Category Archives: Overthinking Things

Another Checkpoint: The Year I Took Control

04 Monday Jan 2016

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It’s funny how we choose to use certain checkpoints to take stock of our lives. Birthdays, graduations, anniversaries. Moments in time where we stop to look back at the path behind us, with all its obstacles; where we look within, if we dare to ask whether we’re satisfied with who we’ve become; or where we look ahead, mapping out the route to success or satisfaction and hoping we have the wherewithal to follow through.

Turning the page to a new year has turn into one of those checkpoints, if for no other reason than everyone else seems to be doing it. I’ve written before about how, to me, the New Year’s holiday in January always feels like an arbitrary time to change your life. But if you haven’t figured it out by now, I’m a sucker for self-reflection and a clean slate… and I usually end up buying in.

Over the past couple of weeks, as I reflected on what changes I’d like to make in the New Year, I found myself looking back–not on 2015, but on the year before. On New Year’s Eve 2014, as I sat in the Minneapolis airport on a layover, I typed out a post that I titled, “Good Riddance 2014, But Thanks (Lessons From The Worst Year of My Life.” It had been a year full of loss, heartache, failure, and disappointment, and suffice it to say, I was ready to put it to bed. The post was one of the most popular pieces on this site in all of 2015.

I realize that dwelling on the worst year of my life over a year after it ended is not very forward-thinking of me. But as I look back at where I was a year ago, I’m seeing that the lessons I wrote about really did stick with me, and changed the way I approached my life in 2015.

nye2014

My sister and me on New Year’s Eve 2014. Beneath the smile, I was tired from a long year and wondering what the future held.

Where 2014 was the year that things happened to me, 2015 was the year I made things happen.

While it felt like a year of major upheaval, in reality there were only a few big changes. But those changes coupled with being true to myself and my values made me feel like a new person.

The changes started early, when I interviewed for and accepted a job at at a TV station in my hometown, Chicago. I moved a thousand miles in a snowstorm with my dad and my dog. I lived with my grandma for a week while I adjusted to a midnight wakeup call that would get me to work at 2 a.m. I rented an apartment in the city, which felt like an entirely new way of life, since growing up I always lived in the suburbs. Thankfully, after a few months, my boyfriend took a leap of faith and joined me here; together, we worked hard to make our relationship the strongest it’s ever been.

And in between the adjustments to this new life, I lived. I held a best friend’s sweet baby boy the day after he was born. I went to her house after work and fed her 2 year old french fries. I sat on the couch and drank wine with another best friend. I ran 5Ks with my dad. I brought my sister lunch and she trimmed my dogs’ nails. I got brunch and manicures with my mom. I went to birthday dinners. I met new friends and went to my first “Friendsgiving.” I biked along the lakeshore. I baked cookies with my parents. My boyfriend and I hosted our first holiday on Christmas Eve, then drove down to St. Louis to enjoy a long weekend with his family.

At no point at the end of 2014 did I make a grand statement of a resolution. I was too tired. It took me until now to realize that the trials of that year made me prioritize what values mattered most to me. I chose family. I chose love.

2015 didn’t come without its own ups and downs. And yet, I can’t think of a moment where I regretted the choices that brought me where I am today. This was the year when I recognized my personal power to change my situation, and to handle the obstacles life throws at me. In fact, there were moments when problems arose, and I almost chuckled to myself, thinking, “So this is life, isn’t it? One thing after another.”

This post isn’t meant to be a humble brag, and in no way am I saying I am done growing. I just found it worth sharing that sometimes the best way to find your best self is to live through your worst moments. If you’re finding yourself at a low point, unsure if you can handle anything else, just remember: you might come out changed on the other side. Try not to lose sight of that.

 

Everyone is doing the best they can

20 Wednesday May 2015

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There’s an unfortunate side effect to being born a human: Everyone is part of their own universe, and everything in it revolves around them. Things don’t just happen; they happen “to me.” And sometimes every action someone else takes can feel like a targeted personal affront.

But the reality is, nine times out of ten, the actions and behavior of others have absolutely nothing to do with you. And the ways those actions might affect your life is usually the afterthought of an afterthought.

On a conscious level, we understand that our lives are not the only ones that are chaotic or boring, overwhelming or depressing. We recognize that we’re not the only people facing challenges, even acknowledge that many others have challenges that outrank our own. Yet when conflict arises, the benefit of the doubt goes out the window.

Here’s a crazy thought: Everyone is doing the best they can.

The guy who cuts you off when he’s about to miss his exit is doing the best he can. The woman who takes forever wrangling her kids in the checkout line and makes you wait an extra 30 seconds to buy your Heath bar is doing the best she can. The barista who takes ten minutes making your Frappuccino because some other asshole is yelling about her nonfat double-stuffed skinny cow cinnamon latte is doing the best he can. (Yes, even the asshole yelling about the latte is doing the best she can.)

Your boss who gets frustrated and snaps at you is doing the best she can. The mother who dishes out unsolicited advice because she thinks it’s what’s best for you is doing the best she can. The friend who couldn’t show up less than ten minutes late to save his life… is doing the best he can.

Maybe you see yourself in their shoes and soften a bit. Sometimes I don’t return phone calls. Sometimes I interrupt people. Sometimes I get a little too sarcastic. But I know I’m doing the best I can too.

tryingmybest

Here’s the M. Night Shyamalan twist to this whole story–Everyone is not actually doing the best they can. Your boss might be a jerk, your mom might be bossy, and the asshole at Starbucks might just be an asshole.

But that doesn’t even matter. Imagine how our everyday lives could be different if we just treated everyone like they were doing the best they can (and honestly, most of them actually are). We’d treat the people around us with much more kindness, and patience. We’d believe in their efforts to treat us kindly in return. Maybe we’d take a second to look around our personal universe, and see we’re not the only one in it.

Music Monday: Shut Up and Dance

04 Monday May 2015

Posted by in Music Monday, Overthinking Things

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[spotify https://play.spotify.com/track/4kbj5MwxO1bq9wjT5g9HaA]

This song’s been out there for a hot second, and I’m noticing it getting a lot more play time on the radio. I like it for a couple of reasons. On the surface, it’s got a great beat. I love to turn it up for driving, running, and (imagine that) dancing.

But I also like it for what–or more aptly, who–it represents. It’s the story of that girl, who doesn’t have a care in the world, and doesn’t overthink things beyond that one moment in a club, telling a man, “Shut up and dance with me,” as he falls hopelessly in love.

I think every woman wishes she could be that girl, and every man wishes he could find her. The thing is, I don’t think she really exists outside of movies and books. But it’s fun to jam out to this song, and imagine you are her, if only for 3 minutes and 19 seconds at a time.

When notes between neighbors can surprise you

29 Wednesday Apr 2015

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When I moved to Chicago, I was eager to find a place that felt like home. After a day of looking at places that were mostly duds, the last place I found just felt right. It had almost everything I was looking for–hardwood floors, stainless steel appliances, a brand new washer and dryer, an easy walk to Lake Michigan. I moved in a week later, and before long the place started to really feel like my own.

But then I had a problem.

After about a month of peace and quiet, and a building all to myself, my upstairs neighbors moved in.

They looked friendly enough when I awkwardly peeked through the blinds as they unloaded their moving van. I told myself there was no way they could have known that they timed their arrival perfectly for my 3 p.m. bedtime. And that a little stomping up the back steps was to be expected; I mean, really, who moves quietly?

Within a few days, I knew this was going to be trouble. I’d noticed how thin the walls were when I heard the maintenance crews clomping up and down the steps and the mail lady swinging the door open and slamming it shut. Now I learned that the ceiling was just as thin. I could track my new neighbors’ movements by the shifting creaks above my head. And most days, I was treated to my own personal concert echoing through their floors.

I consider myself a relatively patient and understanding person, so I told myself that they were probably using music to pass the time while they unpack. But by the second week of second-hand tunes, I knew it wasn’t going away, and I was starting to get cranky.

For the sake of my sanity, I knew I’d have to find a way to ask them to turn it down. This shouldn’t be a big deal, but I spent another week asking people whether I should leave a note or knock, and if I left a note, what should it say? I’d like to say my problem is that I’m too nice, but that would be too nice. The bottom line is, I hate confrontation. And maybe, I’m afraid people won’t like me. Besides, given that I was dealing with people I’ve never met, there was the whole question mark of whether confrontation would end with slashed tires, or worse–them spitefully turning the music up louder.

So this week, at my wits end, I finally got up the nerve to leave the note. I saturated it with politeness, and hoped it wouldn’t be the worst first impression I’ve ever made.

I wrote, “Hi there, Can you please lower the volume of your stereo? Unfortunately, the walls/floors/ceilings are very thin here and the music carries through other apartments. Thanks so much for understanding.” I taped it on the door, walked down the stairs, considered running back and taking it down, and then just hoped for the best.

That night, when I went to take my dog out, I saw my note taped to the mailboxes. I was afraid to find a big middle finger drawn on it, but when I came back in, I found that it was better than I anticipated:

It seems sometimes politeness can go a long way.

It seems sometimes politeness can go a long way.

Yep, you read that right. “Of course! We’re so sorry! (Emphasis added in my head) Thank you for the note.”

I was mildly shocked too.

The side of me that’s a strong believer in karma wants to think that this is just the Universe rewarding me for my inherent goodness. Ha. More realistically, I have nice neighbors who simply didn’t realize how much their music was bothering me. (Maybe too nice; who thanks a neighbor for a complaining note??)

But I can’t help but think their response might not have been so easygoing if I’d snapped and reacted in anger. It’s just one more reason to treat people around me with kindness and respect. And a small reassurance that, yes, reasonable neighbors do exist.

Sometimes even you don’t know what you want (or need)

16 Thursday Apr 2015

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When I was a teenager, I went through a phase for like three years where I adamantly insisted that I hated hot dogs. Growing up in the Chicago suburbs, this was probably frustrating for my family, as hot dogs are kind of a “thing” here–and a staple option for dining out. But as teenagers tend to do, I got a little bratty when that option was ever brought up.

In fact, the smell of a hot dog did make me want to yack a little. But the funny thing is, I couldn’t tell you why one day, out of the blue, this random food became suddenly unappealing to me. I hadn’t had any bad experience with hotdogs, or gotten sick. I just hated them. Then, just as suddenly, I finally ate a frank, and everything was back to normal. Now, I even have moments where I crave them.

Proof that I like hot dogs again--from a trip to Superdawg with my dad.

Proof that I like hot dogs again–from a trip to Superdawg with my dad.

Bear with me while I switch gears for a second.

I’ve worked in television news now for more than five years, and for a time I swore that I would never work on a morning show. You see, in TV, working “mornings” really means working overnight (hey, it takes time to put a show together that starts at 4:30!). And as a girl who’s always valued her sleep, it didn’t seem like a shift that would work for me.

For the past two-and-a-half years, I enjoyed working 1-10 p.m. in Austin, and sleeping in like a college kid home on spring break. And when I was offered a morning show producer job at my current station in Chicago, changing shifts was what intimidated me the most. I asked other morning show friends what to expect, and prepared for a weeks-long adjustment period from hell.

Some days, working overnights make me feel like my dog and I are glued to the couch.

Some days, working overnights make me feel like my dog and I are glued to the couch.

Then a funny thing happened. I found that I was able to fall asleep at 3 in the afternoon a lot easier than I expected–and stay asleep (for the most part) until my 11 p.m. wakeup call. I’ve been coming home with hours ahead of me to use however I want! I’ve got time to cook (I haven’t), to exercise (I’m working on it), or to catch up on so many TV shows (no comment). Sure, the nature of my schedule means I’m getting a little less sleep (Goodbye, 10 hours a night…). But I’ve discovered how much I can do when I have more hours in the day. I came to a painful realization that–gasp!–I actually kind of like my new shift.

Are you starting to make a connection here?

I know claiming to hate hot dogs, when you actually don’t… and claiming to hate working overnight, when you actually don’t… are not exactly the same thing. Except, they kind of are.

The thing is, we human beings are stubborn. And we also sometimes think we know more than we actually do. Put those two things together, and you’ve got a lot of people missing out on a lot of things simply because they think they don’t like them.

Part of the problem is, very few things in life are all good or all bad. Food preferences may not be the best example here. But if you look at making life choices–like whether to take a job with an unusual shift–there’s a balancing act of pros and cons. So yes, there are nights when I wake up at 11 p.m. and wish with every ounce of me I could roll over and sleep until the sun’s out. There are afternoons when I hide under a pillow, trying to be tired, and hate myself for hating the kids laughing and shouting their way home from school. And there are moments when I question whether it is acceptable to eat beef jerky at 3 in the morning. (Answer: Beef jerky is always acceptable.)

Enjoying my new freedom in the daytime hours with a walk to Lake Michigan with my dog, Mack.

Enjoying my new freedom in the daytime hours with a walk to Lake Michigan with my dog, Mack.

But on the flip side, I miss out on rush hour, my weekend starts at 10 a.m. on Fridays, and I have hours of glorious daytime to enjoy when I get home. (Not to mention, it’s a job that’s afforded me a big step up and a move to my hometown.) If I had focused only on the things I thought I would hate about this schedule, I would have never taken the job. Instead, I got much more than an opportunity; by setting aside my expectations and being open minded, I’ve been able to go beyond tolerating my new lifestyle, and actually enjoy it.

Maybe I’ll celebrate with a Chicago dog.

Good Riddance 2014, But Thanks (Lessons From The Worst Year of My Life)

31 Wednesday Dec 2014

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2014 was the worst year of my life. I think.

Have you ever had one of those awful days where nothing seems to go right? And at some point you’ve resigned yourself to the fact that this is a “bad” day, where if even the tiniest set back pops up you want to (or actually) throw your arms up and yell, “And now this?!” Picture that feeling that lasts an entire year.

Early this year, my uncle passed away tragically young, in a drug-related death. My sister and her ex-fiancé broke off an eight-year relationship, two months before they were going to get married. Then in April, the 6-month-old son of one of my best friends died suddenly.

It sounds selfish to pile these things on to the list of “Bad Things That Happened to Me This Year,” when they clearly hit others much harder and more directly. But as a very sensitive person who cares deeply about the people in my life, it was incredibly painful to see the people I love suffer, as I also learned a harsh lesson about the frailty of life. And living 1,000 miles away from my hometown, I felt like I was powerless to help.

I also started 2014 with some lofty goals for my personal and professional life, that I didn’t exactly land. Add all of these things together, and by the time the year was halfway through, “This has been the worst year of my life” became sort of a messed up, backwards mantra that echoed in the back of my head more often than you could imagine.

Me in February, not yet jaded about the trials that were to come.

Me in February, not yet jaded about the trials that were to come.

At some point, I remembered a conversation with a friend from around this time last year. She was wishing me happy holidays and said, “I think this is going to be a really great year for you.” Thinking of all the great things that were sure to happen in 2014, her comment made me glow. One year later, there have been times when I literally cursed her, convinced that she jinxed this year for me.

Suffice it to say, as the final hours of 2014 roll on, I am more than ready to put this year to bed. But as I reflect upon the year that was, it pains me a little to admit that I’m uncovering a wealth of gratitude. I have grown more this year than any other that I can remember. I learned what my priorities are, who I can count on, who counts on me, and roughly what direction I want my life to head.

I feel like I owe this year an apology for not giving it enough credit. I let it be defined by a handful of moments. I forgot to remember the late-night tacos with good friends, bad jokes with coworkers, romantic trips with my boyfriend. I discounted the beautiful moments I experienced leaning on my loved ones, and being someone to lean on. I spent so much time feeling personally victimized by tragedy that I discarded my typical belief that without darkness, you can’t appreciate the light.

Ending 2014 on a more positive, optimistic note.

Ending 2014 on a more positive, optimistic note.

So as I head into 2015, I’m praying that no one tells me how great it’s going to be. I don’t need the pressure or the expectations. While I appreciate the opportunity a new year presents to change lives, I’m not making any resolutions. Not really. I just hope I can remember to follow my heart, love deeply, appreciate the quiet, little moments of peace, and remember that a year is just a year.

Wishing you and yours a happy, healthy New Year, in whatever large or small meaning it holds for you. No pressure.

Happiness is an emotion, not a destination

23 Sunday Nov 2014

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It seems like everywhere I turned this year, if I didn’t hear Pharrell Williams’s “Happy” playing every ten minutes on the radio or in a new lip dub on YouTube, I was watching my friends post pictures of lattes and sunsets and guacamole with the hashtag #100happydays.

Maybe it was because this was a challenging year personally, as I watched many people close to me deal with real, life-changing struggles. Or maybe it was because I turned 27 and suddenly felt an immediate, boulder-heavy pressure to know exactly where my life was headed and how and when I was going to get there. But never before have I felt such a push to be unabashedly, unquestionably, unapologetically happy.

So what’s the problem with that?

Most people who know me would tell you I’m an optimistic, outgoing person. I like to make the people around me smile, and keep in touch with the people I love who are a thousand miles away. On the outside, feeling happy does not seem like it’s a problem for me. And it’s not.

Where the pressure comes in is when you start looking for Happiness with a capital H. Happiness becomes another item on your Life Checklist.

√   Establish satisfying career
√   Meet perfect man
√   Marry Mr. Perfect
√   Buy dream home
√   Have beautiful children
√   Be Happy?

Beyond the obvious fact that if you wait to achieve all of your life goals before you allow yourself to be Happy, you could be waiting years, if not decades… the scary thought remains that even if you get to the bottom of that checklist you still might not be Happy. And in the meantime, you may have cheated yourself out of all the beautiful, little-H happy moments along the way.

I did the ole Google trick and typed in “how to be” tonight. The results were as I expected:

The number one thing Googlers want to be? Happy.

The number one thing Googlers want to be? Happy.

I even bought a book about happiness this year. I don’t remember what it was called, but it literally had a picture of a fence on the front cover showing the grass greener on the other side. What I learned? Happiness is not sustainable. (That may have been a word-for-word sentence in the book.) We become accustomed to the joy we feel from a new job, a new relationship, a new life change. We forget how happy those things make us. The book said a Nobel prize winner was asked how long the excitement lasted from his win; I believe his response was that it lasted about a day.

This isn’t meant to be a pessimistic viewpoint; in fact, I hope it makes you breathe a sigh of relief. You are not alone. There is not a person on this planet who feels happy 100 percent of the time. And guess what? That is okay.

Striving for a Happy Life is not only normal, it’s admirable. But when you’re tunnel-visioned on Happy, you may find you’re not treating yourself with the kindness you need when you’re not quite there. When you’re struggling with doubt, or anger, or grief, or frustration, the negativity in those emotions is magnified when you face them with an attitude of “I should be Happy.” Feeling those things doesn’t make you Not Happy–it makes you Human.

**I should add, I have no ill will toward the 100 Happy Days project. I was reading up on the guy who started it, and I love the idea of finding things in our lives that we are grateful for. (Remember what I said before about the happiness book and how happiness isn’t sustainable? Cultivating gratitude was a suggested solution for that.) But I guess #100GratefulDays doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

And I will reluctantly admit that, even after the overplayed summer that it had, there are still times when Pharrell’s song comes on, and I clap along.