A Thousand Words Undone

Confession: I’ve spent too much time scrolling through my photos on Facebook. I'm interested in what my visual journal says about me. Some people use their “de-tagging” powers to sway the perception of others to their own benefit. They screen every photo they’re tagged in and only keep the best versions of themselves. I am the opposite of that person.

I leave the good the bad and the ugly up, because I want to be authentic. But the truth is, the internet cannot represent me authentically and a candid picture of me with three chins and a stain on my t-shirt is not who I am. Unfortunately, it is not usually the unattractive photos that haunt me. It’s the picture that represents a time when I was lost. My arms might look skinny and my waist trim, but secretly I remember drowning in that moment. I convince myself that anyone can perceive the shame I felt during this time. In reality, no one can likely detect the emotional truth behind the image.

For years, I’ve kept these images up, threatening to pull me back to a place when I lost touch with myself and my faith. The only person these photos are hurting is me. I feel guilty about taking them down, because it makes me feel like I'm hiding something. However, leaving them up only brings shame that paralyzes growth. I am not defined by my past, but keeping these pictures ties me to it. How can I feel grace if I’m continually reminded of my mistakes? I realize it is time to let them go. I have nothing to hide. This lost sheep has been found. God met me where I was and carried me to the other side. More than that, He promised, “I have even greater things planned for you.” These are the truths that need to be remembered. Not the photos representing painful memories already healed by Christ.

Making Mountains Out of Molehills, and Climbing Them

Airplanes. A place where melancholic thoughts and long repressed dreams resurface. It's just loud enough to make talking a chore and thinking inevitable. The internet is unavailable, unless you're an oligarch who can afford the outrageous price of wifi. And let's be real, the ruble ain't makin' anyone richer. So we are forced into solitude- to be vulnerable with ourselves. Guess what guys, I'm checking in with me. And it's looking pretty dang good from 13,000 feet or whatever height airplanes fly at these days. 

Brance and I are traveling to DC to visit my parents and my temporary new home. Not the "I just got married and pretend to be an adult" home in Washington, but my parent's home. It's their first residence that I have no attachment to. After 35 years in the military, the majority of which were spent at West Point, my father has retired. Currently, they are house-sitting for one of my dad's luxurious classmates in Northern Virginia. Apparently, if you get out of the army after 5-10 years instead of making it a career, you become a bazillionaire- I have many reputable sources. One bought me a VitaMix for my wedding- BEST. GIFT. EVER. Anyways, my parent are free-balling while my father figures out his next step. Essentially, he and I are in a similar chapter in our lives. However, his resume is a little stronger than mine. I'm not intimidates. We both find ourselves asking: what am I going to do!?!

Evidently, you don't just have to answer this question once in your life. It can sneak up on you at any time and the options only seem to thin slightly with age.

Dear fellow twenty-somethings and thoughtful acquaintances, 

I do not know what I want to be when I grow up. Please stop asking.

Sincerely, 

Kate

But I can tell you a few things I do Not want to be- President, mortician, anything in the transportation business. I didn't get my license until I was 19. I hate driving. Less now than when I started. At least now I've reached a minimal comfort level with it and I don't have to worry about becoming a soccer mom who has anxiety attacks every time she has carpool duty. Baby steps. Thank you I-5 for forcing me to risk my life everyday and still live. I pray every time I hit that on ramp.

However, just because I haven't nailed down the specifics, doesn't mean I don't have some promising ideas about what I may want to pursue. Disclaimer: there is no theme. Among the top competitors recently: nonprofit work. acting, and culinary school. Which one scares me the most? Working for a nonprofit. Interesting isn't it. But like my fear of driving, I've built up this fear of working in an office setting. It's something I've never done and, here I am, 2.5 years out of undergrad and my lack of experience in a cubicle has manifested a gut wrenching paranoia. Why? The demon keeps telling me I'm not professional enough. Also, I greatly dislike networking. I don't enjoy creating relationships for the sole purpose of getting ahead. Rockefeller would have trampled me during the Gilded age. I'm all about authenticity. How can you be genuine while politely asking, so you can get me a job, right? Despite my exaggerated fears, I've decided to jump in with both feet (jumping with one just sounds painful). That's right- I'm applying to office jobs. Take that evil voices. I'll show you! 

And guess what, I've recently made some progress at a place I am super excited to potentially work for. Nothing is concrete yet and I'm not good at sharing things until they come into fruition. But prayers would be greatly appreciated. This is my mountain, and it may look more like a downhill coast to most people- especially my peers from GW. They didn't even wait until the first day of class to lock down their internships- talk about ambition. But I'm doing things in my own time and I will climb this mountain without apology or resignation. I'll let you know how the view is from the top. If it isn't for me, I happen to be an excellent cook and something in me still thinks there's an Oscar with my name on it. 

Resolution Jargon and Mutiple Plugs for Amy Poehler

I believe New Year’s resolutions are about as successful as finding love on the Bachelor- good luck farmer boy! If “He’s Just Not That Into You” taught me anything, it’s that we’re a bunch of hopefuls clinging to the exception when we are simply the rule. That is not to say I do not find myself exceptional in some areas- I'm something of a legend in the kitchen. Regardless, follow through when there isn’t a grade or paycheck on the line, can prove difficult for me. Just ask the empty drawing pad in my closet or this blog.

I find I need to recommit myself daily, if not hourly, to whatever new habit/lifestyle/mantra I’ve decided to live by. This can be challenging when I wake up in the morning to 5 beautiful Candy Crush lives. How do I train myself to check in in a world full of distractions?

Despite my sour attitude toward resolutions, I still find myself reflecting as one year surrenders to the next. Wasn’t I going to be somebody by now? Recently, thanks to my wonderful husband, I am more aware of how incredibly hard I am on myself. If you desire to shed light in areas of opportunity you convinced yourself you didn’t have— Get married. If you want to feel loved through the process of said exposure— marry someone who understands grace. Now back to what I was saying. For years I’ve viewed my tough opinions towards myself as a strength. “In order to catalyze change one must feel conviction!” I imagine my subconscious screaming these words at me via megaphone while I run across a bed of needles. I thought I was giving myself the push to move forward. Tough love. But tough love is, in fact, still love. I forgot that factor at some point. My method of self motivation became self deprecation. The voice inside of me stopped saying “you can be something, keep going, you got this” and started whispering “you’re behind, you’ll never catch up, you’re not good enough, you’re lazy, fat, insecure…”

STOP.

If you too encounter this evil and are in search of methods to combat it, please refer to Amy Poehler's new book “Yes, Please.” I cannot recall the chapter in which she addresses the demon and I’ve currently loaned out my copy, but the whole book is good. So read it.

Anyways, contrary to my belief that this recognition of “weakness” catalyzes change, the negativity of the evil one actually creates paralysis. I’ve been stopping myself up for years. Where’s the Ex-lax?! If only it were that easy. How do I erase the bully I’ve spent years creating? Franken-jerk, I’ve put so much time and energy into you!! I can’t remove myself from this abusive relationship. If I change my number, so does she. Thanks to Amy’s input I’m convinced she will never truly disappear, she’ll always be lurking in the shadows. But it is possible to beat her into submission. So, I’m working on it. I’m talking nice to myself. Or as Ms. Poehler puts it “Sticking up for ourselves in the same way we would one of our friends is a hard but satisfying thing to do. Sometimes it works.” Seriously, go read her book- it’s good. Well, that’s about as close to a resolution as I can give. I will attempt each morning to postpone crushing candy for 5 minutes so I can tell myself, “You is kind, you is smart, you is important.”