I have never been described as brave.
Sure, I've been described as timid, backwards, awkward, and nervous. But never brave. And I kind of hate that. I wish I had the courage to do things boldly.
Now, I wouldn't necessarily say that I'm a coward. I'm just cautious. I don't take unnecessary risks when there is clearly a safer route. For example, a few years ago when we all went on vacation, my sister went bungee jumping. Instead of going with her, I waited on the ground and just watched.That's just how I've always done things. But every once in a while, things need shaken up.
Here is where I need your help.
I'm leaving it up to my readers. I'm hoping to get at least 10 comments about something I should do that would show me as being brave. Of course, they can't be ridiculous stunts where someone could get hurt, but suggestions on activities for me to improve my bravery. Once I get a decent amount of suggestions, I'll start working on completing those tasks and will keep you updated. But this way, I know that I'm accountable for reporting back to you about my challenges, so I am more likely to be brave than I would if it was just me.
Okay, so maybe this is the Psych major coming out in me doing a social experiment, but I'm kind of excited to see what you come up with.
Thursday, October 31, 2013
Friday, October 25, 2013
Happy Girls are the Prettiest
My last few posts have been intense, so I wanted to lighten things up a bit.
Last weekend I took out my little girl, Emma, for a Girl's Day. We went to the park, drove around downtown blasting music, had a picnic in the park and fed the ducks. It was a fantastic day. Now (for those of you who are knew to my posts) when I call her "My Little Girl" I don't mean that she is my daughter; I love her like she's mine, but she is in no way related to me. That being said, I always have a great time when Emma and I go out. Normally I'm so wrapped up in that feeling of happiness that only being with a child can give you, that I don't notice much else. This past weekend, however, something caught my attention.
I was hit on more when I was out with Emma because guys thought I was her single mother than I have in any other situation. Let me run that one by you again: I had more guys flirting with me when they thought I was a 24 year old single-mother than when they think I'm just a single 24 year old female.
I was completely baffled by this observation. I simply couldn't understand it. I thought that most guys would avoid flirting with a woman my age knowing that she had a child for fear of being tied down, or having to take on lots of responsibility at such a young age themselves. When I asked one of my guy friends what he thought about this phenomenon, he made a valid point.
Trevor: Have you ever seen yourself when you're with kids? You light up! You're beautiful normally, but when you're with your kids, you are absolutely gorgeous. You have a 1,000 Watt smile and you beam with love. When you are with your kids, you are truly happy.
He's right. Being with my kids is my Happy Place: that time where nothing is wrong, there is lots of laughter, and you are completely content with yourself. As juvenile as it sounds, I think that everyone needs a happy thought. They can be a way of escaping a terrible situation, they get help you out of your mental-funk, and just put you in a better mood in general. A lot of people use them:
In "Peter Pan", it is revealed that the only thing Wendy, Michael, and John need to do in order to fly is to "think of wonderful thought. Any happy little thought." (Of course, there is a small matter of Pixie dust, but that isn't something the children can control.) The Happy Thought is what enables flight.
When actor Adam Sandler takes on the role of "Happy Gilmore" for the self-titled movie, he also finds himself using a Happy Thought to get himself in a better frame of mind and overcome obstacles. When Happy tries to beat Shooter McGavin in a golfing tournament he turns to his "Happy Thought" to get the job done, and it works.
In the movie "A Little Princess" Sara is young girl in a school for girls. Sarah is orphaned and made a servant in the school so that she may work off some of her debt. At one point, the Head-Mistress threatens to call the police and have Sara thrown out on the streets with no form of shelter or food. To help herself make it through the night without having a nervous breakdown, Sara pretends that the tiny, dirty old attic is covered with expensive clothes (instead of the rags she is wearing), silver platters covered with food (instead of admitting she hasn't eaten in days) and that she has a soft, warm bed to sleep comfortable on (instead of laying on the floor where the boards are soaked through.) But because she imagined all this as her Happy Thought, Sara was able to make it through the night and into a better day.
Whatever your Happy Thought is, keep it with you when you are having a bad day. Go to your Happy Place when it seems like the world couldn't be any worse, and find the light that your thought brings about. when you are truly happy, you will look it. You will feel more confident, outgoing, and more beautiful. Audrey Hepburn is quoted as saying, "I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls." And I think she has a point.
Last weekend I took out my little girl, Emma, for a Girl's Day. We went to the park, drove around downtown blasting music, had a picnic in the park and fed the ducks. It was a fantastic day. Now (for those of you who are knew to my posts) when I call her "My Little Girl" I don't mean that she is my daughter; I love her like she's mine, but she is in no way related to me. That being said, I always have a great time when Emma and I go out. Normally I'm so wrapped up in that feeling of happiness that only being with a child can give you, that I don't notice much else. This past weekend, however, something caught my attention.
I was hit on more when I was out with Emma because guys thought I was her single mother than I have in any other situation. Let me run that one by you again: I had more guys flirting with me when they thought I was a 24 year old single-mother than when they think I'm just a single 24 year old female.
I was completely baffled by this observation. I simply couldn't understand it. I thought that most guys would avoid flirting with a woman my age knowing that she had a child for fear of being tied down, or having to take on lots of responsibility at such a young age themselves. When I asked one of my guy friends what he thought about this phenomenon, he made a valid point.
Trevor: Have you ever seen yourself when you're with kids? You light up! You're beautiful normally, but when you're with your kids, you are absolutely gorgeous. You have a 1,000 Watt smile and you beam with love. When you are with your kids, you are truly happy.
He's right. Being with my kids is my Happy Place: that time where nothing is wrong, there is lots of laughter, and you are completely content with yourself. As juvenile as it sounds, I think that everyone needs a happy thought. They can be a way of escaping a terrible situation, they get help you out of your mental-funk, and just put you in a better mood in general. A lot of people use them:
In "Peter Pan", it is revealed that the only thing Wendy, Michael, and John need to do in order to fly is to "think of wonderful thought. Any happy little thought." (Of course, there is a small matter of Pixie dust, but that isn't something the children can control.) The Happy Thought is what enables flight.
When actor Adam Sandler takes on the role of "Happy Gilmore" for the self-titled movie, he also finds himself using a Happy Thought to get himself in a better frame of mind and overcome obstacles. When Happy tries to beat Shooter McGavin in a golfing tournament he turns to his "Happy Thought" to get the job done, and it works.
In the movie "A Little Princess" Sara is young girl in a school for girls. Sarah is orphaned and made a servant in the school so that she may work off some of her debt. At one point, the Head-Mistress threatens to call the police and have Sara thrown out on the streets with no form of shelter or food. To help herself make it through the night without having a nervous breakdown, Sara pretends that the tiny, dirty old attic is covered with expensive clothes (instead of the rags she is wearing), silver platters covered with food (instead of admitting she hasn't eaten in days) and that she has a soft, warm bed to sleep comfortable on (instead of laying on the floor where the boards are soaked through.) But because she imagined all this as her Happy Thought, Sara was able to make it through the night and into a better day.
Whatever your Happy Thought is, keep it with you when you are having a bad day. Go to your Happy Place when it seems like the world couldn't be any worse, and find the light that your thought brings about. when you are truly happy, you will look it. You will feel more confident, outgoing, and more beautiful. Audrey Hepburn is quoted as saying, "I believe that happy girls are the prettiest girls." And I think she has a point.
It's freezing and our hair is a mess. But we don't care because we're happy when we're together.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Fight Like a Girl
I believe in rooting for the underdog.
I believe in being prepared.
I believe in taking care of yourself.
I believe that no man should ever hit a woman. But I also believe that every woman should know how to protect herself in case she is ever attacked.
Most of the human population consists of good people. Men and women that are good-natured and wouldn't hurt another person intentionally. However, there is that 1% of people (both men and women) who are, in my opinion, the scum of the Earth and don't care who they hurt in any situation. Whether it is physically, emotionally, socially, psychologically, they are A-Okay with hurting people. Most of the public have their own style for dealing with emotional and psychological tactics. A significant number, though, are unprepared should they find themselves in a physical battle.
I've been hit. I won't go into details, but I can tell you that it is all kinds of no-fun. It's the most infuriating, humiliating, terrifying, shocking and helpless feeling that I've ever experienced all at the same time. I don't want to ever feel that way again; I don't want anyone else to have to feel that way. But a good portion of women are unprepared to defend themselves in the event that they are assaulted.
I've always been able to hold my own, and was stronger than majority of the girls I knew. However, this didn't dissuade me from taking a Self-Defense class on campus my freshmen year of college. A few officers from the police department volunteered to teach women basic self-defense maneuvers to ward off any potential attackers. I LOVED this. I got to spend three hours a night for a week learning different techniques, practicing punches and kicks, and feeling empowered because I knew that I could defend myself. Not only did I greatly enjoy this class, but I excelled at it. I was so good that I was offered the chance to help teach some of the female cadets those same techniques.
A few years later, I enrolled in a Women's Self-Defense course, and received college credit for it. Instead of just showing us basic moves, the teachers demonstrated and explained types of Aikido moves. They showed us how to use natural movements to get out of our Attacker's grip, how to escape a choke-hold, and how to wriggle out of a bear-hug-type-hold by using smart strategies instead of trying to overpower the assailant (which is not likely to happen, anyway). These men taught us how to react in a smart way instead of panicking and endangering ourselves even more.
There are classes offered through most, if not all, colleges and cities. Most martial arts studios offer some self-defense classes. Gyms provide women's groups so that females may learn basic fighting techniques without feeling self-conscious. There are so many options to learn how to defend yourself. I don't condone fighting just for giggles, but I strongly suggest knowing how to fight in order to protect yourself.
I'm sure that I'll catch all kinds of grief over this post telling me that I should have written to males advising them to not be violent to women instead of telling women that they should know how to defend themselves. Personally, I believe that both are true: men should never hit a woman, and women should know to protect themselves. The male-lesson needs to be taught at home when he is still young and forming his ideas about how to act. It does no good for a boy to grow up thinking violence against women is acceptable, and then for me to try to tell them not to do it. It doesn't work that way. On the other hand, however, no matter when we tell females that they need to be able to take care of themselves, it seems to sink in. I know this because there are women of all ages signing up for self-defense class, getting their Concealed Carry gun permit, and learning how to curl her hands into a fist for the first time.
When the days comes, though, I will teach my son how to properly treat a lady, and I will teach my little girl how to throw a right-cross.
I believe in being prepared.
I believe in taking care of yourself.
I believe that no man should ever hit a woman. But I also believe that every woman should know how to protect herself in case she is ever attacked.
Most of the human population consists of good people. Men and women that are good-natured and wouldn't hurt another person intentionally. However, there is that 1% of people (both men and women) who are, in my opinion, the scum of the Earth and don't care who they hurt in any situation. Whether it is physically, emotionally, socially, psychologically, they are A-Okay with hurting people. Most of the public have their own style for dealing with emotional and psychological tactics. A significant number, though, are unprepared should they find themselves in a physical battle.
I've been hit. I won't go into details, but I can tell you that it is all kinds of no-fun. It's the most infuriating, humiliating, terrifying, shocking and helpless feeling that I've ever experienced all at the same time. I don't want to ever feel that way again; I don't want anyone else to have to feel that way. But a good portion of women are unprepared to defend themselves in the event that they are assaulted.
I've always been able to hold my own, and was stronger than majority of the girls I knew. However, this didn't dissuade me from taking a Self-Defense class on campus my freshmen year of college. A few officers from the police department volunteered to teach women basic self-defense maneuvers to ward off any potential attackers. I LOVED this. I got to spend three hours a night for a week learning different techniques, practicing punches and kicks, and feeling empowered because I knew that I could defend myself. Not only did I greatly enjoy this class, but I excelled at it. I was so good that I was offered the chance to help teach some of the female cadets those same techniques.
A few years later, I enrolled in a Women's Self-Defense course, and received college credit for it. Instead of just showing us basic moves, the teachers demonstrated and explained types of Aikido moves. They showed us how to use natural movements to get out of our Attacker's grip, how to escape a choke-hold, and how to wriggle out of a bear-hug-type-hold by using smart strategies instead of trying to overpower the assailant (which is not likely to happen, anyway). These men taught us how to react in a smart way instead of panicking and endangering ourselves even more.
There are classes offered through most, if not all, colleges and cities. Most martial arts studios offer some self-defense classes. Gyms provide women's groups so that females may learn basic fighting techniques without feeling self-conscious. There are so many options to learn how to defend yourself. I don't condone fighting just for giggles, but I strongly suggest knowing how to fight in order to protect yourself.
I'm sure that I'll catch all kinds of grief over this post telling me that I should have written to males advising them to not be violent to women instead of telling women that they should know how to defend themselves. Personally, I believe that both are true: men should never hit a woman, and women should know to protect themselves. The male-lesson needs to be taught at home when he is still young and forming his ideas about how to act. It does no good for a boy to grow up thinking violence against women is acceptable, and then for me to try to tell them not to do it. It doesn't work that way. On the other hand, however, no matter when we tell females that they need to be able to take care of themselves, it seems to sink in. I know this because there are women of all ages signing up for self-defense class, getting their Concealed Carry gun permit, and learning how to curl her hands into a fist for the first time.
When the days comes, though, I will teach my son how to properly treat a lady, and I will teach my little girl how to throw a right-cross.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Strumming My Pain With His Fingers
This post is about suicide...
"Suicide does not end the chances of life getting worse. It eliminates the possibility of it ever getting better."
Majority of the people who read my posts are young adults. This means that these wonderful people are in high school, or working their way through college usually, but they are all experiencing difficult times. The stressors of school and work, figuring out who you are and how that fits in with the rest of the world, having the courage to stand up for yourself when the rest of society says that you are wrong; all of these place a burden on the shoulders of young adults, especially.
Whether it is from being thrown into different roles than what they are used to and therefore are unsure of how to act, or whether they feel like they don't have the proper support at home (or wherever), or if they feel like the world is telling them what they can/cannot do and that they don't get to make their own decisions, this stage of non-understanding leads to thoughts of desperation, hopelessness, and "the world would be a better place if I weren't in it."
That's right. A lot of people have thoughts about suicide.
(I'm about to get real honest with you, real fast. What you're about to read is something that I've never told anyone. Not my parents, my siblings, my best friend. No one.)
When I was in high school I thought about suicide. A lot. I believed I was the scum of the earth and that the world would be better off if I was no longer a part of it. I felt abandoned and knew that no one would miss me if I was gone. I hated struggling to get through the day; I had this continuous feeling of worthlessness and anxiety that placed a lump in my throat the size of a baseball. I saw my life spiraling out of my control; twisting and turning like a roller-coaster without a track to guide it. Days, weeks, months went by and I forced a smile, hid my tears, and put on a facade so that people around wouldn't ask me "What's wrong?" There wasn't a day that I didn't think about ways to kill myself.
Eventually I got out of the toxic environment that had me believing I was a terrible excuse for a person. I realized that I was smart enough to find my way through the "Maze of Life" instead of getting stuck in one of the dead-ends. But even after escaping this torturous location, I still had this self-loathing state of mind. After being told everyday that I was unlovable, it was hard to escape that way of thinking. At this point, I wasn't thinking about suicide on a daily basis like I was before, but it still entered my mind from time to time.(Let me make one thing clear: while I thought a lot about committing suicide, I never made an attempt.)
After some personal reflection, I figured out what had me feeling so depressed and dejected. I got in a better frame of mind and was able to pull myself away from suicidal ideas for good. I had to work at making myself believe that I was worth something (worth anything) and that I could take control of my life. Some days it was tougher than others, but it was definitely worth it. Now, I have great friends, a fantastic job that enables me to work with wonderful students and love them as my own children, and I am in control of my life. I no longer let the negative attitudes of other people bring me down. I know that I am doing the best I can with my life, and I have people who love me. I'm happy with that. I have a blessed life, and that's enough for me.
I tell you all of this only to let you know that there is hope. You are not the only one struggling, and it will get better. I know that life seems dismal, like an up-hill battle that you can't win, and that you are doomed to feel this way forever. It's tough, but you can get past feeling hopelessly crushed by life. But this can only happen if you give it a chance to. If you end your life, you aren't giving yourself the chance to show the world just how fantastic you are. Whether it is simply changing locations, getting rid of negative people in your life, seeing a counselor on a regular basis and starting an anti-depressant, or sheer determination to kick this feeling, it is possible to beat thoughts of suicide and depression.
If you or someone you know is having suicidal thoughts, tell an adult: a parent, teacher, counselor, someone that you trust. Feeling suicidal is not an elaborate scheme for getting attention, please don't take it as such. If someone tells you that they are thinking about suicide you should take that very seriously, and assist them in getting the proper help. If you don't know where else to turn, you can always call 1-800-273-TALK (8255).
"Suicide does not end the chances of life getting worse. It eliminates the possibility of it ever getting better."
Majority of the people who read my posts are young adults. This means that these wonderful people are in high school, or working their way through college usually, but they are all experiencing difficult times. The stressors of school and work, figuring out who you are and how that fits in with the rest of the world, having the courage to stand up for yourself when the rest of society says that you are wrong; all of these place a burden on the shoulders of young adults, especially.
Whether it is from being thrown into different roles than what they are used to and therefore are unsure of how to act, or whether they feel like they don't have the proper support at home (or wherever), or if they feel like the world is telling them what they can/cannot do and that they don't get to make their own decisions, this stage of non-understanding leads to thoughts of desperation, hopelessness, and "the world would be a better place if I weren't in it."
That's right. A lot of people have thoughts about suicide.
(I'm about to get real honest with you, real fast. What you're about to read is something that I've never told anyone. Not my parents, my siblings, my best friend. No one.)
When I was in high school I thought about suicide. A lot. I believed I was the scum of the earth and that the world would be better off if I was no longer a part of it. I felt abandoned and knew that no one would miss me if I was gone. I hated struggling to get through the day; I had this continuous feeling of worthlessness and anxiety that placed a lump in my throat the size of a baseball. I saw my life spiraling out of my control; twisting and turning like a roller-coaster without a track to guide it. Days, weeks, months went by and I forced a smile, hid my tears, and put on a facade so that people around wouldn't ask me "What's wrong?" There wasn't a day that I didn't think about ways to kill myself.
Eventually I got out of the toxic environment that had me believing I was a terrible excuse for a person. I realized that I was smart enough to find my way through the "Maze of Life" instead of getting stuck in one of the dead-ends. But even after escaping this torturous location, I still had this self-loathing state of mind. After being told everyday that I was unlovable, it was hard to escape that way of thinking. At this point, I wasn't thinking about suicide on a daily basis like I was before, but it still entered my mind from time to time.(Let me make one thing clear: while I thought a lot about committing suicide, I never made an attempt.)
After some personal reflection, I figured out what had me feeling so depressed and dejected. I got in a better frame of mind and was able to pull myself away from suicidal ideas for good. I had to work at making myself believe that I was worth something (worth anything) and that I could take control of my life. Some days it was tougher than others, but it was definitely worth it. Now, I have great friends, a fantastic job that enables me to work with wonderful students and love them as my own children, and I am in control of my life. I no longer let the negative attitudes of other people bring me down. I know that I am doing the best I can with my life, and I have people who love me. I'm happy with that. I have a blessed life, and that's enough for me.
I tell you all of this only to let you know that there is hope. You are not the only one struggling, and it will get better. I know that life seems dismal, like an up-hill battle that you can't win, and that you are doomed to feel this way forever. It's tough, but you can get past feeling hopelessly crushed by life. But this can only happen if you give it a chance to. If you end your life, you aren't giving yourself the chance to show the world just how fantastic you are. Whether it is simply changing locations, getting rid of negative people in your life, seeing a counselor on a regular basis and starting an anti-depressant, or sheer determination to kick this feeling, it is possible to beat thoughts of suicide and depression.
If you or someone you know is having suicidal thoughts, tell an adult: a parent, teacher, counselor, someone that you trust. Feeling suicidal is not an elaborate scheme for getting attention, please don't take it as such. If someone tells you that they are thinking about suicide you should take that very seriously, and assist them in getting the proper help. If you don't know where else to turn, you can always call 1-800-273-TALK (8255).
Thursday, October 3, 2013
Laughter is the Best Medicine
Laughter is the best medicine.
Okay, it is a cliche, but there is a reason for that: It's true.
It's no secret that I've felt down in the dumps for the last few weeks. Between working one of my jobs that I believe to be a secret level of Hell that even Dante was afraid to write about, and feeling alienated because my friends live two-hours away, I have definitely had a major case of the blues. This past weekend, however, I experienced the only stimulant that I will ever need to get me out of this slump: Laughter.
I laughed because a friend admitted that she didn't understand a joke used for six weeks about another friend's height.
I laughed because I was the oldest in our group, yet I was the one wearing a shirt with Rex from Toy Story with the words "I'm a Nervous Rex" on the front.
I laughed when my best female friend tried playing the new Grand Theft Auto game and had trouble car-jacking a TARC bus.
I laughed when we got stuck talking with British accents.
I laughed so hard that I cried when I complimented a stranger on his hat while still in British-mode, and he complimented me back using a British accent and calling me his Love.
I laughed when my kids asked if I was married yet. And since I wasn't, did I at least have a boyfriend, now?
I laughed when a cluster of kids yelled "Group Hug the Momma!" and I was immediately attacked with love.
I laughed when watching Happy Gilmore, and the guys would quote the lines before the characters said them.
I laughed when the boys acted 7 years old and chased each other around our cars, even though they are 26 years old.
If you couldn't tell, I had a really great time last weekend. I don't know if I could have managed being in a funk any longer; I needed the love and laughter that came with the weekend. My cheeks hurt from where I had been smiling and laughing so much. That is a good sign, for sure.
So, does laughing instantly elevate your mood? What kinds of things never fail to make you laugh? Do you feel completely rejuvenated after a good long laugh? Have you ever heard someone laugh and had to laugh yourself, even though you didn't know what was funny? I look forward to hearing your anecdotes and laughing-so-hard-you-cried stories. Spread the laughter.
Okay, it is a cliche, but there is a reason for that: It's true.
It's no secret that I've felt down in the dumps for the last few weeks. Between working one of my jobs that I believe to be a secret level of Hell that even Dante was afraid to write about, and feeling alienated because my friends live two-hours away, I have definitely had a major case of the blues. This past weekend, however, I experienced the only stimulant that I will ever need to get me out of this slump: Laughter.
I laughed because a friend admitted that she didn't understand a joke used for six weeks about another friend's height.
I laughed because I was the oldest in our group, yet I was the one wearing a shirt with Rex from Toy Story with the words "I'm a Nervous Rex" on the front.
I laughed when my best female friend tried playing the new Grand Theft Auto game and had trouble car-jacking a TARC bus.
I laughed when we got stuck talking with British accents.
I laughed so hard that I cried when I complimented a stranger on his hat while still in British-mode, and he complimented me back using a British accent and calling me his Love.
I laughed when my kids asked if I was married yet. And since I wasn't, did I at least have a boyfriend, now?
I laughed when a cluster of kids yelled "Group Hug the Momma!" and I was immediately attacked with love.
I laughed when watching Happy Gilmore, and the guys would quote the lines before the characters said them.
I laughed when the boys acted 7 years old and chased each other around our cars, even though they are 26 years old.
If you couldn't tell, I had a really great time last weekend. I don't know if I could have managed being in a funk any longer; I needed the love and laughter that came with the weekend. My cheeks hurt from where I had been smiling and laughing so much. That is a good sign, for sure.
So, does laughing instantly elevate your mood? What kinds of things never fail to make you laugh? Do you feel completely rejuvenated after a good long laugh? Have you ever heard someone laugh and had to laugh yourself, even though you didn't know what was funny? I look forward to hearing your anecdotes and laughing-so-hard-you-cried stories. Spread the laughter.
Thursday, September 19, 2013
It Doesn't Matter
These are my kids.
It doesn't matter that she is an inch taller than I am.
It doesn't matter that he is only 5 years younger than me.
He is a size 0, and she is a size 22. I fluctuate anywhere between an 8 and 12. But that doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter that he is on the Autism Spectrum and doesn't understand a few social cues.
It doesn't matter that I am in no way biologically related to her.
He would rather play video games when I'd rather be swimming. But it doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter that I am a blonde, and she has brunette hair. (Or red, or blue, or green, or purple, or whatever color she decides to dye her hair.)
It doesn't matter that he is gay and I'm straight.
It doesn't matter that she just upgraded her phone to the iPhone 7 and that I still use my basic TracFone.
He prefers Winter whereas I am a Summer baby. But that doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter that she has scars on her wrists from cutting and that the only thing on my wrist is a hairband and the word LOVE.
It doesn't matter that she is bold as brass and will start a fight for the fun of it, even though I hate confrontation.
I love comedies, but he enjoys horror movies. But that doesn't matter.
If you're keeping score, you'll realize that none of the above things matter. That's right, in the grand scheme of life, none of these things truly matter. The only thing that matters is that I love these kids. I love them as if they were mine. I would do anything in my power to keep them safe, happy, and healthy.
I help them with homework after school. I sing them lullabies when I tuck them into bed. I give them a hug and a juicebox when they have had their hearts broken. I teach Him how to flirt, but I show Her how to throw a right-cross.They come to me with questions and problems because they know I will help them without judgment.
So, the next time you point out that they are not biologically mine, don't act surprised when I will point out that you aren't smart enough to understand this kind of love.The kind of love where kids don't have to be blood-related to warrant being loved and cared for. The kind of love that makes you want to legitimately adopt 130 adolescents while you are only 23 years old.
Whether it's the 8 year old who calls me Katelyn, the 14 year olds who address me as Miss Vinson, or the 15-21 year olds who call me Momma, I have kids. Lots of them. And anything you say to the contrary simply doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter that she is an inch taller than I am.
It doesn't matter that he is only 5 years younger than me.
He is a size 0, and she is a size 22. I fluctuate anywhere between an 8 and 12. But that doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter that he is on the Autism Spectrum and doesn't understand a few social cues.
It doesn't matter that I am in no way biologically related to her.
He would rather play video games when I'd rather be swimming. But it doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter that I am a blonde, and she has brunette hair. (Or red, or blue, or green, or purple, or whatever color she decides to dye her hair.)
It doesn't matter that he is gay and I'm straight.
It doesn't matter that she just upgraded her phone to the iPhone 7 and that I still use my basic TracFone.
He prefers Winter whereas I am a Summer baby. But that doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter that she has scars on her wrists from cutting and that the only thing on my wrist is a hairband and the word LOVE.
It doesn't matter that she is bold as brass and will start a fight for the fun of it, even though I hate confrontation.
I love comedies, but he enjoys horror movies. But that doesn't matter.
If you're keeping score, you'll realize that none of the above things matter. That's right, in the grand scheme of life, none of these things truly matter. The only thing that matters is that I love these kids. I love them as if they were mine. I would do anything in my power to keep them safe, happy, and healthy.
I help them with homework after school. I sing them lullabies when I tuck them into bed. I give them a hug and a juicebox when they have had their hearts broken. I teach Him how to flirt, but I show Her how to throw a right-cross.They come to me with questions and problems because they know I will help them without judgment.
So, the next time you point out that they are not biologically mine, don't act surprised when I will point out that you aren't smart enough to understand this kind of love.The kind of love where kids don't have to be blood-related to warrant being loved and cared for. The kind of love that makes you want to legitimately adopt 130 adolescents while you are only 23 years old.
Whether it's the 8 year old who calls me Katelyn, the 14 year olds who address me as Miss Vinson, or the 15-21 year olds who call me Momma, I have kids. Lots of them. And anything you say to the contrary simply doesn't matter.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Apparently I'm an Alpha-Female
Those of you who know me or have just kept up with my posts know that I support strong women. Whether it's Wonder Woman, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Debbie the serial killer from "The Addams Family" movie, or the mom from the song "Harper Valley PTA" by Jeannie C. Riley, I completely respect women who are able to support themselves, stand up for themselves as well as others, and show a strong sense of character no matter the situation.
I like to fancy myself as a strong woman. I know that I have flaws and don't always do the right thing, but I would like to think that I can take care of myself (and others) in any given circumstance. However, even having this vision of myself as a strong female, I never thought of myself as an Alpha Female...
One day during my senior year of college, I was walking from a class back to my residence hall when I hear someone call my name. Now, I went to a medium-sized university, where I knew about 80% of the student population, so it wasn't unusual for someone to yell at me from across campus. I hear my name again, but this time it is closer. I look around and see a few people that I recognize, but none that are yelling for me. I turn around and continue walking, thinking that this mysterious person was yelling for a different Katelyn, when this young man walks up to me and says, "Hi, Katelyn."
Earlier I mentioned that I knew about 80% of the students on campus. This guy was one of the few that I didn't know. I had never seen him before, I didn't know his name, I couldn't even place him as being a friend of a friend of an acquaintance. But he definitely knew who I was. Shocked that he knew me and I had no idea who he was, I stopped in my tracks and listened to what he had to say.
Guy: How was your Senior Seminar class?
Katelyn: It was fine...How did you know I was just in Senior Seminar?
Guy: I know all about you. I actually just called you over to let you know that I am writing a paper over you for my Freshman Psychology class. I figured that since I'm writing about you, the decent thing to do would be to let you know I'm writing about you.
Katelyn: Umm...what?
Guy: Yeah, I'm writing about how you are an Alpha Female. I see you all over campus, and how people just respond to you. You always have a positive attitude, but you don't take crap from anyone. You really are a take-charge kind of woman, so I'm writing my paper over you.
Katelyn: I'm not sure....I don't....How do you know....Huh...?
Guy: Okay, bye!
And with that, he left. With a smile on his face, he bounced away, never once looking back. And I just stood there stunned for a moment. It took me a while to process what this guy had said: a guy that I had never met knew about me, my schedule, and my personality, and he was going to write a paper about me for a class. Thinking it was a joke, I looked around to see if friends were hiding behind trees laughing because of the amazing prank they pulled on me. I was hoping that they were just trying to give Ashton Kutcher and the creators of Punk'd a run for their money. Unfortunately, there was no one around.
Flipping out a little, I go tell my roommate about what just happened. She agrees that it was a strange encounter, but says that I probably know the guy and don't remember. I nod in agreement hoping that it will put my mind at ease, all the while knowing that I have never met this guy.
A few weeks pass and I don't hear from him. I get so wrapped up in finishing my Thesis and other classwork that I honestly forget about the entire thing. One day, however, this young man is standing in front of me as I walk onto my front porch. (Let me tell you, I felt like this guy was part of a real-life pop-up book and I was kind of terrified.) Once again shocked, I stood there listening to what he had to say; granted, I was thinking of all my escape routes and doing a mental inventory of all the weapons I had with me in case things got bad, but for all he could tell I was just standing there listening to him.
Guy: Hey Katelyn. I just wanted to let you know that I finished my paper about you.
Katelyn: Okay...
Guy: I got an A on it, in case you were wondering. My professor said that you were an interesting case; definitely an Alpha Female. He had to ask me if I embellished on the details of a few of the anecdotal stories of yours that I included because they are so outrageous. But he was more impressed when I told him that no embellishments were needed. That was all you.
Katelyn: ...what stories..?
Guy: Oh it doesn't matter now. But I need to be headed towards my next class. See you around.
Katelyn: ...wait! How do I know you?!
Guy: You don't. Bye!
And once again, this mysterious man was gone. I haven't seen him around campus since.
I'm not sure if he wanted to become one of my outrageous stories, or if he seriously thought I was that interesting, or what was going on with him. But I would absolutely love to read what Guy wrote about me. Also, I'd like to know which stories he used and how he even found out about them; if he thought I was such an interesting case, why didn't he talk to me himself, instead of creepily watching me from around campus?
I can't decide if I'm more flattered that he thought I was an Alpha Female and wanted to write about me, or more creeped out because of the way he chose to go about it. Either way, I feel like this just adds to my arsenal of "Only Katelyn" stories. Who else has someone pop-up out of nowhere to inform them that the other person is writing a character analysis (basically) over them for a college-level Psych class? If there is anyone out there with the same issue, I would love to hear about it.
As always, I can't wait to hear what you have to say!
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