Tag Archives: emotion

Life’s mood swings: Learning to ride the rollercoaster

12 Saturday Nov 2016

Posted by in Bettering Myself, Life Lessons

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Last week was a rollercoaster. No, I’m not talking about the election. (And I’m sure many of you will thank me when I say, I have no plans to touch that topic with a ten-foot pole here.) I keep looking back on the week before, amazed that I managed to feel about every emotion imaginable in the span of just a few days.

On Thursday, my family said goodbye to my great aunt. Auntie A never had kids of her own, so her numerous nieces and nephews were like her children and grandchildren. She was the center of my dad’s side of the family, and I meant it when I told my relatives that she was the kindest and most selfless person I have ever known. Auntie was a person who knew how to make anyone feel special, like you mattered deeply to her and to the world. Our family gathered at her home every Christmas Eve, Easter morning and Fourth of July since long before I was born, and she filled each day with such a tangible, loving energy that was contagious.

aunties

My sister and I with our dear great aunts a few Christmases ago. (Auntie A is on the right).

She died exactly two weeks after suffering a massive stroke, and I was thankful I got the chance to tell her how much she meant to me, and for her to tell me she loved me once more before her condition declined. Our family spent many hours by her side in those weeks, holding her hand, praying, crying, and reminiscing.

The day of my aunt’s funeral I was filled with emotion. It was a beautiful day, and every word that was said that day felt like the perfect tribute to her kind heart. I shed many tears, grieving the loss of such a special person, feeling like a deep void had been left behind. Yet at the same time, I was grateful. I felt thankful to have had such a wonderful person in my life for so many years, and for the lessons in love and kindness she taught my family. I felt thankful to be part of such a great family. I felt thankful for my aunt’s long life and that she didn’t suffer much in her final days. That day alone was enough of a rollercoaster, but I had more in store.

The very next morning, my spirits were lifted, when my boyfriend, a few of my coworkers and I decided to check out the Cubs World Series victory parade that was taking over the Chicago Loop (steps outside of where we work). The city was flooded with Cubs fans (some believe it was one of the largest gatherings in human history), and everyone appeared to be overjoyed.

paradegroup

Joining millions of other Cubs fans for the victory parade. (Nov. 4, 2016)

Besides being energized by the fact that my team had won its first World Series in 108 years, I also felt unified with the people of my city, like we were all coming together to celebrate at least one thing we could all believe in. It was refreshing, given the division in the political season this year that made me feel like no one was ever going to get along. (Okay, that’s the only election reference; I promise!) That feeling of pride and unity continued when my friends and I popped into a bar to watch the Cubs rally in Grant Park, singing “Go Cubs Go” with a few hundred of our newest friends.

Later that day, I was sitting at a kitchen table with my closest friends from high school, drinking wine and sharing our favorite memories. We had planned a Chicago-themed going away party for our dear friend Lynn, in honor of her upcoming move to France. I’m always a sucker for those warm and fuzzy moments of people-who-known-me-best girlfriend bonding sessions. But this one was tinged with a little sadness, sending off someone I care for so far away. Lynn had been living in San Francisco over the last few years, so our get-togethers were already fewer and farther between than our group would like. But France! It’s an ocean away. At the same time, I found myself feeling just so fiercely proud of my friend, fulfilling one of her longtime goals.

lynnparty2

My favorite childhood friends, showing off our Portillo’s chocolate cake as we sent off Lynn (far right) to Paris!

Maybe it was the mix of wine and nostalgia, but before the night was over, my dear friends and I were blasting 90’s music and had formed a kick line in the middle of my friend’s living room. We held hands and danced in a circle, singing “No Scrubs” to my friend Jess’s 3 year old, Logan, as he continued asking for “one more song” before his bed time. (Logan and my friends’ other kids are also some of the little people in my life who make my heart feel like it’s overflowing.) So there I was, one day removed from one of the saddest days I’ve had in a long time, belting out the Backstreet Boys and trying to soak up every second with some of the best people in my life.

The next morning, I was celebrating another milestone moment for another old friend of mine. My friend Maggie was one of my first college friends at the University of Illinois, and after we fell a little out of touch for a few years, life brought her and her husband David down to Austin while my boyfriend and I were living there, and thankfully, back into my life. Saturday, they were back in town in the Chicago suburbs for their baby shower, expecting their little boy right around Christmas this year.

maggieshower

Celebrating my friend Maggie and her baby Noah last weekend.

Maggie is a friend who has always been an inspiration to me. Shortly after we met, she suddenly lost her mother, a loss that was obviously very painful. Yet she has more faith in God and in the future than most people I know. She and David have built up a successful business over the past few years, and have managed to find the time and money to travel all over the world. And like my Auntie A, Maggie is filled with love, kindness and humility, always more concerned about others than herself. Seeing her joy in expecting her first child was very special, and again last week, I found myself filled with gratitude, that I would be counted among the friends and family she wanted to share this with.

Like the sadness I felt saying goodbye to Lynn, Maggie and David’s baby shower also made me miss our time together in Austin, feeling sad that it would probably be quite a while until I got to meet baby Noah. But I chose to focus on the pride I felt for my friends doing great things, and achieving their goals in life.

Saturday night, I slept deeply and for a very long time. I truly felt like the last few days had been an emotional rollercoaster. In just three days, I had experienced grief, relief, joy, sadness, pride, nostalgia, unity, anticipation, celebration, gratitude, and deep love. A younger me would have felt paralyzed and overwhelmed. But I’ve come to learn that these are the moments that define our lives, that life is just one twist and turn after another and the best way to experience it is to soak up every emotion–good or bad–and the lessons you can learn from it.

I was reminded by this photo that I saved off the internet a number of months ago:

yinyang

It reminded me of the joy and gratitude I felt for the memories with my Auntie A, even as I felt a pervading sorrow to know she is gone from this world. It reminded me of the sadness I felt to be far from some of my close friends, even as I watched them fulfill their highest goals and we enjoyed our moments together. This is the best description of life I’ve found so far, and I’ve resolved to honor every moment as I experience it, for every moment is an important part of life.

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Music Monday: Bruises

20 Monday Apr 2015

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This is a song that spoke to me the first time I heard it on the radio, a couple of years ago. It’s not the most complicated song, in rhythm or lyrics. But maybe it’s the simplicity of it that really touched me.

[spotify https://play.spotify.com/track/3adeqciqrsp6PQqR0hGDC7]

“Bruises” is the story of two old friends, catching up on all their old hurts. When I first heard it, I was far from home, and hyper aware of how important my old friends are to me. So that element spoke to me.

And the chorus is just so universal, that it’s always a great reminder.

“These bruises make for better conversation
Loses the vibe that separates
It’s good to let you in again
You’re not alone in how you’ve been
Everybody loses
We all got bruises”

I think sometimes it’s easy to get caught up in whatever problem you’re dealing with and feel sorry for yourself. But the truth is, everyone has something. And there is something so cathartic about just letting it all go with a friend over a coffee or a beer.

There’s an understanding that we pick up these hurts along the way, and there’s nothing we can do about it. But after a while we can talk about it with a shrug and a smile, and the knowledge that life goes on, for all of us.

The youngest person who changed my life

11 Saturday Apr 2015

Posted by in Life Lessons

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One year ago today, I answered the worst phone call of my life.

I will always remember where I was; the moment is emblazoned in my memory. It was around 2 in the afternoon and I was just getting started on my day’s work. My close high school friend’s name lit up my phone. I thought it was unusual to get a call from her in the middle of the day, and that’s why I was compelled to answer it.

“Scott passed away last night.”

There was a moment of confusion. The face of an old high school boyfriend popped into my head; who else could she be talking about?

“Jess’s Scott.”

I couldn’t make it to the door before the tears started pouring out. I almost managed to get into the daylight before a sob escaped. “What? What happened?” She didn’t really know.

Jess is one of my oldest, closest friends, and arguably the anchor of our friend group. Scott is one of her twin boys. When I received that phone call, he was a little over six months old.

I didn’t go back to work that day. I went home and booked a flight home for my friend’s son’s funeral. I called another mutual friend and we cried together. I washed a load of black and gray clothes and put them in a duffel bag. I lay on the couch and stared into space. I talked to my parents as I paced back and forth. I sat at the table with my boyfriend and forced myself to eat leftover chili, thinking the lights were too bright.

I thought about my friend. In the year that followed, I never stopped thinking about her.

Because this story isn’t about me. It’s about Jess, and her husband Andy, and their beautiful boys. It’s about the realization that hits you deep in your gut, that the moments that really count in life aren’t always filled with brightness and joy, but darkness and despair. And it’s about being touched and changed by a little person too young to even walk or talk.

There Is No Way of Knowing

The last time I saw Scotty was about a month before he passed away. I was in town from Austin for a long weekend, and Jess brought Scott and his brother Logan to my parents’ house for a get together with our girlfriends. When I asked who was who, she eagerly unzipped his onesie to show us the freckle on his leg that was sometimes the only way anyone could tell the brothers apart. At his funeral, the rabbi reflected on his nickname, “Scott with a Dot.”

The last time I got to hold Scotty, in March 2014.

The last time I got to hold Scotty, in March 2014.

As the night went on, the twins got fussy. I stood with Jess in a bedroom away from our other friends as she fed them bottles and bounced them up and down, at one point holding one of her boys while she propped a bottle up for another with her foot. She insisted I go enjoy my time with our friends; I insisted I enjoy this time with my two “nephews.” I’m so thankful that I did.

I was only lucky enough to see Scott three times in his lifetime, but I cherish those memories. He taught me to strive to appreciate every moment with the people I love–happy, sad, laughing, crying. I look back on those six months and wonder, “What if we knew?” 

Would our moments together have been sweeter, or more painful? Would we be filled with anxiety, counting down the minutes and seconds? Or would we have been at peace, soaking in every snuggle and smile?

Scotty taught me that those we love can be gone in an instant, with no warning, and sometimes much too soon. Why waste our time with anything but love?

In The Darkest Moments, Look For Love

I still feel guilty when I express the struggles that I had coping with Scotty’s death. I know that my pain is dwarfed by the darkness that swallowed my friends and their families. But my heart was deeply touched to see how they have been there for each other this past year, and how their network of friends came together around them.

I spent two days at Jessica’s parents’ house for Scotty’s shiva. I was in awe, seeing hundreds of people come through, expressing how much this family has touched their lives. There were in-laws in the kitchen, keeping everyone fed, and friends making sure Jess and Andy were eating and drinking water. I hoped I was doing enough for my friend by quietly holding her hand or sitting with her son Logan while he slept.

It was in those first dark days that I was really hit by the realization of how much we all depend on each other. I saw a lot of sadness, but I saw a lot of beauty, knowing these are the times when stepping up for the ones we love matters most.

Give Without Expecting Anything in Return

When the shiva was over, most of the people went away but the pain didn’t. In the months that followed, being there for Jess became an exercise in the true meaning of being a friend.

I still lived a thousand miles away, so since I couldn’t physically be there most of the time, I tried to show my love in whatever ways I could. I texted my friend every day, anything I thought might lift her spirits–old photos, inspirational quotes, funny memes, words of encouragement. I probably overused the heart emoji. Sometimes I didn’t hear back. But she always told me later how much it meant to hear from someone who cared.

It was a hard year for me in other ways, and yet being there for Jess seemed more important than anything I was going through. There were times when she would insist we talk about what was going on in my life instead of hers. While I’m sure she was tired of thinking about what was weighing on her heart, it was another meaningful lesson in friendship; she wanted to be there for me, even in her darkest days.

Put Your Problems in Perspective

Jessica insisted that even though my problems weren’t as crushing as hers, they were still important. And yet, seeing what her family has been through made me feel they weren’t as important as I’d once thought.

In the year that followed, I found my perspective shifting dramatically. I found patience when it came to dealing with “the small stuff.” Frustrations at work, flaky friends, traffic–I started to realize the day-to-day annoyances would make no difference in the long run.

The first time I got to meet and hold my little nephews, in December 2013.

The first time I got to meet and hold my little nephews, in December 2013.

At the same time, I felt my priorities shifting. Losing Scotty made me realize I didn’t want to lose any more time with the people I love the most. I loved living in Austin, Texas, but seeing my family and friends just a few times a year wasn’t cutting it for me. That feeling was a major motivator when I decided to move back to my hometown.

The past year has been a roller coaster, as I’ve learned to cope with something I never dreamed would happen to someone so close to me. I still feel angry; I still feel sad. But I also feel incredibly proud of the strength and resilience I’ve seen in my dear friends and their families.

Scotty’s life was much too short. But the impact of that short life was not lost on me. I know we will never forget his sweet spirit, and I pray I never forget the lessons he’s taught me.

Scotty (left) holding hands with his brother, Logan, in March 2014.

Scotty (left) holding hands with his brother, Logan, in March 2014.

**If you were touched by Scotty’s story, you can give back in his memory. Please donate to the Rock The Dot! fund for youth education.

When finally coming home means leaving home behind

06 Monday Apr 2015

Posted by in Emotions, Life Lessons

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This year, Easter had a special energy in the air. I don’t know if anyone else felt it but me. It may have been the near-perfect, sunny spring weather, or the adorable antics of my cousin’s kids. But for me, what really made the day stand out was this: Every time I hugged or kissed my cousins, aunts and uncles, and wished them a Happy Easter, they each warmly responded with, “Welcome home.”

Home.

I didn’t realize until recently what a big word that can be. This Easter, it resonated deeply. I haven’t been home to celebrate the holiday in six years. Those warm greetings spoke to my deepest and simplest definition of the word–the place I grew up, the memories I grew up with. It’s amazing how those familiar smells and sounds, the pictures on the walls, can put you back in the shoes of a younger you.

This was the first Easter I celebrated with family in six years.

This was the first Easter I celebrated with family in six years.

The younger me at age 16 decided one day that my best career would be broadcast journalism; I envisioned a career at one of the Chicago news stations I watched growing up. 19-year-old me was told in order to achieve that goal, I’d have to fly the coop first. 22-year-old me did just that, packing up my newly-gifted furniture from mom and dad and driving three hours to Lafayette, Indiana. And my 24-year-old self got really crazy, chasing adventure, my boyfriend, and a producer job down to Austin, Texas, without ever having stepped foot there before.

I never lost sight of that vision I had when I was 16, even though I’ve since become an entirely different person. A few months ago, a sudden inclination coincided with opportunity, and before I knew it, I was offered a TV producing job in my hometown.

Then a funny thing happened. I had realized a goal that was more than a decade in the making, and I was so proud of myself. But as I packed up my things and started what I dubbed my “Austin Farewell Tour,” the emotion I felt the most was sadness.

On the one hand, my heart couldn’t wait to be reunited with my dear friends and family whom I missed terribly. And in fact, after being home now for nearly two months, I can say the benefits of living near my loved ones are stronger than I imagined. But I realized as I prepared to move home, that I was also leaving a home behind.

Waiting in line for barbecue with some of our friends as part of my "Austin Farewell Tour."

Waiting in line for barbecue with some of our friends as part of my “Austin Farewell Tour.”

During the weeks I was in limbo, not yet leaving Austin but having no idea what my new life would look like, most of my friends and family had one of two reactions: “I can’t wait for you to move here!” or “I can’t believe you’re leaving us!” It was kind of funny the way the people in my life perfectly mirrored my conflicting inner voices.

But one day, one of my best friends called me to see how I was doing. She told me, “I am so excited for you to get here. But at the same time, I am sad for you. Sad for all that you are leaving behind.” It takes a good friend and a particularly thoughtful person to recognize the state I was in. When she spoke what I was feeling out loud, I realized I was never going to have everything that I wanted. And that’s what life is about–choosing the set of options that fits you best.

Seven weeks after arriving in Chicago, it’s starting to feel like home again. But sometimes I still pine for the homes I’ve left behind. It hits me when I feel a pang of longing for our favorite Indian restaurant, or nostalgia wishing I was sitting at the coffee shop on the lake. Sometimes it’s as simple as the doubt I felt when it was NEGATIVE FIVE DEGREES on my first day of work, as I checked the weather in Austin, which is still on my weather app. Or moments when I almost blurt out an inside joke with former coworkers that I know no one here will get.

And it’s not just Austin that makes me feel this way. Just the other day, I got a little sentimental when I told someone about how my boyfriend and I used to walk across the street from my Indiana apartment to rent DVDs from the library. I had a flood of memories when my old address from my quarter in Washington, D.C. popped up during my apartment rental process. And a recent conversation about martini bars reminded me of the one I used to frequent with my good friends during my time in Champaign.

As I embark on this new chapter, I’m already seeing that there are moments when I will feel like I’m back in a home that never really left me and I never really left. But there are as many or more, where I’m once again carving out a new place in the world until it feels like mine.

Just a few weeks after I arrived in Chicago, an old friend shared a post on Instagram that really spoke to me:

home

I know now that part of my heart has been left behind in so many places, with so many people. And never for an instant will I regret the path I have taken, or the homes it has given me.

Music Monday: Still Fighting It

19 Monday Jan 2015

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One of my biggest musical regrets is that I didn’t discover Ben Folds until my senior year of high school. I could listen to his stuff for days at a time without getting bored. And because I’ve been in a thoughtful mood the past few days, I’m going to share with you one of his songs that makes me cry:

“Still Fighting It” made me cry when I graduated high school and headed off to college. It made me cry when I put it in a photo montage for my sister’s high school graduation. It made me cry when my friend’s son passed away. And it made me cry at pretty much every life change in between.

You see, I have this bad habit of looking at the past through rose-colored glasses, holding it up next to the ups and downs I’m trudging through, forgetting anything bad that’s happened, and wistfully saying how “It was better then.” (I could write an entire post on this, and probably will someday.) Add that to the fact that with the majority of my 20’s behind me, I still occasionally marvel that I am able to accomplish the basic tasks of being an adult–getting an oil change, buying an airline ticket, feeding myself vegetables–and this song is a recipe for a wave of nostalgia that’s easy for me to get lost in.

The story is from the perspective of a dad talking to his son, telling him all about how “it sucks to grow up.” (And doesn’t it?!) My favorite part is the chorus:

Everybody knows
It hurts to grow up
And everybody does
It’s so weird to be back here
Let me tell you what
The years go on and
We’re still fighting it

Then Ben Folds ruefully tell his son, “And you’re so much like me, I’m sorry.”

I love the song because to me, it perfectly describes The Human Condition. It hurts to grow up; it sucks. But we’re still fighting it. We can still have fun, we can still love, we can still strive to be in the present moment and throw away the rose-colored glasses we use to look at the past. So while it still makes me cry, it also makes me smile.

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

31 Wednesday Dec 2014

Posted by in Life Lessons, Overthinking Things

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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.

Fill your days with tiny braveries

12 Friday Dec 2014

Posted by in Life Lessons, What Inspires Me

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I’m a child of the 90’s, so back in middle school, when that song “Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)” came out, I thought it was the wisest thing I ever heard. I think everybody’s favorite part was when Baz Luhrmann almost-yelled, “Do not read beauty magazines, THEY WILL ONLY MAKE YOU FEEL UGLY.”

One of my favorite lines in the song/poem/essay, that still stands out to me to this day, was, “Do one thing every day that scares you.” As a kid, I didn’t see how that was even possible. As an adult, I once again think it’s some of the best advice I’ve ever heard.

On Monday night, I went to bed filled with nervous anticipation. Tuesday, I had an appointment at the hair salon. I have been growing my hair out for more than two and a half years. At some point, I decided I’d like to donate my hair for a wig for someone with cancer. When my friend and former coworker Loriana was diagnosed with Leukemia earlier this year, I knew that was what I had to do.

My hair fell more than halfway down my back before I chopped it off.

My hair fell more than halfway down my back before I chopped it off.

Until recently, I haven’t had long hair since my freshman year of college. So you can understand, I grew to be pretty attached to it. For the week leading up to my salon appointment, I shared short-hair pictures with my friends and family, and hoped I could go through with my plan.

There was a feeling of “Am I really doing this?” all the way up to the moment my hair stylist, Meghan, chopped off my thick ponytail with her scissors. We decided on doing an angled bob, which I have always wanted to try out. But my stomach wrapped up in knots as I watched her razor off even more inches on the back of my head to make the style happen.

The moment of truth--chopping off my ponytail to give to Pantene Beautiful Lengths for women with cancer.

The moment of truth–chopping off my ponytail to give to Pantene Beautiful Lengths for women with cancer.

After Meghan did her magic, I was relieved to see that I loved the shorter cut. And then there was the added excitement of seeing my ponytails on the counter, and knowing everything was worth it, to help out someone in the toughest time of her life.

It didn’t hurt that I was flooded with compliments on my new style. I posted a before and after photo on my Facebook page, tagging my friend Loriana, and had people I’d never met saying things like, “I don’t know you but you look more beautiful after giving the gift of your hair.” My coworker has been calling me “Gwyneth Paltrow” for days.

The finished product! My new 'do after giving away 10 inches of my hair.

The finished product! My new ‘do after giving away 10 inches of my hair.

So what does this have to do with Baz Luhrmann and the sunscreen song?

Before this week, I had been in a funk. Nothing really new or excited has happened in my life in a while, and I was in a place where I wasn’t looking forward to much.

I wouldn’t say cutting nearly a foot off of my hair scared me, exactly. I know that hair grows back (and luckily, mine grows pretty quickly), and I was really excited for the new purpose that my hair was about to take on. But the drastic change in style certainly jarred me out of my comfort zone. I’m a person who typically does not like major changes in life, but this time, instead of being anxious or sad about losing what was, I felt incredibly energized.

Simply by changing my hairstyle (and using it to give back), I felt more confident, and even more optimistic about the future. And as a person who dreads change, I felt excited about what other changes could come. I was proud of myself for doing something different, and I felt brave. (Perfect timing, after writing about the song “Brave” this week for Music Monday!)

So now I’m challenging you to try to “Do one thing every day that scares you.” It can be as simple as standing up for yourself, instead of letting a mean comment go. (That’s another out-of-the-comfort-zone kind of moment for me.) You can go see that movie your boyfriend or spouse doesn’t want to see, by yourself. How about trying some weird food for the first time? I know I have a few big, bucket-list items that would get my adrenaline going, like skydiving. But I realized this week that it’s important to push myself into uncomfortable territory in smaller ways, more often. I realized it can be life changing.

Music Monday: Sara Bareilles

08 Monday Dec 2014

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Since I was out of town last week and didn’t get a chance to post, I wanted to make this week’s Music Monday a double feature. I’m dedicating it to a singer who inspires me in many of her songs: Sara Bareilles.

[spotify https://play.spotify.com/track/6Uy6K3KdmUdAfelUp0SeXn]

“Brave” was arguably a little overplayed this year, but I still sing along every time. Speaking up for myself has always been a little tough for me, and I love how bravery is boiled down to something that seems so simple, but often feels so tough. It doesn’t hurt that this song also has a great beat that makes me want to dance around.

[spotify https://play.spotify.com/track/3VA8T3rNy5V24AXxNK5u9E]

“King of Anything” is another one that always helps me to feel more empowered. A few years ago, I actually had an angsty teenager moment with this one, after my mom got mad at me for getting a tattoo on my wrist. Definitely felt more “adult” when I would sing along, “Who cares if you disagree? You are not me.” (Sorry, Mom!) But as someone who tends to put way too much importance on what others think about what I do (and is constantly asking for advice before I take any sort of action), this song has been a great perspective-changer for me.

What songs have helped change your life, or gotten you through a tough time? Please share your thoughts in the comments below!

Music Monday: Stuck in a Moment You Can’t Get Out Of

24 Monday Nov 2014

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I don’t claim to know what’s the “coolest” music out there. (In fact, sometimes the trendiest stuff doesn’t really fit my taste.) But music has played a huge role in my life, from listening it to playing it. The right song can make you happy, make you sad, make you fall in love. So in the coming weeks, I plan to share some of the songs that have really touched me, in one way or another. Starting with…

[spotify https://play.spotify.com/track/3xjTuTBaihydhSC7ByNoSb ]

When I was a freshman in high school, I experienced my first bout of depression. It went on for months before I had the courage to talk to my mom about it. In that time, I made a mix CD (remember those?) of all the songs I thought had the power to inspire me out of my depression.

I’m not prescribing music as a treatment for anyone’s mental health issues, but I will say, to an extent, it helped a lot. This particular song, U2’s “Stuck in a Moment You Can’t Get Out Of,” was one of my favorites on the “album.” I loved the concept of simply being stuck, needing a little push to get out of what was simply a moment. As a teenager dealing with an onslaught of loneliness, hopelessness, and sadness, I was also overwhelmed and scared, wondering when those feelings would finally wash away. This song simplified it for me. It was a moment, and I needed to get unstuck. When I finally got help and starting feeling more myself, “unstuck” really seemed applicable to how I felt.

Happiness is an emotion, not a destination

23 Sunday Nov 2014

Posted by in Emotions, Life Lessons, Overthinking Things

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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.