center, half in the frame. So- YES- sometimes there's some rearranging that goes on before a photo to make it look clean and presentable. On occasion I even take a few shots of it, although I would hardly consider myself over the top in this respect. I'd go on to say that in this respect, I'm a very average Instagrammer.

But here's my question- why do you need to see shit piled on my counter or in my sink or my dirty closet for you to think I'm real? Do you lack critical thinking to know or assume those things exist? My social media is not a place for you to go to feel better about yourself. To assuage your guilt or get peace of mind that I'm just as messy as you are. If that's what you're using it for, well, that says more about you than it does me.

The same can be said, perhaps even more overwhelmingly when it comes to topics for blog posts. I don't need to wish Matt a happy birthday on my blog and qualify it by saying "even though you drive me nuts and we fight, I love you" to make you feel better.. because that's exactly what those sentiments are designed to do. People are so damn scared of coming off as inauthentic that instead of just doling out praise, we make sure to qualify it with something "real", for example, "I love you so much, I love our life, even though we have struggles." and honestly, that drives me more nuts than just saying something positive.

Do Matt and I have disagreements and hard shit? Yep- and maybe I just violated my own rule by even putting that out there.. but it's illustrative of my point. The thing is, the struggles in my relationship are none of your damn business. It'd be one thing if the topic of this blog was relationships and relationship advice. Then perhaps it'd be inauthentic to not spill everything. On a more personal note- I ran into serious issues in past relationships by divulging too much of the personal with family and friends. Every. little. tiff. was aired out via email to girlfriends. That possibly had more to do with a) the relationship I was in not being a fantastic one, and b) my age and maturity at that point, but I've come to realize others are not so quick to forgive and forget those wrongs as you are. The more people you bring into your relationship the more people think they have an opinion on what happens. My relationship is personal and sacred and it's between us. If you (the proverbial "you" of course) come here expecting me to air my shit, it's just not going to happen, and perhaps should require some introspection on why you feel like you need to see that from other people in the first place.

This isn't to say I'm perfect, and that everything I see on Instagram or read in blogs I can view through the mature, reflective lens, and repeat to myself those things I said before. Absolutely on occasion I find myself feeling a down or dare I say, jealous, of something I see. Again though, with the self awareness I try to stay in touch with, I really try to use those moments of inadequacy and jealousy and funnel them into something good. If I see a brunch I'm jealous of, I do some menu scouting and plan a little brunch date with M or my friends. If I see a beautiful vacation or home, I think of ways I can replicate that locally, or fix up my own bathroom to turn that jealousy into happiness in my own life.  I fail at this sometimes, but it doesn't mean I fault the people taking or posting the photos.

Maybe it's just me, but I find overhyped and overpraised efforts to keep it real, insulting. I share what I want when the mood strikes and not to satisfy anyone else that my life is real.


*There is absolutely an exception to this statement, and these are the hyper stylized, sponsored, "professional" instagrammers. The thing is, I don't usually follow these people. It's less to do with the portrayal of perfection and more to do with the constant. schilling. of shit.  

A MILLION DIRECTIONS.

One thing I really pride myself in is possessing a level of self awareness, and the ability to pinpoint the source of my feelings.

For example, if I see something on Facebook or have an interaction with someone in real life and have a certain reaction, I almost always can identify, psychologically, the WHY behind that reaction. Sometimes it's as simple as, "I'm clearly hungry, this is making me crabby for dumb reasons." Sometimes it's deeper than that and it's, "this makes me jealous, they have all the means and access in the world and squander it." Am I mature enough to acknowledge outwardly when it is the jealousy? No, probably not. BUT at least I know, right?

Lately I've had this really unsettled, anxious, spazzy feeling deep in my gut and I'm having a hard time identifying why. What I do know is it usually surfaces when I'm thinking about one thing in particular. For a while now I've toyed with the idea of opening up some kind of a side gig. I know I feel my best mentally when I'm doing something creative that balances out the very UN creative (unless you count sassy motion writing...) aspects of my day-to-day career. I know what makes me happy, I know what I enjoy doing, but when I think of ways to actually turn it into a fluid business I get discouraged. One, because the idea of dumping money into something that may go nowhere gives me hives. I hate gambling because I like, no ..I need, to see a physical return on investment. I'd rather spend $20 on a t-shirt or happy hour than a slot machine.

The same can be said for putting any money at all, no matter how small the amount, into start-up costs for a venture. I enjoy working with wood (decor items- mason jars hanging on wood, signs), I enjoy watercolors, I absolutely love anything to do with weddings: I helped a friend with assembling flowers and reception decor at her wedding recently and had a blast. I'm a militant type-A who has contingencies for every possible flaw and can think on my feet unprecedentedly well. But then I start to think about the hassle of selling on etsy, especially for wood pieces- or getting an insanely high quality printer to duplicate watercolors, and taxes and whatnot and I get discouraged and stop.

I also think about redesigning my blog, and I mean REALLY redesigning professionally, and putting more time and energy into this as a source of income. But I really don't see the point of doing that without something to offer. There are enough bloggers who blog about blogging and get rich because of blogging about blogging to have turned me off to that entirely. I enjoy blogging for what it is: an outlet (for me at least).

Then I think about doing something more in the legal community to satisfy that itch. Volunteer more, especially in an area of law that's different than mine. I went to a seminar recently on updates to the areas of Domestic Violence as a part of a women's tea that my law school puts on. I was in a room with top thinkers in the field, who have traveled to other countries on fact finding missions, collecting research and advocating for change. It was one of those nights that energizes you and makes you want to do something. Again though I get so discouraged easily.. the time, the time my current job consumes, am I even being realistic?

This discouragement across the board leaves me feeling lazy and unmotivated. I don't feel like I'm that kind of person.. I mean, I survived 3 years of law school and studying 8 hours a day for a grueling 16 hour test- I have a drive in me.. but where did it go? Is it a fear of failure? I'll go ahead and acknowledge that plays a huge roll in it. And don't even get all cliche and tell me that all great things come when people get over that fear and leap- blah blah. I know that. It doesn't matter. I would rather launch a project on 100 strangers, let it get to a satisfactory level, before ever sharing it with family and friends. I'd feel okay if it were dubbed a proven success. I don't like doing something if I can't be proficient.* This could be why, to date, I've never shared my blog on my facebook page- or with any of my family. Initially it was because: blogs are weird, even weirder and sadder when you have like.. 3 followers. I don't mind mentioning it in casual conversation now, and have given it out to friends.. but only after feeling out that they don't think it's weird.  Of course this makes things exponentially more difficult for me when typically, especially for creative endeavors, your family and friends are your best first source for feedback and, in the case of selling thing, sales. But would people just buy out of pity? Would they just pay me lip service and not mean it? Are there already too many personal endeavors on Facebook that one of my own would just add to the noise? It already feels like everybody wants everybody else to buy something from them. Is there a need for more?

Maybe the answer is, at least with the creative/crafting stuff, to acknowledge that it's not about the money- and even breaking even would be OK as long as it permitted me an outlet to release that creative energy. Iiiiiii just don't know. I know that writing makes me feel a little better if for no other reason than it's no longer knocking around in my head. There may be other things contributing to my angst as well, including the amount of debt I have, whether we're going to stay in our house or move.. among other things that aren't suitable for internet discussion.

So, take it for what it's worth.




*this is also probably why in 9th grade, after funneling into high school, when I realized I wasn't the smartest at math I sort of gave up prospects of trying to be. There are few things I hate more than trying and failing. I'd rather be openly mediocre and have a quality of life (i.e. social life and time) than be the best. I suppose this is also a reflection of my grades in law school. Could I have done way better? Maybe. But did I value having a life, family, and friends more? Absolutely. I also will probably acknowledge it was easier for me to blame my grades on this theory than acknowledge that it's a real possibility that even if I tried my damndest, I may not have done better. Feel free to psychoanalyze that to the bank.  

MY TEN YEAR REUNION AND A LOT OF FEELINGS I DIDN'T KNOW I HAD.

{my alma matter}

Earlier this week I got the notification in the mail that my 10 year high school reunion is coming up this fall.

High school, according to many, is supposed to be the best time of your life. I have mostly fond memories of high school, in that it wasn't overly difficult for me, but I certainly wouldn't categorize it as the pinnacle of my youth either. I was awkward, shy, lacked self-confidence, and never really felt at home with any particular group of people.

I had friends (a lot from other area schools), I was busy and social during those four years. I was friends with a few girls who floated between groups, and who seemed effortlessly cool- which left me feeling like the nerdy side-kick. I remember driving around after football games with them as they got texts from guys who I fawned over, asking what their ("our") plans were for the evening and having borderline fan-girl moments thinking it was possible I'd get to hang out with ((insert hot-guy-of-the-month's name here)) and his friends, or even better upperclassmen.

I cringe writing these things out now because it just sounds so sad.  I'm fairly certain I project my current feelings, as a significantly more confident version of myself,  onto the 2005 version of myself.  That version of myself didn't know who she was or where she fit in. She always dressed a little "off" from what was actually cool at the time, and didn't learn how to effectively use a hair straightener until sometime in 2007. Here's the thing: nobody ever made me feel left out as I was experiencing these things. If I was secretly being made fun of behind my back all those years I had no idea. Like I said, high school was fine for me, but when I spend any amount of time looking back and analyzing who I really was back then, I recognize myself as someone who was not totally happy, or secure in herself.. and it brings up all sorts of retroactive feelings I didn't know I had.

I spent some time tonight scrolling through the people who have been accepted into the reunion group on Facebook..often times clicking on images of new married names to try to figure out who from the class of 2005 I was looking at. I thought about who those people were back then, my very ambiguous self-imposed definitions of who they were and what groups they ran with. While I'm sure everyone is 'different' in the vaguest sense of the word, I spent more time wondering about those individuals who seem so very different: the quiet 'nerdier' girls, the ones who have lost a ton of weight, the ones who have mastered a makeup brush.  It's not even so much those superficial attributes I notice, but the confidence- the change in attitude. This is perhaps the case because I identify with them the most.

I find myself wondering what people think of me- am I looked at and pigeonholed as the 2005 version of myself? What did they identify that version as, even? Do people even remember me? It's probably time to mention that I currently am friends (as in, see on a semi-regular social basis) with absolutely no one I graduated high school with. I do have some friends today that I picked up in that time period, or knew in childhood, but didn't graduate with. This has been a source of anxiety, self-doubt, and remorse for me for years. Like I said, I had friends in high school- that was never the problem. The problem was that I didn't know who I was. I floated between groups, more concerned with having weekend plans than gaining the confidence to form and carry through deep meaningful relationships to where I am today. In some respects, the same can be said for college- a place I also escaped with fair enough memories and absolutely nobody who I see on a consistent basis (or any basis) today. The reasons looked different, but I'm just now realizing the root was the same. I tended to follow guys around, and formed my social groups based on who I was pursuing that year. I can see it plainly when I look back, year-to-year. My junior and senior year were predominantly the same group of friends. My junior year I was dating one of that group, senior year I wasn't. So my time was spent between that old group and my new boyfriend. I realize now that my actions again stemmed from a fundamental lack of confidence in who I was and feelings of inadequacy in terms of my intimate relationships. I poured myself into those relationships, at the expense of my plutonic ones, because of this insecurity.

I often found (and still find) myself wondering what I did wrong to go through 4 years of high school, and 4 years of college, the "best" years, with very little to show for it in terms of relationships. It wasn't until recently, maybe even getting that reunion letter, that I think I understand why. While both of those times were happy enough for me, it's got everything to do with the me now not loving or wanting to be identified with the me then. I'm embarrassed at the way, or the lack of the way, I fought for relationships back then. For my lack of confidence. I think subconsciously, being around those people and those memories brings me back to that version of me.

I honestly wouldn't self-identify as confident, or comfortable in who I am, until early 2010. I don't feel like the same person that I was in high school. OK that's a lie, I think my personality is largely the same, but it's blossomed. I pursued a career choice that gave me extremely higher levels of confidence and found a partner that never knew the "dorkier" (I'm absolutely still a dork) or less confident version of myself. He's helped me by letting me be the version of myself I always wanted to be.

Jury's out on whether I'll attend the reunion. If I do go, it won't be to prove anything to anyone. It may be to redeem, in some small way, the way I feel about those 4 fleeting years and the 2005 version of myself.

GUILT AND FEAR

My dad called the other night to ask me if I wanted to come over the following day to learn how to take care of his plants while he was gone.
I laughed and challenged him on the notion that watering plants was somehow a complicated task but more so understood it was an excuse to see me.
So when he finished telling me that his new "flower tower" actually DID require a tutorial and followed that sentiment up with, "I have some sad news about R.W." -- a name I'd come to learn in recent months since my dad's heart attack and my mom's passing- I wasn't prepared for his next statement.

Truth be told I'd only met him three times. The first, when he popped in after recess duty to say hi and offer condolences as we planned my mom's services in the conference room at the grade school. The second, at her funeral. The third was when he actually showed up to watch the Minnesota Gophers play in the NCAA championship hockey game. I say "actually" because my dad has this ridiculous quality about him where he throws out vague invitations, and unlike the intense type-A in me, never expects a firm RSVP. "You should stop by!" He says. So when M and I arrived that night to watch the game he told us there could be anywhere from zero additional people, to approximately 6. The game started and no one had showed up and my dad was a little disappointed.. the consummate host, he took it a little personally when people no-showed, despite having obtained no firm RSVP's. I still remember his excitement when he glanced outside and saw R.W.'s wife dropping him off with a bottle of whiskey and the note in his voice when he said "aww, it's R.W.!" R.W. was more quiet overall, but seemed comfortable and offered the odd commentary: he reminded me a lot of my dad.

So when my dad said "I have some sad news about R.W." my immediate thought was, "oh no, I bet he just got diagnosed with cancer." So I wasn't at all expecting to hear what he said next, "He had a massive heart attack and died last night. He and his wife were just biking and he fell over and they couldn't revive him."

My heart jumped into my throat because I understand all too well what separates a "he didn't make it" phone call from a "he's on his way to the hospital" phone call- the phone call I was lucky enough to receive last October: dumb. fucking. luck. That's it. I know it, my dad knows it, and that's why I heard all the things he didn't even have to say on the phone during that conversation, "that could have been me..that WAS me...why him...why not me..."-- and I know there are people reading this who live their lives every day knowing what it's like to be on the other side, the awful side, of that kind of luck. Thinking about that dumb luck paralyzes me, sometimes. That's because there are two great equalizers in life: guilt and fear.

I honestly didn't really even KNOW him, so I would hate for this to be construed as making it about me, but in some ways his death has me even more rattled than my mom's. I can picture him on the couch watching the game, hear his voice. It was SO recent. It seems both incredibly obvious and stupid to say this but the thing that shakes me most about death is that in the months, weeks, minutes before it happens - these people had no idea it was coming. I find myself mentally tracing back to that one second, that one decision, that could save them. This happens more notably for me when I hear of car accidents, someone steps off a corner and is struck and killed by a truck.. literally ONE SECOND could have saved their life. It seems as though we should be able to go back in time and fix it. It seems so fucking STUPID that such a blip on the radar in terms of time, can cost someone their life. The same can be said with things left to chance, as is often the case with a heart attack: the moment the blocked artery triggers cardiac arrest. What if it had happened at school? or any place with an AED?

I'm sure it's the oversaturation in the media but I find myself drawn to, and easily obsessed with, tragedy news stories. Shootings, car accidents, drownings,.. constantly cycling the "one second before/one second after" thoughts in my head. I know this is wholly unproductive and unhealthy, but it often has me wondering when (not IF, when) tragedy will strike me again personally. It feels like it's inevitable, and it terrifies me. Perhaps that's a sign I need to step away from the news..since some small logical part of my brain knows these are the exception, not the rule.

It's hard to find any deeper meaning for why my dad is here and R.W. isn't. I refuse to believe that was part of God's plan. I don't think God plans for anyone to die, or orchestrates it in any way. I do hope and pray that the fact that R.W. seemed to be a very devout catholic helps his family in the coming weeks and months. I'm sure this post sounds rambly and a touch self-centered at times but I'm not trying to make this about me. It naturally comes from my point of view as I process this but I really truly am devastated for his family, and my dad.. who has lost his wife and a friend who- from the sounds of it- he admired greatly, among some other scary family health news in the last few weeks.

There's no point to all of this, but I needed to put it out somewhere. Maybe I need to absolve myself of the guilt that it easily could have, should have probably, been my dad.

CHECKING IN

I wanted to check in.
First of all, thank you all so much for reaching out.. for the kind words. They're appreciated more than I can say.

I miss writing.
I miss it so much I ordered a journal that Sarah recommended.
I want to be able to be honest here, but there are things that I just don't want to memorialize on the big world wide web for anyone to stumble across.

That doesn't mean I won't talk about my mom on here, and how I'm doing, and that I'm having a sad day.. because that's all true, and I'm sure I'll talk about that. I don't want it to be all that I talk about, though, because it's..surprisingly enough.. NOT my entire world right now.

Outwardly I'm sure I look fine to people, and to be honest 75-80% of the time, I feel it too. That's because I refuse to let myself dwell on it for too long. Because if I admit to myself that I'm not sure she understood what was happening to her, that I believe she wasn't ready to go, and that she seemed scared: If I think about those things for even a second too long and I let myself go, I cease to function. The reality of the matter is, I'm an attorney, and I have to function. Everybody else is slowly moving on with their lives, and while nobody will forget about my mom... I need to start to move on, too.

I do let myself go to that place, sometimes.. because I know it's important to think through everything, to let myself feel these things, but I'm usually only comfortable doing that privately (or with Matt around, obviously). I've had some (what I've perceived as) incredibly irrational thoughts the last few weeks.. and in emailing with people who have also lost a parent.. I've come to realize they're actually not all that irrational.

I'm in this weird place with this blog. I don't want it to be the only thing I talk about (because it's not the only thing I think about) but I also feel fucked up writing about what I did this weekend, like nothing happened. There's guilt there, and I know nobody would think that about me, but it's still something I'm feeling. I also don't want to be that girl who only talks about her dead parent because that is heavy and sad. People are all heavy and sad with you in the immediate aftermath of something like this.. but they move on faster. There's nothing wrong with that, it wasn't their mom, and they can still feel sad for you, but they likely won't have the random waves of emotions, or still feel it as acutely, as I have been. For example, the other night Matt and I were driving home from somewhere. We'd had a great night out, I was fine all night- happy, laughing, having a good time- and I just burst into tears in the car. My thought process?: I was having a good night and my mom was dead and how was this all possible and that was really fucking sad. Matt looked over and in a very panicked voice asked "sweetie, what's wrong?!"... The tone in his voice told me he wasn't sure what the root cause of the tears was. I'm honestly not sure if it was in response to this car-cry or a different one (I do my best crying in the car) but I snapped, "my mom's dead. that's what's wrong."

I don't blame him for that, I understand he's never been with someone who has lost a parent, and he hasn't lost a parent (or another equally close relative) himself.. this is as new to him as it is to me. So when I burst into tears a few weeks from now, months, years.. I don't expect everybody to automatically associate it with my mom's death. Sometimes it won't be about that, but sometimes it will be.

I've come to find out that's totally normal. But, that's precisely why this just isn't the space for me to talk about some of the deeper, more personal things I'm feeling.

I'm not 100% sad, and I'm not 100% okay.
I also just have been really busy. Besides dealing with the aftermath of her death, the funeral and everything that entails, the case I'd had at work set to go to trial in 2 weeks absolutely exploded.. thankfully we've gotten a continuance but there's a lot to be done there, so that's been a source of anxiety. My family and I have signed up to do the M.S. walk, so I've been working on the website, getting donations, designing T-shirts, and will be planning a reception after the walk. I've agreed to host a bridal shower for Leah in April, so.. I've been brainstorming for that. And..due to some recurring car drama with M's Malibu, we've been shopping for (another) new car - - this time to lease. So, there's been carpooling, car shopping, and just in general a pain in the ass.

OH and did I mention I was supposed to be in Paris this past week? I cancelled the trip the morning my mother passed away not knowing her funeral (last Tuesday) would take place in time for me to have still gone (last Wednesay). Although with the work dramz, it's probably a good thing I was in town. So, I'm also in the early stages of planning a do-over trip with M to Italy late this summer, since I have to have my travel completed using the ticket credit by 9/24 (ironically- my mom's birthday).

That was disjointed and rambly, but I needed to say things. I'll be around. I'm getting an iphone this weekend most likely, so be on the lookout for higher quality cat photos on Instagram. (kellybea14).

ON VALENTINES DAY

It's Valentine's Day tomorrow.
It's also my birthday.
I'll never know what it's like to have a birthday not on a holiday, and I'm okay with that.
I'll never know what the hubbub is about a normal Valentine's Day because my significant others have always done something for me, because it's my birthday.


That being said, I find myself defensive of the day and what it stands for.
It makes me irrationally angry when people call it a stupid day, or offer one of their canned "I'm better than this day" lines. Oh, and side note, it makes you look like either a smug asshole* (if coupled, and "anti-V-Day".. or a bitter asshole (if single and "anti-V-Day"... so, either way you look an asshole, even if you're not trying to be smug and not actually bitter).


I read the following in a blog post recently:

"I started thinking about Valentine's Day and the tendency our society has to make this ONE day so laser-focused on romance.  Shouldn't romance, sex, lingerie, and love be woven into every day?"

The answer is: absolutely. But again, I think the understanding of the day is misplaced**.


The three holidays I parallel Valentines Day most to are St. Patrick's Day, Christmas and Thanksgiving. What do they have in common, you may be wondering. The two most common refrains I hear from people who are anti-Valentines Day are as follows:


     

 "I celebrate love year round... so we don't really celebrate Valentine's Day."

That's great.
Really, truly, it is. But do you? Do you HONESTLY?
Well, are you thankful year round? Do you express thanks and gratitude and appreciation for the people in your life and the things you have more than once a year? You do? Oh, so why do we need Thanksgiving. Do you boycott Thanksgiving?


Absolutely not.


Why?
Because as much as people say they are thankful year round, there's something special about taking a day to celebrate that thanks with a great meal with family and friends.


The same can be said for Valentine's Day. You're doing life in general WRONG if you're not expressing love on a daily basis. It doesn't even have to be on a romantic level, it can be with your friends or your family. Regardless, what's wrong with taking one day to be a little over the top. A little extra thankful- in the case of Thanksgiving, and a little extra lovey- in the case of V-Day.




        "It's just a scam by the greeting card, candy, and floral companies."


Right, the "Hallmark Holiday." You're so original.
Because there are no other consumer-based-holidays that mayyyyy have stepped away from the true origins of celebration thousands of years ago.
<<cough, cough..CHRISTMAS..cough, cough>>




Why aren't we calling St. Patrick's Day the Beer Industry Holiday. Because really, that's mostly what it's become. It's a holiday that has centered around getting belligerently drunk in the name of denigrating an entire country- because hey- you ain't Irish if you ain't drunk! (I'm not even Irish and I kind of find that insulting on their behalf). So where did that holiday originate? It's an international religious holiday and Catholic feast day. Did you know that? I'm sure you did. I couldn't tell you the history of St. Patrick other than he did a lot of great things.




Did you know that there was also a St. Valentine? That it's also a religious holiday and feast day?
Did you know he was imprisoned for performing weddings for soldiers who were forbidden to marry (and for ministering to Christians, who were persecuted under the Roman Empire.) So really in 2014 with marriage equality we should all be getting down with St. Valentine.




So why do people have such vitriolic views of Valentine's Day? It could be because over the years, increasingly high expectations have been placed on people's partners, sometimes leading to disappointment. It could be because there's a stigma that it's sad, bad, whatever- to be single. (One I don't buy into, for what it's worth).




You don't need to take a stance on Valentine's Day. Really. You don't need to let everyone know how easy-breezy-cool you are because you don't celebrate. You don't need to let everyone know how you hate it because you're single. Just... stop.




*After seeing a post on FB I do want to add: I totally understand why Valentine's Day may be hard for people who have lost significant others, or who have other unrelated reasons for having a tough time on V-Day. I'm not a total heartless monster. But this post isn't directed at them.


**(The rest of that post is fantastic, and actually- it focuses on not waiting for a "special occasion" to live your life- this one line just happened to inspire me to post about other commonly heard valentine's day refrains.)

STEWARDSHIP // ON BELIEVING IN THE CHURCH AGAIN

I was born and raised a Catholic.
I'm sure I've alluded to that fact now and again on this blog, most likely poking fun at some of the dogma that is stereotypical of the Catholic Church. The truth is I joke about it because I've had a hard time with it the last 5 years or so. Mostly, to be blunt, a result of the combination of the child-abuse scandal and the church's views on same sex marriage. It's easy to lose faith when there's so much hate, so many excuses, and so much intolerance.

If any one single thing has restored my faith in Faith itself, and in the church community- it's been my dad's heart attack. It's hard to not look at, and admire, someone with as much faith as he has. He's a man of quiet faith.. we never really talked about it outside of school and/or church, so I never realized how deeply held his beliefs were until later in life.

My dad works as a custodian at our church and the affiliated grade school, where I went. (I don't know why I feel the need to tell you this, likely because I'm proud and defensive of my dad: he was a fiber optical engineer at Qwest for 25 years and was let go in favor of a younger employee about 10 years ago- he jokingly calls this his retirement job). Our family has been a part of the church for as long as I can remember, but my dad has remained a more integral part of it with these younger generations since my brother and I have been gone, through his job.

I thought I knew all my dad's friends. I truly did. He doesn't lead a wild social life, he's pretty low key, so I thought I knew them all. I was wrong. The number of emails I've received from people asking to help, many of whom I don't recognize at all, is astounding. These are largely, mostly, church people.

The point of this specific post though... stewardship. My dad is a member of the church's Men's Club, and they reached out pretty early on to let me know if  we needed anything, to just ask. We haven't had as much work as we've had people asking, so a few of the guys asked about donating money. I was VERY hesitant to accept any, because truthfully his medical bills are covered by insurance for the most part, minus a decent sized deductible... and we think (and are in the process of finding out) he's got some decent disability pay, so he'll really be "ok" through all the time off he'll need. One of the officers reminded me though, and it's good to be reminded, sometimes people just really need to feel like they've helped. So, I set up one of those fundraiser websites for my dad, thinking it'd be nice if we could at least cover his deductible for him, if anything. Aside from emailing it to the Men's Club, and sending the link to a small chain of family on Facebook whom I'd been keeping updated on my dad, I haven't promoted it at all.

The email with the link went out to the Men's Club this morning,... a mere 7 hours ago. We're nearly halfway to our "goal", the deductible amount, already. I'm blown away. I don't know how to separate whether this is a testament to my dad, and what an incredible person he truly is, or a testament to our Catholic Church, and how much they support their own-- and knowing my dad I'm not sure they can be separated.

I do know that this has helped restore my faith. My faith in humanity, in people.. and in Faith itself.

CONTENT

So, this week has been a little crazy, and while I do have a honeymoon post AND a rehearsal dinner post drafted (who am I?) I want to hold off to start until next week. Fridays are notoriously slow, and I figured why not keep it in the same calendar week, eh? I'm also sorta kinda hoping we'll get our photos back in the interim. I don't want to start those posts and then have a gap while I wait for photos.

This week has also just been crazy adjusting to the real world. Trying to do laundry, unpacking from Mexico, finding time to sort through the giant tupperware of wedding gifts we opened Sunday, getting new banking information set up.. OH and if all that didn't sound like it'd keep our hands full, we bought a new car Wednesday night.

Behold, (Woooahhhh) Black Betty: 

You can only sort of see her back there but she's a Mazda CX5. Shockingly great gas mileage for a small SUV, better than the other car we have actually (a Malibu). We've said that the car will be 50/50 but M wants me to drive it to work. We'll see. I have a lot of guilt over this since it was kind of his brain child- he researched, he compared, he worked out all the financing. But I guess that's sorta what marriage is about, isn't it?

SO, between all that, I've been a little loopy. I did something with the hashtag of our wedding photos, and I'm excited to share that! I got them printed on prinstagram, and they're en route as we speak!

I was driving home last night and thinking how lucky I have it. M and I are able to buy a brand new car, have a house, and still live a good comfortable lifestyle. Some people own zero cars, let alone a newer used one.. and we were able to do this for ourselves. Don't get me wrong, we're not rolling in it- and this is the first NEW new car for either of us. ever. So it's still a big deal to us. But I just love thinking about how far I, we, have come.

There are times where I wait for the other shoe to drop. My life seems a little TOO good. To me. I don't say this to brag, but to acknowledge that I am so unbelievably content. With the exception of the strenuous job hunt at times, I'm fortunate to be at a great firm right now. They're in transition but the people are good and I've been getting some fantastic opportunities. I'm excited to see where I go from here.

Anyway, that's enough mush for today.
M and I have a wedding tomorrow- our first one as a married couple! I wouldn't trade our day for the entire world but it'll be kind of nice to just be able to sit back, relax, and soak it all in.. as we remember our own day.

Hope you guys have a good weekend! I'll be back Monday with a weekend recap (I hope), and then hope to kick off some wedding recaps. Wee!

Gratitude

More often then I'd care to admit, I've found myself getting swept up in negative thinking this week. Whether it's complaining about work, how busy I feel like I am, family, friends, you name it.
In an effort to put some more good ju ju back in the universe, I just want to take a second to talk about how grateful I am.

I'm grateful for M's family. More specifically in this moment: for a mother in law who has been NOTHING but welcoming, supportive, and loving. Heck, she says "I love you" more than my own family, sometimes.

I'm grateful that I'm looking for a job as an attorney. Even though it's been a long, sometimes emotional, process... it means that I am an attorney. Something I worked so hard to get to be able to say. I'll get there, soon.

I'm grateful that even though I'm not acting as an attorney with a law firm, I'm able to do pro bono work.. even if I'm stressed out about it, and have my first hearing on Monday. It means I'm in a position to help someone who seems genuinely thankful for my help.

I'm grateful that I'm busy after work. It means that I have a lot of people who actually want to spend time with me. I'm grateful that this week it's been a mix of friends, family, and strangers (photography class..well, and Jess. :) )

I'm grateful that I'm in a position, financially, to be able to surprise my dad with this office redo. While I'm not quite sure how on earth I'm going to fit it all in, along with preparing for the hearing Monday (meep!), and some social commitments this weekend, I know that his reaction will totally be worth it. [Besides, I have all day Sunday, and Monday/Tuesday after work, too.]

And even though it's been cloudy, chilly, and muggy...and rarely just sunny and warm outside...I'm grateful it's done snowing. :-).

I'm grateful to come home every day, to a tiny little ball of fur who greets me with SUCH enthusiasm that my heart can't help but burst: he purrs SO. HARD. he squeaks, and sometimes coughs, and nuzzles the crap out of me. It's without a doubt one of the highlights of my day.

Woo-sa.

Tonight M's sisters and I are surprising his mom with a shopping trip (for her mother-of-the-groom dress) for her birthday, followed by dinner..where her husband, M, and M's sister's boyfriend will be joining us.

On why I'm not good at being a girl: an (embarrassing?) confess-sesh

In my 26 years of being a girl, I've had my moments of feeling like I'm "doing it wrong." as they say.
There are certain things that I'm familiar with, I hear people use the phrases, but in application I am 100% clueless. Most of these have to do with beauty related items.

Maybe you guys can laugh at me, maybe I can get some honest to god answers, either way.. here we go.

1. Dry shampoo
I always heard girls talking about this stuff, and it confused me.
Shampoo is wet. Is this a wet substance you apply when your hair is dry? How does that make it NOT greasy? It sounds like it'd make it greasIER? Then one day, someone told me it comes out like a hairspray. OH! Okay. (This was after I confessed to someone that when my hair was bad I'd dump baby powder on my head and one day I didn't rub it in well enough and looked like I had a granny-patch RIGHT on the top-o-my-head until lunch, when I noticed it in the pop machine. womp.) I was informed dry shampoo is JUST LIKE baby powder, only less shameful and less actual powdery. Grandma hair is no more, and now I feel like my unshowered hair is more "trendy" and less "gross."

2. "____-Day hair!" (insert any number. 2nd, 3rd, 4th, etc.)
Okay, so, this goes hand in hand with my dry shampoo quandry. I hear people say "this is 3rd day hair!" buuuuttt then I read THIS post Raven did, which she talked about taking showers and blasting hair with a blow dryer quick but still it was 6th day hair? So... does this mean when you guys say 2nd day hair, you still like.. get in the shower and get it wet and shit, you just don't put any shampoo on it, but then you still have to style it? This is where you lose me, and I may lose you (because maybe this is disgusting, I'm not sure)... when I say 2nd day hair, I mean no part of my body has seen the inside of a shower since yesterday. Am I doing it wrong? Isn't 2nd, 3rd, 4th day hair awesome because you didn't have to style it again? OR do some of you not get it wet but still take showers? (Do you then wear a shower cap in the shower?) I have long hair (duh) and on days I don't scrunch it and diffuse it (and wear it naturally curly) it is a royal pain in my ass to dry it all, and then style it. So when I rock 2nd day hair, it's so I can avoid all that styling B.S... and in rare moments of awesomeness, if you see me the 3rd day with a ponytail, it's because I still have not showered. I just generously apply deodorant and roll out. Is this gross? I'm honest to god not trying to be all "look at me I'm so cool and alternative" I'm just not sure what's going on, people.

3. Eyeliner- specifically lower lash liner.
Guys, this one was real tricky for a real long time. I never used to line my lower lash (mostly because I didn't understand how the F to do it) and if I did, I reserved it for fancier nights out. I then realized my eyes photograph better when lined on both sides (who knew!?) I then realized at a Mary Kay party once, that I was doing it all wrong. You see, I used to line this part:

(I've highlighted it for you with some super awesome faux-80s blue liner, for effect)

Uhhh, nobody freakin' told me that's not the right part. I always wondered how peoples' eyeliner stayed on all day because that part of your eyelid is like, super moist (sorry, I know) and it would always just get wet and rub off when I blinked. Then, in a revelation, I discovered people just kind of drew it on right OVER the spot where the lower lashes come out, so it was like a harder version of connect-the-dots. I still feel like it goes on spotty and I look like a crack head, but significantly less than before!

4. Primer, tinted moisturizer, bronzer, concealer, cover-up
If you held a gun to my head and told me I needed to recite what each one was supposed to do, or asked me whether they were different, I'd be dead. Honestly. Throw in the fact that some of them can appear in liquid form OR powder form and all bets are off. I was blessed with pretty good skin, so I've never had an overwhelming need to use anything like this. Not to mention an overwhelming fear of winding up like "that girl from high school" with the orange face and definitive line between her jawline and neck (YOU know who I'm talkin' about). I am sure I could benefit from an overall even appearance that these products usually give women, but that'd require me to wake up more than 20 minutes before I left the house. I've been known to put on a random .... concealer? bronzer? I am not sure which one it is, that I found in a drawer before a night out on the town. That's usually the only time I'll attempt some of the "harder" makeup stuff (read: normal for everyone else, but shit I can't seem to get a grasp on).

5. I'm just going to say it: bikini lines.
Maybe this makes me a weirdo or maybe this is TMI, but I glance around at the beach. I see all you tanned toned bitches with your perfect bikini lines. Does everybody on the planet wax? Or was I just not taught to shave properly? or is there some magic razor you all are buying? Because.. I just can't. gah.


I'm sure there will be a part 2 to this at some point because, well, I'm just not that great at being a girl sometimes.

happy humpday, people.

Distraught

There's only so much emo a person can handle in one day, and upon logging in and seeing Google Reader will be gone come July 1, I'm putting my somewhat (emo) planned on post for today on hold.

But seriously.
What, did google say, "OH, we have this really convenient successful tool that MILLIONS of bloggers (do normal people use it? I'm not even sure) use to read shit so let's TAKE IT AWAY and FREAK EM ALL OUT." Fuck you, google. (not even sorry about the F bomb, guys.) I think more companies need to adopt the mindset of the Catholic Church- change is NOT a good thing! Stick with what you do well! Just kidding. I'm Catholic, so I can say these things. aannnddd what with the new pope bizness I thought this would be semi-inappropriate.

So unbelievably anoying. Does this mean the GFC button on blogs will be gone? YOU GUYS I finnnnaaallllyyyy have a respectable number of followers (hi 84 of you!) and I don't want to LOSE you so whattdoiDO. But seriously. HALP.

I need coffee.

This week, just.... woof.

On family dynamics.

This is my family on Easter in 2010. 
It may surprise you to learn that my mom has M.S.
This is probably because I've only mentioned it once really, in passing, early on. Twice if you include this emo ramble, as well.
Also, I sadly realized (in writing this post) I don't think I've ever even posted a photo of her on here. Daughter-of-the-year right here. 

I wanted to write a more thorough post about it, and her, for posterity. So I don't look back on my life and regret editing my mom out of it before she was even gone. I use this turn of phrase because I find myself saying things (and writing things in blog posts) like, "we went to my dad's house," which, I realize to those of you who may be new readers or who never delved back into the archives, makes it sound like I don't have a mom or that my parents are divorced. 

She's been on my mind more and more lately.. and I'd be lying if I said my wedding doesn't have something to do with it. I'm just going to say it:

It gives me anxiety that on my wedding day, people who have never met my parents will look at my family and pity us. (and yes, I hate that I even think this.)

Don't mistake my anxiety for being ashamed or embarrassed of her. I'm just protective of my family. My personal life. It makes me anxious to put it all on display.  

It's not that I obsess over the thought, but when it pops into my mind, I start to sweat a little. 
Obviously both sides of my family know the current state of my mom's condition, and I think most of my friends and M's friends know, but not everyone has met her. All it takes is a 'look' and I'm suddenly reminded who knows, and who doesn't know.

The same few questions have always been a consistent part of my life:
"How's school?"  (up until law school graduation)
"How's the guy?" (the guy, up until M obviously) ... and then, I know what's coming. Their head softly tilts to the left, their eyes soften, and they ask:
"How's your mom doing?" 

I have always found this question kind of strange and hard to answer.
Well, she has an incurable degenerative disease. So. She's not doing so great?
On the other hand, considering she's had it for over half her life, the better part of 25 years, she's doing pretty good? In terms of the speed of its progression.
I also have to gauge how much of the truth they want. People want to feel good about asking, and maybe they're being sincere, but I've found people prefer a thinly veiled version of the truth. They don't want to hear about bed sores and colostomy bags.

The photo above if a bit misleading, as well. It's is nearly 3 years old. Things have changed since then. My mom can no longer really hold her head up on her own, and she has a PCA that stays with her at our house during the day while my dad works who feeds her and keeps her company. Her memory isn't that great, and she doesn't talk a whole lot. When she does, she sometimes repeats herself or doesn't  make sense. She also brings up the past a lot- often asking if I still have my childhood stuffed bunny (I do.) and things of that nature. It's tough for her to keep up with and really be aware of current happenings, both in the world and in our families, so she falls back on the past. A hospital bed, deemed better for her bed sores, has replaced the twin bed she slept in. Mostly, she lays on a special mattress pad on the couch and watches TV.

It's a part of my life, I don't feel sad about it because it's all I've ever known. What I've struggled with lately is our relationship. I read a handful of blogs written by girls who have lost a parent to illness. I feel like an ungrateful brat 60% of the time because my mother is still here, and I don't have a great relationship with her, nor do I feel like I handle her illness the best I could. I'm not out there raising money for M.S. (because I feel like I'm not a good poster-child as an advocate) or doing the M.S. 150. More than anything, I fear looking back on our relationship with regret. I know this sounds ridiculous because she's still alive and there's plenty I can do to change that, but only to a degree. I can't really have meaningful  conversations with her anymore... isn't that how you create a bond in a relationship? Communicating?

(at a wedding in April, 2010)

 

You may wonder why I hadn't cultivated a relationship with her prior to the degeneration of her mind. Growing up, my mom was always the "cool" mom. The one who would pile 5 of the neighborhood kids into the back of my dad's covered pickup truck and drive us to McDonald's so we could play in the play place. She'd make Target trips during the day while we were at school and buy us the new Backstreet Boys CD.  Our yard, perfectly flat and level, was always the center of neighborhood games of Black Bear or Red Rover, and my mom always called a time-out for freezees. There were always heaps of freezees or other ice cream treats in our freezer (as well as fruit roll-ups, dunkaroos, fruit by the foot, gushers.. etc in our cupboards. No, I did not eat healthy as a child). I could use no other adjective other than "idyllic" to describe growing up in my neighborhood, and with my mom. I don't want anything I say here to be misconstrued, I love my mom. I always have. That being said, I have always truly been a daddy's girl.

There was a turning point in my relationship with my mom. I vividly recall the day it happened. I was 14. I'm not going to get into details, (I know, I know.. I always eye-roll bloggers who give you a snippit and then don't share the details. "why even mention it at all!?" I think. I mention it because I feel like I need to make note of it in this unofficial record, to justify to myself what happened.. to alleviate some of the guilt I feel as an adult for the shift in our relationship. Because there WAS a reason at the time), but it was from that point that I began to see her differently. I felt like from that point, I took on more of a "parental" role in our relationship. It changed the way I looked at her: based on decisions she made and people she associated with. It was the first time anything had jaded that "parental" image I had of my parents. You know, the one where they know best and the decisions they make are infallible because they're your parents and they just have to be doing the right thing. I lost respect for her. I flat out started to resent her for a period (I wouldn't say I feel that way anymore). Through all of this, I grew closer to my dad. (I realize re-reading that paragraph it certainly sounds like there was some sort of infidelity, which is definitely not the case, and while I still don't want to get into details I want to make it abundantly clear it was not that.)

I wouldn't have classified our relationship as outwardly "strained" at this point, but while most young girls are forming a bond with their mother... doing things like shopping, dining out, confiding in them; I was not. I'd say it was a combination of my mom's inability to physically do these things, and the aforementioned "turning point" that culminated to cement our not-closeness. With the exception of a few screaming matches (like any normal teenager), we were never outrightly rude to each other. I was (usually) well mannered and polite with her. We just were never exceptionally close. We'd spend time watching TV at night, chatting, but it was all pretty superficial. I have some friends that told their mothers evverryyythinggg, including the nitty gritty regarding boys. That just wasn't my mom and I.

I went off to college for 4 years (2 hour away from home), and came home in the fall of 2009 to begin law school. I lived at home the first 2 years, but my intense schedule and hours kept me physically out of the house a lot. This might be me making excuses, but that, coupled with the fact that I was 23 and now living at home again did not lend itself to a great relationship with either parent. Once again, things weren't bad, but there were daily quips about whether my mom "needed to watch Wheel of Fortune everyyyyy day at 6:30 NO QUESTIONS ASKED" (which just fueled a deep seeded hatred for Pat Sajak). It was a lot like it was back in high school. Lots of sitting in front of the TV, no talking. She had reached a point by then though where, as previously mentioned, we really couldn't hold a substantive conversation due to her memory/speech issues.

I live with M now, obviously, and while I get over to see my parents quite a bit, I only really do so when my dad is home (vs. at racketball, or working). I struggle with taking the initiative to go over there when my dad's not there, because all it would entail with just my mom is me watching TV with her in silence. I'll admit I haven't always been the most patient with her. When I ask her questions and she repeats herself or spits back something that doesn't make sense, I quit trying. I'm not rude about it, but when they don't retain what you're telling them, or you're not sure what they will retain, it's hard to find things to talk about. Also, lady loves herself some naps. I've been over there and will ask her something only to look over and see she's passed out cold mid-conversation. I need to be better about making time to just go sit with her, because I know she appreciates just having someone there who is not her PCA.
 
I don't really know how to wrap this up. Which is fitting because I never know how to talk about my mom. As I mentioned, I feel like I don't handle it well. I love her. I really do. It's just a strange situation. I say strange because I know plenty of people my age who either have perfectly healthy parents, or parents who have cancer or similar illnesses. I know all cancers are very different, and some people battle it for years, but the symptoms are so wildly different from M.S. I have nobody to really relate to when it comes to what she's gone through. And the 2 or 3 times I've heard of people my age who have a relative my mom's age with M.S., the stages of M.S. are still so wildly different. We have a family friend who is 10 years older than my mom and still walking with a cane. That's the thing about M.S., and why it's so awful: it impacts people of different ages, at different paces, and with vastly different symptoms. There's not a lot of treatment available, and the treatment that is available is just to slow its progression (that is if it actually works). At times it feels a bit like I'm talking to someone with alzheimers. Memory loss is a common symptom associated with M.S., and while it's not nearly as bad, it's the best comparison I have. I'm not sure what she'll remember, and she's sure to ask the same question a few times over (Like when we're getting married. If I've bought my dress yet, etc.).

I guess I don't really have a point to this post, other than to put it out there. To maybe explain to others and to keep a record for myself. Family is a funny thing, and we always seem to know what to do, or how we'd handle situations when analyzing someone else's family, but our own families are a differnet beast all together.

Next up in this depressing series: Daddy Issues: An oldest/only daughter's constant desire for approval. (just kidding. sort of. I didn't know how else to end it, so why not a wildly inappropriate joke?!)

Pay it Forward-- the follow up.

Before ya'll go crucifying me for posting on this "day of silence" (that is if you even know what I'm referring to) hear me out.

 

I had no intention of posting today,..and not because it was orchestrated, but because I can't seem to remember to take photos of anything and my life feels kind of boring right now and all I can think about is legal arguments.. (all teh moshuns..guyz..all of em..).

 

But then I saw this thing on FB last night and it humbled me and gave me chills.

These are all screenshots taken from my own FB page.

 

Here's a post that clothing company KiKiLaRue linked to about a random act of kindness they did for one of their customers.

 

and then my friend from college's aunt shared this story about her experience at Target...

 

...and then a friend commented on this photo..which popped up on my newsfeed...

 

 

THIS. you guys. THIS is what we need.

 

We need more kindness, more compassion. Not silence. We need people who CARE about one another so that when someone is in trouble, we notice.. we're sympathetic.

 

Instead of having a day of silence, or maybe in conjunction with it, we go out and DO. Do good. 

Pay it forward.

 

There's no way to tell whether Friday's tragedy sparked these random acts of kindness... but there's no way any of these things will bring anything other than pure joy to the people they affected.

That's what we need today.   

 

-Kelly