“When you grow up you’ll understand…”

It’s true when they say “when you grow up you’ll understand.” While this doesn’t necessarily imply you’ll know everything at once, like what to do with your life or who you are really meant to be and all that so-called important stuff… you’ll understand what matters most.

Every relationships you harvest and grow (yep, you’re like a little family/friend farmer) are how you begin to identify yourself, learn from, grow into, and become that little person you were meant to be. While I could go on forever about taking in all that is around you (especially the people), I am referring to my parents.

My parents were the one’s who told me most “when you grow up you’ll understand.”

Alright Mom and Dad, I sure don’t have it all figured out, but I can’t thank you enough.

Thank you for taking my cell phone away at night all throughout high school. Thank you for never giving into unlimited texting until I was about to graduate. As silly as this sounds, you taught me that communication is important. So important that it shouldn’t be done in an emotionless, technology driven form. It should be done face to face, in the moment. We are supposed to connect with people; not with a screen.

Thank you for taking me to see my grandparents (all three sets) growing up. They spoiled me beyond belief. From toy chests just for the grand babies to a few extra cookies; you let it happen. You let it happen because you love me. You know the importance of grandmas and grandpas and just how much they can make a little girl feel unconditionally loved by someone who even loves their parents too. And that’s important; it taught me the value of family. 

Thank you for letting me play outside. No matter how muddy my boots were or how dirty my hands, you made it happen. Dad put in swings and a tree fort first thing. This was much different than how when you were young and you could just run down the street, but you didn’t let the ease of putting in a movie become your parenting. Because no matter what kind of mess we made or the scrapes on our knees, you let us wander and just be. We were anything we wanted; from playing “olden days” to town, our imaginations ran wild. This gives a little girl the ability to dream big; not just in elementary school, but for the rest of her life too.

Thank you for encouraging me to pursue my dreams. These started with wanting to be a ballerina for five years. And when that didn’t pan out and neither did ice-skating (which I now know is because I am far from graceful), you let me ride horses even when mom was a bit scared of them. You let me take up tennis, volleyball, and some more horseback riding. You let my little heart wander, but it didn’t stop there. You let me move 30 minutes from home to pursue rowing and then to up and throw it all away to be a sorority girl in a city that I have grown to love. You have had my back on the multiple jobs I’ve taken and tolerate my obsession with working out. And now somehow the tutu wearing, horseback riding, and sorority days are over and I am graduating college. Whoa.

I guess what I have to say really is thank you for being present. You two are the greatest gift a little girl and soon- to-be college graduate could ever receive. I have been blessed. Blessed by two parents who value healthy relationships, family, exploring, and pursuing dreams. Now that I have (sort of) grown up, I can say that I understand. I understand all the rules, curfews, and late night talks. You were shaping me into someone who really appreciates this beautiful ride in life. Thank you for continually teaching and loving on me.

Coastal Journey

Leaving L.A. this past summer I set out on a bucket-list trip to travel up the California coast. While I’ve obviously been quite delayed in sharing my story, I guess it hasn’t truly hit me until now how much the journey really meant to me.

I found beauty. The beauty of the thrill of an adventure, without phone service at times, and a best friend.

Our trip began in the beautiful Manhattan Beach; a place I was lucky enough to call home all summer. We weren’t so good at the whole task of leaving the Los Angeles area with our first stop being Venice Beach, then Zuma Beach, and Malibu. But we did get going at some point; most likely only because we had to meet my family in San Luis Obispo that evening for dinner and then the journey continued the next day.

Every time we stopped the car, my feet had to feel the water and my lungs took in the ocean air. It was as if a part of me thought something might be different to this beach than the last. But that wasn’t it. I was as giddy as a child, taking in every moment. It was simplicity and I needed all that I could get.

It was an adventure of beautiful scenery that a picture won’t ever be able to capture. And you don’t know the feeling it will bring you until you see it for yourself. It’s a sight so captivating it reminds you what it really feels like to be living. None of the superficial stuff; just pure whole-hearted beauty.

The adventure taught me the feeling of living in the moment a bit better than before. If you feel like pulling over the car, do it.

It taught me that those that matter most will always be there. So what if it takes a flight out to see one another. A friendship like that goes unchanged no matter how long the time between might be.

It gave me a reason to never ever give up on going back. I know it every time I look at a picture from this summer. Going back to where my heart is whole and somewhere I find my own simplicity.

Electric.

It’s electric. It’s passion. It’s love and it’s lust.

It’s waking up in the morning without a worry in the world.

It’s simple, even when it’s a mess.

The fights lead to make ups.

But most importantly, it never stops.

Electric love that lights fire….. Your world, on fire.

It was.

It wasn’t a fairytale.
It wasn’t how they say it should be
and it didn’t go how they said it would either.
It wasn’t supposed to last long.
Just another one along the way.
But it wasn’t.

It was all the emotional pain.
It was the uncontrollable feelings.
It was friendship
and fear.
It was passion
and endless nights.
It was beautiful.

And in the end
it hurt.
And the pain still stings a bit.
But it was real.

How the barbell saved me from myself

All women have been there; that emotional battle of trying to become what our culture wants you to be; the perfect size.

I had weight loss pills shoved in my drawers, shakes under my bed, and a constantly anxious voice in my head… Writing this now, I am absolutely horrified of the person I once was.

As a culture we act like it is so shocking for women to become “sick” because of their obsession with physical appearance, but we have done it to ourselves. We are constantly swimming amongst a toxic environment of “look like this”, but “not like that”.

At the age of 15 I begun my descent into the toxic pool of an obsession with my appearance and it was a very long journey until I found my way out. I was consumed with filling the role of being the popular guy’s girlfriend. But instead, anxiety was eating me from the inside out.

From this time forward I was angry and unhappy. I took it out on my family and I found myself trying to constantly fill this role of being “perfect.” Looking back, it all seems to be this complicated mess of growing up that led me down the path I followed, but it kind of goes like this:

All I have ever known is what it is like to be compared to others; I was born that way. I am blessed with a twin sister. Through thick and thin she will always be my best friend, but it isn’t easy to have grown up constantly chasing one another’s shadows. And every kid experiences that; whether they’re a twin or not.

From this frustration and confusion with self-identity I was diagnosed with anxiety and OCD at the age of 16. I still hate those labels of having a disease. They always show up in big bold red letters on the top of every single one of my hospital records… But now I just remind myself that normal is boring anyways. In the midst of my diagnosis I developed an eating disorder. It was the only thing I could control.

Sleep was almost completely out of the question for me at the time; as my mind was constantly running. So, I let my body do the same. I would wake up every morning before high school to visit the gym; constantly counting calories burned to “earn my food for the day”. And I’m not talking anything outside of usual meals. I literally wanted to burn enough calories to eat just barely enough to get by. Trying to plan my next diet item to buy was my obsession and it didn’t stop.

I went back and forth until the age of 20. Everyone just learned to call me that girl who is always at the gym, but it was still a control thing for me. I wanted to be perfect; but instead, I found myself perfectly miserable. There was something in me screaming to be let out but I was too concerned about my appearance.

Over the last two years, I can happily say I am no where near the person I once was and this all came from a 45 lb barbell…

I had first been introduced to olympic lifting with an athletics class for women in high school. I loved it. Moving weight around was so empowering, but I wasn’t so sure about the whole muscular stature thing back in the day.

While I can’t stamp a perfect time and date, I can tell you that what I have found has truly changed my perspective not only on myself, but life. Somewhere in the midst of my sophomore year of college when I was first introduced to CrossFit I found myself. No, I am not going to go on some rant about how CrossFit is the ultimate solution, but for me putting my hands on a barbell was…

I have learned how eating clean makes me feel good. Screw any concern with how much I am eating, I am all about fueling my body to perform. (Well isn’t that a much different thought process) But getting stronger is empowering. Learning new movements is humbling and takes patience; but they teach you dedication. Celebrating the dedication to these movements when you finally succeed is uplifting. Being apart of a group of people who believe you can do anything is like having a second family. And what I love most is the little girl who hated herself is gone.

Sure, I’m not perfect. But I am strong. My body is capable of moving things, supporting me, and letting me be healthy. A muscular stature for a woman isn’t manly; it’s the sign of dedication to becoming a better version of myself. A version of myself that no longer cares about what size I am or finding clothes that fit. I am a far better person dressed in the happiness I have found and I am so grateful to share it with others. So if you ever wonder where all my enthusiasm comes from, you have a barbell to thank for that one.

 

Go jump off the edge.

Somehow I’ve found myself on the brink of a meltdown and miracle. There sure is a fine line of teetering when throwing caution to the wind. You let go of everything you know in hopes of the fact that everything you want is out there.

Sounds like one hell of a risk to me.

But you find a way to make it work.

While you tumble between what you left behind and where you’re going, there’s a rare form of beauty in the chaos.

The beauty of happiness, uncertainty, and risk. It’s moments like these that define us.

I am quickly learning where I was, where I am, and where I need to be. There’s a long way before settling, but embracing change is everything to me.

I was amongst the warmth of loving friends. I was thriving somewhere where I never thought I would be. I found happiness in a city that I once refused to consider. I created a routine, a familiarity. But most importantly, a family.

But as usual, I woke up one day and knew it was time to go. Time to spend that energy on something else; something more. I had this beautiful idea in my head of how it was going to be and it always ends up being something much different than that. But different is good.

Different is right where I have needed to be. Different is teaching me to appreciate what I have, where I am going, and what I have created.

What I know now is that what may be the basis of all that you know, the foundation to who you have come to be, may just be a stepping stone. Sometimes what you’re most comfortable with is the one thing you need to find some way to walk away from.

Walk far, far away.
Actually, scratch that. Run.
Sprint.
Go jump off the edge.

Actions speak louder than words… or selfies/tweets/posts/and everything in-between

I can sit here and write whatever I want you to think of me to be.

I can fulfill your hopes that I am some inspirational person, who strives to make the world a better place. Although that would be great, I am not.

And just because I can put on a show that I am, doesn’t mean I am going to be that person either.

I am beginning to feel like our culture is being taken over by the ‘idea’ of what we are doing, rather than doing what we are doing. We have developed this need to claim who we are, rather than to just be.

So sure, I am just as guilty of the #tweets, inspirational quote posting, and selfies… but they aren’t to make you think I am something I am not.

I am a raw, in the moment, expressive person. I believe in making people happy. This wasn’t something I chose to please you, or even my momma for that matter. It was who I became naturally.

It is the result of parents who have always loved me unconditionally. The result of learning what does and doesn’t work by trial and error. It was learning to own those mistakes. It has been a series of trying new things and changing others.

But most importantly, it has been a matter of embracing the moments.

Not the moments I caught to post on Instagram. But the kind that feed the soul…

Like the feeling of how my Nana always rubbed me down after a bath when I was little girl. And the way she always seemed to have the warmest of hugs and a twinkle in her eye.

Or the reassurance of friends in life that have undoubtedly always been there; even if it means surprising me at the end of a marathon.

Like the feeling of rolling down your windows as you approach your small town and just knowing that you’re home.

Or the way that each day brings new hope in every sunrise.

Like that feeling of accomplishment when you finally finish something that you’ve set your mind to… A lifting PR works just great for me 😉

I could go on about all those little things…But you get the point.

Life is about passion. Life is about thriving and seeking the unknown. Life is about doing.

That’s the beauty of living. You become by what you discover and experience… not, what you say. So stop with the image and go out there and ‘do’.

Writing you off

I wrote you off from the beginning as trouble. 

I wrote you off as something I should never begin to know. 

I wrote you off again after I let you in. 

And now I can’t even begin to write a single word.  It wasn’t supposed to go this way. I wasn’t ever supposed to get to know you. I knew from the beginning that it wouldn’t go anywhere, but it did. I was wrong. 

It started with fear and nerves. I didn’t know where it was going and I never wanted it to start. But I had a compassionate heart and I couldn’t help but give into what you were. As I shared it with you, you let me right in. And from there I was lost. 

Lost in the idea that I was somewhere I shouldn’t be, but it just worked. You understood me. You taught me to see things differently. You still understand me. With you I can just be. I love to hate it. 

I hate that you know my highs and lows. I hate that you know just what to say. I hate that you have perfect timing. I hate that you will do all the little things to make me happy, keep me warm, and let me snuggle up. 

I hate that I just now truly know you love to hate it too after all this time. I hate that you care just as much as I do and always have, because I wrote you off a long time ago.  I thought I was just another one along the way. But I am not and neither are you. 

But it will never be that simple. I will always love to hate it and so now I am doing my best to walk away. But this time writing anything off is the hardest sentence I’ve ever tried to start. 

Chaos.

I live for it. It is simply what I do. 

…And I love it. 

I have so many things to write about and reflect on that have happened over the past few days. But I guess I will just start with this. 

My life always seems to fall into place in the midst of what people consider to be chaos. 

I just got back from a fabulous trip to LA, where we were up every morning before 6 am (at the latest). The weekend away included a trip to the beach, too much eating, a half-marathon, and Disneyland! I came back feeling like a little kid all over again; as the reality of work and school actually left my mind for a bit. 

Reality sure made its dramatic entrance right back in though. School started today (I am taking more credits than usual). And why not add on the fact that I am taking on a second job… on top of being a student, coaching, supervising, and Greek life.

It’s a beautiful mess that I truly believe will lead me in the right direction some day… As I say, someone’s gotta do it.  

 

This isn’t a storybook

When you’re little you have this idea that life is going to pan out just the way they tell you it will be. The fairytales create the plot and your parents always tell you can be whoever you want to be. Naturally, at the age of 5 you know you are going to be one thing forever, happy.

Life was simple.

My biggest worry seemed to be waking up to claim my favorite water baby before my twin sister did… what a stressful thing. It was easy back then. We colored huge chalk murals in the street for hours on end and created our own imaginary towns.

But as elementary school took its toll, fairytales fell far out of the picture by the age of 13.

By the age of 13, life was consumed with fitting in, getting the best grade, and dating (or at least what we thought was dating). The littlest things were absolutely HUGE in our minds and the next few years were stressful.

It’s stress you put on yourself at that age; so consumed by your image and who was cool and who was not. Even at a small-town K through 8th grade elementary school, the pressure was on for me.

I was angry growing up. Angry from the 8th grade through about my junior year of high school. It came and went; varying throughout the years. I wasn’t known for this by any means, but my family definitely saw the worst of it. And let me just say, it wasn’t their fault. I had one of the greatest upbringings I could ever ask for.

Plain and simple; high school was hard and I was pretty lost. I wanted to fit in. I dated the older guy; stud athlete and high school jokester. My life became consumed with taking care of him. We were on and off. The terrible heartbreaks and lies were ever present in such a young relationship. Looking back today, it all taught me so much. But at that time, I became a little more lost. I struggled with who I was, because I was so lost in him. I got a job not long after turning 16. I became involved in everything. Just trying to make my own identity; yet, I was always there to cater to anyone else.

I soon developed an unhealthy obsession with working out and eating. It was all that I could solely control. My weight varied and my anxiety and OCD sky-rocketed.  I saw a therapist for help. She was like the little light at the end of the tunnel, but I had to learn my own way.

It wasn’t until right before my senior year of high school that one day I suddenly thought to myself “I quit.”

And that is exactly what I did. I wiped my hands clean and did my best to walk away from everything I had known.

It wasn’t easy. And it was down-right messy. But that mess is exactly why I am writing today.

It took me two years of ups and downs to then sink into the me I am. It took a man treating me like a princess for me to finally see my worth. It took taking on huge leadership roles and learning to love everyone around. It took that same man eventually playing with my heart to realize I had to find a way to stand on my own two feet. I could go on forever of all the trials I faced.

But what is most important, is that I appreciate them. I wouldn’t take back anything from my experience in my small-town and all that I faced. But I never ever want to go back to being that angry girl.

I can’t say life is always perfect now. But I now know what it means to be happy; the 5 year-old simple kind of happy.

I love people. I am loud, spontaneous, and I have completely come into my own. I still wake up telling myself somedays that “I quit” and that is exactly what I do. I quit the things that are too much and unhealthy for me. If I feel any sort of negative energy from anyone, I am out in a heartbeat. But I also do my best to see the best in everybody. People are awesome; simple as that. I love life, and it really does seem to love my right back.

So yes, I am only 21 and in college. There is a lot of reality ahead. But I don’t really care what my profession is, where I live, and who I marry… that fairytale is a hoax. Sure, that stuff is so so important. But it will come in time. I am just going to keep doing this ‘happy’ thing that my 5 year old self always dreamed of. If my ‘happy’ is traveling the world and waiting to settle, then so be it. This story isn’t by the book; but I’ve never really been too good at listening to the rules anyways. Here’s to you 5 year-old self, you were right. Happy is all I want to be.