On learning that I am OK... {a memoir}

Right out of high school, I was not the most ambitious sort of person.  I had no desire to go off to college, and quite frankly the military scared my pants off, so I did a period of what might be termed "soul searching"... and simply tried to figure out my place in the world.

I worked in a mall for four years during this time... where I discovered is the place most people who can't figure themselves out go.  Some people never leave... even though it can be an excellent stepping stone/ filler between school and career, it's like a wasteland for those still in the high school mentality.  And not trying to generalize, because I know this is a big world full of diverse people... but you would think the teenage part-timers would be the source of most things evil in that line of work. The negative banter about what you are owed to play on your phone all day... the lies told about unpopular co-workers... and the $20 bills missing from the register... these were all crimes generally committed by people old enough to have a care. Seriously, hold me.

My first full-time job was at a lovely home décor shop on the East Wing of an open mall.

We were located behind a bread company and I worked in a stockroom wafting with heavenly odors that possibly went straight to my hips each morning.  My job was opening and arranging all of the new pretty items in perfect rows on countless shelves... which felt a bit like being a Christmas elf.

It was a great place to work, and I had the most wonderful boss.  But when she was promoted and staff shifted, things were not as ideal.  I was not getting the hours that I needed.  I had completed some college, but was taking a break for "direction". Since my future career plans were unclear, I felt maybe it was time I tried climbing the corporate ladder a bit. So I began the nerve-racking {for me} task of fancy-ing my resume, and shamelessly throwing it at every managerial position available.

The first opportunity I had was a chic little boutique within walking distance. I was thrilled when that interview was scheduled, no lie. I walked into that pink building stuffed with over-priced fashion accessories, half-skirts and tops arranged by color.  The manager that met me at the counter was scarcely older than myself, though a great deal blonder and more bosom-y.  She took me to the "office" which resembled a show-girl dressing room I had seen in a movie, complete with light bulb framed mirror, counter top full of tubes of lipstick, and cloth folding chairs covered in lingerie.

She held in her hand my resume which she had clearly reviewed in detail since she called me "Kyrsten" twice. 

"You have some good references here," she didn't smile.  That would have perhaps creased her foundation.  'The thing is, we have, like, really famous people that shop here.  Britney Spears, for instance, loves our store."  <<OK>>  "We have to keep our standards really high, so I'm sorry.  I'm sure your awesome and everything... we just need a certain... look."

And every negative word I could think of would appropriately summarize that person and/or situation.

About a month later, as I walked to the bank I noticed a young man and older woman across the street watching me, and appearing to be talking about me.  I tend to be a little paranoid {particularly when last night's deposit is in my apron pocket}, so when thoughts like this enter my mind, I try to dismiss them quickly.

On my way back from the bank this same guy runs across the street and hands me his card. "Hi, my name is *Jordan, I am the store manager for *Gadgets and Things.  Would you be interested in a job?"

"I... don't know." I answered cautiously. 

He flashed me a smile, and poured out some charm the only bit of which I remember went something like, "Listen, you look like a professional.  Anita, my assistant, put in her two weeks notice and I need to fill her position pronto. I have a sense about people and I just know we would work well together.  Call me of you are interested in a full-time job with benefits."  He ran back across the street, leaving me completely baffled.  Had not a few weeks before, I "not looked the part" for a job?  This was manna, I tell you, pure manna.  Or the worst joke ever.  I wasn't sure.  Was he in cahoots with bronzy-girl?  They were both a certain caliber of person I had come to regard as "out of my league."

I held onto that card for two weeks before I called, and I was convinced that he had pulled the same move a dozen times now probably and the position most likely had been filled.  Much to my surprise, not only was the position still available, but he knew who I was immediately.

I will never forget that job or that guy that hired me.  He ended up being the oddest type of boss ever.  Incredibly tough to please at times, a favorites-player for sure, but he genuinely wanted to be surrounded by people he could consider family.  He would invite me out to dinner and drinks with his wife, and brother.. and friends.  Of course, I eventually took him and the job for granted... At the time, I never really saw how perfect the timing was, or how much of a blessing I had received.

And I guess, this sequence is a reminder that there are silver linings... that when people are mean, and you have done something stupid and embarrassed yourself, or failure just seems to be your star... there will be little stories of successes, and kindnesses, and hope if you just keep trudging along.

I recall that I didn't need a job... I had one... so in a sense, the need provided for here was just the knowledge that I was OK.  I may not be up to Britney's standards, or a whole slew of the gorgeous, rich, or famous. But even a plain little sparrow finds a flock, and an appropriate place to nest with each season.

contentment

 

The day is full of empty pages, 

and I spend my nights wondering 

what could have been written on them.

This world promises nothing.

Even those of us who are pampered

Feel regret, pain, and discontentment. 

But, the Lord grants us fleeting moments of understanding...

That often happen in the indefinable space

Where fully living meets dying to ourselves.

I ran outside in the rain today to photograph

This dandelion with every seed intact.

It was such a perfect and fragile moment.

Even as I crouched there,
Other dandelions were being ripped to shreds 
By the raindrops, now coming in quick supply.

A body that will in minutes be on several individual journeys

Is in this moment still and whole...

And so am I.

Being a Good Girl

Growing up, I was always considered a good girl.

I can remember times when people would tell my parents, "We are so glad our daughter is hanging out with Kristin.  She's a good influence."

The intended compliment stung a little.  Did those girls just want to be with me so they got to mess around and their parents wouldn't suspect anything?  {This happened a time or two.}  Or worse... were they being forced to invite me over and include me?

I was an intense people-pleaser in my childhood.  I was the kind of kid that didn't really need spankings.  For the most part disappointing someone was the worst thing in the world to me, and I was {still am} easily embarrassed.

But as I got older, that need to please became.... confused.  I couldn't please my parents/other adults and blend with my peers.  My insecurities became wrapped in those last shiny years of my teens and labeled with an empty slate.  Other kids my age had so much more... life experience than I had.  I had been steady.  And, I suddenly felt the need to push the boundaries... to see if there was some grand adventure that I’d been missing out on by living life within the lines.  I was torn by my adolescence... and had no idea how to become the sophisticated girl I longed to be.  


I remember when someone told me that I was not the kind of girl boys wanted to date.  I was too intimidating, too pure, too delicate.  I was kind that a boy wanted to marry.  I really didn't understand this, nor did I appreciate it.  I wanted to be a date-worthy girl.  I didn't know why I seemed to be missing the mark.  I mean, I wasn't extremely annoying... or unhygienic... I was a little shy, that's all.

I had my first kiss when I was 18.  That boy loved to torment me about how innocent I was... I know he actually treasured this quality in me, but I felt he had the advantage in everything and that made me uncomfortable.  I didn't want to be known as an innocent, a novice, as someone who was ignorant of life.  

For the first time, my steadiness in being me started to waver, ever so slightly.

I actually remember being surprised by any rebellious thoughts I had. They were so unfamiliar. Perhaps I should have taken that as a sign; those feelings of fighting my very nature. Trying to change what I had been all my life felt much more like an act than anything else. And I think I lost myself a bit...ok, a lot in that act.

During the next few years, I experienced a lot of new things. I made friends with people whom I didn’t always understand. I heard stories that made me blush. I went dancing for the first time. I had my first sip of alcohol.  I relished in those moments when I wasn’t singled out as the “good girl”, for once being seen as one of the group, someone who understood the world, someone who wasn’t afraid, someone who was just out to have fun. It felt nice to blend in.

Of course, the whole time I didn’t feel much like “me”. And I knew I wasn't fooling those who really knew me.  After a certain point, I realized that I didn’t really feel like I was discovering something new about myself; instead, I felt like I was losing something. I’d fight my inner conscience and tell myself I was just figuring out who I was. That this was just the natural progression of life. That there was only so long I could carry on the good girl image before “growing up” and being like everyone else.

Which is something I’ve since learned to be quite untrue.

As I look back on those few years, I wish - more than anything - that I’d never tried to be someone other than who I am. I know it sounds ridiculously cliche, but it’s true. And, sure, there are things that each of us must experience and discover as we go through life. Most of us manage to get a little drunk, kiss the wrong boy, say things we shouldn’t say, make friends with the wrong people,or  become a bit too self-indulgent. But I wish that I would have had more wisdom... and walked the same path without compromising what I am.

Which is, of course, a good girl.  

Being a good girl does not mean being a perfect girl by any means...it is having a comfort zone is slimmer than most.

As much as I hate it, I don't think I will ever quite grow out of caring what people think.  I absolutely crumble when I know I have stepped out of line, or said something foolish... even if it was a mistake {trust me, living a sheltered childhood has gotten me in trouble more than once!}.  I will never be the smooth talker, the cool girl, the witty flirt, or the life of the party.  I’ll most likely always be more comfortable on the couch at home, snuggling with my husband in front of a black and white movie.

I still test my boundaries now and again - and I still fight constantly to find the happy medium between who I am and who I think I should be. I still make mistakes and end up curled under the covers when I realize the person I’ve portrayed isn’t the actual girl I am inside. I still manage to say things I regret and do things I regret and wonder all the while why I should ever be ashamed to show the world what I am, pure and simple.

Because, really? I’m happy being the kind of girl who would rather be home on a Friday night,  writing in a journal and drinking milk out of a wine glass.

At this point in life, whenever I see a kid who looks a little too innocent, a little awkward in her skin, with a face that is too ready to blush... I resist the urge to give her a hug, but I always make eye contact and smile.  These girls always smile back.  I wish everything that I wanted could be communicated in that.  I wish it could say.  Stay just the way you are.  You think everyone else has a thicker skin, but I know how hard it is to be you. Because it’s who I am. It’s who I’ve always been.  They'll never know that is what the smile means, but at least they know that some stranger saw something special in them.

And maybe for just one of them, that discovery will hit at the right time, and they will have that little edge of confidence that it takes to not become everyone else.  

On fighting the praise cravings...

A lesson that I am learning through the forced separation of deployment is the simple one of valuing my marriage... more specifically the menial tasks that make it work.

In the middle of a conversation this past Sunday, a woman I am growing to love and admire said of marriage, "Thirty years is good... it's fun.  Little kids are hard." She was not saying that what I have now is not good or fun, but rather that the best is still out there... and she had no idea how much I had been meditating on that lately.

There is an elderly couple very dear to me who are going through the hard hard process of... well, dying together.  One is deteriorating quicker than the other, and as the strength and dominance of his masculinity fade, she has to tug pretty hard on the reins in their household.  I can only heartbreak for her and the lonely grief of her task, but I will say now and then... I see a flare of bitterness held for years by a strong woman who was always subservient and perhaps deserved and wished for praise that was denied.

I only make this observation public because when I see it, it speaks so strongly of my future that it scares me.  There was a time very recently when my behavior was selfish more in pattern than in occasion.  I don't think this is unusual for a girl like me, in my stage of life.  It takes a very mature person, who knows themselves, their Lord, and their tasks well to not fall prey to it.  I was feeling lost in my daily ritual, I felt like I was aging more than growing, that my ability to shine in some tiny and useful way was slipping from my grasp... and well, my discontent made me paranoid.  I wanted praise.  I wanted Matt to notice and love every effort I made, and  felt down-trodden if he didn't.

During this time I had a night that I am not proud of, but feel like fessing up to for the sake of insight.  We were having friends over for dinner the next day, and I didn't know them very well and was nervous about making a good first impression.  Our little house had taken a beating over the week from messy toddlers and dogs, and I was exhausted from prepping dinner, and cleaning.  Matt had been watching football and I was doing everything {notice how aware I was of that}.  Jayden dumped a full cup of sticky lemonade all over my freshly mopped floor, and I flipped.  I yelled, I cried... Matt declared me insane on the spot, and said we should probably cancel the whole thing if I was going to get so worked up about nothing.  I gave him a few choice words, then went for a walk around the block to cool off.

There was a lot in me in that moment, and none of it had anything to do with Matt no matter how much I wanted to blame him.  I was wrong, and had some heart issues to work out.  And I needed to realize a few things about myself and my spouse.  First off, no matter how many times I get angry at him... Matt is not going to help me get the house ready for guests.  He does not see the need.  AT ALL.  And maybe that's not bad.  Maybe I am too prideful and insecure to say, "this is not a magazine-cover... this is our home.  It is not perfect, but I am so glad to have you in it."   Maybe thinking I need to impress people is a problem.

Not just guests, but my husband as well.  That doesn't mean that there is no point, I should always give my best.

The thing that I am learning is... while he is gone, I still clean the house and cook the meals and raise our children.  I still put extra effort into unseen crevices, and I still love bringing in flowers, and the smell of pine sol, and delicious meals on pretty dishes.

I guess as much grief as I wanted to give him for not noticing, I wasn't really doing it for him.  Not solely.  I do it for me, too.  And I hope he likes it, loves it in fact... but I don't need his praise over simply living my life in a way that is good.  The tasks I was hoping for recognition for, and perhaps relief from when he was here go on when he is not, and I do them, and take pleasure in them.  And really that should be enough.

Maybe along with this I am learning what our roles are, as man and wife.  We are the unseen appendages of each other moving in an echo to make a life that is smooth and sweet.  The reward might not come in the form of words.  In fact, there are things that other people may see and appreciate in me that Matt will never see, and vice versa.  But we go on, working our separate motions that will never be exactly the same, but with time and practice become complimentary to each other.  Like a dance.  A complex, life-long dance.  Sometimes we two-step, sometimes we salsa, sometimes we just hold each a little sadly and sway.  But whatever we do, we do it for our partner... and we do it on our own. Amen.

thoughts on the FB break-up...

Nearly two months ago, I announced that I was going to be quitting Facebook;  I have since been back, and felt that I should explain a few things, for my own peace of mind. I mean, it did feel like running into an ex at first.  I had made this announcement, and suddenly I am lurking around... sort of makes one feel I didn't really mean it, or that I had no will-power.

To be honest there were only a few reasons that I was sick of Facebook.: 1) I had my feelings hurt. 2) It seemed that over the past six months there had been more nasty posts done in the name of a political party/ religious belief than I cared to read.  I get that people view social media through different eyes than I, and everyone is entitled to their opinion.  But it was draining to even view all of the negative banter.  I decided I was too busy for it.  And really, aren't you too?  Is anyone really won over by a few snide remarks on a status update?

The third reason was entirely my own doing.  I was completely self-conscious about my posts.  It got bad.  I was checking every hour or so to see if anyone "liked" what I wrote, and feeling completely down if no one did.  Foolishness, I know.  There is no excuse, but with all of the transition we have had lately I have left many friends, and developed few in our new place... so I was living vicariously, which is not really living.

Taking a break, meant being brave... facing loneliness and striving harder to make friends out of strangers.  This is an area that I always struggle to start in, but usually ends up being therapeutic.  My soul needed some searching, my carpet needed some knee prints worn in it.  I am ashamed of how shallow I had become.  It happened so quickly, I did not even see my waywardness coming.

I got back to some old-fashioned correspondence.  I wrote a few letters, handed out my email, and started to heavily upload pictures to flickr for anyone who cared to see how we were doing.  Honestly, I really really love writing letters, and am so glad to have rediscover that.

However, like most rash decisions that I make,  had to re-evaluate quitting Facebook altogether.  I knew there were people I would possibly lose touch with completely, and life events that I would not be aware of.  I mean, in the busyness and with the distance, I cannot expect special treatment when folks have learned they can simply upload their change of life and everyone will know.  As much as I would like everyone to pick up a pen or phone long distance every now and then, I realize that is not the world we live in anymore.  While my time on Facebook is more limited than before, and my friends list shorter, I simply love some people too much to quit completely.  So, I'm still around... for those guys who post REAL things about themselves, and their families that make me giggle, and sigh, and say inwardly, "I miss you."  You guys are what make social media good, in my mind.  Keep it real, seriously. 

I Am...

~ Loving a mild winter, flowy skirts, and short hair.  It's funny how the smallest things can make such a  difference in the day-to-day... a sense of freedom, of being fuss-free, or ready for anything.  It is a glorious feeling that I wish I could bottle to spritz on stressful moments like lysol.

~ Learning balance {always}.  Right now it is a mind-over-body thing.  For the past year, I struggled with some severely uncomfortable health issues.  I think I am-- as of this past month--- free of them.  Queue the internal sigh of relief, my entire inner body is rejoicing.  Still, I have not yet learned when I can push it, and when to chill out.  There are times when I vigorously test my limits only to curse my stars all the next day, etc. On the same note, am contemplating a juice or vegetable cleanse of some sort.  Still, don't want to do anything that will harsh on my system, or leave me drained of energy.  The thought of a good cleansing of the left-over toxins is very appealing though.

~Still weepy after watching Mrs Palfrey at The Claremont on netflix streaming.  If you haven't watched it, DO.  It is sweet, pretty clean, and is just one of those movies that leaves you feeling good about life.

~Planning a small party for the end of next month to celebrate the twins fourth birthday.  I can't believe it every year.  They've grown so much/ it feels like yesterday.

~ Living more simply.  A lot less processed foods, less clutter, TV, less sporadic spending.  It feels good.

~Reading The Musician's Daughter by Susanne Dunlap

~Learning to be a single mom.  I say that I am not at all anxious about Matt's deployment in July, but I would be crazy not to be just a little.  As he trains, there have been longer days and nights, and I have had to schedule accordingly.  I don't always do it great, but I am getting there.

~Longing for a road trip.  I don't care where.  I just want to get away for a little while... with the sunshine and my short hair and a suitcase full of skirts and ...

be free.

Defying Bitterness

Recently, I have experienced some online confrontation.  The source was a person I have known for a long time, but would not say that I am particularly close to.  No one ever really expects that to happen... at least not to those of us who are happily using social media to share pictures of our children and meals; those of us who turn to our laptops for "me time" when we want to just relax and connect for a few moments;  those of us who avoid political debates, and sidestep controversial issues in cyberspace.  People like me tend to see our online world just as a place for fun.  For this, and many reasons, I felt inclined to give up Facebook.

I have been a fan of FB for a long time now. It has allowed me to keep some real, and nearly instantaneous connection with so many friends around the country. I honestly did not think I would ever quit it. However, I never thought about it allowing people who have no business telling me or my husband how we should live our lives an avenue to do just that. Under the guise of concern, I believe the word used was "exhorting"... a particular person felt they needed to chide me, and question my character over a post I wrote last year, and then reacted in similar unpleasantness to a post that Matt wrote.

Now granted: in this person's moral standards, we both fell short.  However, I feel that if you do not know me well enough to own my phone number, then you are not in any position to work on my character flaws. If you have not invited me to your home, or out for a meal, then what makes you think I should accept your offer of criticism? If you have not said anything positive, or encouraged me in the good deeds I am working in {perhaps you do not even know what they are}, then why in the world should you feel compelled to the Christian task of exhorting?

I am so glad that I have always been encouraged to treat people with kindness. I remember times in my life when all I wanted was justice, and felt so hurt that my parents should want me to turn the other cheek. Even though it still terribly stings my pride, I know from past regret that the only way to truly end an argument, is with kind words. It is not always about being right, or smart.  Verbal diarrhea looks bad on anyone, whether they are justified or not.

Unfortunately, I am one of those pitiful people that is thrown into a period of self-doubt and despondency after any confrontation.  I feel uglier and stupider and meaner after being criticized.  And then I feel angry with whatever is making me this way.  I just wish that it was not so easy for my thoughts to become dark.  Even if I respond in kindness, even if I know I am right, even if I pray and ask for forgiveness  for my offender and for myself {forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors.}, there will be unguarded moments where I wish I had fought harder, or that somehow this person would know that they were wrong and be embarrassed about it instead of walking around triumphantly.  I think angry, selfish things far too often. 

Which is scary because the roots of those feelings left alone will tangle and ensnare.  They will grow and warp the person I am until I become the person who has offended me.  After all, if not for bitterness, and self-righteousness, would this person have acted in such a way?  

And so I begin for myself a daily goal: put forth more tenderness, more focus on thankfulness, and end each day praying in earnest, "Lord, save me from the bitter and hated woman I could become."

 I am thankful that like Dickens wrote,  "Men's courses will foreshadow certain ends, to which, if persevered in, they must lead, but if the courses be departed from, the ends will change." 

What We Do Lately: Vol. 1

 ...  I am enjoying living close to home for the first time in my married life.  It was fun being away... and there are other parts of this country Matt and I consider home.  But there is nothing like being near family, especially when you have little ones.  I love the bond between the generations, and how it gives the boys confidence.  Love really works wonders.  I am so glad the home I came from is in no way broken, and pray daily for strength and wisdom that we can keep this family strong.  I read something last night... a poem about forming clay, and how the mistakes that are left once the clay hardens are stuck forever.  I know plenty of wonderful people who walked through hardship as children.  I don't think tragedy will keep you from being wonderful, but I do think it gets stuck on a child until his dying days.  If I could just impress upon these little ones now what it is to be good, and humble, and wise... I only hope that those will be the things they carry through this life with them.

 ... The Jedi {Jayden {Jay} and Titus {Ti}.} are going through what I assume is normal toddler angst. The competitive edge is exhausting. I know they love each other, but the amount of unhappiness we go through daily because "Bubba did it," is a bit out of proportion.

... Matt is becoming a regular gym fanatic.  If you know him, you are wearing the same baffled expression I am.  It is an incredible change that inspires me.  I love that he wants to eat healthy food, and his idea of togetherness is broader than piling on the couch in front of the television.  I love that I didn't nag him into this change.  By the way, change that happens because of nagging is never really that enjoyable, is it?

... I am consuming entirely too much iced coffee. It is the conflicted blessing of having a barista at a local coffee shop for a sister. She showers me with new flavors of coffee beans, and other such delicious samples. I believe a purge will be my goal for 2014. Or perhaps 2015...

... Matt and I finally had a date night.  It happens maybe twice a year, which I recognize is probably average for a lower-income family of four, two of them still being in pull-ups.  We went to see an eight p.m. showing of The Hobbit.  Matt, being a semi-popular jock/ musician back in the day that I was sporting taped-up glasses and an overflowing book bag, did not have much of an opinion while I was a little disappointed.  The book is always better, always.  But it was still an enjoyable time.