Tag Archives: life changes

Another Checkpoint: The Year I Took Control

04 Monday Jan 2016

Posted by in Bettering Myself, Overthinking Things

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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.

 

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

16 Thursday Apr 2015

Posted by in Life Lessons, Overthinking Things

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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.

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.