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where are you most [vulnerable?]

April 13, 2013 in 20-something troubles, lessons learned, stories with 0 Comments

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during a normal NBA basketball game, while making a normal move, LA Lakers star player Kobe Bryant landed poorly and has possibly ruptured his achilles tendon. um, OUCH.

there have been several reports about the catastrophic event because Kobe Bryant is not someone who the Lakers want to get injured. by the looks of social media, the rest of the world isn’t too happy either. i mean, he’s Kobe Bryant. an arrogant ass, yes. but an amazing basketball player, and a vital part to the team in a very vital part of the season. everyone is devastated. but none more so than Kobe himself.

of course i love the Lakers, though i don’t care too much for Mr. Bryant. i will always be loyal to my city, and i enjoy basketball, so this event is interesting to me. but what has struck me today is the disparity in Kobe’s response. he took to Facebook last night, saying:

“This is such BS! All the training and sacrifice just flew out the window with one step that I’ve done millions of times! The frustration is unbearable. The anger is rage. Why the hell did this happen ?!? Makes no damn sense. Now I’m supposed to come back from this and be the same player Or better at 35?!? How in the world am I supposed to do that??I have NO CLUE. Do I have the consistent will to overcome this thing? Maybe I should break out the rocking chair and reminisce on the career thatwas. Maybe this is how my bookends. Maybe Father Time has defeated me…Then again maybe not! It’s 3:30am, my foot feels like dead weight, my head is spinning from the pain meds and I’m wide awake. Forgive my Venting but what’s the purpose of social media if I won’t bring it to you Real No Image?? Feels good to vent, let it out. To feel as if THIS is the WORST thing EVER!”

 

Kobe was signed to the Lakers at 17 years old, pulled straight out of high school. he’s helped the Lakers win 5 NBA championships, is a 15-time all-star, a 14-time member of the all-star NBA team, and a 12-time member of the all-defensive team. he’s the youngest NBA player to score 30,000 career points and was the youngest to ever even play in the NBA. Kobe eats, drinks, sleeps, breathes, and bleeds basketball. this is his life. that much is obvious.

however, what has become obvious today is that this is his identity as well. from the tears in his eyes on the court it became evident that something within his soul broke last night. because the thing that he has invested himself into, this sport he has become so intrinsically linked to is in jeopardy, and he is a man undone.

and this got me thinking — is there something in my life that i’m so wrapped up in, that if i lost it i would be this beside myself? is my identity founded upon my skills or my talents or my job or my husband or my circumstances, instead of being sure of who i really am? would i survive if the thing i was most known for got taken away from me because of one misstep? or would i, too, become undone?

what’s also interesting to me is the irony of his injury — his achilles tendon. if you don’t know, this particular part of our body received its name  from Greek mythology. Achilles’ mother received a prophecy of her son’s death, so she dipped him into a river that would protect his body from harm. but she held onto his heel, meaning that the water didn’t touch it and it was therefore vulnerable. during the Trojan War, Achilles was struck on his unprotected heel and it killed him.

so what i will be pondering tonight, are these thoughts: where am i most vulnerable? and is my identity so wrapped up in it that i have forgotten who i am?

 

“i already liked that on instagram” [and other gender stereotypes we don't fit into.]

February 20, 2013 in 20-something troubles, lessons learned, marriage, my story, stories with 0 Comments

xmas oops

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

before i got married, i solicited the advice of a lot of my married friends in order to prepare my very best for this new role i was assuming. i am completely grateful for all of their honest advice, but it has only taken me a few short months to realize that no two marriages look alike. we’re all snowflakes, or something.

anyway, one of the biggest things i’ve learned is that even though i am a woman, i may not fit into the stereotypical wife role. sometimes it feels pretty natural, but often it feels like i’m trying to fit one of those damn wooden triangles into a square hole. and i’m learning to celebrate that. and my husband? not exactly what you see on tv. it’s almost hilarious how poorly we measure up to what the world thinks we’re supposed to be, simply because of what gender we are.

so here are some ways that my marriage looks different than yours does. and this is me celebrating.

~~~

my husband is cleaner than i am || i used to think i was a neat-freak, but it turns out that really just means i like to put dishes away. my side of the bed/bedroom/couch/everything is constantly crowded with clothes and books and shoes and unmentionables, and Jared’s side is usually flawless. okay sometimes there’s a sock. HE IS SO CLEAN. i don’t get it.

i care about our finances too || each month Jared and i sit down and discuss our budget. we talk about what went wrong last month and how we can do better this month. we use an online tool to help us categorize our spending so we can keep track of our trends and figure out ways to improve. and i love it! it’s kind of like a game to me, stretching every penny to make sure it counts. i know a lot of women who let their husbands handle the money so they don’t have to know what’s going on. sharing money is hard, but we both like it. we both have a say in where it goes, we both have to apologize when we go over. everything is shared — income and debt. so when one of us messes up, we both mess up. and when one of us makes a wise choice, we both win.

my husband is not a good-for-nothing-dummy like the media tries to say men are || for every one time i take our dog outside to go potty, Jared has taken him out twenty times. he doesn’t sit in a recliner with a beer in his hand from 5:00pm until bedtime. he loves to vacuum unprompted, he remembers to put a paper towel over soup when he’s warming it up in the microwave, and he knows so much about so many things. he contributes to the progress of our family, and he isn’t good for nothing.

i hate talking on the phone, and my husband could dominate you with the minutes he uses each month || we had to increase our minutes on our cell phone plan because he loves to talk to his friends who live in far away places. sometimes the conversations last for hours! and me? can’t handle the thought of it. i really hate the entire experience; not seeing who i’m talking to, not being able to sit in silence, the awkward “okay talk to you later — oh wait, what did you say?”…it stresses me out. but not Jared. you can call him and he’ll tell you all about it.

my husband loves to cook and has never expected dinner to be ready as soon as he comes home || i have several aprons. i’ve never worn any of them. i really do love to cook, and i think it is because i never feel like it’s something i’m supposed to do. we both go grocery shopping and pick out what we need, and we both come up with meal ideas. we make decisions together about what to eat each night, we both help make it, and we both eat it. and we both put away the leftovers.

i hate the word ‘submit’ || my husband will never lord it over me that “he’s the man and he said so” and that’s because i am a human being. we treat each other as equals; we each lead, we each submit, we each compromise. because that’s marriage to us; we don’t think either of us is less or more important based on our gender. we both have to be selfless, and we both have opinions that need to be expressed.

‘mean girls’ is in my husband’s top five || we watch rom/coms very often in this house, and it isn’t always something i initiate. ’nuff said.

breakfast [on the go]

February 4, 2013 in 20-something troubles, comedic relief, food with 0 Comments

i don’t know about your household, but we sometimes have…issues getting going in the morning. and until that first sip of coffee gets into my system, i’m kind of a slow-moving disaster. i love breakfast and usually cannot go without it, but sometimes i don’t have time to make something. so imagine my delight when i found these little guys! they have sweet and hearty flavors, and the energy they give you comes from the flax seed. (don’t forget to grind up your flax seed to unlock their secret powers!)

i’m not sure what they’re actually called, but we call them energy bites. AND THEY’RE SO DELISH. super simple to make, and they are the perfect small breakfast when you’re just not going to have the time to make something. and let’s be real; we’re all busy people.

~~~

energy bites

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

1 cup of rolled oats
1/2 cup of flax seed (the ingredient my husband was most scared of.)
1/2 cup of chocolate chips (the ingredient that convinced him it was all going to be okay.)
1/2 cup of honey
1/2 cup of almond butter
1 tsp of vanilla

mix everything together in a medium bowl, and then roll it into 2-inch balls. store in an air-tight container and grab whenever you need a quick snack.

on our [dinner table.]

January 28, 2013 in 20-something troubles, food with 0 Comments

besides the fact that i love spending every day with my best friend, marriage has brought about something else i am realizing i love so much — cooking! it’s crazy to think, considering the fact that i used to qualify dipping pretzels into peanut butter as one of my best culinary skillz.

 

SO. i’ve been cooking a lot, and i’m luuurving it. i’ve decided that from time to time, i’ll be posting some of my favorite recipes. this is mainly for me to remember what i’ve made & liked, but i also hope you can try some of them too! i promise i’m forever a fat kid, so i only cook stuff that is tasty!

~~~

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tonight i made “almost vegan super food stir fry.” 

AND IT WAS BOMB.

~~~

*1 cup of white quinoa (rice cooker. hellooooo efficiency.)
*2 sweet potatoes, chopped
*1 zucchini, halved and chopped
*1 yellow squash, halved and chopped
*1 small white onion, diced
*3 cloves of garlic, minced
*1 tsp of unsalted butter (hence, almost vegan)
*1/2 cup broccoli
*1/2 cup cauliflower
*1 whole pineapple, chopped
*1 tbsp honey
*1 tsp olive oil
*the juice of 1 lemon (squeeze it cut side up, to prevent seeds from fallin in! thank you, Rachael Ray.)
* salt + black pepper to taste

in a large sauce pan, bring butter, onion, and garlic to a simmer over medium heat. (this is where your kitchen begins to smell AM-AH-ZING.) add sweet potatoes, cover, and let simmer for 6-8 minutes. try to lay the sweet potatoes in one layer, to get a nice grilled texture. flip them halfway through.

in a medium bowl, combine broccoli, cauliflower, zucchini, squash, olive oil, lemon juice, salt, and pepper. toss lightly so that the veggies are good’n'covered. (a technical term.) add to the sauce pan with sweet potatoes and turn heat to low/medium-low. cover, stirring occasionally.

in a small bowl, combine pineapple with honey and black pepper. the honey will provide the caramelized exterior, while the black pepper will bring out the natural ZING of pineapple. go on, say it. ZING. add the pineapples to a separate sauce pan on medium heat. grill them on each side for about 4 minutes, until you see a nice glaze on each side.

toss the pineapples into the original pan. (but try one first. DELISH.) serve the veggie mix on a bed of fluffy white quinoa. serves 3-ish. (we each ate a bit extra, and there’s a bit left. you do the math.)

 

NOM NOM NOM.

 

it’s just like the [water.]

January 10, 2013 in 20-something troubles with 0 Comments

i have wished so badly recently for explanations to things. i’m a rational person, at least i like to think so, and i like to work with logic and reason. where there’s a problem, there has to be a solution – so let’s find it. so i poke and i prod and i examine and i write it down and chew it up and spit it out and find all the missing pieces. i put things back together, i fix things, i help make things happen. but i can’t do that without answers to questions, or better yet; without being able to ask the questions in the first place. so i ask lots of them, and get lots of answers.

and i puff myself up nice and big and pride is like a hug that keeps squeezing harder, and it usually takes awhile before i pop. and that hug, that embrace — it’s filled with all the good things i do, all the praise i get, all the ways i think i’ve figured out my place in this huge big crazy place. because i have to figure out my place here. i don’t know how not to.

but sometimes everything you work for simply comes crashing down when one person’s harsh words cut like knives.

and i feel like i pop with an extra dose of oomph, because i put my entire heart behind everything i do — do you know that? i put all of my everything behind every word i say, every meeting i hold, every email i write.

it all matters to me, in the most dramatic way.

because i’d much rather be way too dramatic than absolutely vapid, and i love living life in a way that makes me taste and smell all of it. and i’m scared all the time that one day something will break and i won’t feel this way anymore because the life was sucked out. and then when it happens, when i get all the wind sucked out of my sails, i truly slow down and look at my life like a fiction novel. okay, so what would i tell this person, if it wasn’t me? what would i instruct her to do?

and i really don’t know the answer there. which is devastating. because i love answers. i need explanations to things.

 

because i value your opinion of me – yes you, reading this. all of you. even when i don’t want to, i do.

because sometimes i don’t always please everyone, and that sucks.

because sometimes i run out of ways to make sense to myself, let alone to another person.

because i don’t always find theories to be helpful, or people to be respectful, or answers to be easy.

because walking away from a problem sometimes makes more sense than staying, even if i have so much left to prove.

 

expectations.

December 12, 2012 in 20-something troubles, lessons learned, stories with 0 Comments

before Jared and i got married, we were given the most amazing advice i think i’ve ever heard: unspoken expectations will go unmet, every single time.

is that not the most true thing on the planet? i can’t rightfully expect Jared to bring me home a box of mike & ike’s if i haven’t told him that i want some. i can’t expect my students to enforce the rules if i haven’t explained that to them. and so on and so on.

and so i’ve been learning so much about expectation lately and i’m learning that not only do unspoken expectations fail to come to fruition, but so expectations that are falsely on pedestals. let me explain.

i thought i was called to be a writer. or, i thought i was a writer. or maybe i think i am a writer. hmm. i decided i liked the sounds of my own words put together, so i started this little electronic corner of the world, added the proper labels to my Twitter bio, and checked off “find life purpose” from my to-do list. and i waited for the book deals and the freelance opportunities and the we’ll-pay-you-to-travel-and-write-about-it jobs to all come a-knocking.

but they haven’t come.

and so i’ve been all grumpy or moody or angsty as i wait, and i secretly spy on people who have all these opportunities that i wanted, or that i think i wanted. and i’ve just been sitting, moody, waiting, coveting, secretly hoping to one day wake up and be shauna neiquist. or something. and these ambiguous writer jobs, they’re on pedestals in my mind, sitting atop these high towers of perfection where i’ve placed them, because that’s where i thought they belonged. because i think if i achieve that, then i’ll be perfectly happy. and on a daily basis, i would wake up and take my lap top to a coffee shop or a bookstore or a park and i’d type type type away all day long. i’d blog some, i’d draft some, i’d edit some, i’d delete some. i’d sip and write, all day long. stories and pretty words and maybe a few book tours now and then, public speaking engagements, interviews…etc. and i’d spend my days with computer screens instead of people. and i’d write emails instead of having conversations. and i’d strategize marketing techniques instead of help college graduates search for jobs.

and i guess i’m just learning that there are things i am gifted at, and there are things i’m not. i’m not meant for a career without daily deep relationships with people. i need eye contact and laughter and time together. i can’t have a career with minimal people interaction — i get bored after 10 minutes by myself! how have i forgotten this? i’ve had these coveted careers on a pedestal because my expectations were all off. i wanted a job people would think was fun and sparkly, not a job no one has ever heard of. i wanted a job that would keep me caged to a computer screen, with thousands of admirers waiting on my every word.

but that isn’t who i am, and i wish i hadn’t forgotten that for so long.

and i know it isn’t you who needs to read all of this; it’s me.

a response, an apology, and a clarification.

October 22, 2012 in 20-something troubles, lessons learned, my story, stories with 1 Comment

as most blogs do, my little corner of the internet started when i realized i needed a place to process my thoughts. so i escaped to these blank spaces often, and closed my laptop with a sense of growth, a feeling of closure. i don’t do much in terms of self-marketing, because i believe that people who are interested will read; the words here are outpourings of my heart.

i don’t have a large following, i don’t have ten billion blog subscribers, and i don’t get paid for advertisements or anything of the like. i come here freely, as do my readers. and i’m grateful to live in a country where i can say what’s in my heart without fear of scrutiny.

or so i thought.

i recently joined the ranks of so many of my blogger friends, by reading the words of those who hate. i guess i’ve now finally made it. and you know you’re big time when someone dedicates an entire blog post to display how very horrible you are — and with 121 comments none the less! i spent today laughing about the ordeal.

but last weekend i cried about it.

which i can only assume is what this particular blogger and her 121 friends would have wanted me to do.

i reacted in anger, shame, and confusion.

which is exactly what they wanted.

which is exactly what the evil one wanted.

which is the exact opposite of what freedom should bring me.

which is how i knew this was not from good, but from evil.

a group of people who claim to walk closely with Jesus used painful words to describe me, all based on a few blog posts. over a year ago, i poured out my heart into a word document and published it to my beloved GWP community with a prayer that it might be used for the story of redemption. and after reading the most vulnerable 2,000 words i’ve ever written, these people tore me apart. they assumed they  knew everything about me — and they have assumed the worst. they see me as unfit to marry and spoke lies over my marriage. they said my husband settled and they echoed thoughts of pity for this feeble person i convinced to marry me. they diagnosed my future by looking at my past, and they told me they couldn’t wait to see my marriage end in flames due to my misbehavior. their words cut to the deep parts of my soul that, while redeemed, still hurt like hell.

oops. i cussed again. my bad. and if “hell” is worse than the 43 “whore” and “slut”‘s i counted in your comment section, then i don’t know what to do.

but, as is always the case, grace and new mercies have come with the morning.

and i couldn’t care less what this group of people may or may not think of me or my life.

i don’t care what they said.

i don’t even think we speak the same language.

i took all of their words with complete humility and i asked for my eyes to be opened. i sincerely waited to hear confirmation that their words carry truth. i sat in silence to try and understand what my stance should be.

but that’s what’s crazy; when i listened for God’s voice, i didn’t hear Him calling me a ‘whore.’

i didn’t hear anything like that at all.

but in order to process what’s happened, i have to write all this out. so i’m sorry if this isn’t my normal upbeat tone; today this space is for me.

so my response: pity. i feel pity for anyone who believes that righteousness is gained through perfectly-lived lives, through rule-following, and old-testament-quoting. i used to be like you. i’ve been made new, and i never want to go back to the place where i felt the desperation you people must feel. i have pity for you, who have been confronted with grace and have run in the opposite direction. i don’t know if it’s fear that drove you there, or if you’ve been fed lies. but i have pity for you, you who have yet to hear of freedom, without a cost. i hope that someone shows you this grace. i pray your blinders come off.

and my apology is not to anyone who would say such cruel things about someone in the name of Jesus. i don’t need to explain anything to you — as if it would change your mind about me.

my apology would be to anyone who reads my words here, and believes me to be someone who is proud of debauchery, or who encourages young women to walk down destructive paths. i am neither of those things; my only hope is to speak life into death, light into darkness, through the proclamation that God is sovereign. i care so deeply about the hearts of young women, that sometimes i can’t even sleep.

my apology is to my friends, to my tribe, to my people: if i have ever spoken in such a way that it led you to believe i claim anything other than the grace of God to account for where i am today, i am unspeakably sorry. forgive my misrepresentation of the gospel, and please know i am sharpening my tongue to better speak of God’s goodness.

and to clarify: i’m not proud of what i’ve done — i’m proud of what’s been done to me. i’m proud of the redemption i’ve experienced, not by my own doing but by the sacrificial act of Jesus, who has absolutely transformed my life.

i’m not proud of the “dumb stuff” in and of itself; i’m proud God took the dumb stuff and made it good. in His name, by His grace, for His glory. i boast in the shit i’m covered in, because that makes God all the more powerful in my life.

i stand stronger today, unshaken by the name-calling in someone else’s corner of the internet. after all, they are using the same free speech i am so grateful for.

i just know i’ll never use it to slander anyone.

 

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