how to [love me]

i thought about writing this for someone else. instructions on how to love me. a manual on how to deal with all things rachel. and then i thought, maybe i should be the first reader. i don't want to be an almost-30-year-old who lacks the ability to know how to love herself best, and i don't like feeling like i need to be explained. but here we are. and we start where we are. also, no one reads this anymore, so it feels safer now. 

~~~

i overreact. like, constantly. i exaggerate and use my sharp words and cry like 70% of the time. the best way to love me through that is to listen hard, with your whole self. just listen closely for anything that might need a little massaging. there's usually a sore spot in my words, even if i don't want to admit it at the time. if you can see it and ask about it tenderly, massaging away the pain, i think that would feel a lot like love.

i'm sensitive. i love words so much, so i take them seriously. i remember all the words you say to me throughout the day, and sometimes they stack up like bricks on my chest until everything just comes crashing down. i think the best way to love me through that is to be mindful of the words you say to me throughout the day. spend time thinking about what they might feel as they're hurled towards me, and see if you can marinate them in honey instead. 

i'm sad a lot. sometimes it takes form as depression, when all i can do is lay in bed. sometimes it takes form as anxiety, and my body just shakes and my heart is on fire an everything feels shaky and unstable. when you hold me and press on my chest and call me beautiful, that feels like love. that feels a lot like love.

i feel everything so very deeply. it's like i have a sensitive outside atmosphere that acts as x-ray glasses, giving me the ability to see and experience everything around me. this can lead to very exhausting days. i feel most loved when this aspect of my soul is celebrated, not berated. i consider it my super power, and i feel most loved when you do too.

i have a deep history with dishonesty. i've lied some really big lies to people that i loved very dearly. there's no excuse for that, and i feel the weight of those lies every day. sometimes i think maybe it'll feel lighter one day, and sometimes i think i'll be chained to that guilt forever. either way, i have tendencies towards dishonesty, all of which are rooted in my desire to manage everything and everyone around me. i don't know the best way to love me through that; i don't know that i feel deserving of love because of that. 

i like stories. histories. feelings. i like to hear about dreams and passions. i like learning about people - really anyone - but especially those i am closest to. i ask a lot of questions and i prefer eye-contact over screens. i ache for conversations. to love me in this way is to share your insides with me. 

i am desperate to make my life matter. i feel loved when that aspect of my heart is known, celebrated, and supported. 

i guess what i am saying is this: i have a lot of layers. i carry multitudes within me. i am messy an selfish and sad, but i am also kind and compassionate and empathetic. i have learned to hold space for all of my parts to co-exist, and i feel most loved when you allow that too. 

i'm just like anyone else; i just want to be known. i hope that isn't too much for you. 

desire map planner - it's here!!

hi friends! i'm here to tell you about oneuv my favorite corners of the internet -- Danielle LaPorte and the Desire Map! Desire Map dramatically changed how i view myself, my work, my decisions, my relationships...everything. i find it's much easier to center myself and feel good about my decisions because of the brilliant and helpful truths throughout this book!

so now -- the 2017 Desire Map Planner Collection is here! it’s a radically different way to plan your day, because it puts your soul on the agenda.

i love having a Desire Map planner because it helps me map out my weeks based on my core desire feelings -- and there's just something about putting pen to paper that helps me commit to my plans.

this planner puts your desires on the map, and helps you plan your days and weeks according to how you most want to feel. the way it should be. where most day planner systems are straight dates and to do’s, this planner is so much more…

based on the wildly popular book and workbook by Danielle LaPorte, The Desire Map, this planner system incorporates your soul and your to-do list; your gratitude and your goals; your deepest desires with your day-to-day.

The 2017 planner comes with two versions, the Daily and Weekly edition, for the any type of planner person:

The DAILY planner for the highly scheduled, detailed thinkers, and awesome A-types who love keeping track of all the big and little things. This planner takes you through the year day by day, with unique soul prompts to limber up your mind before you write, scheduling space, #Truthbombs, a Stop Doing list (because saying no is revolutionary) and a super condensed list called 3 Things so you can get your most important to-dos done.

The WEEKLY planner is for the big dreamers, Creatives, and entrepreneurs — the planner-types who want a bird’s eye view of their week. Sprinkled with prompts for positive declarations and #Truthbombs, the weekly spread also has space for your Core Desired Feelings, daily to-do’s, and a list of 3 Things so you can get your most important to-dos done. This planner also has an End of Week Check-in with unique Soul Prompts from Danielle and space for reflecting on life as you move through it week by week.

when you’re clear on how you want to feel, decisions come to you more easily, you’ll know when to say “No” and when to say “Hell, YES!” And then you can put it in writing. That’s what this planner does for me.

you can buy yours today and start planning the life you’ve always wanted!!

Weekly Planner - Limited Edition
Weekly Planner - Signature Edition
Daily Planner - Limited Edition
Daily Planner - Signature Edition

bronze. bronce. bronzo.

i have a friend going through a hard time because life sucks sometimes (cute bumper sticker idea, btw) and i'm always better with words on a page. so this is what i wrote to her, archived in this space for you, in case you also have a case of the owies. 

~~~

hi.

have you ever been in someone's house and seen little tiny shoes that are bronzed and on display? i don't know why it happens and i don't know how, but i know that it does happen: people dip their children's baby shoes in bronze. i did find one explanation: parents do it to preserve the memories of when their kids were toddlers, taking their first uncertain tiny steps.

i guess this is because children are innocent, right? they are pure and unaffected by the world; they haven't made ethical mistakes yet, or broken any hearts; they haven't disappointed their families or been fired from their job. they haven't lost much, they haven't gone back on any promises. they're just tiny; taking tiny steps. 

my research also produced this soundbite: "your baby's first steps only happen once; let us help you preserve that precious memory forever." is that where the memories are? in our shoes?

nostalgia is why people do crazy things like this (i mean have you ever been in a scrapbook store?)nostalgia reminds us that all humans start out the same: clean slates. we constantly find ways to keep our moments frozen in time to remember "the good ole' days" and "the way we were." i get it -- my brain drifts to yesteryear fairly often.

but here's the thing about those little bronzed shoes: they don't fit you anymore.

i am not against cherishing memories.  but i am against romanticizing the way things were, to the point that we don't appreciate the growth that has happened since. the shoes i wore when i took my first steps would be impossible for me to fit back into; the steps i've taken since then have taken me millions of places -- heart aches and internships, classes and countries, mistakes and mistakes and mistakes. and they have shaped me in ways that are so different, my toes couldn't possibly know how to squeeze back down to that tiny size anymore...and i don't think i'd want to. 

so i guess that's all i wanted to say tonight: the you that you used to be doesn't fit you anymore, and it's for good reason. we get new shoes because we grow, not because we're failures.

take up as much space in the world as you need to, honey. because that's where the gold is anyway.

xxo

rachel christine

 

 

 

gradebooks.

working in youth advocacy gives me lots of cool experiences. recently, i got to go with step up on the bay area college tour -- basically, we took 50 eleventh grade babes to visit six colleges over the course of four days. we cried about financial aid and giggled at college boys and vented about parents -- it was an honor to play a small part in this chapter of these girls' lives. what a gift to be able to speak into their college journey -- and what a scary fucking world it is. 

throughout the trip, the girls asked a lot of really good questions. as we walked the streets of san francisco, we talked about choosing a major and cafeteria food and weird roommates and joining sororities. they asked questions about class sizes and keeping in touch with high school friends, how to apply for financial aid with undocumented status, and what my favorite clubs were. i loved talking about college with these babes -- they were genuinely curious and so on top of it. it was an amazing trip on so many levels.

for the most part i stayed on top of their questions and answered them as best i could. but one question in particular threw me. i was talking with a girl who goes to a school that is really rigorous academically. we were talking about GPA and SAT scores and how college professors grade. she seemed a bit overwhelmed, but she smiled when she asked it. 

"who grades you after college? once school is over?"

um. exhale.

 

i've been thinking about this question a lot lately. when she first asked me, i laughed along with her and our conversation moved on. but it echoed in my brain for the whole week. who does grade us now?

we do. we grade ourselves.

i've been told by some people that i am a good friend. i call these people my tribe, my home team, my true friends. they speak truth over me when i'm really down, they send me videos when i need a laugh, they challenge me when i'm wrong. i love my friends so much; i truly don't know who i would be without their place in my life. i am grateful through and through that the grades they give me aren't based on anything except their own care for me. it doesn't matter if i've met the mark, it doesn't matter how i've previously performed -- they love me for who i am. they remind me i am enough.

i've also been left by some people. either through actions or words, they have told me that who i am is not enough. that the burden of my depression, the weight of my past mistakes, or the chaos of this season of transition -- was just not what they were interested in. it didn't matter that the history of our friendships was deep, or that the context of our relationships was i-see-you-literally-every-day,  or that i babysat for you constantly or helped you when you were at your darkest or threw you a surprise wedding shower. it just didn't matter. and the phone calls went unanswered, the conversations were left un-had. their actions solidified a lot of my biggest insecurities -- that i was forgotten. abandoned. a failure. not enough. that my mistakes were irredeemable, that i was not worthy of love. 

i know now, in more tangible ways, that it is imperative to get rid of people who make me feel like i am hard to love. and i know, i know: these are not new ideas. my own return to saturn has not revealed anything different to me than it did to those before me. friendships change, adulting sucks, life can be lonely. there are plenty of gifs to teach us that these days. 

but what struck me recently was  which one of these categories i fall into. turns out, i'm kind of a shitty friend to myself. i say really awful things almost as soon as i wake up, and it only gets worse once i see myself in the mirror or leave late for work. i dwell on my past mistakes, i repeat my own shortcomings in my head, i deny myself any opportunities to feel proud or happy because what about all the things i've done wrong?!?! i grade myself hard. i abandon myself and categorize myself as a failure more often than i'd like to admit.

if i were to personify the voice in my head as a real-life 'friend', i would de-friend her immediately. she would be out of my phone, on my blocked list, and given none of my time. i would not listen to her lies and i most certainly would not stick around to hear any more of them.

so, along with ridding my life of toxic people whose actions remind me of my own insufficiencies, i am ridding myself of my own toxic self-talk. i want to grade myself better. just because there aren't teachers to impress or diplomas to receive, doesn't mean i should stop being proud of who i am. 

i want to like myself like my friends like me. and i want to be my own favorite friend. 

going first.

they say the best writing advice is to just write the "next true thing" -- and i have held onto this mantra for the entirety of my "writing career" (heavy air quotes because i basically keep a blog and publish things elsewhere sometimes. but i digress.)

in my writing group this week, someone suggested we share what keeps us from writing right now -- what is blocking us. i found this interesting because i realized that i was indeed feeling blocked -- even though for the majority of my life, I have used writing as a means to process whatever is in my way. and yet for the better part of a year, my blockage has been my "next true thing":

i am sad.

i am angry.

i am hurt.

i am bitter.

and i'm just kind of sick of writing about those things. i miss writing stories about mini revelations from my day, or fictitious characters, or poetry that resonates deep. i miss being woken up in the middle of the night by song lyrics that i had to put to paper, and publishing blog posts that had themes and strategic plans. i sit down at my laptop, i get quiet in my thoughts, i center my words, and all i can think about is how very sad i am. 

these truths have created grooves in the rhythms of my life and they trip me as i try to keep up with this online corner of the world i've created. 

no one wants to hear about your sad. again. 

same shit, different day. get over it. 

you're becoming a one-trick pony and it's getting very old.

~~~

much like all of you, i long for human connection. i deeply desire the relationships in my life to go deeper, to be more consistent, to discuss things that matter. i want to be inspired, and i want to inspire. i want to see people in their realest and most raw, and i want to feel safe enough to be the same. i think i used to think these connections came from carefully orchestrated conversations that allowed people to open up to me. i thought it was about cultivating trust, building relationships over time, establishing safe space through shared experiences and a deep connection. and while those things certainly do bring about true human connection, i've learned that there's something else that kicks the connection into high-gear and knits us together.

two things happen when i publish blog posts about being sad: i feel like the words have less power over me, and my inbox floods with messages. the messages are from people i know, people i don't know, people i've known for years but haven't kept in contact with, and people i see every day. they all have different stories and points of view, but each message essentially says the same thing:

"me too."

and with each sentence of their stories, i feel less crazy for posting my "same old same old" truths. it sparks power, it ignites story, it embraces us just as we are. 

so i'm here to say the next true thing: i'll go first.

if it means you feel less alone, i'll go first.

if it means we get to have a conversation about things that actually matter, i'll go first. 

let's be men and women who go first, who create safe spaces for others to just be. after all, most of our brave stories started the moment we were able to say to someone, "me too."

 

the cover letter i wish i could send.

words are my favorite form of art. they always have been and probably always will be. but lately, my words are confined to the hard edges of job applications, resumes, and cover letters. most days it isn't so bad; i set aside just a couple of hours each day so that my brain doesn't dissolve from doing it all day. some days it feels a little monotonous. but lately it feels suffocating. i feel really, really small; i can't believe it's been a year of this. 

i needed a break this morning, so i let my mind wander to what i often think about -- what i wish i could say. i could choke myself on the words i wish i could say to people from the past year, but i don't think drinking poison is beneficial for my health. so instead, here are the words i wish i could say to the people who might let my future include them. 

~~~

to whom it may concern:

it's been a hard year. i know you are not my therapist (and i do have one, by the way), but i want you to know it's been a hard year. i think people usually say things next like, "but i wouldn't trade it for anything", or "i've learned an immeasurable amount about my professional goals," however, i don't feel those things are true about me. i would trade this past year for anything. for everything. 

i used to have what i considered to be my dream job. i put everything into it -- i am all heart. i gave my time and energy, my thoughts and prayers, my blood and sweat and tears, my graduate degree, and my entire heart's capacity to that job. to my coworkers, to my students, to my vocational goals; everything was wrapped up in that world because i believed in it. i still do, i think. but it came without surprise that i was a square peg in a round hole, and i can't survive that way for long. i admit; i didn't know it was this hard to be unemployed. i didn't know that the job search process would make me feel so inadequate. i simply didn't know it would hurt like this. 

so i searched and applied for my next big adventure for months. each cover letter and application chipped away at parts of my soul. i started to rebuild those pieces when i found the amazing organization i currently work for. i, once again, am putting everything into it; my heart, my time, my tears, my creativity. it's breathed new life into me, and drastically changed 2015 for the better; i am forever grateful for this little orange tab in my story -- but when the academic year ends, so does my contract. so i'm back to the cover letters and the applications and the soul-chipping.

my mother is hispanic and my father is white. there's a spanish phrase i've often used to describe myself when it comes to my ethnic identity: "ni aqui ni alla." it means "neither here nor there." i'm in between. it hurts deeply to no longer feel connected to the job of my past, but to not quite have my finger on what my future looks like either. i have no "here" and i have no "there." i'm neither. or i'm both.

i can't promise you i'm perfect. in fact, spoiler alert, i am so very human; i bruise quite easily. i can't promise you that i possess all of the skills you list on your job description. i can't promise you that i won't cry during meetings sometimes because of the passion seeping through my pores. i can't promise you i won't have long conversations with co-workers because conflict excites me in the way that learning a new instrument or flying on a plane does -- an opportunity to step outside of myself and relinquish control with the sole hope of growing. 

but i can promise you that give my entire self to everything i do. i am desperate for something to pour into and i have a shit-ton of skills that help me do that. i am a hard worker. i am smart. i am compassionate. i am creative. i am hilarious at happy hour and a nightmare before coffee. i am fragile and sometimes i take things personally but that doesn't make me a liability to your company -- it makes me perfect for it. those of us with thin skin and a lot of feels tend to work with people incredibly well -- empathy binds us way more often than it divides us. trust me on that one.  

above all, i can promise you, without a doubt, that looked at your organization amidst the litany of results that showed up on my computer screen, and i chose you. it would mean so very much to me if you would choose me back.  

thank you for your consideration. i promise i do not suck.

sincerely,

rachel christine

my really sexy depression + anxiety post.

i haven't written in awhile; i love words more than anything, and creativity is what fuels me. but it's my depression and anxiety that keep me away. they trick me into believing that my words don't matter. but i believe in being braver than that. the best writing advice is to start wherever you are; so this is where i am. 

i struggle daily with depression and anxiety, two things i have never really been that familiar with. and while it hasn't changed me entirely, it's changed the way i see things, including myself. my biggest struggle when this all came about was finding helpful information. i didn't understand how i could have gone 27 years without something, and then in one fell swoop need immense help with it. i have, thankfully, found some help online, some help from friends, and a lot of help from curating my own "tool box", so to speak. this is a collection of sorts, one i hope to add to. but mainly, it is a collection of lessons that i hope help someone else, too. so here it is, in all its glory. and per usual, i am laying my soul bare in hopes of helping heal the wounds you might be experiencing. 

for depression

  • i asked my therapist if she thought i was depressed. but it's important to note that she wasn't the first one to notice my mood change; i was. the biggest lesson i've learned from this season is that i need to know myself in order to be true to myself. old rachel didn't wake up crying every day -- new rachel was doing that. i noted changes. i kept track of how long my sadness lasted. i paid attention to what triggered the sadness. realizing this about myself prompted me to ask my therapist for confirmation -- but i listed to myself first. that's important.
  • when i didn't want to jump straight to a pill. i tend to look towards more natural cures for ailments before popping a bunch of pills into my body. i use essential oils for headaches and stress and i try home remedies for colds and energy. a dear friend (who shares my 'crunchy' tendencies) recommended serotonin dopamine liquescence. aka 'my happy juice.' each day i would put a few drops under my tongue for fast absorption twice a day. it basically administers the happy hormones back into your system when your brain isn't producing enough. i also began a supplement regimen of st. johns wort, a flowering plant supplement that is commonly used for depression, anxiety, PMS, and insomnia. both of these helped me in big, big ways initially, and made me feel like i was staying true to my homeopathic preferences. 
  • however, there is no shame in medication. while i appreciated the natural remedies i had added into my life, i also found that my depression was a bit stronger than them. i knew i needed more, so i sought it out. i asked my therapist if she thought i was a candidate for anti-depressants. i worried she would tell me that this was just a shitty year and i needed to get over it, and people with depression are sad for bigger and more important reasons. instead, she told me i was a perfect candidate for anti-depressants because my depression was situational.  i was honest with my doctor as soon as i could get an appointment. in fact i was so honest, i cried in the waiting room when i ran into an insurance problem, and basically begged the medical assistant to let me see a doctor. once those emotions subsided, i told my doctor through tearful sentences that i didn't recognize myself anymore. i filled out a sheet that gave me a score and it somehow added up that i needed extra chemicals in my brain. she prescribed me celexa, a selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor. i take it daily and i have felt a difference in mood and behavior. it definitely doesn't take the sad things out of my life, but it does take the edge off. i cry less and i stay calmer in situations that used to trigger a lot of tears (like the waiting room of my doctor's office.)
  • therapy forever. enough said. 

for anxiety (depression's awkward cousin that it feels forced to invite to dinner)

  • again, no shame in my medication game. the only way i can describe my anxiety attacks are like this: it feels like someone has disconnected my hamstrings from my body while simultaneously stacking bricks inside of my chest. xanax can be a huge help when my anxiety attacks strike. it calms me down quick and returns my heart rate to normal. it also knocks me out for the rest of the day, so i try to use it sparingly.  
  • when the bricks aren't there but i still need some help calming down. i turn yet again to my homeopathic roots. magnesium oil does wonders for me when i need to calm down. you spray it on your arms or your legs and rub it in. i usually pour a cup of tea while i rub the oil and by the time i'm settled, so has my anxiety. the oil does take a few minutes, and it leaves a white residue on your skin, so if you need something less messy and fast-acting, it comes in the form of a drink powder as well. keep in mind that magnesium is also really good at keeping your insides regular, so don't use too much. ;) another medicine-free solution is a bath of dried ginger, baking soda, and calming essential oils like lavender and chamomile. 
  • technologies can help too. i recently found this app called 'self-help for anxiety management' -- 'SAM' for short. it has a ton of breathing exercises that it will coach you through during moments of panic. it also offers various games and therapeutic activities that calm me down and redirect my thoughts. 
  • 4 - 7 - 8 breathing. i'm telling you, nothing calms me down quicker than this: breathe in through your nose for a count of 4; hold your breath for a count of 7; release your breath from your mouth with a whooshing sound for a count of 8; without a break, breathe in again for a count of 4, repeating the entire technique 3-4 times in a row, then resume normal breathing and activity.

 

do you also suffer from depression and/or anxiety? what has helped you?

 

I asked for forgiveness.

 

I asked for Forgiveness
not small forgiveness, as an act upon me. 
but big Forgiveness
for the power
to possess the ability
the gift
the talent
the skill
of Forgiveness
within myself. 

like an item on a wish list
like a line on a letter to Santa
like a gift in my shopping cart

i asked.

to have Forgiveness
for them.
for her. 
for him. 

I often say, I don't know how
i didn't take a class in it
i haven't quite mastered it
I need it given to me
so I asked for Forgiveness. 
and waited. 
but nothing came.

 

I prayed for Forgiveness
for a veil to put upon me
like a coat I can wear so I can feel it all differently
so the world can be the same
with all its harsh winds
and hot days
but just a little more tolerable for my sensitive skin
because as it is,
I step outside
and all I feel is anger and rage
unfairness and pain
so I prayed for the coat
for Forgiveness. 
to protect me from the elements. 
and i waited.
but nothing came.

 

I begged for Forgiveness. 
I sat on the sidewalk
I drew on my cardboard sign
and I asked everyone who passed by
strangers
friends
anyone
to drop Forgiveness into my cup
whisper the secret
tell me what to do
because I can't quite live like this anymore. 

I tried with logic
I tried with reason
I tried with putting myself in their shoes
and thought maybe if I understand

if I just understand

maybe I'll be able to do this forgiveness thing
just like everyone else

 

I was approached by a girl
and she leaned in real close
and she whispered real soft

"I don't think it's a talent or a skill. 
I think it's the result
I think it's the outcome
of something within."

and as she walked away
she handed me glasses
they didn't look like Forgiveness
and they took no skill or talent
to put them on. 

"what are these?" I said. 

"I think they might show you what you're looking for," she replied. 

"are they Forgiveness?" I hoped.

she smiled at me, in a kind way. 
a way that told me I was wrong
but that I was still accepted. 
"do you think you'd get the result
without putting forth the effort?"

I shrugged and sighed.

"no, they're not Forgiveness," she said.

"they're Compassion.
you have to do the work
to get to Forgiveness. 
but these will help you along the way."

so I put on Compassion
and I saw things quite differently after that. 

even fruit born of the same vine ripens in its own time.  

even fruit born of the same vine ripens in its own time.  


the year of the seed.

the 90's were so good to me.

the 90's were so good to me.

i had a cute birthday post idea: to write out twenty-seven lessons i've learned in this very hard and unexpected year. i thought it would be witty and deep and soft to the touch, and it would be the perfect night cap to my birthday. you all would read it and be filled to the brim with insight and inspiration. 

but amidst the faithful friends who reached out and the sweet family that surrounded me and the reflection and creativity i've been swimming in all week, i couldn't really get past the first two lessons. i'm rarely short on words -- words are kind of my life --  but here i am, staring at computer screen, waiting for the cute witty things to start flowing from my fingertips...and i've still just got these two. they sum up so much of where i'm at, that i think i will leave them alone. so, i leave you with my two lessons, along with my word for the year: seed, coming from a favorite quote that is currently stuck in my heart (and soon to be tattooed on my shoulder, stay tuned.):


"they tried to bury me, they didn't know i was a seed." // mexican proverb

~~~

lessons from my twenty-seventh year.

  1. i am more fragile than i tell people i am -- at the end of most days, i just wish that they would remember i'm just a person with feelings and insecurities and tender places. 
  2. i was given this life because i am strong enough to live it -- even when i don't believe myself to be very strong at all. 

uphill battle, i look good when i climb.

minimalism-table-red-tomato-shadow-background-wallpaper-1the first person to ever tell me i had leadership potential was mr. muldoon. he was my history teacher in high school -- maybe my junior year? he looked like colonel sanders with a jolly face and wide-brimmed glasses and the sweetest grandpa-like demeanor. i don't think i got an A in his class because, well, history is really detailed and i was more of a big-vision-person in high school. but i liked him so much and i looked forward to every class i had with him, particularly when he would hand back our tests or papers. no matter my grade, he would always write the same thing: "keep trying :)" shortly before the end of the year i was staying after class to work on revising a test i had failed (WHAT THE HELL, HISTORY, Y  U  SO COMPLICATED) and mr. muldoon was full of grace and kindness and jokes. he didn't make me feel stupid for not knowing the answers, but asked me good questions and helped me along the way to those answers. he did not judge or reject; he just listened and helped. i used to wonder if he wished i was smarter at history or paid more attention in class, but on this particular day i was feeling extra sensitive -- so i made some flippant comment about how dumb i was. then he dropped this bomb on me:

"Rachel - never lose your zest or zeal for life. it is contagious and you will lead people with it. maybe history isn't your thing because you're filled to the brim with zest and zeal; that's not a bad thing."

i held onto that promise for like, ever. i repeat it in my head sometimes and i'd be lying if i said i've never written it on my bathroom mirror. zest and zeal. lead people.

---

i've never had hatred like i've experienced in the last few months. for people who have wronged me, for people who think they did the right thing, for people who love me so much but messed up so badly and hurt me so deeply. i harbor such bitterness for the malicious acts of strangers who didn't listen to my story, for the support people who turned their backs, for the people along the way who reached out once just to get the juicy gossip and then never called me again. i'm filled with hatred, with anger, with bitterness.

and i am so sick of it.

i don't know if it's my new job or this article i read or the sweet little tomato that sprouted in my garden this week, but something feels different. maybe i realized that the more hatred and bitterness i have within me, the less room i have for zest and zeal. maybe i realized that 2015 is far from over, and i can't quite write it off yet. maybe i realized there is just so much left for me to create in the world, so many more stories to tell, so many more people to love.

so i'm done. at least i'm going to try to be done. i'm done wasting energy and tears on people who don't even think twice about me. sometimes the bad guys win -- that's just the way the world works, whether we want to admit it or not. all i can control is myself, and it's about time i start to do me again.

so maybe it's just that i'm having a good day or i was around creative souls last night or my medicine is working overtime, or i truly just can't quit the idea of making mr. muldoon proud -- but this is my new refrain, my fight song, my reprise.

now if you'll excuse me, i have some tomatoes to harvest.*

 

(*alternate ending: no time for haterz, got too many tomaterz.)

not that kind of gala.

"stems face to the right, throw away anything you wouldn't buy, and be done quick." simple instructions, short sentences, impatient glares. got it.

i have this new job and it's off-the-charts glamorous. ok ok, i don't hate it. but it isn't my calling, at least not in this way. i worked my ass off for years in jobs like this one just so i could one day avoid having to work another job like this one. but here i am all the same, in a job like this one, with scheduled breaks and meals alone and slip-resistant shoes, and everything i thought i'd be doing at twenty seven feels like a distant memory. i cried in my car after every shift for a week straight because i feel so very low, so very defeated, so very humiliated. this job makes my everything hurt. get a master's degree, they said. it'll get you places, they said.

every box of apples weighs approximately three thousand pounds. i open it and start to do my apple duty, which i will have to do again in like an hour because apples go quick. i grumble inside my head during pretty much every task at this new job. i have hot tears behind my eyes because i don't want to be here, i don't want to be doing this. there's nothing to learn here except good old fashioned elbow grease, and i think i already paid my dues. i scraped green olives off bar floors for three years wondering if there was more to life, and now these apples are my green olives from yesteryear.

i lay a whole box of pink lady apples before i realized i was in the gala apples section. as i place the last one in a perfect row, i hear "wrong section? happens to everyone. and stems are to the right, remember." yes, yes. to the right. gala with gala. pink lady with pink lady. i rearrange them all and try to make conversation with Impatient Glare Man. he warms up eventually and i try to stay on his good side so that he'll  smile more, or at least glare less. as i am mentally patting myself on the back for being able to charm the shit out of anyone, i drop an apple. DROP IT. like my hands are made of butter! and -- get this -- it actually split in half. right down the middle! besides box-cutting a beer in half (you bet i did), this was the second mistake i had made so far. a brand new apple, ruined.

"eh, don't worry about it," he picked it up for me and started to take it to the trash. "you know, it's weird. the strongest apples are always the ones that break when they fall." and he walked away.

and all i could think was HOLY SHIT I'M THE APPLE. I'M THE FUCKING APPLE.

and then i was like, NO WAY. are you seriously going to pick this moment, this exact place and time to teach me something,?!?? right here, in my grocery-stocking, uniform-wearing, hourly-wage job??!!

and Universe was like YEAH GIRL I GOTCHU.

so somewhere between this very random apple analogy and my very much-need epsom salt bath, i think i have my first truth. that's what they say will get me through this season, small, real, profound truths. so, my truth:

i am incredibly strong.

i am incredibly prone to breaking when i fall. 

both statements are true. and neither one could exist in me without the other.

my secret mentor, Cheryl Strayed wrote the best book you will ever read and tonight in my bath, i read this: "coal mining is hard. but do you think coal miners stand around all day and talk about how hard mining is? no. they do not. they simply dig."

so i'm digging. admitting that i am susceptible to breaking, but that it doesn't change my strength, because maybe you have to be strong enough to break. i'm allowing myself to feel all the feels, but reminding myself to simply continue to dig. and yes, i have a freaking trader joe's to thank for this truth. more specifically, Impatient Glare Man, who i hope never reads this. the monotonous task of displaying apples got me a little bit further tonight. the Universe grabbed my shovel and said, let me dig for a second here, i think i found something. and? i have a truth. and that's enough for me tonight.

500 days of [reality]

i think we all fantasize about our lives being portrayed in a movie one day, in a full-length feature film where people laugh, cry, and leave the theatre inspired to be a better human or something. and if you don't fantasize about this, you just gotta know that i do. i mean, i also walk around convinced my life is 'the truman show', but that's mainly because of the weird dramatic twists and turns it has taken and the strange amount of times i feel like people are following me around. but, i digress. in this movie of my life, i imagine someone strong and charming and kind of quirky playing the lead role. like, someone with Olivia Pope's bad-ass attitude, Amy Poehler's charm and humor, and Blake Lively's hair and boobs (it's MY movie, okay??). i know i've only lived 27 years so maybe there isn't a lot of material quite yet, but i do think about this movie a lot. it makes me feel like the things that happen are significant somehow, and that i have a lot of time left to make an impact.

currently, however, i think i am in one of those montage scenes. there's a cute song playing, something by Sara Bareilles or Ingrid Michaelson. oooh, or maybe they would write me a duet that would debut in this movie?? (again, it's MY movie) there are all these clips of me filling out job applications while wearing cute glasses and a slightly-off-center-messy-bun. i sit in a coffee shop and type away at my resume and a group of tween girls would giggle and gawk at me because i look so grown up. there are scenes of me walking the streets drinking cold-pressed juice and taking time to look up at the sky and just breathe. i would have cute bangs (never been able to rock them IRL) and an endless amount of money to buy lattes, even though there's no job to pay me. you'd see me getting drinks with friends and reading at the beach and by the end of the montage i would look more real, more put-together, more whole. and after 10 minutes of this nonsense, i'd have a job! and a new apartment! and friends! and a life! and meaning!

ok ok so clearly this montage thing is crap. i mean, does anyone's life work like that?! no. and if yours does, can i take whatever pill you take that makes you skip through the hard parts and get right to the better parts?? i don't even like cold-pressed juice. the only time i tried to, it cost $9 and tasted like ass so i threw it away and got chik-fil-a breakfast. come to think of it, my montage would actually just be different scenes of me eating junk food and stealing free wifi in public. anyway...

the real-life in-between stages are painful and boring and long and slow. but i'm learning that this isn't necessarily just a phase, it's me figuring out my new normal, my new reality. above anything else, i just feel really lonely and i'm trying to squeeze into it gently. someone told me recently that losing your job can be like losing a member of the family -- it is so true. a job that i gave my whole heart and all my evening hours and extra thoughts to is now gone. it is such a tough pill to swallow most days. i have tried to set boundaries, which doesn't make sense to some people but i guess i just have to get over that. i do a lot of things all by myself, my least favorite way to do things. i have tried to convince myself to do laundry for the last four days, but i can't seem to find enough reasons to have clean clothes. i apply for all kinds of jobs, everything from the kinds i am probably not qualified for, to the kinds that ask for the name of my high school. and i just...wait.

it's shameful to talk about how i feel, especially because all my emotions are kind of depressing. i struggle every day with this question: is it better to feign happiness so i don't make people uncomfortable around me? or is it better to just be myself, and risk the people not wanting to be around me at all? for some reason, it always comes back to this for me: i would rather be unequivocally myself, as sad and lonely and frustrated as i am currently and be rejected for that, than to be accepted for something i am not. i am not fake, i've never been good at it. i am too real sometimes, too much of myself. and it might cost me certain friendships or my place in certain circles. this process, it's hard. it's long. it's lonely. so here i am writing about it on some little corner of the internet that i've called mine for a few years because that brings me a strange sense of progress, like i'm making an impact. even if it's just for me, i can deal with that.

i don't feel like Olivia Pope most days, but someone wise recently told me that just because you don't always feel brave, it doesn't mean it isn't there. it's like this little stone in my pocket that i always carry around. sometimes i feel it shifting against me, reminding me of its presence. other times i am searching in every box and purse and drawer to try and remember where i put it, only to find it right where i left it; with me, in my pocket, at all times.

so, maybe this is just for me today. maybe i am the only one who feels less than brave, less than perfect, less than normal. but in case that's you, too, please know this: we are so much braver than we give ourselves credit for. and no offense to the talented actors of the world, but montages are for the sissies. skipping through the hard stuff is for the weak ones, and i do not want to be a weak one. i want calluses on my hands and sweat on my brow to show i've worked hard and kneaded through the tough stuff, even when it all feels like tough stuff.

i still would really like to be able to rock bangs, though. and have spontaneous dance scenes erupt around me as i walk to work. #lifegoals

 

spontaneous-dance-scenes-film_500-days-of-summer

is anybody out there?

i used to send screenshots of my calendar to my friends with a "LOLLZ SO BUSY I COULD DIE" comment or two. i filled my every hour with meetings and coffee dates and homework and errands. it was all scheduled out, like most working adults, because there just aren't enough hours in the day, amiright? i loved the busy days -- tuesdays were my favorite. they always started with an early coffee and ended with late night laughs from students who gathered on my couches and left their trash and drank hot tea. and between those bookends, i squeezed as much productivity in between as i possibly could. okay, sometimes i would take a nap in the afternoon, but it was always just to prepare myself for the late night laughter. i was busy a lot and i loved it. as in, if there was a day with a lot of blank space on my calendar, i would fill it up on purpose. i always had something to do or someone to be with. life makes sense for me when it's busy. i feel like i have a purpose, like i'm needed, like i mean something. the busy ended a lot sooner than i would have dreamed. in its wake it has left a lot of hopelessness, anxiety, and - if i'm honest - a deeper sadness than i have ever known. my days are less busy, my hours are less full. i drink less coffee because i get more sleep and that is not a good thing in my book. i check my phone every hour and remember what i normally did at this time, just three weeks ago. sometimes it makes me glad i don't have to sit through another bullshit meeting. other times i could cry realizing i don't get to sit on my couch with them anymore, at least not in the same way. i scroll through the pictures of the life i used to have and my emotions are a strange mix of jealousy and anger and quiet sadness. i bottle it up and store it on my bedside table and wait for the perfect moment to let the shit hit the fan because i'm super healthy like that. my therapist told me to keep a gratitude journal or go for a drive instead -- but this is the closest thing i have to a journal right now because my whole life is packed up.  so here i am, to let this shit out. not for you, not for anyone else, but really just for me. and my poor, sweet, innocent therapist. god she's the best.

things that i have learned/have been confirmed since being unemployed:

1. i suck at being alone.

2. instagram is literally the worst. comparison, jealousy, ignorance, passive aggression, and hunger are the only things i see/feel when i scroll and i'm over it.

3. my need to feel busy is synonymous with my need to feel purposeful. i want my life to matter.

4. three hours with a toddler is still really hard for me.

5. my laptop in a coffee shop can only keep me company for so long before i go basically insane. i've told my life story to at least twelve strangers this week and i don't even feel weird about it.

6. adventure fuels my fire. spontaneity is my drug of choice.

7. amy poehler is the best medicine always forever amen.

8. i should blog more.

9. cops don't care that you just lost your job. the WILL still give you a ticket and they WILL be mean and you WILL see them in court because i don't watch Scandal for nothing, Officer Neadles!!!!!!

10. i have the bestest friends + home team in the whole world. reminds me of this quote: “When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives mean the most to us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our wounds with a warm and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who cares.” -Henri Nouwen

in conclusion: don't ask anyone but me for details about what happened because it's like effing TMZ out there; don't ask me what's next because i have no clue. except that i'm running away to a beach in Australia for two weeks and I COULD NOT BE MORE EXCITED SO BYE AMERICA; don't take my sarcastic and pithy blog posts/texts/instagram captions as meaning anything other than i am doing the best with what i am working with and you just have to be okay with that or GTFO.

"set your life on fire; seek those who fan your flames." -Rumi.

RUMI JUST GETS ME OKAY.

moments.

every time i sit down to tell this little corner of the world what it is i love the most, i feel like i'm saying what i've said a million times before. and then i second-guess my choice of words, and i think that maybe people only think of the way my words annoy them, or maybe they just don't get it and move on to read the words of men and women more famous or profound than someone like me. i think i'm forgotten or ignored, which is the most painful feeling to feel. every time i sit down to think about why i am where i am, my mind is flooded with the stories that all happened before this one. i think of the whining and complaining i did to get here, and i think about all the missteps i took, all the signs i read wrong, all the backtracking i did. and i think that people are judging me for the perfection i lack, when really i just feel like i wasn't taught any better.

every time i sit down to plan what's next for me, i am amazed at the dreams my heart can come up with. the feeling of "more" is so large in this room, it could drown me. and it makes me think of the stories i want to tell my kids and my neighbors and my brothers about my life. i think of the speech my best friends gave at my wedding, the one that mentioned how they saw in me a desire for more, for bigger, for better. and i think of how there's nothing better than being known so thoroughly.

every time i sit down to take stock of what's going on in my heart and my life and my world, i think of stories. i think of the student leaders who let me in our their journey of discovering who they are and who they're meant to be in the world. i think of the 18 year olds who sit in my office and tell me about the Lifetime movies that have been their lives. i think of the women who sit on my couch and stain my shoulders with their tears because broken hearts hurt like nothing else. i think of the moments i get to be a part of, i think of the words i get to share, i think of the laughter and the late nights and the ice cream and the long walks and the brave steps. and i think of the friends who make me better, who love me anyway, who fear no evil when i'm scared shitless.

every time i sit down to rest, i exhale. because this is enough, i am enough.

 

next. [from the archives]

When you graduate college, they tell you to anticipate the repeat of, “So do you have any idea what’s next?” for at least a year. At least, that’s what they told me. But several years later, I’m still hearing that question over and over. Sometimes, I even hear it in my own head. There isn’t a book called “Next” that you receive in the mail along with your diploma. You can’t Google “what should I do with my life?” and expect a personalized answer. They don’t make a Next pill that introduces new concepts to your brain, and you can’t even follow anyone else’s Next because it’s usually starkly different than what you want your Next to be.

And yet, our culture is obsessed with this four-letter-word.

“So, do you have any idea what’s next?”

I worked as a bartender in Pasadena, CA for two years after I graduated college. Yep, I used my liberal arts degree to mix vodka-tonics and scrape green olives off the floor. In many ways, I loved that season. But approximately 300 times a day, some semi-intoxicated patron would ask me, “so what are you going to do with your degree?” I would always half-smile and say, “This!” And their look of pity was equal parts entertaining and nauseating.

When I finally figured out what was next – an entry level job at a higher education institution – I felt like a champion. Like I was crossing a finish line with a number pinned to my chest and an ice cold Gatorade waiting for me. I moved across the country to a state I’ve never lived in, and entered my new chapter with a nerd smile. “Next, party of one!”

And on my first day, my new boss asked me, “So what’s next? Grad school?”

I kindly told him that I would love to revisit this conversation as soon as I unpacked from my cross-country-move 17 hours ago.

My empty left ring finger made for even more Next questions, especially once I started dating someone. “Is he ‘the one?’” “It seems like it’s getting serious…what’s next for you two? Do you think he’ll propose?”

Fourteen months later, my left ring finger was occupied and I put on my “I MADE IT TO NEXT” sash and waved to all the little people who believed in me. I finally got there. Next, population: ME.

But we’re getting married in 3 months, and my grandma has already asked me twice when we’ll be having babies. And everyone has asked how long we’re planning on staying in Dallas. And no one has made me feel like I’ve gotten anywhere; only that there’s more to get to and until I find Next, I won’t be happy.

Round and round goes the Next game. We are all guilty of inquiring about everyone else’s next chapter, next job, next exciting thing to talk about.

The worst is that it’s in my own mind. I’m always worrying about what will come next. Where we live, what I will do, when we should transition to another state, another job, another next. I think like a wife, when I’m still just me. So no, dear reader, I am not immune to this mindset of Next. Unfortunately, I’ve become obsessed with it.

I cried for months, longing for a job exactly like the one I have today. And now that I have it, I want something else. I don’t love the geography of where I live right now, and I miss home. So I want to go back to California next. Who knows if anything would even change if I got back there; I just know that every time I see palm tree pictures on Instagram, my heart aches in a deep place. And my mind stays there, in that place that I do not live, hoping that I can get there Next.

But what about Now?

I’ve been told that it’s important to be constantly aware of what season you’re in, spiritually speaking. I think there are seasons for Next, but I also think there are seasons for Now. And I’m currently longing to get back to Now. I’ve been so obsessed with Next (which I hear is pretty standard for an engaged woman) that I’ve forgotten Now. I’ve forgotten who I am presently, what I’m doing in this moment, and whose life I can impact today.

I miss Now, and I want to get back there.

My name is Rachel, and I am a Next addict. But I’m working on it.

in the end [we're all the same.]

i always tell people that my favorite movie is the breakfast club. if you haven't seen it, drop everything and watch it right. this. minute. if you have seen it, then you know i mean "favorite movie" in the sense that lucky boys is my "favorite breakfast burrito place" -- everything about it is perfect, but it's not something i could do every day unless i want to end up fat and miserable. the film doesn't make me fat, but any time i hear the first few strums in that simple minds song, i'm pretty much already ugly-crying. the breakfast club is on a long list of movies my dad made me watch because "he swore they were awesome". some others on this list included: fargo (literally what is happening), brazil (the title makes no sense), and soylent green (i just can't). so imagine my eye-roll when my dad carved out time in his day to show me yet another movie. (mind you, this is before smartphones could silently entertain teenagers while they're parents tried to hang out with them.) well i can tell you that i was proven wrong that day; my dad had picked a winner. within minutes i was sold to the story of the brain, the athlete, the basketcase, the princess, and the criminal. the lives of five high school students -- all from very different worlds -- intersected on a saturday morning spent serving time at the mercy of their principal for crimes they committed against the humanity of secondary education. john hughes' gift of story-writing just comes alive in this film, and i am better because i have seen it.

i have a framed picture of these five individuals that i've long kept in my office, with a david bowie quote from the beginning of the movie: "and these children that you spit on as they try to change their worlds, they are immune to your consultations. they are quite aware of what they are going through."  i keep this picture in plain view, in an attempt to continually remind myself of the very potent truth the film portrays: there is a deep, real, raw level of humanness that we all possess. when we are most vulnerable, most exposed, and most honest, we all quietly admit that we just want to be accepted, loved, enough. we want to be acknowledged and believed in, and reminded that we are not alone in this thing.

when i have hard conversations with college students who have made terrible mistakes, i keep this picture in mind. i see it when i sit on my couch with young women who trust me with the deepest corners of their hearts, when i mediate conversations between co-workers who are fighting because life is just so messy sometimes. i think of it when i feel the resistance of students who hate me for enforcing the rules they agreed to follow, when they lie through their teeth even though they know i only ask questions i already know the answers to. i remember their humanness and i keep it mind as i figure out a way to encourage them along to the answers.  i constantly try to remember that they have their whole heart in this thing and they are all just trying to make it, experiencing their own stretching and growing as their lives intersect with others. these years are hard and gross and long and yet sacred and fragrant, and wonderfully, impossibly short. i think of their unstable identities and misguided momentum every time i walk back in through the doors of this home of mine. i wish they could see me carefully craft together their discipline letters, where all i want is to help them. i know it's hard. i think of them, i do. and it makes me treat them better, speak more tenderly, listen more fully.

and sometimes i am confronted with my own raw humanness. there are moments where i am most vulnerable, most exposed, and most honest. it is in those moments i remember that i, too, just want to be accepted, loved, and enough. i am just like them, lost and trying to figure it out. i am just like them, with an insatiable thirst for a more wild and colorful life. i am just like them, amazed that sometimes, despite my best and most authentic efforts, i have disappointed them. i have proven my finite humanness and limitations. and those moments hurt like hell.

however, in my five years of working and living amongst college students, i have found that there is nothing sweeter than these moments. the moments of saying all the goodbyes, reading all the notes, and having nothing else to do except cry hot tears in the parking lot of trader joes because i'm just going to miss them so much. or the moments of feeling so simultaneously loved and uplifted and yet so betrayed and misunderstood that i am rendered speechless and laying on my bathroom floor. it is in those moments that i feel like i can't wait to do another year of this but also i want to quit right now so i can rid myself of all these feelings. it is in those moments that i understand these students all the more. i get it. i am no different than any of you. my heart is fully in this thing, and it sucks. and it's awesome. but it sucks.

i'm self-aware enough to know that i have a lot more years behind me than i do ahead of me in this crazy weird work that i do. and whatever is next will, i'm sure, take up a lot of my words in this tiny internet corner. but for now, i rest in the fact that of all the millions of things that separate all of us from each other, there is a real, tactile, beautiful thing that binds us that we cannot deny; our humanness. i think keeping that in mind may just help us treat each other a little bit better.

 

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and then there was me.

every year at about this time for the last few years, i have so many feels. i feel so happy to have spent the last nine months with incredible students. i had the most perfect staff i could have asked for in my homecoming year at APU. i feel so sad that this season is ending and in a lot of ways i feel like i'm getting dumped so i want to eat lots of ice cream. i also feel so excited for the next season each of them is stepping into. i feel so proud of the growth and passion each one has exemplified. i feel so encouraged by the ways they have made much of Jesus this year. i am better now than i was, and i could do this whole thing all over again and still want more. ---

i have a friend who loves plants, and in her modest los angeles apartment she has a few hanging plants. while i joked that her living room looked like a jungle, she told me a story about these plants. she said that she tried to trim the hanging vines but shortly after doing so, the vines doubled and tripled and grew even longer than before. the pruning makes them grow, she said. it's almost uncontrollable.

and as i think back on this year and reflect on the situations that i found myself in, i kind of feel like that. i see the vines that needed to be pruned. i see the ways i thought i was the best i'd ever be, and was swiftly reminded i am but a work in progress and Jesus is nowhere near through with me yet. i see the times where my vines were cut off at the root and then drenched in holy water so i could grow. and oh Lord did i grow. i kind of feel so much like that plant in my friend's living room.

---

in case i haven't said so publicly enough yet, college students are my jam -- i am so richly blessed to have lived life alongside some of the world's greatest this year. i am so unworthy of the joy i've experienced. the broken and tear-filled conversations chiseled away at my being. the laughter and inside jokes and ridiculous amount of text messages filled me up with those intangible perfect experiences that keep our souls afloat. i am thankful for the ways Jesus showed up this year: in floods and fire-alarms and talent shows and study sessions and early mornings and late nights and coffee cups and fritata plates and all the most unexpected places because that's the kind of God we serve. he takes the mundane and blows our minds with it -- reminding me that he deserves all the glory and i'm just along for the ride. i hope i never forget what it feels like to be so in love with my work  and the people i get to meet because of it. i wish i could share my feels with everyone in the world. this group of humans has my heart.

 

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[trinitot appreciation]

to conclude RA appreciation week, i am dedicating a page of one of my most sacred spaces to my sweet RAs, the eleven humans i have been blessed to supervise this year. i couldn't have asked for a better staff for my homecoming year at APU and i am so grateful for all the things i learn from them! i'd like to use my words, my favorite tool, to introduce you to them: Beau: my neighbor and the best person to be Number Four In Command, officially. when i met Beau he was excited to see me, really loud and forward, the first to laugh at his jokes...and not much as changed since.  Beau looks at the world and is just grateful to God in the way he speaks and acts and lives. his zest and zeal for life inspire me to enjoy the simple moments of life in a way that celebrates experiences and people. Beau teaches me that life is meant to be enjoyed, how to tell awkward jokes, and to pursue passion and truth in every day life.

Brian: continuing on the legacy of  the first south brotherhood is everyone's favorite Brian. he will probably pretend he thinks this is lame but secretly he'll think it's touching. or actually maybe he really will think it's lame. i may never know. what i do know is that Brian is a person of integrity who is wise beyond his years (even though he's REALLY old). Brian teaches me to look at situations from a different angle, which i so appreciate as a leader. he teaches me to have an adventurous spirit and to never say no. Brian leads his residents in ways that i believe will impact them for their entire time at APU and trinity is so, so lucky to have him.

Micah: even though Micah has been fired more times than i can keep track of, he has impacted me greatly. Micah loves people so well, it almost makes you mad. he teaches me about vulnerability, authenticity, and childlike faith. he loves Jesus like crazy in ways that show me how exciting life can be when it's built on a trust that God always provides. Micah reminds me how to be goofy in a way that beckons people so that they feel welcome. we are so blessed every time he walks in, grabs an ice cream sandwich from our freezer and plops down on the cough to tell us about his day. he teaches me to slow down in life and enjoy people all day long. he makes me laugh and he embraces growth and pursues wisdom. but he's still fired.

Trent: i knew from the moment i met Trent how deeply he wanted to be an RA. there is no way he knew exactly what it would entail but he has persevered through it all, despite hell or high water...literally. Trent teaches me about God's new mercies and unending desire to grow us. he teaches me to embrace people and celebrate them for who they are. Trent loves his guys in obvious ways, and they clearly love him back -- such a sign of a deep connection. Trent isn't afraid of expressing his heart no matter how big -- or loud -- that is. :) he is creative and passionate and dives right in and i am grateful to have him in trinity this year.

Hannah: my quirky and adventurous lover of life Hannah. Hannah has the best sayings, the best use of emojis, and the best style. she is kind and warm in a i'm-so-cute-because-i'm-southern-yall way, and i love her spontaneous spirit. Hannah teaches me how to embrace the new, celebrate the awkward, and learn from the bad. she shows me how to love people right where they're at, despite what anyone else thinks. she has fostered a community that loves each other well and it is no doubt they follow her example. she is wise and gentle as she approaches the world and i want to be more like that. the girl's got a wide-eyed-wonder type of outlook on life and to know her is such a joy.

Michelle: i can't talk about Michelle without cracking up and clapping my hands. Michelle is a dynamic leader with incredible wisdom, and one of the funniest people you'll ever meet. she is so intentional with people and so naturally gifted at loving everyone and she inspires me to do that better. Michelle teaches me that adversity does not mean failure, it means perseverance. she is so hard-working and so smart, i wish i could go back in time and do college again with Michelle as my life tutor. she cares so deeply about loving her residents, it evokes so much emotion in my heart. she loves this job like crazy, and she is a dream RA for any RD to supervise.

Cori: as a fourth north alumna, i am honored that the legacy has been entrusted into such wonderful hands. Cori is just the epitome of student leader -- she's got it all! wisdom and grace and maturity and kindness and joy. the fact that she replies to my i'm-sorry-i-triple-booked-our-one-on-one texts with "hakuna-matata" should tell you enough about what i learn from this rockstar. she teaches me to seek out lessons, to lead confidently, to call people out, and to choose joy. Cori is a conqueror and she is a confident daughter of the king and she knows exactly who she is all the time. i want to be more like Cori. she is my secret mentor. so secret she doesn't even know.

Evelyn: my Brazilian irma -- i knew from day one this girl was a kindred spirit. Evelyn is so incredibly intentional with people and experiences. she is finishing college before americans can order a drink and that makes me so incredible proud. Evelyn loves life and loves to laugh and is proud of who she is and i love that. Evelyn teaches me how to pursue deep connections over a cup of coffee, how to truly care about how people are doing, and how to process through the hard and yucky stuff. Evelyn is the stuff of dreams when it comes to RAs -- her girls are obviously very connected to her as she has reached out to them in meaningful ways. she teaches me how to keep people glued together and reminds to me include people who may be on the fringe. she does not forget, she is responsible, she is light and life.

Katie: my other other better half (after Jared and Robyn) and surely responsible for keeping me afloat this year. Katie keeps our staff focused and alive and laughing at every turn. Katie is creative and innovative and strong and fully capable of running the world. she teaches me about the depths of joy and the gravity of God's love and how to live into that. she is incredibly wise and mature and has wonderful discernment as she navigates the world. she is a humble servant leader with a dynamic skill-set and the ability to keep things awkwardly hilarious. she teaches me how to keep going, how to inspire others, how to wear onesies. i couldn't do this year without this girl and i will forever be thankful for her presence in my life.

Melody: there is no other woman alive who has packed as much life into a small package quite the way Mel has. this girl is the kind of girl everyone wanted to be growing up -- hilarious, adorable, edgy. she surfs, she wears cool sandals, she can talk to literally anyone. she is so chill i can't even handle how awesome it is to be around her. Mel teaches me how to go with the flow of life and let things slow down in order to appreciate it more. she shows me how to keep smiling and try and try again and how to accept and celebrate everyone. Mel is a truth-teller and a contemplative leader who listens well and laughs loudly. she makes me proud in the ways she grows constantly and finds adventure, whether she is in azusa or capetown.

Sara: fifth south was themed as "wisdom pursued" and there is no better way to summarzie Sara. this girl knows everything about everything and i secretly take notes after our one on ones so i can pretend to be smart too. i love her outlook on life and she reminds me that knowledge is unending and incredibly valuable. Sara is so strong and wise and continues to challenge herself and inspire others. she cares so deeply about impacting people and organizing experiences to help people grow and become more of who they are meant to be. she is high-achieving and so inspirational and i have no doubt God specifically ordained her to be an RA this year in this place.

with happy tears all over my face, i end this celebratory week with a grateful heart. i hope you all know how much you mean to me. i wish i could explain the way you inspire me; words fall short. i am so proud to know you all and to have done life together with you this year. <3

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little before [much.]

"whoever is faithful in little is also faithful in much." luke 16:10 i am in a season right now that i have often found myself in. antsy for what's next, what's coming, what might be better than this. i have a tendency to try to be ten steps ahead of what is happening in my life, never wanting to be surprised or caught off guard. i am an abstract and creative thinker by nature, so i dream big dreams and cast vision for myself -- which i think is good, of course. but i definitely get too caught up in it and find myself frustrated with what i have in front of me because i somehow decided it isn't good enough or sexy enough or challenging enough or whatever enough. and i get mad all over again, as if this current life i'm living wasn't a very big dream i had not even a year ago.

i was running the other night (i've mentioned that running surfaces all of my frustrations, yes?) and i was yelling at God in my head about how i felt like what i had wasn't what i wanted and how he, once again, was withholding his best from me and how dumb my life must look from the outside and why didn't he listen to my plan because i made a really good one up in my head. and i glanced up at this unbelievable sunset across my favorite southern california sky, and  i felt like i heard him say (with attitude, because that's how God and i roll): "why would you ever try to compete with my creativity? i made that sunset and it's different than every one i've ever made. i made the body you constantly criticize, and it's currently moving you to run countless miles. and i have an adventure planned for you that is wilder than your tiny brain could ever dream up. i created creativity itself, so i win at dreams and visions.  look at what you have in front of you. don't worry about the much that comes later. i've got it under control."

and i was like, yeah...yeah okay, God.

 

 

Southern20California

breaking up with [can't].

my shins felt like they were on fire when i heard her coming behind me. "rachel, you look great! nice work!"

she held up her hand for a high-five and i legitimately heard the *ding* of her white-tooth smile. if i wasn't so damn prideful i would have ignored it because i knew extending my arm would probably throw off my balance. instead, i faked a smile and returned the gesture so she wouldn't know i was drafting up my will in my head because i knew the end was near.

why is she so happy? and why is she lying to me about looking great?

let's get something straight: i don't like happy runners. they freak me out. they scream inspirational phrases while they run a 7 minute mile and talk about lean proteins and compression shorts and how to prevent chafing. i know who my people are; happy runners are not my people. i don't even know if we speak the same language.

besides not quite being a happy runner, i'm also the world's worst running partner. i'm not kidding, you guys. there may be some part of me that is clinically insane and i really don't know why i have friends. my sweet, encouraging husband told me he was proud of me while we were running, and i told him to stop patronizing me. another time, he ran a total of seven inches ahead of me and i think i breathed actual smoke when i screamed "WAIT UP!" i told you. insane.

i can't run another ten feet. i can't keep up with everyone. i can't let myself be embarrassed like this.

i've been telling myself what i can't do for years. "can't" has been an idol for me, a thing i cling to in order to shape and justify everything. the tape of my physical shortcomings runs on repeat through my mind, to the point that i forget the voice is just my own.

i'm not a runner. i can't do a half-marathon. 

and over and over again as i put one foot in front of the other, my tape gets louder and louder.

i can't do this. i can't push past this pain. i can't go further. i can't go faster. 

insecurities rear their ugly heads like the monsters i've often thought they were. and they come in all sorts of shapes and sizes. my indignity causes me to try and find something to blame, as if this "thing" about me, this "can't" thing i've got going on is all someone's fault or a part of some big joke. i scream back at the tape in my head, blaming God for creating my body this way, resenting my childhood for the absence of anything even remotely active, and of course shaming myself for the years of neglect. 

just give up and do something easy. do something you're good at. 

i guess what i'm here to confess is that i have repeatedly told myself i can't run a half-marathon, even well into this half-marathon training. i confess i am easily discouraged and not even remotely close to being able to say with sincerity "i want to go for a run right now." i confess i am not a good steward of the temple i've been given because i am not grateful for legs that move me forward and a heart the beats wildly in my chest. i keep asking God to make me more grateful, and i'm here to confess that i think he's keeping his promise. it's so hard, harder than i wanted it to be.

do i love it yet? nope. do i want to quit still? every day. do i own any compression shorts yet? couldn't even tell you what they are. but i still show up. one run at a time.

i've gone back and forth about writing this. it feels embarrassing and like the proverbial i told you so!  will be shouted at any minute. but as with many other strongholds in my life, i have found that the louder you speak it, the less power it has over you. and i don't want to be beneath the grasp of can't anymore. i want to break up with can't and give it a swift kick in the ass. i want to be braver than can't, and i want to explore the idea of being a runner. maybe even a happy runner.

~~~

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i'm running a half-marathon with team world vision. they do amazing things, even through people like me who hate running. with every $50 donation, team world vision provides sustainable clean water for a child in east africa for life. for life, people. 

i would be humbled if you would join me in my journey. my goal is to raise $50 for every mile i run, so that i can provide children with the opportunity to drink clean water for the rest of their lives. all the information on how to donate can be found on my personal page at team world vision: http://team.worldvision.org/site/PageServer?pagename=TWV_Home

grace and peace to you as you do the things that make you feel brave.