My #OneWord2016: Well

Since 2012, I have chosen to mark each year with the choosing of One Word. The idea behind this movement is that, instead of setting resolutions for the new year that you may (or may not) keep, you choose one word that signifies what you want to focus on for the year, what you need more of in your life, and what needs to change for you. In 2012, my word was "Believe;" in 2013, it was "Center;" in 2014, it was "Simplicity;" and in 2015, I chose "Gratitude." All of those words turned out incredibly meaningful for me, especially considering the many events and changes of the past four years. 

And now, the page has turned into a new year. The earth has taken off on her course of another revolution around the sun, and I sat myself down and thought about what I want, what I need, what I hope for in 2016. 

Let's look at the facts: 2016 will mark my 28th year on the planet. It will see the completion of my first year in my new job, and my fourth professional year post-masters. This year will mark 10 years since I graduated from high school, and 6 since I graduated from college. It will see me celebrating a year as a North Carolinian. 

When I think beyond these facts, though, and envision where I want to be in 366 days (because, of course, let's not forget that 2016 is a leap year!), I picture myself happy. I picture myself more confident. I picture my faith having grown, as well as my care for others. I picture stronger relationships. I picture a grown woman who may not know where she'll be at the end of the following year, but one who knows from where her strength comes, and one who finds joy in each day.

Really, considering this goal, there was only one word that can guide my 2016: well. 

To be "well" means to be in good health, to be of sound body and mind. It means that something is satisfactory and pleasing and good. "Well" means gratifying. "Well" to me is almost a synonym for "whole" - not a thing is missing, and if it is, it doesn't matter (or, one is strong enough to seek out the missing thing).

Doesn't that sound good, to be well? I would love to end this year feeling that I grew in wellness, that I became more holistically sound and satisfactory and gratified and whole.

So, I'll be focusing at different times this year on the six different dimensions of wellness: occupational, physical, social, intellectual, emotional, and spiritual. I haven't decided yet if each month will be a focus on a different dimension, or whether I'll set small goals for each dimension each month; stay tuned for that plan. But I thought that this approach would touch every part of my life - my body, my soul, and my mind, as well as my external world and my relationships.

Well in 2016 means I want to worry less, and procrastinate less. It means I want to eat better and get moving more. It means I want to spend less money in the short-term to save up for the long-term. It means I want to invest more in my relationships and strengthen them. It means I want to re-focus on my relationship with God, to return fully to Him and to rely fully on Him. 

This January 1, I'm making a commitment to be well in 2016. I invite you to keep up with my journey, as well as to ask me about my progress throughout the year. 

I have a good feeling about 2016. How can I not? This morning began with coffee, with prayer time, with writing, and with sharing my hopes and dreams for the coming year. 

All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.

Looking Back at 2015

December 31, 2015. Another year has passed, this one faster than all the others, it feels. Another revolution around the sun for our little blue planet, another 365 days to learn, and grow, and love.

My #OneWord for 2015 has been "Gratitude." I resolved a year ago to live this year with a thankful heart - to not take for granted the small moments in my life; to give back to God in praise the many blessings He's poured out for me; to truly appreciate this one, incredible life I'm living.

Did I succeed?

In some ways, I'll be honest - no, I didn't.

There were trials in this year. Oh, were there trials. Some of them, upon reflection, seem so silly - for example, when it got so cold in Bloomington that my car doors froze shut (for what felt like the umpteenth time). Some of them were not silly. Some of them broke my heart, and I don't use that phrase lightly. This year I experienced more loss and grief and pain than I think I ever have, and hopefully, than I will have to in a year ever again.

In these moments of pain, I did not always practice gratitude. Sometimes, I let the darkness get to me. I danced on the line of depression, and for the first time I acknowledged the anxiety that often plagues my mind. I lived in a state of fear, and worry, and I was not always grateful.

But here I am, still standing (well, sitting) here, at the end of this year. I made it; WE made it. And for that survival alone, I am grateful.

Of course, because of the pain, it was incredibly easy to be thankful for the happy moments of 2015. And there were so, so many happy moments during this past year...

• Getting this new job in Charlotte, which not only is a great job, but also enabled me to move closer to my family
• Finding out three of my best friends in the whole world are pregnant, with new lives arriving here on earth in 2016
• Returning to College Station for my first Texas A&M football game since I graduated from college (I don't want to talk about how this football season has ended, though; thanks)
• Witnessing and celebrating the weddings of some of my very best friends and dearest family members
• First-time travels to Savannah, to Chattanooga, to Atlanta, to Vermont
• Returning to some of my favorite places - San Antonio, New Orleans, Puerto Rico, Baltimore, College Station, Asheville
• Living near the mountains, and hiking as often as I possibly can

And those are just the big ones. As I read back through my Gratitude Journal, I see items like "delicious homemade dinner," "a solid and sound night's sleep," "saw a cardinal," "fluffy flakes of snow," "Mexican food," "yoga pants," and of course, "Whataburger." 

This year was about learning to be grateful for those moments, big and small, despite the pain.

But... this year was also about learning to be thankful for the pain, not just in spite of it. 

No, I'm not a masochist; far from it. Like I said, if I never have to experience moments like this year again, I would be ecstatic. But life isn't just about celebrating the happy moments and ignoring the sad. Life isn't about basking in the sunshine and hiding from the rain. Life most certainly is not 100% happy, nor will it be during my time on this earth.

So I had to learn to live in the pain this year. I had to learn how to be thankful for it. My pain this year taught me and brought me many things:

• Life is incredibly precious, and not to be taken for granted for a single moment - you never know when it might be gone.
• Family is more important than anything - any possessions or experiences. ANYTHING.
• Fail with grace. Acknowledge your mistakes. Admit them. Be truly sorry for them. Be open to learning from them. Be genuine, and accept grace and forgiveness when they are given.
• Lean on your support systems when bad times come. Withdrawal will only cause more pain and distance between you and your loved ones. They're willing to listen, and to help. Go to them. Talk.
• It is not, nor will it ever be, shameful to seek counseling. Counselors and therapists are (more often than not) easier to talk to than your family and friends. Utilize these professionals. Let the pain go. 
• Grief is one of the most singularly important processes we experience as human beings. It is important to not rush yourself through the stages (denial, anger, bargaining, sadness, acceptance), but rather to live in them and experience them and acknowledge them. Rushing yourself through them will only make the grieving continue. Don't let anyone tell you you're not allowed to grieve, or how they think you should be grieving. Only you can experience what you're feeling, and whatever your process is is right for you. 

I am thankful for these lessons. I wouldn't have learned them, or re-learned them, without the moments of pain. Thus, I must be thankful for the pain, for the difficulty, for the ugly, for the grief, for the anger, for the sadness, for the anxiety, for the depression. I must be thankful for the hard times, for they have taught me so, so much.

In the end, that's one of the biggest lessons of this year. Hard, difficult, painful, ugly moments will come; that's the way the world works. And when they do, resistance is futile. You must feel them as deeply as you feel the sunshine on your face and the rush of a warm spring wind. The pain must suffuse your body as surely as you let happiness do so. But you won't lose yourself, even when it feels like you might. Hold on tight to your anchors, whatever they may be. They will remind you of who you are, and why this life is worth living.

For me, my anchors are my faith, my friends, my family. My anchors are the lessons I've learned and the grace I've received. My anchor is the knowledge that pain will come, but so will joy. 

In sum, I must refer to the writing of Ann Voskamp, who penned "One Thousand Gifts Devotional," which has been my gratitude journal for the majority of this year. As you read this excerpt from the Devotion "Storm Grace," know that I am thankful for you as you're reading this, and that I am hoping and wishing and praying that your 2015 has been as fruitful as mine has been. 

"If God really works in everything, then why don't we thank Him for everything? Why do we accept good from His hand - and not bad?" ...Doesn't God call His people to a nondiscriminating response in all circumstances? "Giving thanks always and for everything" (Ephesians 5:20 ESV)...To thank God in all is to bend the knee in allegiance to God, who alone knows all. To thank God in all is to give God glory in all. Is this not our chief end?...Giving thanks is only this: making the canyon of pain into a megaphone to proclaim the ultimate goodness of God... That which I refuse to thank Christ for, I refuse to believe Christ can redeem. 

Happy new year, everyone.

(For my past retrospectives: Looking Back at 2014, 2013, 2012)

Gratitude Lesson #4: Good For the Soul

It's now been over five months since I moved to Charlotte; I really can't believe it. For the most part, this journey has been an overwhelmingly positive one - I am learning so many new things in my new job; I am forging strong connections with my colleagues; I am practicing pretty healthy work-life balance (especially compared to this time three years ago, when I was just starting my job in Indiana).

This last part has really been the key for me in this job. I burned out incredibly quickly in my first professional position, giving 100% of myself 100% of the time. The work took its toll, and within a year I was full of anxiety and stress constantly, with few friends and no life outside of work to speak of. Thankfully, I eventually learned my lesson, and my last year at IU was a positive one, with good social relationships and mental separation from my work. My success in FINALLY learning how to leave work at work, combined with my strong friendships, made my last year in Indiana a truly positive one, and as I accepted this job in Charlotte, I vowed to myself to practice good work-life balance.

Now I'm five months in, like I said, and boy oh boy has my resolve on this promise been tested and proven. In starting a new job, it's incredibly tempting to give of yourself fully - to work long hours, to show that you're truly a committed member of the team. I want to hang out with my new coworkers; I want to build relationships with my students; I want to show up at events to show my support of my new institution.

At the same time, I know myself. I know I need some walls up between my personal and professional. I know I need time at home to be me, to recharge and fill my bucket again. And I know I need a strong personal support system at work to add to the atmosphere of the office.

I am so thankful to have found a SOLID group of friends here at my new institution. We gathered in a piecemeal kind of way, but gather we did, and it has been good for my soul to have a reliable group of female friends who challenge me, support me, and generally make my life happier.

This past weekend, 6 of our group made our way up to Asheville for #MountainWeekend, an excursion we had been planning for three months. September and October were busy and stressful, as they always are (for me, almost to the point of being hellish). So since the calendar ticked over to November, I have been eagerly anticipating this weekend getaway.

Between the amazing sisterhood of these women - all of us with different jobs, different family lives, different backgrounds, different beliefs, yet all of us united in friendship and love - and the glory that is Asheville, NC and its surrounding countryside, the weekend was borderline perfection. We hot-tubbed, we ate and drank, we saw waterfalls and forests and lakes and mountains, we gossiped and gave advice, we explored the city. We had a ball, and it was JUST what I needed.

To top that, the weekend before this one, I made my way back to College Station for an Aggie football game with my best girlfriends from undergrad. You want to talk about happiness and joy, and feeling like I'm exactly where I belong? If so, get me to tell you about my weekend back in Texas. I just felt... whole. Complete.

As 2015 is winding toward its conclusion, I'm starting to reflect again on my One Word, "gratitude." There have been a lot of things I've been grateful for this year so far; some I've blogged about, and some have been experienced in the moment. But what I've been learning is that moments of joy are not to be taken for granted.

My heart and soul were SO happy these past two weekends, spending time with my old friends and deepening relationships with new ones. I was in places I love, with people I adore, respect, and trust, and I felt THANKFUL. I was thankful that I had places and people so dear to my heart, and I was thankful for the resources to be able to travel to these places to spend time with these people. I was thankful for being reminded of old memories, and I was thankful for the opportunity to create new ones. I felt thankful that I was living in the moment, and actively recognizing what a blessing my friends are. As the old saying goes, "Make new friends and keep the old; one is silver, and the other gold."

My friends are precious, precious jewels who I couldn't live without. If you're one of these friends, know I love you more than words can say, and I'm thankful for your presence in my life.

Breathe in, Breathe out

I woke up this morning in a terrible mood. I won't go into the reasons why, at the risk of airing my #firstworldproblems (really, the reasons are very silly). But, the fact remains - I woke up this morning in a terrible mood.

I spent the first part of my day dwelling on this bad mood. I gave the anger and the sadness time, and I gave it my attention, and I gave it energy. As I was making my bed, as I was doing laundry, as I was eating breakfast, I was dwelling in this bad, sad place.

Then, I heard a still, small voice.

Open your Bible, it said.

So I did. And Psalm 62 grabbed my attention.

My soul finds rest in God alone; my salvation comes from Him. 

He alone is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken.

...

Trust in Him at all times, O people; pour out your hearts to Him, for God is our refuge.

(62: 1-2, 8)

There's that still, small voice again: I am your refuge. I am your fortress. Trust in Me. Pour out your heart to me.

Who am I to argue with that still, small voice? 

So I decided to roll out my yoga mat and do a little centering. With each breath in and out, I took in peace, strength, and hope; I exhaled my worries, my fears, my sadness, my anger. 

I'm not perfect. This day may be up and down. But I have an anchor to which I can cling, a hope that will never disappear, a refuge that will never be shaken.

As my yogi asked me to declare my intentions for the day, the still, small voice supplied His intention for my day, for my life:

You are not alone.

Shiner Prickly Pear

For those of you from Texas or with loved ones from Texas, you have probably (at some point) tasted (and enjoyed) a Shiner beer. Brewed in the tiny town of Shiner, TX, Shiner beers are not only delicious; they represent Texan culture in a fantastic way - not only through the brewery's history, but also through the beers that they brew.

Two of my favorite Shiner draughts are Shiner Cheer, which is a holiday beer that has flavors of pecan and peach (two uniquely Texan flavors to add to a holiday brew), and Shiner Ruby Redbird, which features delicious Texas ruby red grapefruit.

My love for Shiner beer is clear by this point, I imagine. So imagine my intrigue when I walk into my local Harris Teeter grocery store (being a North Carolinian, I feel it is my obligation to support local grocery stores, just as I patronized Publix in Florida - shout out to PubSubs!!!), and I see Shiner Prickly Pear beer.

"Huh," I thought. "That's a new flavor. It sounds good, and I've enjoyed cactus-influenced beers before" - here, a shoutout to my favorite beer in the world, Breckenridge Brewery's Agave Wheat - "...but I don't know, that sounds kind of weird. Should I buy it? I'd be stuck with a whole six-pack..."

My deliberations proved too much for me, and (ultimately shopping on a budget) I decided to pass the Prickly Pear by, waiting for a later date to sample this brew.

Now, I regret that decision.

I just moved to a new city and state, as referenced in my last blog post. I am on my second job out of graduate school, and I'm a young woman in my twenties. Now is the time when I need to be putting myself out there - trying new things, meeting new people, exploring new places, and more. I can't let fear of the unknown hold me back.

If I let fear hold me back, I never would have gone out for a co-chair position in my undergrad's extended orientation program, and thus discovered my future career path (and had what is, to this day, the best summer of my life).

If I let fear hold me back, I would never have gone to graduate school at The Florida State University, and met some of the best people (and learned some of the most important things) in my life.

If I let fear hold me back, I wouldn't have accepted a fantastic position in Indiana, and moved halfway across the country, away from all my friends and family, only to find a new home in the Midwest and deep, meaningful experiences in my first professional job.

And if I let fear hold me back, I wouldn't have branched out and gone for this new job, one that matters deeply to me and one that I suspect is going to teach me even more than I could possibly imagine, in addition to bringing me back close to my family and in a state that I love (only second to Texas).

I wouldn't have already made some new friends - shoutout to my colleagues in the Union, Orientation, Greek Life, and more. I wouldn't have tried yoga in a brewery (stereotypical young professional, anyone?). I wouldn't have discovered the beautiful greenway behind my apartment complex.

Now is not the time for fear. Now is the time to grow.

So you can bet your butt, the next time I grow to the grocery store, I'm going to buy myself some Shiner Prickly Pear. It may not be for me, but it's worth a try.

'Most everything is.

Puzzling

For anyone who's seen any of the modern classic TV show New Girl, you probably know who Winston is - sometimes the voice of reason, sometimes an absurd and delightful part of our favorite roommate foursome. For those of you who don't know Winston, there are a few facts that are critical to understanding who Winston is as a human, and one of those is that Winston loves puzzles.

Or, as Winston calls it, "Puzzling."

Unfortunately, Winston is also very, very bad at puzzles. Like, really, really, really bad. (Click that link. It's important.)

I've been reflecting a lot recently, on life and its changes. For those of you who don't know, I just started a brand new job, at a new institution, in a new state. And while I am incredibly excited about this change (seriously. so pumped.), I also can't really believe it's happening.

I didn't know this time three years ago when I was job searching where I would be just one month later (accepting a job at Indiana University), let alone that three years later I would be moving to North Carolina to start a completely different position at a new institution. I didn't know all the wonderful friends and colleagues I would be meeting shortly in the Midwest and the amazing connections I would make that would lead me to new personal and professional families (Gamma Phi Beta and ACUI, respectively). I didn't know I would adapt to 6-month, sub-zero-degree winters, or that I would fall in love with the incredible melancholic beauty of fall and the dazzling, inspirational springtime. I didn't know that I would be challenged beyond what I thought possible, that I would learn more than I thought possible, nor that I would grow beyond what I thought possible.

But I was, I did, and I definitely, definitely did. Life's funny that way, isn't it? It makes me think of my friend Winston and his love for puzzles. To me, life is a puzzle. Sure, you may have a picture of the "end result" that you'd like to see ("IT'S A JAPANESE GARDEN!"), but that doesn't necessarily make puzzling any easier. And hell, what happens when, like me and (I imagine) so many of you, AND like our friend Winston,  we DON'T know how the puzzle is supposed to turn out?

All we have to go on is a general shape - a rectangle. A life.

We've got guiding, "border" pieces - those checkpoints along the way. A job, friends, family, hobbies.

But all those middle pieces? Everything in between? Pure guesswork.

Will we find love? I don't know. Will we like our jobs, or even tolerate them? I don't know. Will we get those promotions, those raises, those corner offices we dream of? I don't know. Will we stay with this same company for years, or hop around like the true Millennials we are? I don't know. I truly, truly don't know what's next.

All I can do, like my buddy Winston, is take this crazy life puzzle one piece at a time. I can sift through my core values, through what I hope to achieve, and I can make leaps of faith. Sometimes they'll pan out, sometimes they won't. What matters is in the trying.

And that feeling, when you find two pieces that fit together? When you start to see just a glimpse of the bigger picture?

Well, isn't that why we're out here puzzling in the first place?

Gratitude Lesson #3: Asking the Tough Questions

Today, as I had a life chat with Alexa, a dear friend and up-and-coming colleague, we talked about those dark places that we occasionally get into in our lives. I've written about these low places before - the doldrums, the proving grounds, the valleys. They suck, but they're real points in our lives when things just don't fit or work the way they're supposed to. We may feel down, or lost, or off our groove. Whatever it is, the low places are NOT fun.

What often helps me wake up a little, to get enough of a jolt of electricity to get myself moving again so I can try to get out of the valley, is often the thing I dread doing the most - asking myself (or finding someone to ask) the tough questions.

You know the questions I mean.

"What are you NOT doing?"

"Are you really doing your best?"

"What are you so scared of?"

"Who are you, really?"

These questions are scary as hell, let's be honest. But let's also be honest that a lot of times, we're tempted in life's valleys to throw ourselves a big pity party. And for a while, that can be a healthy behavior. Acknowledge your feelings - sadness, fear, anger, anxiety, etc. Know thyself.

But also know that dwelling on those feelings won't get you out of the valley. You must name the feeling, of course, but you also must acknowledge that that feeling is probably the very barrier (or one of them) that is preventing you from getting out of the valley. And by asking the tough questions, you are saying to yourself, "Okay. So let's say I name this feeling, this barrier.... how am I going to overcome it, or find someone to help me overcome it?"

Dwelling in the valley lets the bad feeling win; dwelling lets the darkness win. Asking the tough question is shining a flashlight on the dark corners, opening the curtains a little to let some sunlight in.

Sometimes, these tough questions can make the valleys seem even deeper and darker, because we recognize how far we have fallen, and how far we have to get back up again. However, by asking the tough questions, I think we acknowledge that there's another mountain to climb, there's another journey to be had. Life doesn't end at the valley; life is about seeking out the next mountaintop to climb.

So find the person who will be your proverbial sherpa, who's going to ask you the tough questions. It may be a parent, a family member, a friend, a mentor. It may be you who's brave enough to shine the light in the dark place. And know that it's going to hurt, asking the tough questions. It's never easy getting out of the valley. But if you're willing to not only name your valley, but also name the barrier blocking your way out onto the next mountaintop, you're going to discover the path out of the bad times a lot faster.

Take it from someone who knows. I'm so thankful to have had friends, family, and mentors who have asked me the tough questions, and recently, I've found the courage to ask myself the tough questions. In the end, I've found that it's worth the risk of the pain to be able to find a way, one step at a time, out of the low places.