Well...no is reading my blog...which I half expected anyway. So, rather than be disappointed by that fact I am looking at it in a positive light. I feel more free to write what I want without that little voice in the back of my head telling me..."well what if so-and-so ever read this".
Sooo...to my audience of no one... I share these thoughts.
Spirituality is something that has always interested/baffled me. I wasn't raised in a church, however I was raised in the Bible Belt of Texas. I was surrounded by Christianity my whole life. It was cool to go to Wednesday night Youth Group and when I was in middle school I felt left out. So...I started going. I'm not going to say that I started going to be cool. I had a sincere desire to know about this "God Thing". I can remember being a very small child and trying to read this worn out old Bible I found somewhere in a dark corner of a closet. I felt a spiritual connection to something greater than myself.
It wasn't until later in my life, however, that I became a little obsessive about it. I would join a church and be it's "All-Star Convert" for a year or two, then I'd make one mistake and abandon it completely. I couldn't handle not being perfect at it. Rather than recognize my flaws as a human being, I would lash out against the doctrine of that particular church and claim that it was false, and hypocritical, and that "no God I loved would damn for my behavior". A year or two later the guilt sets in and I would start another quest for truth. I went from Baptist, to Presbyterian, to Non-Denominational, to "spiritual". A roller coaster ride of faith. It was exhausting and very stressful. I contribute a lot of my sever anxiety and depression suffering to my constant highs and lows of religion.
It was in college that the big kicker came. I was taking a class on Literature of the Non-Western World, and with that came a class about the religions of the Non-Western World. I remember thinking, "Boy these people are crazy to believe this...that's so absurd." Then the record scratch sound happened and I thought, "Oh...what I believe sounds just as insane. I believe that God created the universe and then created a half man half God guy to come to Earth and then die a horrible, torturous death for my sins and all I have to do to be 'saved' is believe it." WELL SURE! Who WOULDN'T believe it if it got them a free ticket to paradise. What I couldn't understand was how I could be surrounded by some of the most hateful, judgemental, and all around shitty people who were "going to heaven" because they believed in Christ.
So once again I trashed it all. I started from scratch. I tried to objectively look at every faith Western or not and honestly come to conclusion about what I knew was right. Like my mother says...some kids experiment with drugs in college...I experimented with religion. Anyway, after my searching I came to one solid conclusion. Something created me because I'm to intricate to be an accidental explosion and collision of molecules or whatever. It was the fact that I had the capacity to think, ponder, analyze, and most of all LOVE, that led me to believe my creator was an intelligent being.
With that as my leaping off point I narrowed it down to religions that centered around a creator that fit my bill. At the time I was dear friends with two members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. So I picked their brains...alot. I wore them out.
I was baffled by how much this "crazy cult religion" made SO much sense to me! It made me feel good. Something that religion hadn't really done. Sure it had made me experience less guilt, but I hadn't felt good deep in my soul. So I took a closer look. The more I looked, the more I liked. I could go into detail about my profound spiritual revelation, but that would seem preachy and sense no one is reading this...it's irrelevant.
So, true to form I was baptized and became a member of the church. I was, more than any other time, the "All-Star Convert". I was dating the golden boy of the church, I was teaching, I was asked to speak and fire-sides for youth. I was a super Mormon.
Then...the golden boy of the church left on his mission. I moved 700 miles away to a new school with new people. It sucked. I was so heart-broken and as hard as I tried to maintain my "Mormon" ways...people weren't as receptive to me. In my home town I had made friends as "Old Brandy" and then they lovingly accepted me as "New Brandy". What I discovered is that in my new town, everyone only knew me as "New Brandy", and she was a goody-goody, and intimidating, and not much fun. So I loosened up, and let my colors shine through. Then I made friends. The more I reverted back to my old self, the more people responded to me. On the other hand, my Golden Girl Reputation at the Church was at stake. I was over come with guilt. I was teaching these young girls about being chaste, and pure, and I was partying my ass off every weekend.
So I gave up...once again. I couldn't take the heat.
Now here I am...two years after becoming inactive feeling that guilt. I've wanted to go back a few times, but my paralyzing fear of failure has kept me pushing those spiritual inclinations to the back burner. I referred to myself as a "Diet Mormon". I believed in the basics, but the sugar on top just didn't do it for me. But last night I had a dream that goes beyond the definition of dream into a vision. It was vivid and intense, like the kind you read about in the Bible. I woke up this morning and can't stop thinking about it. So I prayed. I opened up those scriptures and said, "Alright God, you've got my attention, now what is it that you wanted to show me?" BAM, I shit you not, I opened up the Bible and saw a description of MY VISION. I read on and it spoke of rejecting the truth that was once revealed to you etc. etc. Now I'm a little freaked out..."Okay God, you've REALLY got me here..."
I read on, then I started getting insecure. There are so many tiny details about that church that I just CAN'T come to terms with! How can I agree to be a part of something if I don't FULLY agree with it. Round and round and round in circles I've gone from believing to doubting, doubting to believing. I just want the answer. It's maddening. So here I am in that "transitional twenty something" trying to decide what I believe which will have massive repercussions on my marriage, how I raise my children, how I interact with friends and family, the path I take with my career. It's maddening. Who knows, 2 years from now I might just be the golden Mormon wife, then 2 years later not so much. Only time will tell.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
Thursday, March 15, 2012
Honesty is still the best policy
We're always told that we need to be honest. "Don't steal" "don't cheat" "don't lie" "be fair". Obviously we shouldn't do those things, but it seems to me that it is rarely emphasized to be honest with ourselves. Just thinking about that statement makes me realize how really difficult that can be. One would think "sure I can be honest with myself, I know myself"...but do we?
From the time we are infants we are surrounded by influences that mold and shape us into the adults we become by either our adoption or rejection of the behavior around us. The key here is exposure. (stick with me on this, I promise I'll get there). One child can't possibly be exposed to every kind of lifestyle, point of view, morality code, or whatever. So how do we as growing individuals really choose the person we want to be? In the grand scope of all the endless combinations of thoughts and ideals, each person is really given a vary narrow selection of attributes with which to shape themselves. Now obviously as we grow and journey out we are exposed to things, and some may have the desire to learn and study other cultures and philosophies and adopt those particular qualities to their own life. Yet there is an unavoidable prejudice to the things that are different from what we were exposed to as children. That is where honesty comes in. To be truly honest with ones self, one has to wade through all the (for lack of a better word) crap that has been pushed upon them their entire life and seek out what speaks to their soul.
For example...I have the most wonderful family, they are truly amazing and loving people. That being said I am different from my family. Not different in a black sheep sort of way, I fit in in some capacities just as each member of family differs from the pack in some way. But lets look at one specific example: my mother my sister and I. My mom and my sister are trendy ladies. They always look great....always. They have carefully styled outfits with wild shoes to match, a funky belt, unique jewelry, perfectly applied makeup and fabulous hair. They aren't shallow or anything like that, but they just always look good. Me on the other hand....I'd just as well scrape my face on the concrete as put on makeup some days, and I don't seem to see the problem with wearing lime green socks under my pink crocs to the grocery store. I can clean up nice once in a while, but I don't have that day to day polished look.
So every time I go home to visit I stress out over picking out my clothes. I lay everything I own out on the floor trying desperately to imagine what they'd think looked good together. I get frustrated with myself and fall into this mode of "everything I own is shit", "I don't have one nice thing in my closet". Then I get into town and instead of enjoying spending time with my two absolute best friends, I'm crying in the bathroom because my acne has flared up again and my hair gets "staticy" in this dry weather. We all head out to dinner and all I can think of is how I don't look as good as they do. It down right depressed me.
Now, this isn't like I'm trying to make a good impression on some fashion executives to get a job or anything. This is my family and I know that they don't give two shits about how good I look. They are just so happy to see me. It's me that ruins it. I do it to myself. Instead of being honest with myself and recognizing my insecurities, I blame my family and just blindly assume they would judge me for not meeting their standard of dress. (ridiculous!)
So I've had a come to reality check. I've decided that this misery is absurd and I'm going to do something about it. I'm going to just be honest.The kind of honesty I'm talking about here, is being honest with what really feels good to your soul. What I've realized is that I feel out of my skin when I try to dress like my mom or my sister. I feel silly and childish and like I'm trying to hard to be something I'm not. I love their style but it looks dumb on me. That's being honest. Some people rock certain things, some people don't. At the same time I've learned that I could stand to put a touch more effort into the way I look because it was making me feel like a slob and that isn't who I am. So I found a balance and a style that felt right to me. Maybe it's not high fashion, and maybe Stacy and Clinton would throw everything I own into a trash can, but I like the way I look.
This is obviously a very surface example of what I'm trying to get across here, but I think simple metaphors are the best. It's just that I'm being honest with myself for the first time in my life. Sure at one point I thought it'd be awesome to be a big famous actress, but when I'm honest with myself, I know I don't have the competitive nature, or maybe even the talent to do it. I don't consider that a lack of confidence, I consider that a realistic view that I have taken that allows me to choose a lifestyle that I will flourish and find true joy in.
I have become honest with myself about my flaws. I can be very negative, and I can lash out in defense or out of irritation at those I love most. I can pass shallow judgements on individuals I know nothing about. Since I've been honest with myself about those flaws I have made a choice to spend more time examining me and what I can do to be better, than what I think is wrong with the rest of the world. I am honest with myself that I am not yet the person I want to be (in an internal sense) and that although I'm going to work at it everyday for the rest of my life, I will be honest and confess I don't know that I'll ever be that person because I'm flawed and there is nothing I can do about that. Sure I could get down on myself and make a list of all the things I'd like to change and live life just knowing that once I crossed them all off the list I'd be that all-star person I want to be. But you know? I've done that before! I filled 3 pages in a journal of a list of all the things I hated about myself and decided to check them off one by one until I'd fixed them. I haven't checked any of them off...why?...because we aren't always "fixable" people! We can't shut down for maintenance and repairs! We are constantly going and things around us are constantly influencing our growth. I have to be honest and know that I can't "fix" myself. All I can do is just keep living day to day and try to do one small thing differently that makes me feel like I'm a better person today than I was yesterday. I have to be honest and know that I'm gonna mess up big time--many times--before my life is over and I'm just going to have to pick up and keep going. And you know...I'm honestly happy. (What a thought to have be honest with yourself that you are indeed happy.) We live in such a world of "your life is so hard you deserve this treat"...who the hell decided my life was so bad? I'm allowing myself to be happy.
Honesty is can be that thing that makes you look in the mirror and say, "I'm falling apart and I've got to change", and that can be hard and make us want to lie to ourselves. But honesty can lead us to being truly happy and joyous within our selves and our circumstances. So despite it's occasional tough love....honesty is till the best policy.
From the time we are infants we are surrounded by influences that mold and shape us into the adults we become by either our adoption or rejection of the behavior around us. The key here is exposure. (stick with me on this, I promise I'll get there). One child can't possibly be exposed to every kind of lifestyle, point of view, morality code, or whatever. So how do we as growing individuals really choose the person we want to be? In the grand scope of all the endless combinations of thoughts and ideals, each person is really given a vary narrow selection of attributes with which to shape themselves. Now obviously as we grow and journey out we are exposed to things, and some may have the desire to learn and study other cultures and philosophies and adopt those particular qualities to their own life. Yet there is an unavoidable prejudice to the things that are different from what we were exposed to as children. That is where honesty comes in. To be truly honest with ones self, one has to wade through all the (for lack of a better word) crap that has been pushed upon them their entire life and seek out what speaks to their soul.
For example...I have the most wonderful family, they are truly amazing and loving people. That being said I am different from my family. Not different in a black sheep sort of way, I fit in in some capacities just as each member of family differs from the pack in some way. But lets look at one specific example: my mother my sister and I. My mom and my sister are trendy ladies. They always look great....always. They have carefully styled outfits with wild shoes to match, a funky belt, unique jewelry, perfectly applied makeup and fabulous hair. They aren't shallow or anything like that, but they just always look good. Me on the other hand....I'd just as well scrape my face on the concrete as put on makeup some days, and I don't seem to see the problem with wearing lime green socks under my pink crocs to the grocery store. I can clean up nice once in a while, but I don't have that day to day polished look.
So every time I go home to visit I stress out over picking out my clothes. I lay everything I own out on the floor trying desperately to imagine what they'd think looked good together. I get frustrated with myself and fall into this mode of "everything I own is shit", "I don't have one nice thing in my closet". Then I get into town and instead of enjoying spending time with my two absolute best friends, I'm crying in the bathroom because my acne has flared up again and my hair gets "staticy" in this dry weather. We all head out to dinner and all I can think of is how I don't look as good as they do. It down right depressed me.
Now, this isn't like I'm trying to make a good impression on some fashion executives to get a job or anything. This is my family and I know that they don't give two shits about how good I look. They are just so happy to see me. It's me that ruins it. I do it to myself. Instead of being honest with myself and recognizing my insecurities, I blame my family and just blindly assume they would judge me for not meeting their standard of dress. (ridiculous!)
So I've had a come to reality check. I've decided that this misery is absurd and I'm going to do something about it. I'm going to just be honest.The kind of honesty I'm talking about here, is being honest with what really feels good to your soul. What I've realized is that I feel out of my skin when I try to dress like my mom or my sister. I feel silly and childish and like I'm trying to hard to be something I'm not. I love their style but it looks dumb on me. That's being honest. Some people rock certain things, some people don't. At the same time I've learned that I could stand to put a touch more effort into the way I look because it was making me feel like a slob and that isn't who I am. So I found a balance and a style that felt right to me. Maybe it's not high fashion, and maybe Stacy and Clinton would throw everything I own into a trash can, but I like the way I look.
This is obviously a very surface example of what I'm trying to get across here, but I think simple metaphors are the best. It's just that I'm being honest with myself for the first time in my life. Sure at one point I thought it'd be awesome to be a big famous actress, but when I'm honest with myself, I know I don't have the competitive nature, or maybe even the talent to do it. I don't consider that a lack of confidence, I consider that a realistic view that I have taken that allows me to choose a lifestyle that I will flourish and find true joy in.
I have become honest with myself about my flaws. I can be very negative, and I can lash out in defense or out of irritation at those I love most. I can pass shallow judgements on individuals I know nothing about. Since I've been honest with myself about those flaws I have made a choice to spend more time examining me and what I can do to be better, than what I think is wrong with the rest of the world. I am honest with myself that I am not yet the person I want to be (in an internal sense) and that although I'm going to work at it everyday for the rest of my life, I will be honest and confess I don't know that I'll ever be that person because I'm flawed and there is nothing I can do about that. Sure I could get down on myself and make a list of all the things I'd like to change and live life just knowing that once I crossed them all off the list I'd be that all-star person I want to be. But you know? I've done that before! I filled 3 pages in a journal of a list of all the things I hated about myself and decided to check them off one by one until I'd fixed them. I haven't checked any of them off...why?...because we aren't always "fixable" people! We can't shut down for maintenance and repairs! We are constantly going and things around us are constantly influencing our growth. I have to be honest and know that I can't "fix" myself. All I can do is just keep living day to day and try to do one small thing differently that makes me feel like I'm a better person today than I was yesterday. I have to be honest and know that I'm gonna mess up big time--many times--before my life is over and I'm just going to have to pick up and keep going. And you know...I'm honestly happy. (What a thought to have be honest with yourself that you are indeed happy.) We live in such a world of "your life is so hard you deserve this treat"...who the hell decided my life was so bad? I'm allowing myself to be happy.
Honesty is can be that thing that makes you look in the mirror and say, "I'm falling apart and I've got to change", and that can be hard and make us want to lie to ourselves. But honesty can lead us to being truly happy and joyous within our selves and our circumstances. So despite it's occasional tough love....honesty is till the best policy.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Healthy fear or justified hatred?
I believe there are two large motivators in this world. One being love, and the other fear. As much as I would like to think that I'm one of those awesome people performing selfless acts in the name of love, I realize I'm much more likely to respond to the things I fear.
I read an article today that says negativity sticks with us longer than positivity which is why we have to constantly remind ourselves to "think positive!" However, it isn't that we are all just a bunch of "negative-nancys", it really comes from a survivors instinct to respond in fear. When I first attempted to make chicken fried steak I stupidly let the chicken breast plop into a pan of hot grease therefore splashing the grease up the majority of my hand--result?--a HEALTHY fear of hot grease. Now I have evolved to using a fork to place the chicken GENTLY in the pan while leaning the rest of my body away...far away. The fear of that pain has stuck with me...the negative thought...in order to protect me. This is healthy fear. Also the reason why a woman who operates power tools is less likely to injure herself than man.(not a sexist statement by the way) A woman generally has a healthy fear of power tools where a man feels the testosterone surging through his body makes him invincible. Fear...a good motivator. Survival of the fittest after all.
On the other hand...fear has motivated some of the worst crimes in history. Racism, genocide...these aren't acts of hatred, they are acts of fear. What motivates countries to go to war? Fear. We are afraid for our safety so we puff up and act in the name of fear. Now before someone gives me the whole GO AMERICA LETS KICK ASS speech, I'm not anti-war. War is necessary in some circumstances. I'm NOT making a political statement...AT ALL. What I'm saying is that if we can't learn to control our fears and respond to them in an appropriate fashion, we can find ourselves continually waging war on our everyday life. Fear can cause me to look at a man on the street not with empathy and compassion, but with suspicion and judgement. Fear can cause me to never open myself up to someone or something different to what I'm accustomed to. Fear can ultimately cause a stand-still for personal growth.
My predicament then is how much fear is healthy? Lets revisit the "man on the street" scenario. If I was the kind of woman who motivates every thought and decision in love, I'd go up to him and strike up a conversation, give him some cash for food/bus fare or whatever--I'd also be statistically more likely to get mugged, kidnapped, rapped, or murdered than say my fear driven self who would hold my car keys like shank, park next to the street light, and walk out of my way to stay far away. Chances are you'd say, "well you have to look out for yourself", "its better safe than sorry", "you just can't trust people anymore". Yet, anyone who has attended a Christian church has been preached at time and again about love, and how what we have done for the least of men, we have also done for Christ. So is God instilling a healthy fear in me for my own safety, or is Satan planting seeds of fear in me to harvest hatred in this world?
For example, one summer when I was home from college, I was working in retail and a new employee started there. He was nice enough, super out-going and friendly. As we worked together I got to know him and his story. He had been on the road and was currently homeless and living out of his car. He didn't have his first check yet, so he was out of cash and also out of food and clean clothes. I let him stay on the couch at my parents house for one night, fed him dinner, and let him use the washer and dryer. My brother was there with me, so I wasn't alone. I felt I had done a kindness. Nothing bad had happened. He was grateful for the act and then a few weeks later he quit the job and moved on. When my parents came back in town and found out I was remprimanded in a way a 16 year old girl would be for getting in a strange man's creepy van. They thought it was the stupidest thing I'd done and you know what... I kind of thought it was too. I had no defense to offer them. I knew what kind of danger I'd put myself in and my brother. I still don't know why I did it. I'd like to say I just "knew" nothing bad was going to happen, but I didn't. I was really scared about him being there and overall pretty uncomfortable the whole time. So what was it all for? Sure I did a kindness, but I paid for it in the form of a good lecture, and everytime I reflect on that night I shudder thinking what could have happened. Was it worth it? I'm just being honest. I'd like to say "knowing I helped someone in need is a great feeling, and I'm glad I did it", but fear has caused me to say "that was stupid, thank God nothing bad happened, I'll never do that again though, I'm not gonna press my luck".
I feel defeated by this idea. It's like you can't truely love a stranger, at least close up. Why do you think there are so many "save the children" programs where you just send your change? It's because we are too afraid to get in there and be up close and personal with it. Fear. Not selfishness, but fear. As an intelligent human being with a fight for my life instinct, I can't dismiss every fear, it'd be stupid, and I would jeopardize my chances to survive. I can't go against my instincts right?
So maybe what it comes down to, is letting go of my fear for failure and seeking the things I truely desire in life, or getting past the creepy smell and texture of tofu to give it a try. Yet still listen to my fears next time I'm walking in a dark parking lot alone. Upon my judgement day I'd like to think my God, who is supposed to be my father, would understand. Just like my own father would rather me spare kindness for my own safety, my God will understand why I didn't go give that shaddy guy on the corner a hug. Maybe that's wrong, but I believe in trusting my feelings because if I can't trust the way I feel, what else can I?
P.S. My fiance just walked in not knowing what I'm writing and said
Him: "whatcha doin?"
Me: "blogging"
Him: "so, can anyone read your blog?"
Me: "yea"
Him: "well aren't you worried about all the creepers?"
Me: (with a self satisfied grin) "interesting you should say that, I can let my fear of creepers motivate my decision and not blog, or I can let my love of sharing and connecting with others motivate me and blog anyway in hopes that someone out there will appreciate my thoughts."
Moral of the story......today....LOVE WON! ; )
I read an article today that says negativity sticks with us longer than positivity which is why we have to constantly remind ourselves to "think positive!" However, it isn't that we are all just a bunch of "negative-nancys", it really comes from a survivors instinct to respond in fear. When I first attempted to make chicken fried steak I stupidly let the chicken breast plop into a pan of hot grease therefore splashing the grease up the majority of my hand--result?--a HEALTHY fear of hot grease. Now I have evolved to using a fork to place the chicken GENTLY in the pan while leaning the rest of my body away...far away. The fear of that pain has stuck with me...the negative thought...in order to protect me. This is healthy fear. Also the reason why a woman who operates power tools is less likely to injure herself than man.(not a sexist statement by the way) A woman generally has a healthy fear of power tools where a man feels the testosterone surging through his body makes him invincible. Fear...a good motivator. Survival of the fittest after all.
On the other hand...fear has motivated some of the worst crimes in history. Racism, genocide...these aren't acts of hatred, they are acts of fear. What motivates countries to go to war? Fear. We are afraid for our safety so we puff up and act in the name of fear. Now before someone gives me the whole GO AMERICA LETS KICK ASS speech, I'm not anti-war. War is necessary in some circumstances. I'm NOT making a political statement...AT ALL. What I'm saying is that if we can't learn to control our fears and respond to them in an appropriate fashion, we can find ourselves continually waging war on our everyday life. Fear can cause me to look at a man on the street not with empathy and compassion, but with suspicion and judgement. Fear can cause me to never open myself up to someone or something different to what I'm accustomed to. Fear can ultimately cause a stand-still for personal growth.
My predicament then is how much fear is healthy? Lets revisit the "man on the street" scenario. If I was the kind of woman who motivates every thought and decision in love, I'd go up to him and strike up a conversation, give him some cash for food/bus fare or whatever--I'd also be statistically more likely to get mugged, kidnapped, rapped, or murdered than say my fear driven self who would hold my car keys like shank, park next to the street light, and walk out of my way to stay far away. Chances are you'd say, "well you have to look out for yourself", "its better safe than sorry", "you just can't trust people anymore". Yet, anyone who has attended a Christian church has been preached at time and again about love, and how what we have done for the least of men, we have also done for Christ. So is God instilling a healthy fear in me for my own safety, or is Satan planting seeds of fear in me to harvest hatred in this world?
For example, one summer when I was home from college, I was working in retail and a new employee started there. He was nice enough, super out-going and friendly. As we worked together I got to know him and his story. He had been on the road and was currently homeless and living out of his car. He didn't have his first check yet, so he was out of cash and also out of food and clean clothes. I let him stay on the couch at my parents house for one night, fed him dinner, and let him use the washer and dryer. My brother was there with me, so I wasn't alone. I felt I had done a kindness. Nothing bad had happened. He was grateful for the act and then a few weeks later he quit the job and moved on. When my parents came back in town and found out I was remprimanded in a way a 16 year old girl would be for getting in a strange man's creepy van. They thought it was the stupidest thing I'd done and you know what... I kind of thought it was too. I had no defense to offer them. I knew what kind of danger I'd put myself in and my brother. I still don't know why I did it. I'd like to say I just "knew" nothing bad was going to happen, but I didn't. I was really scared about him being there and overall pretty uncomfortable the whole time. So what was it all for? Sure I did a kindness, but I paid for it in the form of a good lecture, and everytime I reflect on that night I shudder thinking what could have happened. Was it worth it? I'm just being honest. I'd like to say "knowing I helped someone in need is a great feeling, and I'm glad I did it", but fear has caused me to say "that was stupid, thank God nothing bad happened, I'll never do that again though, I'm not gonna press my luck".
I feel defeated by this idea. It's like you can't truely love a stranger, at least close up. Why do you think there are so many "save the children" programs where you just send your change? It's because we are too afraid to get in there and be up close and personal with it. Fear. Not selfishness, but fear. As an intelligent human being with a fight for my life instinct, I can't dismiss every fear, it'd be stupid, and I would jeopardize my chances to survive. I can't go against my instincts right?
So maybe what it comes down to, is letting go of my fear for failure and seeking the things I truely desire in life, or getting past the creepy smell and texture of tofu to give it a try. Yet still listen to my fears next time I'm walking in a dark parking lot alone. Upon my judgement day I'd like to think my God, who is supposed to be my father, would understand. Just like my own father would rather me spare kindness for my own safety, my God will understand why I didn't go give that shaddy guy on the corner a hug. Maybe that's wrong, but I believe in trusting my feelings because if I can't trust the way I feel, what else can I?
P.S. My fiance just walked in not knowing what I'm writing and said
Him: "whatcha doin?"
Me: "blogging"
Him: "so, can anyone read your blog?"
Me: "yea"
Him: "well aren't you worried about all the creepers?"
Me: (with a self satisfied grin) "interesting you should say that, I can let my fear of creepers motivate my decision and not blog, or I can let my love of sharing and connecting with others motivate me and blog anyway in hopes that someone out there will appreciate my thoughts."
Moral of the story......today....LOVE WON! ; )
Saturday, March 10, 2012
Entering that stage of life....
Here I am twenty-something, nearly two years out of college and "starting my life" as they say. (I've never understood that phrase...who decided that the last twenty-something years of my life weren't actually a part of my life.) Anyway....
I had many ideas about what my post-grad life would entail. As a young girl, I imagined being married to my high school sweetheart and raising my first child in a quaint little suburban home. I imagined a husband that made tons of money but still managed to make time to serve me breakfast in bed, take me out for candlelight dinners, go fishing with the kids, and never give me a spending limit. (Dream on 13 year old Brandy...dream on...)
Then I entered my first years of college and as all fresh college age people do, I had somehow gained all the knowledge there was to know in the world--JUST by enrolling--no classes attended. I was deep and intellectual and worldly. I was determined to shed my "southern" roots to become a woman of the world. I was going to be single forever and live in a cozy loft in NY city and do yoga in central park and eat tofu while I solved all the problems of the world just by talking about "what they ought to do" rather than what I ought to do.
By my final years of college I had actually become quite a successful student of the theatre. I was receiving an outpouring of positive attention from my peers and mentors. I was the girl who was "going to make it". I looked down my prissy nose at anyone who had a degree in the arts and was still living in this town, doing community theatre, and teaching middle school. I was REALLY going to do it, not just say that I was and then cop out.
Well, here I am now. Two years out of school, living in my college town, teaching at a studio and doing community theatre. I'm getting married in four months to a man I met the last 2 years of college. If I had seen my life today 3 years ago I would have deemed myself a total failure.
But you know what....I'm not! I am not a total failure, I'm an epic success story. But it took me a long time to realize that. I'm so happy with where I am and in some way that is the life I always imagined for myself. I got a degree in something I love and I get to do that thing I love every single day. I'm poor as it gets, but I'm surviving. I met someone that really and truly understands me, and oh my god loves loves loves loves me. He's someone I can share every hope, worry, joy, and sorrow with and boy do I have a lot I like to share.
What I believe it comes down to is after "figuring it all out" time and time again I've finally learned I'm NEVER going to figure it out. I'm never going to arrive at that moment when I look around and say, "I did it! This is exactly what I wanted and planned for and now I just get to sit and revel in my triumph." Because life changes. We all say we know that, but honestly I didn't really know it in the way I do now. Life changes in billions of ways every day. Each day brings thousands of small indistinguishable moments that change your path inevitably. That's what makes it great. It's not the moments that you plan, it's the unplanned surprises that are the most cherished blessings.After getting out of school my world has finally had a chance to slow down a bit. I've had the time to reflect and think and write and read and rediscover the self I'd been suppressing for so long. I've learned that I don't care about what's trendy. I tried. I did. But I just DON'T CARE about what Snooki is up to, I think a large percentage of pop music is garbage, I love to read cheesy romance novels, I don't like to "party", I think mediation is cool. I prefer Oprah's magazine over Cosmo, I like doing puzzles and playing board games, I like classical music and show tunes, and I'm damn proud of where I'm from even if the rest of the world thinks I shouldn't be.
I'm amazed at all that I've learned not being in school. I've learned about myself and had moments of deep reflective thought that are helping me shape myself into the person I've always wanted to be. I can't understand why I've spent so many years of life trying to like things I don't, and trying to be someone I'm not, and trying to please those that I can't.
I want to blog--I don't know if anyone in this world cares about what I have to say--but I want to blog. I think my journey in life is full of profound moments and I'd like to think that someone out there would benefit from my experiences. I'd like to think I'm not the only twenty something individual out there whose life isn't exactly what they expected it to be at this point. I'd like to tell that person, it's more than okay--it's great! If life was everything we expected it to be, what would be the point of living it. There would be no surprises. So I'm embarking on this blog journey. To share my life in these transitional twenty-something years where I don't "start" shaping my life, but instead continue to live my life openly enough to allow it to shape me.
I had many ideas about what my post-grad life would entail. As a young girl, I imagined being married to my high school sweetheart and raising my first child in a quaint little suburban home. I imagined a husband that made tons of money but still managed to make time to serve me breakfast in bed, take me out for candlelight dinners, go fishing with the kids, and never give me a spending limit. (Dream on 13 year old Brandy...dream on...)
Then I entered my first years of college and as all fresh college age people do, I had somehow gained all the knowledge there was to know in the world--JUST by enrolling--no classes attended. I was deep and intellectual and worldly. I was determined to shed my "southern" roots to become a woman of the world. I was going to be single forever and live in a cozy loft in NY city and do yoga in central park and eat tofu while I solved all the problems of the world just by talking about "what they ought to do" rather than what I ought to do.
By my final years of college I had actually become quite a successful student of the theatre. I was receiving an outpouring of positive attention from my peers and mentors. I was the girl who was "going to make it". I looked down my prissy nose at anyone who had a degree in the arts and was still living in this town, doing community theatre, and teaching middle school. I was REALLY going to do it, not just say that I was and then cop out.
Well, here I am now. Two years out of school, living in my college town, teaching at a studio and doing community theatre. I'm getting married in four months to a man I met the last 2 years of college. If I had seen my life today 3 years ago I would have deemed myself a total failure.
But you know what....I'm not! I am not a total failure, I'm an epic success story. But it took me a long time to realize that. I'm so happy with where I am and in some way that is the life I always imagined for myself. I got a degree in something I love and I get to do that thing I love every single day. I'm poor as it gets, but I'm surviving. I met someone that really and truly understands me, and oh my god loves loves loves loves me. He's someone I can share every hope, worry, joy, and sorrow with and boy do I have a lot I like to share.
What I believe it comes down to is after "figuring it all out" time and time again I've finally learned I'm NEVER going to figure it out. I'm never going to arrive at that moment when I look around and say, "I did it! This is exactly what I wanted and planned for and now I just get to sit and revel in my triumph." Because life changes. We all say we know that, but honestly I didn't really know it in the way I do now. Life changes in billions of ways every day. Each day brings thousands of small indistinguishable moments that change your path inevitably. That's what makes it great. It's not the moments that you plan, it's the unplanned surprises that are the most cherished blessings.After getting out of school my world has finally had a chance to slow down a bit. I've had the time to reflect and think and write and read and rediscover the self I'd been suppressing for so long. I've learned that I don't care about what's trendy. I tried. I did. But I just DON'T CARE about what Snooki is up to, I think a large percentage of pop music is garbage, I love to read cheesy romance novels, I don't like to "party", I think mediation is cool. I prefer Oprah's magazine over Cosmo, I like doing puzzles and playing board games, I like classical music and show tunes, and I'm damn proud of where I'm from even if the rest of the world thinks I shouldn't be.
I'm amazed at all that I've learned not being in school. I've learned about myself and had moments of deep reflective thought that are helping me shape myself into the person I've always wanted to be. I can't understand why I've spent so many years of life trying to like things I don't, and trying to be someone I'm not, and trying to please those that I can't.
I want to blog--I don't know if anyone in this world cares about what I have to say--but I want to blog. I think my journey in life is full of profound moments and I'd like to think that someone out there would benefit from my experiences. I'd like to think I'm not the only twenty something individual out there whose life isn't exactly what they expected it to be at this point. I'd like to tell that person, it's more than okay--it's great! If life was everything we expected it to be, what would be the point of living it. There would be no surprises. So I'm embarking on this blog journey. To share my life in these transitional twenty-something years where I don't "start" shaping my life, but instead continue to live my life openly enough to allow it to shape me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)