Life – Page 10 – Tipsy Typer

This World Will Not Change Me

I am not a hero. I have never run into a burning building or set a broken bone. I have never knowingly charged into danger knowing that I might not make it home when all was said and done. No, I am not a hero. But I was raised by one, though he would never call himself that. My dad is my hero, he is my example on how to live. My dad has run into burning buildings, he has whisked people to safety, he has helped them die as peacefully as possible when there was nothing left to do, he has searched through rubble for the telltale hint of a human soul. My dad has run into danger knowing he might not make it home. He has been hurt, he has been broken, but he has never stopped getting back up and doing it all over again. Because it was the right thing to do, because it was something that he could do. When I was little, I didn’t think much of it; it was just a fact of our lives- other people’s dads went to office buildings wearing suits, my dad charged into burning houses wearing a rather different dress code. I remember special goodnight kisses before shifts, going to visit at the station houses, camping trips with his ‘work family.’ Looking back now, I see the truth hidden behind the smiles, I see the pain and the reward that being the hero can bring. There is not only glory to be found, there is so much more buried below the surface if you only take the time to look.

On April 19, 1995 evil struck in an unimaginable way with the Oklahoma City Bombing. I had just turned six, but I still remember the footage of the building, only a portion still eerily standing. When the call rang out for help, my dad answered it. He flew out with his search and rescue team to assist in whatever way he could. He was never one to stand back and watch, he always had to help.

This is my dad during the search and rescue after the Oklahoma City Bombing:

The second picture where he is sitting on a bucket was a shot taken and used in Garth Brook’s 1995 music video ‘The Change,’ which doubled as a tribute to the victims and rescuers of Oklahoma City. If you ever feel the desire to watch, you can view the original video here: Garth Brooks ‘The Change’ original music video.

When I was a little girl I was so proud of this video- that was my dad! I would pop in the VHS tape and watch it over and over, just to see him right here. Today I found the video again- having a deep yearning to hear this song once more. And when I reached the scene I knew so well, this image hit me like a truck, making it hard to breath. For the first time I saw what it really portrayed. Pain. He never talked much about what happened there, we would get some stories as we got older, but it was nothing like seeing him in that moment of raw heartache and disbelief as the world was falling apart around him. I know they were there primarily as recovery- they flew in after many of the survivors were already rescued. Their mission was to help give peace to the families who lost so much that day, by allowing them to bury those they loved. And it took its toll on all of them. Seeing the devastation of so much hate will do that- it is a side of humanity that no one is ever ready to face. For the first time I saw how much my dad sacrificed to help others.

And then I came across this- a picture he took and kept from that time.

It’s just a simple sign. But it was powerful. It was a reminder, it was a promise- it was an embodiment of all that we are. When we have no other choice, we find out what we are made of inside, and it is usually so much more than we would have ever anticipated. Through our pain we find strength in one another, we find hope in a lost world.

“The Change”
By: Garth Brooks

One hand
Reaches out
And pulls a lost soul from harm
While a thousand more go unspoken for
They say what good have you done
By saving just this one
It’s like whispering a prayer
In the fury of a stormAnd I hear them saying you’ll never change things
And no matter what you do it’s still the same thing
But it’s not the world that I am changing
I do this so this world will know
That it will not change me

This heart
Still believes
The love and mercy still exist
While all the hatred rage and so many say
That love is all but pointless in madness such as this
It’s like trying to stop a fire
With the moisture from a kiss

And I hear them saying you’ll never change things
And no matter what you do it’s still the same thing
But it’s not the world that I am changing
I do this so this world will know
That it will not change me

As long as one heart still holds on
Then hope is never really gone

I hear them saying you’ll never change things
And no matter what you do it’s still the same thing
But it’s not the world that I am changing
I do this so this world we know
Never changes me

What I do is so
This world will know
That it will not change me

Today I haven’t been able to get this song out of my head, I keep coming back to the same thing, the words are burning through my veins. I wish I could do more. I wish I had more to give. I am not a firefighter, a nurse, a doctor, a police officer, a soldier- there are so many things that I am not. I am just a girl, just one solitary girl who finds her power with the written word. Some days it seems that is all that I have to give. And in a world that seems to be shattering right before my eyes- I have to ask myself if that is really enough?

Words feel so small in the face of so much pain and anger. But it is all that I have. I would like to think that I would step forward if the opportunity were thrust upon me, that in the heat of a moment I would make the selfless choice, I would do what my dad has always taught me. As the song says, “I do this so the world will know that it cannot change me.” Perhaps the most powerful thing that we can do is prove to the world that it will not make us jaded, it will not stop us from caring, it will not smother the flame of humanity we all started this life with. This world will never be able to create so much fear in my heart that I stop trying to help. If I find myself forever mired in these struggles, facing the choice of giving more of myself than I think I can bear to lose- I would still fight. The darkness of this world will never change me. I will always try live by my dad’s example. I will always try to fight for those who cannot fight for themselves. I will always try to be a welcoming smile in a world full of bitter anger. I will always try to be a voice of reason in the screaming crowd. I will always fight- even if it means using the only power I possess- my words. I have spent enough of my life idly standing by. I will not be afraid. I will not be bitter or jaded or angry. I will not be changed.

We let fear rule us all too often, we allow the anger to twist our thoughts into venom that we thrust upon others. We turn our backs because there is so much that we can’t process yet, we think that this world will never change. Fear breeds helplessness, which in turn feeds anger. We create our own vicious cycles by giving into the temptation that is giving up. We turn our backs and wonder where all the heroes have gone, we never stop to look down and recognize ourselves for what we could be. You don’t have to change the world, you simply have to hold your ground and not let it change you.

The news is full of stories and speeches touting hate and segregation. We are afraid of one another because we refuse to open our eyes and search for the truth beyond what the reporters and politicians are telling us. We refuse to discuss the true issues. Our own ignorance will destroy us. People speak of building walls and closing borders, all the while forgetting that the majority of our disasters are home-grown. We forget that these people we are turning our backs on- they are really no different than us. It seems we forgot that age-old rule to treat others as we wish to be treated. My four year old nephew understands this concept, but many of the adults that I know have let it slip away. We have the power to change this, but we would rather blame everyone else. We listen to the fear mongering that has inundated our media- forgetting that they simply want a story they can sell. We listen to the voices that are screaming the loudest without focusing on what they actually have to say.

I refuse to give into the darkness that we have cast ourselves in. I refuse to turn away from someone who needs my help because I am afraid. If enough of us decide to be brave, we can banish any monster. I refuse to let this world change me. I will be soft, I will be kind, I will not scream, but I will not stop speaking. Because my voice is all that I have. Perhaps it is all that I need. I know that we are capable of so much more, I have seen it. Every hero must pay a price. I have seen the cost in my dad’s eyes. But I have also seen the reward. I have heard the stories, I know the price of the choices that I wish to make. That will not stop me from making them. Because I was raised to do the right thing, no matter how hard it is, no matter how many people try to scream that I am wrong. I will not back down, I will not break. I will keep getting up. I will not let this world change me.

What I do is so
This world will know
That it will not change me

So, an introvert walks into a party…

An extrovert can walk into a party and get recharged on the energy that’s present. They thrive on their interaction with others, they get stronger and brighter as the night wanes. But people like me- we have to plan and build ourselves up. We have to restructure our entire day to ensure that we can walk into the room with a full battery, because the energy it takes to interact for long periods of time is draining right to the core. To be perfectly honest, I have never been a fan of parties. My idea of a fun night out involves dinner and a movie, or going down to my favorite local bar with a few friends where I can sip on a beer while we talk about life. To some that could be boring, it me it is the perfect way to relax after a long week.

The other weekend, however, was different- it was my little sister’s 25th birthday and she wanted to let loose and celebrate. My sister is one of my best friends, but we are the most similar opposites you will ever meet- perhaps that’s why we get along so well. We like all of the same things, but our personalities are night and day. We are yin and yang, fire and ice, Monica and Phoebe. She likes to party and be crazy, and I guess you could say I am the old soul out of the two of us. I adore her, which is probably the only reason I walked through that door into the 90’s themed house party with a dozen total strangers (insert mild panic attack here).

I’ve always been able to play pretend at being bubbly and social for short bursts of time. I worked customer service in a high-stress environment for many years. I can smile and laugh, make small talk and pretend to be a different version of myself. But I will always walk away exhausted, ready to hop into a hot bubble bath with a good book and sit in silence. During my customer service years that wound up being a near-nightly ritual. I needed a way to recharge. I can still channel this part of my personality whenever the need arises, and I knew when we walked through that door- the need had arisen.

I selfishly hoped that I would be able to lurk in the kitchen with my fiancé and Finnigan- the adorable puppy that magically appeared about an hour into the festivities. But alas, even Finn was enjoying the social adventure, prancing around from room to room, happily soaking up all of the attention. No, I would have to glue on my smile and do my best.

What people don’t always realize is that my social anxiety will pop up no matter how nice and accommodating you are. It has nothing to do with the people in the room, it has everything to do with the critical eye I use to view all of my own actions. I will tear apart every word I say and every insignificant move you make. You close your eyes because you have an eyelash stuck in it- no, I must have said something boring. You move your weight from one foot to the other- you must want to leave and talk to someone else. It doesn’t matter how irrational it is- the funny thing is, I usually know I’m over-analyzing, but I can’t stop it. It’s like there’s a button in my brain that sticks, and no matter how I try to turn it off, it just wont pop until it’s good and ready (usually well after I intended to fall asleep).

For those that don’t understand, this is a glimpse into the mind of an introvert with slight social anxiety issues on a typical night at a regular party:

Is this the house? I’ve been here a million times, why am I questioning whether this is the house or not? But did I come on the right day? What if it was cancelled and I’m the only one who didn’t know?
Yep, this is the place- but where do I park? I mean, I might get boxed in there if I decide to leave early. And will I be too close to that other car over there? No, that spot requires parallel parking. Would it be weird to park down the block? I think I say a Fred Meyers parking lot a few blocks away…
Did I get here to early? I will look so stupid if I’m the first one here.
So I’m at the door- do I knock, or text them that I’m here?
They still aren’t at the door- do I just open it? Would that be weird? I’ll text them again.
Okay, so I’m inside. Of course I’m like the second one here. I am always too early. I should have parked farther away.
So food- where is the food? Would it be strange if I just sat next to this bowl of chips? Will people try to talk to me? Maybe I’ll just stand in the kitchen.
Nope, I keep getting in the way in the kitchen and they don’t need help. Okay, I’ll just go over there.
I don’t know anyone here. I guess I’ll just smile like an idiot because I don’t know anyone here. Where is my friend? She invited me, she knows I don’t like this stuff.
Is it too early to leave yet?
Oh, who’s puppy? Yes, I will just sit here and pet this adorable dog. Let’s just hope is owner doesn’t come over.
No, puppy come back! You were my only friend! Okay, stand up like you weren’t just rolling around on the floor with the K-9. And step back until you are against the wall again. Good…did anyone notice?
Yes! Someone I know! Hello someone I know!
Oh look, another person coming over to talk- okay, smile, but not too big, you don’t want to look weird. Just play it cool, you’ve got this! Be smooth, be smooth.
Hey, this person is kind of cool.
Oh no! Lull in the conversation- okay, look really interested in what is happening on the other side of the room while you try to come up with something to say.
Why did you ask them about their cat? Now they’ll think you are a crazy cat person.
They have a dog! Don’t get overly excited, wait for them to show you a picture of theirs before you whip out yours. And only pick one- not seventy-two.
You’re talking too much, stop talking so much, you’ll scare them away.
They just moved from one foot to the other- are they bored? Are they trying to find a nice way to extract themselves from the conversation?
Another person is coming over! Remember: you can do this. Another smile, introductions. Shoot- they want to shake hands, left or right? Okay, move my drink to the other hand and…success!
Look at me, socializing all over the place like a boss! I haven’t even had alcohol yet. I am amazing, I am acting like a relatively-well adjusted human being. I am awesome.
Okay, now I’m getting tired. But these people are actually pretty cool. Except that one over there trying to force people to dance. I don’t want to talk to that person. I think I will subtly side-step out of the room so I can avoid that person.
Is it too early to leave?
PlayStation? There’s a PlayStation here?! Okay, I’m in!
I don’t care if it’s rude- Crash CTR was my game, and I am going to own everyone! Unless that would be rude- would that be rude?
I lost- maybe they’ll like me more for losing.
Why did I say that? That was such a stupid thing to say…
So I’ve asked ‘what’ three times and still have no idea what they said. Let’s hope that smiling and nodding is an appropriate response.
Ha! They laughed! I need to remember that joke, it was gold! Phew, I was really nervous at first…wait, that wasn’t a courtesy chuckle, was it?
Okay, I am getting tired. Oh- and I’m at that good spot in my book. Maybe I’ll leave soon.
It’s going to take me like ten minutes to get to my car. I really shouldn’t have parked so far away.
Okay, and say a few quick goodbyes- oh, hugs. I did not see that coming. Does that mean they like me?
Dancing guy! Nooooooo!! Hide behind the tall guy! Shoot- how am I taller than the tall guy? I’m like a giraffe in here.
Wait for it, wait for it…and go! Phew, out the door.
That was fun. I’m tired. I cannot wait to get into my pj’s!

Do you see yet why we get so exhausted? This is just a small snippet of what tends to go through my mind, and some of these are repeated over and over and over.

There was a time when I would try to hide that side of me, I would play pretend and act like I was ‘normal.’ But at my sister’s party, I did something different: I embraced the awkwardness and joked about it. And as it turns out- I wasn’t the only one feeling the same way, suddenly there was a gush of people laughing about doing the exact same thing, thinking the same way I did- and then in a flash, being there in a room full of strangers wasn’t so scary any more, if only because these people weren’t so strange. They were just like me, playing pretend and stepping out of their comfort zone. I think there are more of us out there than we ever thought, people you wouldn’t expect who have that same internal dialog that doesn’t turn off. We all put on our bright shiny faces when we go out, and we smile and laugh, hoping others wont see the insecurities in our eyes. We all walk into a party wearing a mask, without even realizing that everyone else is doing it too. We can’t turn off the internal dialog, but perhaps, on occasion, we can make a joke that cracks our mask. Perhaps someone else will recognize a bit of themselves in you. And then the small talk can fall away and a true conversation can be had. You would be surprised at what people are really like, underneath it all.

Embrace Your Inner Geek Day

Happy Embrace Your Inner Geek Day! ‘Is that a real thing?’ you are probably asking yourself. The answer is yes, it has been one of those fun little ‘holidays’ for the past ten years now. See, look at that- the more you read, the more you’ll know. Now you can drop some knowledge on the people you run into this beautiful day (well, I hope it’s beautiful where you are, my friends). Personally, I stopped shoving my inner geek back into her shiny display box years ago- she is now fully embraced everyday, but I don’t see anything wrong with celebrating her existence right this moment. In fact, given recent nerdism events, it seems like the perfect time to start waving that freak flag high in the air.

It appears to me that in the past few years, being a geek has become a bit more mainstream. All of a sudden people want to hear about the vintage comic books I read, though they do tend to lose interest when I explain the differences between the ‘true’ origins and the Marvel movie origins. Everyone knows my hobbit ‘second breakfast’ reference, and they no longer blink at me in confusion when I mention the Misty Mountains. I am not the only one who can tell you without a second thought what Alohamora means, or inform you about what you would get if you were to add powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood (it created a sleeping potion known as the Draught of Living Death, courtesy of the illustrious Professor Snape). And I know that I am not the only one who’s heart raises in hope when I hear an owl hooting. Perhaps they are finally here to deliver my acceptance letter to Hogwarts- granted, it would be about fifteen years too late, but we all know how the post system can be. And besides, by now they probably have some form of adult education program, right? I am not ready to let that dream die just yet.

I have learned that it doesn’t have to be something unpopular or traditionally ‘nerdy’ to morph a well adjusted person into a geek. I know plenty of people who can geek out over sports, food, cars, etc. Geeking out about something has more to do with the excitement and the passion that you put into a subject, as opposed to what the subject is itself. Does it really matter if the thing that you love is popular or not? No- who cares, as long as it brings you joy. So why do we constantly feel the need to bash the things that people love?

I’m going to take a few minutes to discuss the new nerdism that is sweeping the nation and leaving people a bit confused in the process. Pokémon Go. Now, I will admit, I play- so my opinions will be a bit skewed, but hear me out- especially those of you who haven’t figured out what the big hype is. Full disclosure- I am a grown adult. I am 27 years old, I have a good job with full benefits and a retirement plan. I also spend the vast majority of my free time chasing that elusive dream of becoming a published author. If you come across me in my daily life, there is a ninety-five percent chance that you will find me working in one form or another. I am forever chasing a set goal, always running down the path of self-improvement. I love my to-do lists, I have an odd fascination with categorizing my productive time and list out my accomplishments vs unmet goals. To put it bluntly, I spend plently of my time as a perfectly boring adult. And I think that is the problem with most of us.

We get so bogged down in depressing news stories about the state of the world, our daily trials and tribulations, the mind-numbing chores and activities- and we forget how much fun there is to have in life. We age ourselves before the world can do it for us. I know how to maintain the balance between being a productive adult and letting my hair down to have fun; I can focus on my job when it’s time to work, I still meet all of my writing goals and deadlines, and my household chores are done in a timely manner. And yes, I can still find a few minutes during my daily dog-walking time to chase down a Charmander. As long as my version of fun doesn’t hurt anyone or cause some form of property damage- who cares what form it takes? At least I know not to take myself too seriously all the time. Life is supposed to have adventure, you might as well embrace it.

You see, Pokémon is something that I grew up with, it’s something that brings back good family memories of cramming into our old Ford F-250 with my parents and three siblings as we drove out into the mountains to hike or play in the snow. On the trips my sister, brothers and I all had our Gameboys out- Pokémon and Mario made up the majority of my game time (and don’t worry- I grew up in the last generation to enjoy the great outdoors, so I wasn’t lacking in sunshine fun either). So here I am, a grown adult with the opportunity to bring to life a childhood dream- of course I’m going to love the idea. It is reminiscent of a simpler time in my life, back when there was still magic and my biggest problem was my sister stealing my favorite Barbie doll. I miss when those were my problems, and I still believed that I could do anything I set my mind to- even end world hunger.

The only thing that has suffered since I started playing a few days ago: my TV/internet time. It’s easy to wind down at the end of the day with a good show or perusing the internet and social media. Now that time is filled with long walks, good friends, and excited four-legged companions. In the past day and a half I have walked roughly 30,000 steps, most of those were with my German Shepard who was unbelievably thrilled with the adventures of our trots through town. I talked to multiple strangers, hanging out with a few for about 20 minutes or so- this in itself is huge for someone with the social anxiety that normally sends me running in the opposite direction when my cheeks burning in shame. But think about it- there is a built in conversation starter and something to do when you aren’t sure what to say next- it’s a great way to branch out and meet other people without the usual pressures of typical daily interactions. I discovered four new statues I have never noticed before at a park I have been to about a dozen times. I went to a ‘concert in the park event’ during the lunch hour with my dog- another thing I typically avoid (large crowds are not on my list of favorites). I discovered a park a few blocks from my house that has a beautiful scenic walking trail and took my dog on an little adventure. We met up with a friend and let our two dogs try to socialize for the first time while we walked around town (both of our little fur babies are leery of strange pups). All of this activity because of one silly game I can download on my phone. Tell me, does that really sound like such a bad thing? (Below are a few of my discoveries, all thanks to Pokémon Go)

There is enough negativity in the world, so when people find something that they enjoy- why don’t we just celebrate that rare gift? We could all use some common ground, and if it happens to be standing in the park throwing virtual balls at a fake Squirtle- so be it. We spend too much time divided, we don’t need to continue drawing more lines in the sand.

So today I ask you to embrace the geek- whatever your hobbies may be, indulge yourself. Go back and re-read Harry Potter again, figure out how to make a litter box that looks like a Hobbit-hole, play Iron Man vs. the Hulk with your niece, put together a model airplane, wax the car, catch the Pikachu you’ve been tracking for the past three days, bake a dozen cupcakes and use candy to decorate them as monsters. Whatever it is that you love, go out there and do it. Be safe and enjoy. We only have one life to live, and the only way to feel young is to remember that you don’t have to be old just because the world tells you to. Take time to enjoy this crazy world that we live in because some days there is precious little to celebrate. So when we find a happiness, let’s embrace it, nurture it, and stop trying to stamp it out of one another. This world could use a little bit more kindness, don’t you think?

Be Our Own Heroes: Spread Hope

They say that anger is just love disappointed.
They say that love is just a state of mind.
But all this fighting over who is anointed,
Oh, how can people be so blind?

There’s a hole in the world tonight.
There’s a cloud of fear and sorrow.
There’s a hole in the world tonight.
Don’t let there be a hole in the world tomorrow.

-The Eagles

Tonight we are unified in mutual pain; all of us bleed for the lives cut too short, all of us cry for a world that can never be what it was yesterday. We are the same, and we are different for our losses. Where is our hero tonight? Where is our modern day MLK to tout the evils of violence and lead us towards a better tomorrow? Who will save us from this mess we have made? How many scars can we etch into our own hearts before we stop feeling the pain? How many times can we tear one another apart before there is nothing left to save? We are angry, we are afraid, and we are hurting.

I wont pretend to understand, I know that I never will. There are shoes I have never walked in, there are worlds out there that I have never seen. I cannot say that I understand what it means to fear because of the color of my skin. I cannot say that I know what it’s like to carry the pressures of a badge and be forced to make life or death decisions in the blink of an eye. I know that hindsight is 20/20, and we have all been blind. I know that none of this should have ever happened. I know that some people have prejudices in them, and I know that some people make the wrong decisions at the worst times. I know that the world is not so simple as to be categorized into good and evil. We are not angels and demons; we are simply humans.

We want to let the anger overpower the pain so that we don’t have to feel it anymore. We want explanations, a reason, an enemy. We want to find a villain in these stories, someone to blame, to focus our hatred on. We are so busy pointing the finger that we forget what the real enemy is. It is not black culture, white culture, or the power of the police. The true enemy is hate. Hate is the explosive expression of fear and anger. We are not each other’s enemies, we do not have to be.

We distance ourselves from the problem by talking in generalities, we jump to conclusions based on cursory facts. We forget that these instances are about real people. We forget that there are two sides to every story. Does racism still exist? Yes. Do prejudices against the police? Yes. We keep taking large swaths of people and painting them with one brush instead of looking at them individually. It’s harder to hate when you look at a person, not an abstract idea. These problems that we have will not be erased in large sweeping gestures. This is a battle fought one small moment at a time. We have to stop categorizing one another and simply view each other as people. We have to learn to be kind again.

There will be no knight in shining armor coming to save the day. We have to do the saving. We have to start the painful conversations to stop the violence. We have to be willing to take a step out of our own shoes and look at the world from a differing perspective. We have to re-humanize one another. It will be the little actions that save us; asking someone how they are- how they really are- and waiting to hear the answer. It is about giving a simple nod of recognition when you pass someone in the store. It is about helping someone in need, it is about standing up for those who cannot do it themselves. It is about protecting one another. It is in these moments, when we are connecting, that we are the most human. It is in these moments that we will find our hope.

Most of us are not hateful, most of us are just tired. We are exhausted from the violence, and truthfully- we are scared. But we are not alone. We are all in this together. United we stand, divided we will fall. So here is the challenge: go out and show the world some kindness. Remind one another that the world is not always an ugly place- it will forever be what we make of it. Expand your horizons, speak to someone you don’t know- connect with a culture you don’t understand. Or simply give a smile to someone who looks like they need it. Remind everyone that the world is beautiful. Spread hope instead of despair.

Writing Makes Me Whole

I write to express the things I cannot actually speak. I may have these eloquent, beautiful or equally witty and hilarious comments and quips all planned out in my head- but somewhere between my firing neurons, the message gets lost and comes out haphazard and jumbled. It’s frustrating really- to feel like I cannot portray on the outside who I really am inside. It’s like there’s this light shining through me, but instead of seeing myself in it, I just see shadows. I am an imposter in my own skin. Except when I write. That is when I truly feel most like myself. The awkwardness that envelopes the daily me is shed, or perhaps it’s just less noticeable when I’m not tripping over my syllables.

In my writing I can pretend to be a girl that enthralls me, a person who has had adventure thrust upon her and rises to the challenge. With my words I can be the strong, stubborn woman I have hidden inside of me. I don’t have to be the girl who fumbles for the correct thing to say and turns bright red when something unexpected is tossed in her lap. In life I am quiet and reserved; but when I write, I am bold and outgoing.

I have worn a thousand different masks in my life, I have been a hundred different incarnations of the same girl- all within the twenty-seven years I have spent on this earth. We all have- we are constantly changing, forever morphing into different versions of the person we were yesterday. I am a chameleon of sorts- blending in wherever I go, accentuating different aspects of my personality depending on who I am around. I’m not proud of it, but it is who I have been. But when I write- that is when I feel the most authentic. Sometimes I think my soul is written- it encompasses all of my being, it is the calm within the storm. My writing has carried me through every rough patch I have ever stumbled over. It is my constant, my rock.

I write because I don’t know how to stop, words run through my blood, pounding in my veins as I sleep, they flitter through the air that I breath. They are my comfort in a crazy world. I write to remember, and I write to forget. I write because I don’t know how else to show the world who I really am. This right here- this is me, in my truest form. I am not a girl, I am merely a collection of words strung together.

Silence isn’t Golden

Happy Fourth of July, my friends! May your day be safe and beautiful, full of good food, great company, happy pets and perhaps a gorgeous fireworks show to end this holiday. Sometime during your festivities today, I would like you to take a moment to ponder something that has been keeping my mind occupied this weekend. On Friday a great man named Elie Wiesel passed away at age 87. He was not born an American, no, he was born in Romania and did not become a U.S. citizen until 1963. Elie Wiesel is one of those brave souls that survived the Holocaust, as you can read in his book ‘Night.’ If you have never read this little paperback, I strongly suggest you go find a copy. The images and feelings he was able to convey in so few pages is astounding. It will change you on a fundamental level. You are probably wondering why I mention him on the day we celebrate our country- and it’s rather simple, I think we all have a lot we can learn from him, a lesson we are in desperate need of.

I think we are all well aware of the state of the world that we live in. Every day there is news of another bombing, another shooting, more refugees without homes, crumbling economies, starving families, death and destruction. We see so much that it is easy to turn our backs so that we do not have to feel the daily pain that these stories will cause. What can we do to help, after all? We are just one voice, no one will listen to us. It is moments like this that we must remember the voices who cannot speak. We must hear the stories to keep them from happening again instead of standing idly by.

It is easy to say that one voice cannot make a different, it can be carried away with the wind, there is no power there. But one voice speaking out may give others the same courage. And then you have two, three, a chorus, a symphony- you cannot be ignored. The world we live in is always changing- sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse. And every generation has to fight to find their place in it. Every generation feels lost because they came into this world when it was in dire straits. I hate to say this- but our world is always in this condition.

I have fallen for this logic too. Why should I speak out when there is no one to listen to me? I despise confrontation, and the last thing I ever want to do is offend someone. But where do you draw the line between keeping people happy and doing what is right? If you stand by and do nothing, are you just as guilty?

Now, I typically do not discuss my personal or political opinions unless I am specifically asked. Today, however, upon remembering his stories and his lessons, I find myself searching for something deeper within myself. He always said that the greatest sin was indifference. And I believe there is something to be said for the notion that a lack of action makes you just as guilty as those taking action. If you stand by and watch the world burn, how is it any different from you holding the match?

We find ourselves in a unique set of circumstance, able to easily reach out and have our voices heard through the advent of social media. We also have the responsibility that comes with information being immediately within our grasp; if we bother to look, we can see everything- the refugee crisis, the economic collapse, war, hate crimes, the fate of the political arena- there are so many problems, it is easy to get overwhelmed. So we look away, find something fun to fill our time, tell ourselves that it is not our responsibility. But we are wrong. Today, on the day that we celebrate our country and the values that it stands for, and in honor of this fallen hero, I make a promise to myself- I will not forget. There will be no more watching in silence, no more telling myself that my voice is so small, it will not matter. My voice alone may not make a difference, but if it finds others- we could become a roaring ocean. The world that we live in is a dark and scary place, and like the characters in our stories, we must all learn to take a stand, to say that enough is enough. I don’t have much to offer, just my humble written words- but perhaps that could be enough. If I can get through to just one person, then it was not in vain.

So tonight, as you watch the beautiful fireworks shows and enjoy the company of friends and families, take a moment to remember why we are doing this: because there were a few voices who decided to speak, who brought a fledgling nation to action. It started out as just a simple idea and it changed the world. I don’t know if my voice will ever make a difference, but at least I can be comfortable in the fact that I did not stand idly by and watch events take place. I am not a simple bystander to my life. We all live here, we all have a duty to stand up for our beliefs. We have a responsibility to speak for those who have no voice- we do this in hopes that someday, if we ever lose ours, someone else will be brave enough to speak for us.

Learning to Let Go: Decluttering and Moving On

When I was a little girl I remember deciding that it was time for me to ‘grow up’ and let go of childish things. So I packed all of my stuffed animals and barbies into large pastic bags, shut my eyes and tied the tops before running back to my room in fear that I would re-open them. There was one bear in particular- I called him Big Bear, and he was ‘the bear,’ the one I slept with every night and drug to the couch with me when I was sick. I put him in the bag too, despite the pang I felt in my heart at the prospect. He deserved to bring another little kid as much joy as he had brought me, I reasoned. My bear was not done giving, but I was just too old to keep taking. This is a decision that I still regret, even as a 27 year old woman who has no need for stuffed friends to cuddle with at night and chase the monsters away (my dog is perfectly capable of both tasks).

There are moments in life when purging your possessions is the most liberating feeling you can create; a declaration of your own personal independence in our materialistic world. On the flip side, there are also moments where you go into the challenge kicking and screaming, clinging to your familiar surroundings like they will be able to postpone the inevitable. This last week started out as the latter and morphed into the former.

It had only been a couple of years since my fiancé and I downsized from a three bedroom house (albeit, one we shared with roommates), into what was essentially a master bedroom and one smaller room. It seemed that many of our superfluous items didn’t make it through that purge into the new home. So when I found out we were downsizing yet again (and rather quickly, I might add) I panicked a bit internally. How could we possibly make it work when we had nothing left to give up?

As it turns out, that was a baseless fear. As I was cleaning out the closets I realized that when we had moved the last time, I had been surprisingly good at neatly squirreling away large quantities of items into a small space without it even being noticeable. I was actually a bit of a magician in that regard- who knew. The downside: I still had plenty of possessions to part with. So the next dreaded question: how could I possibly decide what was worth keeping, and what wasn’t?

I’ll be the first to admit that I get overly attached to inanimate object, I always have. And I guess a part of me feels a strange level of responsibility to these items when it comes to finding them a good home. I was a bit leery of my own capabilities to purge these things from my life. I expected it would be a draining task- I did not anticipate how much I would learn about myself in the process. It shouldn’t have been all that surprising: if you ever want to learn what a person is all about, just look at the possessions they surround themselves with. These are the things that I learned while mired down in the contents of my closet.

I own many mementos from the people who have passed from my life. I cherish them for the sole reason that they once belonged to people I have loved and lost. I always refused to let go of the items because it felt like letting go of the person. And yet, that’s not really the case.

Let’s reverse the scenario, if I had passed, I wouldn’t be offended if my sister got rid of that old pair of sneakers I used to wear. They’re just shoes, they aren’t me. I can picture my grandma up there laughing at how much stock I put into an old dress I will never be able to wear- just because it had belonged to her. A person does not get passed down through their items. If you aren’t going to use it and it doesn’t have a specific strong memory for you- those you loved will not be upset if you give their possessions a fresh start with someone who will enjoy them. They wont do anyone any good just sitting in your closet.

This was hard for me, it took me a bit of time sifting, but eventually I managed to part with the things I wouldn’t use. I kept a few meaningful mementos that will make me smile every time I pull them out; a t-shirt I can wear to bed that still smells like her, a tiny quilt from when she taught me to sew, a watch he got that was engraved with the year I was born; these are all little things that I can enjoy every day without feeling suffocated by the ghosts of what once was. I have my memories, my picures. You have to remember that letting go of the items doesn’t mean you are letting go of them. It means you are allowing the things they loved to have a new life.

I tend to collect things for the woman I expect to be someday. For example: I owned 10 pairs of high heels- and yet, I currently wear flats to work about 95% of the time. I have always had this image of my future self in a pencil skirt, fitted blazer and cute heels: a strong, successful woman, polished and pulled together, exuding confidence for the first time in my life. In reality when I wear them I look like a baby giraffe learning to take her first steps, and then when you add in the fact that I am suddenly a foot taller than everyone else- my awkwardness becomes blindingly apparent.

I used to feel guilty when I thought about giving up these things that were imbued with the image of the person I thought I would become- it felt like I was giving up on her. I didn’t like the prospect of admitting that I would never become that woman I had always envisioned. But this time around, I looked at it through a different lens. I am not that woman- but in some ways, I am so much better. I don’t need cute clothes or shoes to show the world who I am. I want my possessions to tell the story of who I am, and those things don’t speak a truthful word.

Decluttering your life is about finding what is important to you and making sure that is your focus. It’s about nurturing the things that you love and releasing the distractions that surround you. What it really comes down to is deciding what makes you happy. You don’t have to be a minimalist- it doesn’t work for everyone, believe me, I have tried. But if you enjoy your books- keep the entire shelf full. Or if watching movies is how you wind down, then don’t force yourself to part with them in the name of organization. But if you have had that jewelry making kit in your closet for the past year and half- and still haven’t touched it, well, perhaps its time to give that kit to someone who might enjoy it now. It doesn’t mean you will never attempt that new hobby, but it might mean that right now you just have too many other things in your life.

If our possessions are a reflection of ourselves: what do I want mine to say? What is truly important to me? The answers to these questions are the things that should permeate my life. I don’t need all of the extras to color in the margins when I know who I am. I am a writer, a pet owner, a baker, a crafter, a professional, an avid reader, a lover of warm drinks in the mornings, adventures and the outdoors. I kept this in mind- and now when you look at the items I have left surrounding me, you can start to get a clearer picture of what it means to be Katie. Sometimes it does a bit of good to think of your space as real estate, as clinical as that may sound. I know where most of my time is spent, and I know what I want to spend a few more of my weekly hours on. For example: the top three things that take up my free time are: writing, reading, and walking the dog/hiking. When you take this in mind, it becomes fairly obvious that I should give my writing space a larger percentage of my personal real estate, instead of making more room for that shoe rack or the sewing machine that has not left it’s box in the two years I have owned it. So what are you willing to ‘spend’ your space on? Thank about the way you want to spend your time and learn to let go of the rest using this idea.

Letting go is difficult, after all, I bought all of these things for a reason, I feel obligated to have a reason to dismiss them. But I don’t need one. I need to remember that some of the things I own are just that- simply items. But to someone else they could become a favorite movie, their best date shoes, or the book that they will read 50 times and never grow tired of. The items that are just ‘things’ to me could become someone else’s treasured possession. I could be the one thing keeping them from enjoying it more than I ever could.

I used to reason that I was a creative soul, and that a little bit of clutter was good for me. But really, in the end I was simply holding onto things that were holding me back. When you hold onto your past, you don’t give yourself any room for the future. You become inflexible and stale. Simple tasks morph into something daunting. And to be honest- now that we’ve gone through and taken so many things away- I feel so much better. I know that more will be following, now that I am ready to let go. I am constantly evolving, it only makes sense that the things I surround myself will too.

Happy Father’s Day

My dad never told me how to live my life, he simply set an example for me to follow. He was always a strong man. I know every kid believes that, but he always proved me right. My dad was a firefighter- he worked harder than anyone I’ve ever known, did everything he could to make our lives better. And then when I was in second grade, something happened that would change our lives forever. He was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.

It was devastating. My dad was strong, he could fight off the monsters and keep the darkness at bay. His career consisted of saving lives and running into burning buildings when everyone else was running out. He was also on the K-9 search and rescue team where he responded to major disasters like the Oklahoma City bombing. His life was built around his strength- both mental and physical. And suddenly, he couldn’t walk across our yard without a cane. He would be driving down the road and would suddenly lose his vision. And perhaps worst of all for him- he couldn’t work on the line anymore, he had to move to a desk to support his wife and four children. For such an active man, the reality of losing control over your own body must have been shattering, but he never breathed a word about it. He continued on, pushing through and persevering.

It was a rough year- when we were still learning what the disease meant and what it could do to him. And then there was the game of discovering the right medication- it was like playing Russian roulette, you never knew what to expect from each one. Would this one make him grumpy? Would it make things worse? Or would it help his limp go away? Eventually life settled into a new routine, most days the cane went away, but the limp was still there. We knew we would never be the same again. MS is an invisible disease, no one would ever be able to see the daily struggle, but it was always there, hidden under the surface.

We all have bad things happen in our lives. Some people let those things define them. People will use these moments as an excuse, a crutch. My dad used his moment as a challenge. He never let his disease stand in his way. He couldn’t be on the line at work anymore, so he worked twice as hard at the desk- ensuring safety for his men, occasionally going in for practice burns. He wouldn’t always tell us when a relapse was hitting because he knew we would try to make him slow down. My dad only knows one speed: go. He fought through the pain, the discomfort, the fear. He chose to define his disease, he was not going to let it control him. He stayed active. He was strong in every way possible.

He would never let anything stop him. Even when he fractured both of his legs- they didn’t need casts because of the location of the fractures, and they hurt, but not that bad- so he kept running. Every single day. He would never let anything stop him.

And because of that, I have leaned to do the same. The worst moments in my life do not define me, I decide what matters. I wont let anything stop me, even when it seems impossible. He has always believed in me, so I can believe in myself. He taught me that you have to work hard to accomplish your goals, nothing will ever just be handed to you. You need to be thankful for everything you have- even your health is a precious commodity that might not always be available to you. He taught me to make the best of everything, you only live once and you might as well enjoy it. And when all else fails- take a break, go outside and enjoy nature- because it is the most healing element in the world.

I see a lot of my dad when I look at myself: my work ethic, my stubbornness, my nerdy jokes (I can dad-joke with the best of them), my belief that even the craziest dreams are possible- so many things I got from him. I am proud of him, of everything he has accomplished and all of the things that he has taught me. We shouldn’t appreciate our father’s only one day a year. But sometimes it is good to be reminded of what is important. He is the most influential person in my life. At 27 years, I can still say my dad is my hero. And for that, I thank him. Everything I am can be traced back to him. So for all of the lessons, all of the unconditional love, all of the times you simply shook your head when I brought home another ‘winner’: thank you dad, for everything.

Introverted (I’d love to hang out, but…)

It’s a frustrating paradox that the most fulfilling moments in my life happened when my stomach was twisted with nerves, my anxiety was at a fevered pitch, and every synapse in my body was firing off warning signs, begging to understand how I could have possibly been so stupid as to agree to the activity at hand. So many fond memories that I am so proud of now, moments that have been able to enrich my body and soul- what would have happened if I had been too afraid? The white water rafting trip, jumping off that bridge into the river, telling that one special man that I loved him, getting on that plane to Vegas, pushing off on that zip line, going in for that job interview, going out to that one happy hour with the friends that feel more like family now- everything that makes me who I really am happened in these moments. So why do I fight them inside on such a fundamental level?

I am an introvert to a textbook degree, I practically embody that definition. I prefer my solitude- books are my constant companions, I would choose staying at home and watching my newest Netflix obsession in my pajamas with my fiancé over going out with a group of people, without the slightest hint of hesitation. I crave my down time, my moments spent lost in my own thoughts, not having to constantly analyze the social cues of others. I get invited to social occasions- and in the moment that I agree I am so excited, but five minutes after the person leaves, I am plotting the most inconspicuous way of getting out of it. And it’s nothing against them, though I’m sure they wouldn’t understand that if I tried to honestly explain it. That cliché line of ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ doesn’t seem to go over very well. A million possible excuses start dancing through my mind- can’t say I’m sick, it’s too transparent, and besides, I used that last Wednesday. How about broken leg? I’ve never broken my leg before- yes, that one could work. But would it be painful or expensive? (For those of you without social anxiety, you are probably wondering why on earth I could ever be considering actual threat of bodily harm to get out of something that you wouldn’t even think twice about doing. Then again, those of you with it will probably be nodded your head in understanding and pointing me to the nearest staircase to throw myself down).

I get anxious in social situations, deeply uncomfortable with small talk. Perhaps its deep-seeded insecurities rising to the surface, perhaps I’m just wired differently. Don’t get me wrong- I can still go out and have fun, I have a group of friends who I adore, I look forward to my happy hours just like everyone else. I’m not like Sheldon, I can read social cues as well as the next person, and 95% of the time you wont even be able to tell that I’m uncomfortable. It’s an internal battle I’ve learned to mask over the years. I have a Batman exterior over my Bruce Wayne inner thoughts. No one will see what I’m really feeling unless I decide to show them. So when I go out, I am fine, I smile, I joke, I laugh, it may seem that I just take a bit longer to test the waters. But inside I am weighing every word I just said, watching your reaction and calculating what every twitch of your nose might mean. And when the night of fraternization is over, I will be exhausted right down to my core. Again- it’s not you, it’s me.

So here is the ultimate dilemma of the introvert, the socially awkward, the one who’s tummy ties itself in knots at the thought of small talk with someone I’m not already intimately familiar with: do you step out of that box and join the rest of the world, in spite of your flat lining comfort levels; or do you stay at home and plan for the ‘next time’ when you will be brave enough? Or perhaps simply plan to tackle that adventure solo. I know which one I would like to be, but I am also painfully aware of which one I really am. For those of you who live for the social scene, I am sure that this will sound strange to you- the way that someone like me can fear and simultaneously crave these moments that you live for.

It gets exhausting, letting those ill-conceived phobias rule you. I am a firm believer that the more you push yourself outside of your own comfortable little box, the easier it will be. So this year I’ve decided to challenge myself to say yes more- and actually follow through, no matter how much the insecure little girl inside wants to throw herself on the ground kicking and screaming until she is allowed to just stay at home. The best parts of life are when you are dangling out on that limb. But today I need a reminder of that, of why I am trying to make myself painfully uncomfortable all of the time.

And so I look back at the past few months, at all of the good things that happened because I chose to be brave instead of comfortable. I applied for a new job within my organization- and I got it. I love it, there is not an ounce of regret when I look back at that decision. I went to a dealership and bought a car that wouldn’t threaten to break down on me every other Thursday (to someone with social anxiety- stepping into the car dealership is like Harry Potter entering a Death Eater nest- you know going in that it will be ugly, and will not be over quickly). I went on a trip to Vegas, something completely new for me. I went zip lining down Freemont street. I put myself out there and started this blog- and people are actually looking at it on occasion (still blows my mind). All of these things have happened in the past few months alone. I have been trying so hard.

I have come to a conclusion in the past year, one that was painful to accept; these feelings that I get- they wont ever go away. No matter how hard I try to overcome them, pushing myself out of my comfort zone over and over again in the hopes that I will learn to stop being afraid of social situations- that will never happen. This is a war that has to be fought one battle at a time. I have to deal with my phobias head on one moment at a time, blow by blow. I have to struggle, I have to fight the inner child constantly reminding me that one trip down the stairs could solve all of my problems. I have to fight to say ‘yes’ and then build myself up until I actually follow through. I will always be awkward, I will always feel stupid at the end of the conversation, I will always feel my heart start pounding in a panic when I agree to do something new. But I have to keep doing it. Not to make it easier in the long run, because the individual decisions will never be easier. I have to do it so that next time I want to say no, I will have one more reason backing up my decision to say yes. I will have one more memory of a time I decided to be brave and had an adventure. After all, what is life worth if you are too afraid to experience it? I cannot let my fear dictate my actions anymore. I will be brave- awkward, yes- but brave.

Things I Learned from my Dog

In honor of best friends day, I have a confession to make. You were bound to find out sooner or later, I would much rather be up front about it. I am one of ‘those’ pet people. There, it’s out! Wow, does it feel like a weight has been lifted or what? I will admit, I like putting Easter bunny ears or Santa hats on the dog when the correct season arrives. And there is a slight possibility that I have a picture of him sporting a human jersey for my favorite football team (I’ll leave the specific team anonymous for now- I think it’s best that I only throw one bombshell on you at a time). And really, he doesn’t seem to mind; after all, I do occasionally make him his very own cake (Okay- I’ve only done it once, and it was when he turned a year old- that doesn’t seem all that unreasonable to me, I think I’m quite tame for a pet person). Now the cat- he’s the smart one, he’s managed to escape all of my photo sessions simply because, well, he has discovered how to use his claws. That’s a battle I only fought once- I learned my lesson. The cat rules our roost. But really, I’m not that bad. I just love my critters. In my mind, pets are a part of the family. A large part of the family.

When we brought home the little ball of fur that has since morphed into a 75 lbs mass of muscle and sloppy kisses, I had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. I had expected that I would be teaching him; how to come, stay, roll over, don’t bark, eat the burglar, do not eat the mailman (no matter how tasty he looks). I never expected that I would be learning so many lessons from him. Here are just a few of them:

Always be excited to see your people. ALWAYS. It doesn’t matter if you’ve had a rough day, or they didn’t change the toilet paper roll (or they moved the bone that you finally managed to hide in the perfect spot under the covers)- be excited to see them and you will brighten their day.
A walk will fix everything. It’s so easy to get caught up in the daily grind. Link is always quick to give me a little yip when the sun is shining and I have spent too long working on my laptop. Sometimes all you need to push that reset button is a breath of fresh air and some sunshine.

Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, because looks are often deceiving. Link is a German Shepherd- he is supposed to be tough and scary. But, as I’ve learned- sometimes it is the ‘toughest’ ones that actually have the biggest hearts. And sometimes those who give the appearace of being unusually serious are the biggest goofballs of all.
Respect the ‘little guy’: treat everyone equally, whether they are a Grate Dane or a little Chiuaua, treat them well. You’ll be much happier making friends than enemies.

Just because someone barks at you, does not mean you have to bark back.
Down time is important. When you feel overwhelmed, sometimes the best thing you can do is find a quiet corner and chew on a bone
Be slow to anger and quick to forgive: It’s okay if the cat thinks its funny to bop your nose and run away when you want to nap. And if he gets you with his claws on accident, why not answer him with a big sloppy kiss instead of a nip. After all, he does let you chase him sometimes. He can’t be all bad.
Work time is for work, and play time is for play. You need both to feel happy and fulfilled.
When you are in a bad mood, sometimes all you need is a snack. And if a snack doesn’t work- a nap is usually the perfect trick.
When someone is sick or sad- cuddles are always the best medicine.
Never be embarrassed: who cares if you ran into the wall? You were busy staring at that suspicious squirrel on the fence.
It isn’t whether you win the game that counts, as long as you play. Missing the ball just means you get the added adventure of sniffing it out.
If it seems like the cat is doing something naughty- he is. Whine and alert the humans immediately.
Always be willing to make new friends, but be wary who you allow close to you (anything with shooting quills is usually a bad idea)
Always trust your intuition, it is usually right.
Be ambitious- why settle for a stick when you can take the whole log?

Be curious about the world- there are so many new things to learn, taste, see, smell. You will never learn unless you try.
Be passionate- always. The world is an exciting place, if you are willing to embrace it.