Hey everyone! As you might have noticed, I've started posting on a new website: kelsiestelting.com.
Melting Steltings has been great and will continue to be our own personal forum. Ty and I have been able to connect with family and friends, share our stories, and record our life together. This new website is very much the representation of my new personal and professional journey; one that I started back in August.
This new website will still be us, be about our lives, but it will also be about my new adventure of really taking risks and following dreams. I'll share with you every scary step along the way, and I promise to tell the whole story, not just the highlight reel.
Thanks so much for being a part of this with us! Be sure to go to the new blog and check me out, but stay tuned to this one, especially family and friends, to learn about us and our travels!
Love,
The Steltings
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Monday, March 14, 2016
Mental Illness and Christianity
Every now and then when the topic of mental illness comes up, someone makes the comment that the only reason people can't control their mental illness is because they aren't right with the Lord, or because they need more Jesus in their life.
Well, they're right. Partially.
Everyone needs more Jesus in their life.
But the other part of that statement is so so so so hurtful, and so so so so damaging, and so so so so wrong.
We have this thing in our society where mental illness is not very well understood, and also very stigmatized. Because it's an illness of the mind, our most vital organ, research is hard to do, and every single mental illness is as unique as the person suffering through it.
So here we are. We have this terrible disease, and people are saying that a relationship with Christ is the cure. (And for some people, it's helped them on their path to mental health.) But here are the rest of us Christians, who have a strong relationship with God, pray daily, go to church every Sunday, perform works of mercy, and still. have. mental. illness.
What does that mean? That we don't pray enough? That we don't believe hard enough? That we aren't really Christians?
Absolutely not.
How do you explain Mother Theresa? She was a true servant of God and is on the way to becoming a canonized saint, and she suffered from terrible, terrible depression. A saint!
Say you have a pulled muscle. You have to work and work and work to get it back into full health again, unless it's permanently injured. How ridiculous would it be to tell someone with a broken arm that the reason it's broken is that they're not praying enough? Mental illness is similar. It takes so much work to become mentally healthy, and sometimes, even that work isn't enough in the severest of cases.
My point is, making statements like that, while it may be a testament to your own personal battle with depression, is just harmful to other Christians struggling with mental illness, and unwelcoming to non-Christians. Faith is a safe space, where we know we are loved, welcomed, and promised a better life after this one, not a pill that saves us from all of our earthly suffering.
I'm praying for everyone with mental illness, and I believe in the power of prayer. Let's try to create a safe space, and an educational space to talk about mental illnesses for those that don't understand them/haven't experienced them.
**Disclaimer: This post shares my views, my opinions based on personal experience, and what I've learned from reading about mental illness, and talking with mental health professionals and religious leaders. This isn't me on a soapbox, it's me starting the conversation. What do you have to say? What do you have to learn?
Well, they're right. Partially.
Everyone needs more Jesus in their life.
But the other part of that statement is so so so so hurtful, and so so so so damaging, and so so so so wrong.
We have this thing in our society where mental illness is not very well understood, and also very stigmatized. Because it's an illness of the mind, our most vital organ, research is hard to do, and every single mental illness is as unique as the person suffering through it.
So here we are. We have this terrible disease, and people are saying that a relationship with Christ is the cure. (And for some people, it's helped them on their path to mental health.) But here are the rest of us Christians, who have a strong relationship with God, pray daily, go to church every Sunday, perform works of mercy, and still. have. mental. illness.
What does that mean? That we don't pray enough? That we don't believe hard enough? That we aren't really Christians?
Absolutely not.
How do you explain Mother Theresa? She was a true servant of God and is on the way to becoming a canonized saint, and she suffered from terrible, terrible depression. A saint!
Say you have a pulled muscle. You have to work and work and work to get it back into full health again, unless it's permanently injured. How ridiculous would it be to tell someone with a broken arm that the reason it's broken is that they're not praying enough? Mental illness is similar. It takes so much work to become mentally healthy, and sometimes, even that work isn't enough in the severest of cases.
My point is, making statements like that, while it may be a testament to your own personal battle with depression, is just harmful to other Christians struggling with mental illness, and unwelcoming to non-Christians. Faith is a safe space, where we know we are loved, welcomed, and promised a better life after this one, not a pill that saves us from all of our earthly suffering.
I'm praying for everyone with mental illness, and I believe in the power of prayer. Let's try to create a safe space, and an educational space to talk about mental illnesses for those that don't understand them/haven't experienced them.
The post that tipped me over the edge. I'm glad she's
found a way to cope with her illness, and I don't think
she was trying to be hurtful, but our words are
powerful, and we need to think before we
make generalizations for the entire population
based on anecdotal experience.
I'd really like everyone who reads this blog to check out this post on mental illness titled "5 things Christians should know about depression and anxiety." The title only includes depression and anxiety, but the post covers mental illness in general. It's definitely worth the read.
Thanks for taking the time to read this. I know it's hard to talk about mental illness. Either you've never experienced it, so it's this big scary giant you have no idea how to approach, your you're dealing with it now and it hurts to think about it more than you already do, or you've seen a loved one suffer through it with no idea how to help... becoming more informed helps. Becoming more understanding helps. And, ultimately, becoming more loving helps.
**Disclaimer: This post shares my views, my opinions based on personal experience, and what I've learned from reading about mental illness, and talking with mental health professionals and religious leaders. This isn't me on a soapbox, it's me starting the conversation. What do you have to say? What do you have to learn?
Wednesday, March 9, 2016
The Horror Story
I sent out four copies of my book to my second set of beta readers. After sending out my first novella to beta readers, I received positive feedback from those that finished reading it. Still, every time I hit "publish" on a blog post, or pay for the postage to mail the book out, I am absolutely terrified.
It's like being a musician that has stage-fright.
I want to write, my whole being wants to write. I don't want to write something that no one will ever read; I want to have an impact. But I also care way too much about what other people think.
When I'm done writing and ready to send it out, doubts flood my mind. I wonder if I'm good enough--if I actually have talent or if that's just some idea I picked up somewhere. I wonder if my stories good. I wonder if I remembered my grammar lessons right from high school, and I worry that someone will judge me based on my fictional characters.
Blah. Blah. Blah. People post stuff every day. As if posting a blog is any scarier than sharing a long status update or reading an English paper in class, or reading a report at work. I guess it is, because, to a certain extent, I am my writing. It comes directly from me. This is what I put my heart, soul, and time into. This is what I've taken risks on.
I guess it's all a waiting game. Writing something. Having someone like it, dislike it... and then doing it all over again. But I wonder if it will ever stop being scary.
It's like being a musician that has stage-fright.
I want to write, my whole being wants to write. I don't want to write something that no one will ever read; I want to have an impact. But I also care way too much about what other people think.
When I'm done writing and ready to send it out, doubts flood my mind. I wonder if I'm good enough--if I actually have talent or if that's just some idea I picked up somewhere. I wonder if my stories good. I wonder if I remembered my grammar lessons right from high school, and I worry that someone will judge me based on my fictional characters.
Blah. Blah. Blah. People post stuff every day. As if posting a blog is any scarier than sharing a long status update or reading an English paper in class, or reading a report at work. I guess it is, because, to a certain extent, I am my writing. It comes directly from me. This is what I put my heart, soul, and time into. This is what I've taken risks on.
I guess it's all a waiting game. Writing something. Having someone like it, dislike it... and then doing it all over again. But I wonder if it will ever stop being scary.
Sunday, March 6, 2016
The Re-brand
One of my first classes as a graduate students is "New Media/Social Media Tools" and one of our first projects has been creating a social media "plan" and developing a personal "brand." Brand is basically communications-speak for reputation, and in communications, it's okay to care about reputations.
Creating and examining your personal brand is hard work. Our teacher has asked us to create a social media presence that is a self-portrait, and for someone who just puts whatever on the internet (like myself) it's hard to narrow down what I want my own brand to be.
Personally, I think "brand" is a funny way to describe what we're doing. Growing up around cattle, I associate brand with permanent ownership, but in communications, it can be fluid, it can be changed.
Over the past several months, unintentionally, I've been changing my brand by changing myself. I used to be so concerned with the should's in my life. Should I get straigh A's, should I go to grad school, I should do this career, I shouldn't do that career. Blah blah blah. To quote Sex and the City, I was should-ing all over myself.
So while all of this very painful personal transformation was occurring, this very palpable brand-change was occurring. I was shifting from someone who just wrote about awesome things, to someone who wrote about real things, painful things, deep things. I started sharing my thoughts, and not all of them were pretty. But they were real, and that was the most important thing.
But I think one of the biggest changes, has been in my career-life. This may sound silly, but as an academically gifted person, I feel an extreme moral obligation to do something with those gifts... like cure cancer, or do the next moon landing, or stop world hunger, or something huge. I still feel that...
After what happened to my brother, I was seriously considering going back to Vanderbilt so I could be a Psychiatric Mental Health Nurse Practitioner. There is a huge need for mental health providers. (For example, I went to my school's counseling center to get some help sifting through all of this, and there was a three week waiting period before I could even get in for a consultation.) So, I called Ty and told him I was thinking about it, and he told me he would support me no matter what--like the amazing husband he is.
An hour later, I'm on my computer, and I get this message from Meghann. She was a senior when I was in eighth grade, and even though I always thought she was/is a wonderful person who's doing amazing things, we've always just been acquaintances. But anyway, I get this message from Meghann, and she says she was compelled to message me. She goes on to write this fantastic message about how she enjoys my writing, and how she thinks my style is similar to John Greene's.
(Sidenote: When I worked in data entry, I had to listen to Ted Talks to get me through the day. I had inspiration post-it notes all over my cubicle, and one of them said "John Greene's first job was as a typist.")
She also sent me a link to an article about choosing "should" or "must." Her message and the article brought me to tears. The article had a quote in it by Ralph Waldo Emerson (who my grandpa was named after).
I messaged her back and told her how much her message meant to me, and she told me to keep writing, and keep the faith.
Keep writing and keep the faith.
Isn't God's timing just perfect?
Only an hour after I suggested to Ty that I go back to nursing and give up on my communications degree, I get this message from a long-lost friend who felt "compelled" to reach out to me, telling me to keep writing.
I think this post veered a tiny bit off topic, but I promise I'm making a point (or two or three or four).
1) I'm pursing my writing, and that's why you're reading all of these blogs/posts/tweets/pics about my writing. I'm trying to give this a real shot as a career.
2) I'm being honest. I've made a promise to myself to talk about the things that people don't talk about. The ugly things. The things that aren't good enough to make the Facebook timeline. In short, the things that we need to talk about.
3) Words are powerful. Meghann's message very possibly changed the course of my life, and I am so grateful to her for that.
4) This is my brand... for now.
Creating and examining your personal brand is hard work. Our teacher has asked us to create a social media presence that is a self-portrait, and for someone who just puts whatever on the internet (like myself) it's hard to narrow down what I want my own brand to be.
Personally, I think "brand" is a funny way to describe what we're doing. Growing up around cattle, I associate brand with permanent ownership, but in communications, it can be fluid, it can be changed.
Over the past several months, unintentionally, I've been changing my brand by changing myself. I used to be so concerned with the should's in my life. Should I get straigh A's, should I go to grad school, I should do this career, I shouldn't do that career. Blah blah blah. To quote Sex and the City, I was should-ing all over myself.
So while all of this very painful personal transformation was occurring, this very palpable brand-change was occurring. I was shifting from someone who just wrote about awesome things, to someone who wrote about real things, painful things, deep things. I started sharing my thoughts, and not all of them were pretty. But they were real, and that was the most important thing.
But I think one of the biggest changes, has been in my career-life. This may sound silly, but as an academically gifted person, I feel an extreme moral obligation to do something with those gifts... like cure cancer, or do the next moon landing, or stop world hunger, or something huge. I still feel that...
After what happened to my brother, I was seriously considering going back to Vanderbilt so I could be a Psychiatric Mental Health Nurse Practitioner. There is a huge need for mental health providers. (For example, I went to my school's counseling center to get some help sifting through all of this, and there was a three week waiting period before I could even get in for a consultation.) So, I called Ty and told him I was thinking about it, and he told me he would support me no matter what--like the amazing husband he is.
An hour later, I'm on my computer, and I get this message from Meghann. She was a senior when I was in eighth grade, and even though I always thought she was/is a wonderful person who's doing amazing things, we've always just been acquaintances. But anyway, I get this message from Meghann, and she says she was compelled to message me. She goes on to write this fantastic message about how she enjoys my writing, and how she thinks my style is similar to John Greene's.
(Sidenote: When I worked in data entry, I had to listen to Ted Talks to get me through the day. I had inspiration post-it notes all over my cubicle, and one of them said "John Greene's first job was as a typist.")
She also sent me a link to an article about choosing "should" or "must." Her message and the article brought me to tears. The article had a quote in it by Ralph Waldo Emerson (who my grandpa was named after).
I messaged her back and told her how much her message meant to me, and she told me to keep writing, and keep the faith.
Keep writing and keep the faith.
Isn't God's timing just perfect?
Only an hour after I suggested to Ty that I go back to nursing and give up on my communications degree, I get this message from a long-lost friend who felt "compelled" to reach out to me, telling me to keep writing.
I think this post veered a tiny bit off topic, but I promise I'm making a point (or two or three or four).
1) I'm pursing my writing, and that's why you're reading all of these blogs/posts/tweets/pics about my writing. I'm trying to give this a real shot as a career.
2) I'm being honest. I've made a promise to myself to talk about the things that people don't talk about. The ugly things. The things that aren't good enough to make the Facebook timeline. In short, the things that we need to talk about.
3) Words are powerful. Meghann's message very possibly changed the course of my life, and I am so grateful to her for that.
4) This is my brand... for now.
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
11 ways adulthood breaks your heart
I remember my first high school love. He was handsome (at least, I thought so at the time). He was intriguing--I wanted to know everything there was to know about him. He was athletic, funny, friendly, and most of all, he was "mine."
And then he wasn't.
My heart was broken. I didn't know there could be a pain so bad. It made me question every text I sent him, every second I spent on him, and everything about myself. Why wasn't I enough? Why didn't he like me? Why weren't we together? And I thought that heartbreak would be one of the most painful things I might experience in my life.
I just didn't understand that there were more types of heartbreak more painful than a high school romance.
As I've grown older, time has exposed me to all sorts of tragedies, and I've learned that a broken heart doesn't just refer to romantic love.
1) Drifting away from a friend. One day, something will happen, and you'll want to call a friend, and you'll realize that the person you want to call isn't really a friend anymore. It hurts.
2) Feeling rejected. Someone doesn't like you. Someone doesn't want to be with you. Someone doesn't like that project you put your heart and soul into. It makes even the most confident person question their self-worth.
3) Failure. That project you put your heart and soul into? It tanked. For whatever reason, it isn't good enough, and it hurts. It makes you question everything about your talents, interests, and work ethic.
4) Disappointment. Chances are you had a hero. Someone you looked up to, trusted, and idealized. What happened when you realized your hero was also a villain? We never stop having heroes as we grow older, and it hurts just as much when your adult heroes let you down.
5) Lies. Okay, lies have been around forever. (Remember that time you lied to your mom and told her you did NOT sneak an ice cream cone from the freezer?... okay, maybe that was just me.) Remember when lies started having stakes attached. You start to question who you can trust, and it breaks your heart when someone you thought you could trust lies to you. Lies you tell can also hurt... have you ever told someone you're okay when you're not?
6) Death. Death doesn't hurt the same way when you're older. You've most likely known the person longer than the people you lost when you were younger. Maybe you lose your rock: your best friend, grandparent, parent, or spouse. As a child, things were taken care of, as an adult, you have so much else to worry about in addition to the loss of a loved one.
7) Romantic Relationship Issues. Are you married and you want not to be? Are you single and want not to be? Again, the stakes are higher. Marriage is a covenant with God, which is one of the weightiest, most expectation-ridden decisions we can make as humans. I've been married for only three years, and already I can attest to the fact that marriage is so much different than my childhood expectations, and that can be heartbreaking.
8) Starting a family. Even though I'm not there yet, there was a time when Ty and I honestly thought that we would not be able to have children. Heartbreaking. I can't imagine the pain that women and men go through with infertility, miscarriage, failed adoptions, disabilities, and so much other heartbreak that comes with starting a family.
9) Children. I haven't had children yet, but I've seen (in real life and on television--that's valid, right?) how much pain can come with that life experience.
10) Losing a spouse. This is a category all on its own, separate from "death." When a couple marries, they become "one flesh." Losing a spouse is literally losing part of yourself. My thoughts, prayers, love, and sympathy are with anyone experiencing this.
11) Chronic disease. There's a unique pain someone experiences when their own body isn't a safe place anymore. I've seen people suffer though this, and that's been heartbreaking, but I can even imagine going through it myself.
There are so many heartbreaks I haven't experienced yet, and I'm absolutely terrified to see how heartbreak will change as I get older. I can only hope that as heartbreak intensifies, so does my strength, faith, and understanding of the world around me; that I'm getting stronger with the pain.
And then he wasn't.
My heart was broken. I didn't know there could be a pain so bad. It made me question every text I sent him, every second I spent on him, and everything about myself. Why wasn't I enough? Why didn't he like me? Why weren't we together? And I thought that heartbreak would be one of the most painful things I might experience in my life.
I just didn't understand that there were more types of heartbreak more painful than a high school romance.
As I've grown older, time has exposed me to all sorts of tragedies, and I've learned that a broken heart doesn't just refer to romantic love.
1) Drifting away from a friend. One day, something will happen, and you'll want to call a friend, and you'll realize that the person you want to call isn't really a friend anymore. It hurts.
2) Feeling rejected. Someone doesn't like you. Someone doesn't want to be with you. Someone doesn't like that project you put your heart and soul into. It makes even the most confident person question their self-worth.
3) Failure. That project you put your heart and soul into? It tanked. For whatever reason, it isn't good enough, and it hurts. It makes you question everything about your talents, interests, and work ethic.
4) Disappointment. Chances are you had a hero. Someone you looked up to, trusted, and idealized. What happened when you realized your hero was also a villain? We never stop having heroes as we grow older, and it hurts just as much when your adult heroes let you down.
5) Lies. Okay, lies have been around forever. (Remember that time you lied to your mom and told her you did NOT sneak an ice cream cone from the freezer?... okay, maybe that was just me.) Remember when lies started having stakes attached. You start to question who you can trust, and it breaks your heart when someone you thought you could trust lies to you. Lies you tell can also hurt... have you ever told someone you're okay when you're not?
6) Death. Death doesn't hurt the same way when you're older. You've most likely known the person longer than the people you lost when you were younger. Maybe you lose your rock: your best friend, grandparent, parent, or spouse. As a child, things were taken care of, as an adult, you have so much else to worry about in addition to the loss of a loved one.
7) Romantic Relationship Issues. Are you married and you want not to be? Are you single and want not to be? Again, the stakes are higher. Marriage is a covenant with God, which is one of the weightiest, most expectation-ridden decisions we can make as humans. I've been married for only three years, and already I can attest to the fact that marriage is so much different than my childhood expectations, and that can be heartbreaking.
8) Starting a family. Even though I'm not there yet, there was a time when Ty and I honestly thought that we would not be able to have children. Heartbreaking. I can't imagine the pain that women and men go through with infertility, miscarriage, failed adoptions, disabilities, and so much other heartbreak that comes with starting a family.
9) Children. I haven't had children yet, but I've seen (in real life and on television--that's valid, right?) how much pain can come with that life experience.
10) Losing a spouse. This is a category all on its own, separate from "death." When a couple marries, they become "one flesh." Losing a spouse is literally losing part of yourself. My thoughts, prayers, love, and sympathy are with anyone experiencing this.
11) Chronic disease. There's a unique pain someone experiences when their own body isn't a safe place anymore. I've seen people suffer though this, and that's been heartbreaking, but I can even imagine going through it myself.
There are so many heartbreaks I haven't experienced yet, and I'm absolutely terrified to see how heartbreak will change as I get older. I can only hope that as heartbreak intensifies, so does my strength, faith, and understanding of the world around me; that I'm getting stronger with the pain.
If you liked this post, you might like these too:
Friday, February 19, 2016
5 ways life changes after a personal disaster
Life is constantly changing. Sometimes the changes happen so slowly that we can't even notice them until we look back months or even years down the road. But sometimes the entire world shifts around us. Something terrible happens that brings our worst fears to fruition and makes us confront the deepest darkness of human existence. Not only does our world change; we change.
1) Priorities
Things that used to seem so important now seem so trivial. We wonder why we ever even wasted our time thinking of those things... but secretly wish we could return to a time when those fickle thoughts were our biggest worries.
2) Faith
Disaster changes our faith in one of two ways: it can bring us closer to God, or cause us to distance ourselves from Him, and I think that depends largely on the outcome of the disaster. We can thank God for his intervention, his persistent strength, his overwhelming love, or we can question Him. We ask "What kind of a God would let such terrible things occur?" or "Why me?" or simply "Why?"
3) Finances
Finances are definitely a necessary evil. Medical disasters or natural disasters incur almost insurmountable costs, especially at a time when the last thing we should be thinking about is money.
4) Relationships with others
Hard times can bring us together or make us withdraw into ourselves. Big family fights? Bound to happen. Stronger bonds formed? Definitely. Our relationships are built by standing by each other day by day and learning who's going to be there and who's not. We learn who are our true friends and who are only there for fair weather.
5) Relationships with ourselves
One word: Regrets. The most important relationship a person can have with a human being is with him/herself, but disasters wreak havoc on mental health. We wonder what we could have done better, who we should have treated more kindly, words we wish we wouldn't have said, trips we wish we would have made, things we should have prioritized, things we thought were important but weren't and so on. My gram always said, "We live in our minds." Disaster can make the mind a scary place to be.
To be honest, disaster changes everything, but our lives are small stories woven within the bigger story of time. Disaster is one part of a story, and the best, most impactful stories deal with disaster. Romeo and Juliet died, Simba lost his father, Cinderella was a servant to her stepmother, Marlin lost his wife, Nemo had a disability, and Jesus (the greatest story of all) suffered on the cross... but the important thing to remember is that He rose again.
Disasters might happen in a second, but they change us forever... hopefully for the better.
Sunday, February 14, 2016
A morning in the mind of an over-thinker
Some people are confident in their decisions. They go through life, content with the way it's going and willing to accept things the way they are.
And then there's people like me. Who have to question every. single. thing. and analyze every. single. situation.
7:00 AM: Wake up. Wonder what kind of day it's going to be. Wonder if I forgot to do anything the night before. Wonder if anything happened the night before. Check Facebook/Twitter/Instagram/Pinterest/Email to find out.
7:15 AM: Get out of bed, try to pick out an outfit for the day. Wonder what the weather's going to be like. Wonder who I'm going to see. Wonder if the outfit looks too casual. Wonder if the outfit isn't casual enough. Wonder if I wore the same outfit too recently. Wonder if I should wear the other clothes that I have. Change outfits... more than once. Decide this one is probably good.
7:30 AM: Go to the bathroom to get ready. Get face ready for makeup. Wonder if any pimples developed. Wonder if anti-acne makeup actually causes pimples. Wonder if anti-acne makeup is part of an evil marketing plan. Remember something stupid I said three years ago. Wonder how girls ever get their eyeliner even. Wonder whether people with contacts get sick more often than people without contacts.
7:45 AM: Wash hands of makeup. Remember some article I read when I was a kid that claimed vigorous hand drying kills more germs than air drying.
7:47 AM: Start doing hair. Remember a chemistry lesson about chemical bonds in hair that cause it to be curly. Wonder if anyone will be able to tell that I haven't washed my hair today. Wonder what people think about people who don't wash their hair.
8:15 AM: Finished getting dressed and ready. Wonder how much perfume is too much perfume. Wonder if I'll come into contact with someone with a perfume allergy. Remember reading somewhere that midwives can't wear perfume because pregnant women are extra sensitive to smells. Wonder if I'll hate my perfume when I'm pregnant.
8:18 AM: Try to decide what to have for breakfast. Remember reading somewhere that people need to have protein within an hour of waking up. Wonder if cheese counts as a protein. Wonder whether I can make scrambled eggs in the microwave. Wonder if I put onions in the scrambled eggs if my breath will smell like onions all day. Think how disgusting onions and toothpaste would be together. Mentally invent an onion breath breathalyzer machine.
8:23 AM: Decide to have a sweet potato with cheese. Decide cheese is a protein. Start putting school supplies in backpack. Wonder what homework I've forgotten. Think about what I'm going to say in class during discussion time. Plan something witty, intelligent, interesting, relevant, and funny.
8:35 AM: Eat sweet potato. Wonder what I'll change into if I get food on my shirt. Think about a time I had food on my shirt and was embarrassed. Think about how I can't wear white. Wonder how anyone is able to wear white without making an absolute mess.
8:45 AM: Finish eating sweet potato and put it in the sink. Think about how much I'll hate washing dishes later. Wonder if that questionable noodle soaking in a dirty pot is actually a parasitic worm. Mentally compare parasitic worms to the children's toys that expand in water.
8:47 AM: Walk to get my backpack and coat. Wonder if I'm going to be late to school. Wonder what I would say if I was in fact late.
8:49 AM: Leave the house to walk to school. Put music on my phone and put headphones on. Wonder if I'd be able to hear someone creeping up on me with my headphones on. Resolve to turn the volume down. Think about people who run into stuff while texting and walking at the same time. Laugh. Wonder if I look like a crazy person.
8:55 AM: Start thinking about who's going to be in the office when I get there. Wonder what I will say to them when I get there. Think of ways to convey genuine interest in them without making small talk.
9:00 AM: Start planning out the day. Make a list of goals and eagerly anticipate checking them off the list.
Two hours in the life of an over-thinker! And half of that has to be bottled up, because, really who else would understand the connection between scrambled eggs and an onion-breath breathalyzer. PLEASE tell me I'm not alone!
And then there's people like me. Who have to question every. single. thing. and analyze every. single. situation.
7:00 AM: Wake up. Wonder what kind of day it's going to be. Wonder if I forgot to do anything the night before. Wonder if anything happened the night before. Check Facebook/Twitter/Instagram/Pinterest/Email to find out.
7:15 AM: Get out of bed, try to pick out an outfit for the day. Wonder what the weather's going to be like. Wonder who I'm going to see. Wonder if the outfit looks too casual. Wonder if the outfit isn't casual enough. Wonder if I wore the same outfit too recently. Wonder if I should wear the other clothes that I have. Change outfits... more than once. Decide this one is probably good.
7:30 AM: Go to the bathroom to get ready. Get face ready for makeup. Wonder if any pimples developed. Wonder if anti-acne makeup actually causes pimples. Wonder if anti-acne makeup is part of an evil marketing plan. Remember something stupid I said three years ago. Wonder how girls ever get their eyeliner even. Wonder whether people with contacts get sick more often than people without contacts.
7:45 AM: Wash hands of makeup. Remember some article I read when I was a kid that claimed vigorous hand drying kills more germs than air drying.
7:47 AM: Start doing hair. Remember a chemistry lesson about chemical bonds in hair that cause it to be curly. Wonder if anyone will be able to tell that I haven't washed my hair today. Wonder what people think about people who don't wash their hair.
8:15 AM: Finished getting dressed and ready. Wonder how much perfume is too much perfume. Wonder if I'll come into contact with someone with a perfume allergy. Remember reading somewhere that midwives can't wear perfume because pregnant women are extra sensitive to smells. Wonder if I'll hate my perfume when I'm pregnant.
8:18 AM: Try to decide what to have for breakfast. Remember reading somewhere that people need to have protein within an hour of waking up. Wonder if cheese counts as a protein. Wonder whether I can make scrambled eggs in the microwave. Wonder if I put onions in the scrambled eggs if my breath will smell like onions all day. Think how disgusting onions and toothpaste would be together. Mentally invent an onion breath breathalyzer machine.
8:23 AM: Decide to have a sweet potato with cheese. Decide cheese is a protein. Start putting school supplies in backpack. Wonder what homework I've forgotten. Think about what I'm going to say in class during discussion time. Plan something witty, intelligent, interesting, relevant, and funny.
8:35 AM: Eat sweet potato. Wonder what I'll change into if I get food on my shirt. Think about a time I had food on my shirt and was embarrassed. Think about how I can't wear white. Wonder how anyone is able to wear white without making an absolute mess.
8:45 AM: Finish eating sweet potato and put it in the sink. Think about how much I'll hate washing dishes later. Wonder if that questionable noodle soaking in a dirty pot is actually a parasitic worm. Mentally compare parasitic worms to the children's toys that expand in water.
8:47 AM: Walk to get my backpack and coat. Wonder if I'm going to be late to school. Wonder what I would say if I was in fact late.
8:49 AM: Leave the house to walk to school. Put music on my phone and put headphones on. Wonder if I'd be able to hear someone creeping up on me with my headphones on. Resolve to turn the volume down. Think about people who run into stuff while texting and walking at the same time. Laugh. Wonder if I look like a crazy person.
8:55 AM: Start thinking about who's going to be in the office when I get there. Wonder what I will say to them when I get there. Think of ways to convey genuine interest in them without making small talk.
9:00 AM: Start planning out the day. Make a list of goals and eagerly anticipate checking them off the list.
Two hours in the life of an over-thinker! And half of that has to be bottled up, because, really who else would understand the connection between scrambled eggs and an onion-breath breathalyzer. PLEASE tell me I'm not alone!
Thursday, February 11, 2016
The Power of a Purse
There's some unwritten rule about being female that goes something like:
So, the search begins. It has to be big enough to hold everything, small enough to not get in the way, organized enough to be able to find stuff quickly, and it's appearance must sum up everything you are as a person.
Simple enough.
So, for the last two years I've been using a purse that was made by an artisan in Costa Rica. It was perfect; not too flashy, long straps resembling a backpack, small pockets on the side for easy storage, and a huge pocket on the inside for whatever my heart desired.
Until... (dun dun dun)
The straps started ripping.
Ty's grandma sewed one strap back on and then the other strap started to go, and I was just coming to terms that I may have to replace my bag. And then my mom says, "What do you think about Coach purses?"
And I say, "I think the C's all over the bags are a little gaudy. Like, we get it, you're rich enough to afford a designer handbag."
Then she says, "Well, do you want one?"
She'd already found her bag: a black Kate Spade purse that's structured, simple, and totally Mom. So when her boss gave her a Coach purse as a Christmas bonus, Mom didn't need it. So I got it. Because Mom's cool like that.
What I didn't anticipate about my new life-carrier was how I'd feel while holding it: embarrassed.
I don't like what designer bags represent: flashiness, superiority, excess money, and a little bit too much emphasis on what others think about the purse I'm carrying. Maybe other women don't feel the same way when carrying a fancy purse, but I sure do.
Also, I feel a little ridiculous holding a Coach purse when I'm wearing sweat pants.
Anyway, I promise I'm not just raggin on this super nice purse my mom gave me, and there's really a super deep point I'm getting to here (as deep as one can get while talking about purses) and it's this:
All purses look the same on the inside.
Let's face it. A purse is just a glorified tampon/receipt/cell phone/credit card/old gum catcher, no matter how expensive it looks on the outside.
So, the search begins. It has to be big enough to hold everything, small enough to not get in the way, organized enough to be able to find stuff quickly, and it's appearance must sum up everything you are as a person.
Simple enough.
So, for the last two years I've been using a purse that was made by an artisan in Costa Rica. It was perfect; not too flashy, long straps resembling a backpack, small pockets on the side for easy storage, and a huge pocket on the inside for whatever my heart desired.
Until... (dun dun dun)
The straps started ripping.
Ty's grandma sewed one strap back on and then the other strap started to go, and I was just coming to terms that I may have to replace my bag. And then my mom says, "What do you think about Coach purses?"
And I say, "I think the C's all over the bags are a little gaudy. Like, we get it, you're rich enough to afford a designer handbag."
Then she says, "Well, do you want one?"
She'd already found her bag: a black Kate Spade purse that's structured, simple, and totally Mom. So when her boss gave her a Coach purse as a Christmas bonus, Mom didn't need it. So I got it. Because Mom's cool like that.
What I didn't anticipate about my new life-carrier was how I'd feel while holding it: embarrassed.
I don't like what designer bags represent: flashiness, superiority, excess money, and a little bit too much emphasis on what others think about the purse I'm carrying. Maybe other women don't feel the same way when carrying a fancy purse, but I sure do.
Also, I feel a little ridiculous holding a Coach purse when I'm wearing sweat pants.
Anyway, I promise I'm not just raggin on this super nice purse my mom gave me, and there's really a super deep point I'm getting to here (as deep as one can get while talking about purses) and it's this:
All purses look the same on the inside.
Let's face it. A purse is just a glorified tampon/receipt/cell phone/credit card/old gum catcher, no matter how expensive it looks on the outside.
The purse that started it all.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
40 days to change my life
How can I possibly even sum up Lent in a blog post? It's one of the biggest times of the Catholic Church, and a preparation for the event in Christianity--the event that gave us a future after life--the event that saved us.
Lent is a period of preparation that's intended to mirror Jesus's time in the desert. He was continuously tempted to commit sin, but he said no, even when his body was weak, even when he was exhausted, even when it would have been about a million times easier to just give in.
Lent is a period of transformation, where we admit we're flawed, that we have issues that we constantly battle with, and that we are constantly failing. So we have to meditate on our Lord, and the ways that we can better serve him. We have to learn to control our bodies and human urges through fasting and self-denial. We have to be selfless and give to others. We have to draw closer to God through prayer.
The farther we get from our sins, the closer we get to God.
So here goes, we have 40 days. Let's make it count.
Extra Resources
On how to fast
On why we should fast
On Lent
On making the most of Lent
FAQs about the lenten season (including Ash Wednesday)
The above links are from Catholic Gentleman and Catholic.org. Catholic Gentleman's a great blog, but it is male-centric. If you're looking for a female perspective, I'm sure there are lots of great resources out there!
Lent is a period of preparation that's intended to mirror Jesus's time in the desert. He was continuously tempted to commit sin, but he said no, even when his body was weak, even when he was exhausted, even when it would have been about a million times easier to just give in.
Lent is a period of transformation, where we admit we're flawed, that we have issues that we constantly battle with, and that we are constantly failing. So we have to meditate on our Lord, and the ways that we can better serve him. We have to learn to control our bodies and human urges through fasting and self-denial. We have to be selfless and give to others. We have to draw closer to God through prayer.
The farther we get from our sins, the closer we get to God.
So here goes, we have 40 days. Let's make it count.
Extra Resources
On how to fast
On why we should fast
On Lent
On making the most of Lent
FAQs about the lenten season (including Ash Wednesday)
The above links are from Catholic Gentleman and Catholic.org. Catholic Gentleman's a great blog, but it is male-centric. If you're looking for a female perspective, I'm sure there are lots of great resources out there!
Tuesday, February 2, 2016
Driven
Let me begin by saying that Denver is way too freaking far away. If someone could just hurry up and create a teleportal or pass me a Harry Potter wand so I could apparate and disapparate, that would be really nice.
I'm not complaining, I promise. I love going there. I love hanging out with my brother, and meeting the people who are taking care of him (he has a nurse named Kelsey!), and seeing all of the improvements he's been making there. Just, you know, teleportation would be real cool.
So we were told that Ty's car is most likely totaled, so we've been searching for a new vehicle for us. It had to be new enough that we wouldn't constantly be putting work on it, low enough mileage so we wouldn't have to buy a new car for a while (preferably never), safe because I am definitely not invincible, and family-friendly so when one day far down the road we have a child, a carseat will fit in the back seat. Well, commence about 10 hours on Craigslist research. We had a couple of ideas, but in a thirty second phone call, Ty's stepdad, Brian, found us a car.
It's a dark gray 2013 Chevy Malibu with 53,000 miles. And of course, since he's our hookup at Burtis Motors, we got a really good deal on it! If you're ever in the Garden City area and looking for a car, definitely go and talk to Brian. :)
He also gave me his and Tami's old GPS after I complained about getting lost every stinking time I drive through Oklahoma because I have no cell phone service. It came in really hand on my drive to Denver!
Our dear family friends/cousins, Mark and Angie Goudy, took me out to lunch at Tequilas and introduced me to some pretty (s)auceome cheese sauce. (See what I did there?) They actually picked me up from Tami and Brian's house, drove me to Garden, paid for my meal, waited around for all of my paperwork, helped me figure out the car, and gave me a 5 hour energy for the road. Do I even need to say that they're some of my favorite people?
Tami and Brian had let me stay at their house the night before so I was pretty well rested.. and cuddled up.
I finally made it to Denver Friday evening, and my car drove like a dream. We hung out Friday evening and Tucker asked if I could hang out in the room with him. The hospital wants to have someone in there with him at all times, so since I was in there he didn't have to hang out with a CNA overnight. One of the CNAs brought me some heated blankets, and I slept pretty well on this chair that actually makes a better bed than a chair.
The next day was Tucker's first trip "off-campus." So, the plan was to take him out to lunch at a restaurant nearby. The weather was absolutely beautiful (much better than the storm they're having now). It was so warm, in fact, that we were all good without jackets. Anyway, we went to this super cheap and delicious Chinese place and then to Safeway for some snacks.
I'm not complaining, I promise. I love going there. I love hanging out with my brother, and meeting the people who are taking care of him (he has a nurse named Kelsey!), and seeing all of the improvements he's been making there. Just, you know, teleportation would be real cool.
So we were told that Ty's car is most likely totaled, so we've been searching for a new vehicle for us. It had to be new enough that we wouldn't constantly be putting work on it, low enough mileage so we wouldn't have to buy a new car for a while (preferably never), safe because I am definitely not invincible, and family-friendly so when one day far down the road we have a child, a carseat will fit in the back seat. Well, commence about 10 hours on Craigslist research. We had a couple of ideas, but in a thirty second phone call, Ty's stepdad, Brian, found us a car.
He also gave me his and Tami's old GPS after I complained about getting lost every stinking time I drive through Oklahoma because I have no cell phone service. It came in really hand on my drive to Denver!
Our dear family friends/cousins, Mark and Angie Goudy, took me out to lunch at Tequilas and introduced me to some pretty (s)auceome cheese sauce. (See what I did there?) They actually picked me up from Tami and Brian's house, drove me to Garden, paid for my meal, waited around for all of my paperwork, helped me figure out the car, and gave me a 5 hour energy for the road. Do I even need to say that they're some of my favorite people?
Tami and Brian had let me stay at their house the night before so I was pretty well rested.. and cuddled up.
Extra points if you can find the dog.
There he is!
Their dogs, Bandit and Chopper, definitely made themselves comfortable.
I finally made it to Denver Friday evening, and my car drove like a dream. We hung out Friday evening and Tucker asked if I could hang out in the room with him. The hospital wants to have someone in there with him at all times, so since I was in there he didn't have to hang out with a CNA overnight. One of the CNAs brought me some heated blankets, and I slept pretty well on this chair that actually makes a better bed than a chair.
The next day was Tucker's first trip "off-campus." So, the plan was to take him out to lunch at a restaurant nearby. The weather was absolutely beautiful (much better than the storm they're having now). It was so warm, in fact, that we were all good without jackets. Anyway, we went to this super cheap and delicious Chinese place and then to Safeway for some snacks.
Sweet and sour chicken and peace signs FTW.
(He said I couldn't put the picture on Facebook, but
I'm pretty sure I got a loophole with the blog.)
We had some ice cream afterward, hung out some more, and I ended up leaving on Sunday with Mom in an effort to outrun the winter storm that was supposed to come that afternoon.
Here's a glance at our trip out of Denver.
We tried to take a picture together at the Kansas-Colorado
border, but it wasn't really profile picture material
to say the least.
Remember how awesome I was saying the Goudy's are? Well, I had been borrowing Grandma's old car from my aunt, and had left it in Denver so it would be there for her to get it, and Mom had let me borrow her car for this past weekend. Anyway, the Goudy's drove Mom's car from Tami and Brian's house to Leoti so it would be a little closer for us to get.
Mom hopped in her car and I drove off in mine to make the last stretch to Stillwater. It was AWFUL.
I'm glad I made it safe, and I had a really scenic view of the sunset:
... but I had no cell phone service for most of it, and the GPS took me on a turnpike that cost a dollar... and they didn't take cards... and they didn't take the size of bill I had... so I got a bill. I turned off the GPS because I was annoyed with it, and I was only 20 miles from Stillwater... and I got lost. Stretched out my trip by at least 45 minutes.
I stopped at Wendy's for supper at 11:30, pulled up to my apartment at 11:40, and got into bed with my 4 for $4 deal at 11:50.
Not too much to complain about except for my one dollar bill and extended trip. I got home safe and was ready for a day off... and you all know how productive my day off really was. ;)
Thanks for reading!
Still love my tattoo. :)
Monday, February 1, 2016
Permanence
The Rolling Log
The ninja warrior show is AWESOME. I love it, and I'm not ashamed. I love all of the yelling in some indeterminable Asian language. I love seeing people's greased bodies perform amazing feats. I love seeing people splash into the dirty water and come up looking embarrassed. (Maybe I enjoy that last thing more than I should.)
There's a part of that show, that strikes me as incredibly similar to my experience with life. The rolling water log. So here's the deal, no one knows how to handle that stinking log until they're on it. You probably have a coach (or two) telling you about the proper log-rolling techniques, and all the while you're thinking about how you're going to do it--imagining what it will be like to stay atop that rolling log, what it will feel like to be successful. And then you get on. And it's nothing like you thought it would be. You're scared--of falling off, of getting hurt, of embarrassing yourself. For a second, a glorious span of time, you're getting it, you're making that log your you-know-what. Then there's that second that changes everything. You lose your footing and you know you're about to fall. And then it happens, you're flying through the air with no idea how it will all turn out. And you hit, hard. You don't want to get back up, have no idea how to handle the failure, the pain, the uncertainty of it all, and the loss of your pride. When you stand up, nothing will be the same again.
So, wow, that's pretty deep for a stupid round thing that spins around in water, but it's true for me at least. And while I'll probably never try that spinning trap of wooden death, I've felt that way in life at least a million times.
It's hard to know that everything I try at, I'll probably fail, that somewhere in some unknown point in the future, I'll be flying through the air again waiting to see where I'll land and how things will look when I get up, but maybe that takes some of the pressure off... Maybe we're living for that second of pure bliss when we feel like we've got it all together.
Ink
When I was sixteen I begged my mom to let me get a tattoo. I said I'd like to do it with her permission, but if she said no, I "knew a guy who knew a guy" who could give me one. She said no. I asked again. She told me to ask my father. He brushed it off like it wasn't even worth his time to explain why not. I asked mom again. She said no, and that I should talk to other people about it. (Probably because she was tired of hearing me ask.) So I talked to my aunt, and she said that if I waited until I was 18 and I still wanted it she would pay for me to get a tattoo. (That'll be about 60 dollars, btw.)
So I waited until I was 18. I had this great idea that I would get a tattoo on the inside of my hand--a heart on my ring finger. I asked Ty to get a matching one with me. He said no. I asked him again. He said no. So I said, "That's fine, I'll go get one and convince you later." And so I went to this tattoo shop in Manhattan and they said "no."
What?!
Apparently they didn't want to give a tattoo with that placement. Utterly stumped, I put the idea of a tattoo in my back pocket, kept adding to my Pinterest board of tattoo ideas, and went about my merry little non-log-rolling-but-still-log-rolling life.
On Christmas, life threw me off the log. Hard. And I don't know if/when I'll ever get up. And, frankly, it's not about me, so I guess that's kind of besides the point. But I've been thinking a lot about life, and how impermanent our earthly lives are. My uncle reminded me the other day of the whole toilet paper roll life metaphor, and it's scarily true for me at 22. I'm terrified of how true it will be in another five years (if I'm blessed enough to be around that long).
I thought of all the things that mattered to me in life. God, my husband, my siblings, my family. Writing is the best way I can express that. So I got this idea to brand myself as a God-loving, life-living, adventure-seeking, agriculture-advocating, writer. And while I hope to do that through my actions, I've also done it visually, with a tattoo.
Of course, I'm a writer, and a pictures worth a thousand words. The heart with a cross shows not only my love for Christ and His love for me, but how God so lovingly crafts us and starts our life. He knits us in our mothers' womb. He breathes breath into our very souls. So there's the ECG. The representation of our heartbeat, the sign that we're alive. Then the feather quill. The most beautiful writer's utensil. Created from a living animal. A symbol of how God put animals here for humans' use. And the symbol of a writer. We are able to write our own stories in life, with the gift of God's love.
It's crazy to think that a few black lines etched into my skin with a needle could mean so much. And maybe to everyone else it is just a picture containing just about every cliched tattoo there is, but it's my brand, my life, my motto.
Afterthoughts
I walked into the shop a nervous, anxious, adrenaline-filled, clean-skinned, tattoo noob.
I came out with a beautiful piece of art that I'll cherish. One of the most permanent things I can do on this earth, and even then, it's fleeting. Thanks to Joe at Religious Ink in Stillwater, OK for helping my post-it note drawing come to life.
Wednesday, January 27, 2016
The Bachelor Life!
Don't let the title fool you....
I am not happy to come home to an empty apartment surrounded by people who I would be scared to know. They seem scary, anti-social, and crazy. I go to work where the other interns are people I talk to and try and learn about. I go to class and get to know more about my classmates. However, I am in a group of 3 married women and they really like to work intertwined on problems but help me when I'm lost (which is most of the time). This can all be done while I am married by the way...
I have one really great friend by the name of Josh that I hang out with on the weekends. He helps me keep my sanity on those days. I have a few other friends but they are pretty busy now. I'll keep you updated. :)
The strongest player in my interactions is, of course, Kelsie. We talk for at least an hour a day, on the phone or video chat, and text the rest of the time. My work is very rigid in confidentiality so talking on the phone is a bit of a "no-no" but I still do it for little spurts after everyone is going home. So we talk mostly in the evenings.
Also, about work, I love the work that I am doing for LBMC, PC or Lattimore, Black, Morgan, & Cain. My work involves mostly closely held organizations, but that is all I think I am allowed to post. I wish I could tell you all the cool things that I am doing day-by-day.
Accounting? Taxes? Cool?....
Crazy? Yeah, I am a little bit.
Typically, I go to work because I am averaging about 55 hours/week over the busy season. It has been slow the past few days for me, but today I got a 6 hour budget tax return. Hopefully I finish it tomorrow.
When I am not at work, doing things on the tax side, I am working to do things on book side of business through my Advanced Financial Reporting Class!!!!!!
*Everyone leaves page*
Now that only a handful of you are still with me, I will just say that I am going to learn about all those disclosures that no one reads when then they read financial data of any sort.
Other than all of that!.....I make some pretty darn good food for myself.
I also had a lot of time in the house because I was trapped for a while....by snow....in Nashville.
I was informed that a snow only happens like this to Nashville about every.....8-12 years. Should have bought the Powerball ticket, I guess. (which was mostly won in Tennessee, btw)
I did the escape game.....which IS THE CRAZIEST THING EVER!!!!!!
I love it because it involves the best things that I like to do:
Josh and I did the second one with 4 other people and we barely made it out with 1 second to spare!!
But it has a pass rate of 26%, so I was happy. We did our first one with 5 minutes to spare at a 40% pass rate with my co-workers.
Now, see? Staying around past the accounting hullabaloo can get you something exciting!
We did end up getting the car Kelsie talked about in the last post. It is a 2013 Malibu that is gray. It should be a nice car and I hope we made a wise purchase. Brian usually does pretty well at providing good cars for a good price. :)
Lastly,
I just wanted to say that I am thankful have each and every one of the people who have been saying prayers for all of us, especially Tucker. We have had miracles-a-plenty because God has been watching over us. All on Christmas night. Hopefully now He can work through us to help Tucker get through this tough process. We are lucky to have the support team that we do.
I am also thankful for the wonderful gift Kelsie got me!!!!!!! LOOK!
I hope this gives a little insight on my life in Music City.
Thank you for reading.
I am not happy to come home to an empty apartment surrounded by people who I would be scared to know. They seem scary, anti-social, and crazy. I go to work where the other interns are people I talk to and try and learn about. I go to class and get to know more about my classmates. However, I am in a group of 3 married women and they really like to work intertwined on problems but help me when I'm lost (which is most of the time). This can all be done while I am married by the way...
 |
| This is my new cubicle, the three screens ARE NOT overkill. |
I have one really great friend by the name of Josh that I hang out with on the weekends. He helps me keep my sanity on those days. I have a few other friends but they are pretty busy now. I'll keep you updated. :)
The strongest player in my interactions is, of course, Kelsie. We talk for at least an hour a day, on the phone or video chat, and text the rest of the time. My work is very rigid in confidentiality so talking on the phone is a bit of a "no-no" but I still do it for little spurts after everyone is going home. So we talk mostly in the evenings.
 |
| I miss them more than I could have ever imagined... |
Also, about work, I love the work that I am doing for LBMC, PC or Lattimore, Black, Morgan, & Cain. My work involves mostly closely held organizations, but that is all I think I am allowed to post. I wish I could tell you all the cool things that I am doing day-by-day.
Accounting? Taxes? Cool?....
Crazy? Yeah, I am a little bit.
Typically, I go to work because I am averaging about 55 hours/week over the busy season. It has been slow the past few days for me, but today I got a 6 hour budget tax return. Hopefully I finish it tomorrow.
When I am not at work, doing things on the tax side, I am working to do things on book side of business through my Advanced Financial Reporting Class!!!!!!
*Everyone leaves page*
Now that only a handful of you are still with me, I will just say that I am going to learn about all those disclosures that no one reads when then they read financial data of any sort.
Other than all of that!.....I make some pretty darn good food for myself.
 |
| Spicy Chicky-Chicky Parm-Parm....or Chicken Parmesan with Spicy Sausage Tomato Sauce. Pretty cheap, I might add. |
I also had a lot of time in the house because I was trapped for a while....by snow....in Nashville.
 |
| 6"-7" of snow, 30 minutes of digging, you could finally tell that it was Kelsie's car. (not gonna complain too much-the East got it way worse) |
I did the escape game.....which IS THE CRAZIEST THING EVER!!!!!!
I love it because it involves the best things that I like to do:
- Solve complicated riddles
- Scavenger hunts
- Finding hidden things that are of value to your mission
- Trap doors
- Secret passages
- Time Pressure (but the ability to be successful is attainable)
- Technological effects that are awesome
Josh and I did the second one with 4 other people and we barely made it out with 1 second to spare!!
But it has a pass rate of 26%, so I was happy. We did our first one with 5 minutes to spare at a 40% pass rate with my co-workers.
Now, see? Staying around past the accounting hullabaloo can get you something exciting!
 |
| Proof I made it out twice in "The Heist" and "Classified" at the East Iris location |
We did end up getting the car Kelsie talked about in the last post. It is a 2013 Malibu that is gray. It should be a nice car and I hope we made a wise purchase. Brian usually does pretty well at providing good cars for a good price. :)
Lastly,
I just wanted to say that I am thankful have each and every one of the people who have been saying prayers for all of us, especially Tucker. We have had miracles-a-plenty because God has been watching over us. All on Christmas night. Hopefully now He can work through us to help Tucker get through this tough process. We are lucky to have the support team that we do.
I am also thankful for the wonderful gift Kelsie got me!!!!!!! LOOK!
 |
| Excuse the messy table, but that is the Catholic prayer for Grace, hanging. It is in front of a photograph Kelsie masterfully took in Colorado. We are trying to find a nice, strong, wooden frame for it. It will make a nice supper ritual in our future home. |
I hope this gives a little insight on my life in Music City.
Thank you for reading.
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Colorful Colorado, made a little brighter
Thursday started out abnormally...
Yes, I actually did dishes BY HAND so the sink would be clean when I returned.
It was rainy and cold outside, so I put on my new pink headband.
(Selfie time)
Walked to class across the dreary campus.
Remember how I said I was starting a lifestyle diet? Well, I had to take a break from the food part of that while traveling. I finally was able to make the nine-hour drive to Craig Hospital in Denver to see Tucker... and of course, the trip had to start out with a waffle cone sundae from Sonic.
Of course I immediately regretted it.
I got an early start the next morning and dropped Papi off at Savannah's house. Apparently her dog had been missing Papi, and her cat had been missing someone to terrorize. (Papi's afraid of cats.) Finally. Finally, I got left to Denver and made it there around two on Friday afternoon. 24 hours for a nine hour drive? Not bad.
Tucker wasn't in the best of moods when I first arrived because he was supposed to start therapy, which is apparently tedious. They make him do simple tasks (like pulling cones apart) that seem pointless to everybody but his doctors, who say those actions are healing his brain.
In the afternoon, he was in a much better mood. We talked about anything and everything. From making fun of Mom (sorry MeMaw) to high school friendships to girls to all of the silly things he said when he was staying in Swedish Medical Center.
Here's a gem. A couple of weeks ago he told us that there are three steps to doing well with the ladies:
1) Be a smoooooooth criminal.
2) Have a smooooth criminal name, like MC memestoodank.
3) Have a slight cough.
The last rule was a little too convenient considering he had a little cough at the time.
He also has an eyepatch now, which he referred to as the lid to a pudding cup... pudding will never be the same.
On a bright note, a little of his eyesight is coming back. It comes and goes, but at one point he opened his left eye and said that he could see me. I asked him if he could see what I was doing (I was waving my arms) and after a few moments he started waving his arms too. He can also usually tell when we've turned the lights on or off, and according to the retinal specialist that's a good sign. They may do surgery to remove some of the shrapnel and bone fragments behind his left eye if that will help him see better. Mom said that the "family planning" meeting is February first, so I guess that's when they'll be telling us what's coming up AC (after Craig).
In the midst of all of this, Ty and I began the car search. I've been borrowing a vehicle from my aunt, but the mechanic finally told us (about two weeks later) that he's going to declare Ty's car "totaled" due to frame damage. Sidenote: I finally realized how lucky I am to still be here. I kind of blew off the wreck as not a big deal, because I'm totally fine except for the fact that I had whiplash for a few days. I hit a cement embankment head on at 45 miles per hour on the interstate. The airbag didn't go off. I'm so lucky I was wearing my seatbelt, that I wasn't injured, and that I wasn't hit by another car after I lost control on the snow. I guess it took realizing that the car is useless now to appreciate how lucky I was.
Sidenote aside, we've been searching for a vehicle. So Brian showed us a car, and we'll see what develops. Hopefully soon Ty and I will buy our first car together as a married couple. (I feel so grown up. Yay, debt. haha)
Then, I made the final jaunt of my trip to Oklahoma. Fun fact: there is NO Verizon service between the Oklahoma line south of Dodge City to about half an hour outside of Stillwater. It made for a very lonesome drive, a wrong turn that made the trip an hour longer, and a very worried husband.
I left Denver around 9:30AM and I got back to Stillwater at 11:00PM. To top it off, I left my house key in Denver. I'm not a "smooth criminal" so I had to call a locksmith and pay 65 dollars. Still made better time than the way there.
My door was unlocked around 12 and I fell into bed around 1. Just in time for a "nap" and a shower before I had to go to class the next morning.
On my five-hour drive without phone service, I had so much time to think, and for me that's not always a good thing. I get to over-thinking, over-analyzing, and over-imagining which usually leads to a depressed mood and a bout of paranoia. Last night was a little different.
I thought about book ideas and things I could write about in my fiction books. I thought about how the heck I'm going to do all of my homework before I need to leave again on Thursday. I thought about when/how I'm going to send my books of to a publisher. I thought about Ty, and how different marriage is in reality than how I imagined it. I thought about Tucker and how nice it was to be able to see him again. I thought about all of the hours my mom's spending with him and how Dad's splitting his time between two towns hours away. I thought about how it really sucks to live in Western Kansas, so far from good healthcare. I thought about how I would write this blog.
Writing means so much to me, and it's grown to mean more than when I first started this blog. It was a hobby, something I did because I enjoyed it, but something I never thought I could make a living at. I still don't know if I can make a living at it. But I'm making a life of it. I'm making a life of thinking, sharing, and honestly discussing.
Life is so messy, and it's hard, and some days we wonder whether we're going to get through it at all. Where are those stories? Where are the people talking about crying yourself to sleep at night, or struggling to get up in the morning because you're so sad. Who talks about smelly feet and razor burn and acne? I want to be real, honest, transparent. Life isn't what it looks like on someone's Facebook page. Life is what we live every single day, in the privacy (and sometimes pain) of our own minds. I guess it's time we started talking about it.
Saturday, January 23, 2016
Update on Tucker #4
In two days it will be a month since Tucker first had his injury. It's crazy to me to think how much things have changed since then. When we first found him I was wondering whether he would be with us the next second, and now I feel comfortable leaving for a week or two at a time and being fairly certain he'll still be here until I get back.
I just got to Craig Hospital midday yesterday, and Tucker was in a little grumpy mood. He had to go do some of his therapy, and we all know that getting better is a chore. After therapy though, he was in a great mood. We laughed, talked, made fun of Mom a little, and just generally had a good evening together.
Physically, he's improving so much. They're working with him in physical therapy, the swelling in his face has gone down (although there's still a lot of swelling), and the big news: he's been able to see a little bit! He hasn't been able to consistently see, and he can only see a teeeeennyy bit out of one eye, but it's better than nothing. He's been able to tell when the lights are on and off, too. I'm hoping that as his swelling goes down his eyesight will improve. There's a team of eye doctors working with him, so hopefully as the swelling goes down they'll be able to see if they can do anything to help his eyesight.
Still praying for him every day, and thanking God every day that Tuck's still with us. He's set to be at Craig for another three weeks and then we'll see where he goes from here. The staff at Craig is adamant about only focusing on his brain injury, and no one's mentioned hardly anything about what will happen after this. Time will tell.
I just got to Craig Hospital midday yesterday, and Tucker was in a little grumpy mood. He had to go do some of his therapy, and we all know that getting better is a chore. After therapy though, he was in a great mood. We laughed, talked, made fun of Mom a little, and just generally had a good evening together.
Physically, he's improving so much. They're working with him in physical therapy, the swelling in his face has gone down (although there's still a lot of swelling), and the big news: he's been able to see a little bit! He hasn't been able to consistently see, and he can only see a teeeeennyy bit out of one eye, but it's better than nothing. He's been able to tell when the lights are on and off, too. I'm hoping that as his swelling goes down his eyesight will improve. There's a team of eye doctors working with him, so hopefully as the swelling goes down they'll be able to see if they can do anything to help his eyesight.
Still praying for him every day, and thanking God every day that Tuck's still with us. He's set to be at Craig for another three weeks and then we'll see where he goes from here. The staff at Craig is adamant about only focusing on his brain injury, and no one's mentioned hardly anything about what will happen after this. Time will tell.
Monday, January 18, 2016
Cleaning Out the Friends List
There is a fact that keeps me awake at night. It frustrates, scares, and relieves me. Okay, I don't like the suspense either, so here is this all powerful, scary fact: You can't do everything alone.
There you have it.
Sometimes, due to whatever limitations (time, money, will-power, whatever) I need help. And I hate it. If I could do everything completely on my own (except for make chocolate chip pancakes--Ty's way better at that) and never have to rely on or trust anyone else, I would be completely and totally happy and my world would be completely and totally in my control.
Ha. Like anything could ever be completely and totally in anyone's control. As far as I know, that's God's job, and he seems to do a pretty good job of it.
Okay, enough of all the jibber-jabber. I'll get to the point. Over the last few weeks, a lot has been out of my control, and I've needed help. From having the strength to support Tucker through all of this, moving to Stillwater from Denver/Sharon Springs/Wallace/Nashville/Manhattan, to starting grad school, to cleaning out the apartment Mom and Tucker shared, I've needed a lot of support.
I don't want to go all Jehovah's Witness on you, but I have to say this: I've never believed more in God than I have over he last few weeks. Through every second I've felt His presence, strength, and love, and I know I couldn't have made it through this without Him. I can't even begin to describe the countless miracles he's worked for Tucker and my family. Through every painful, terrifying, saddening moment, He's been my rock.
Leaving Tucker in the hospital was so hard. I know he's well taken care of by the doctors, nurses, techs, Mom (who's been with him every day since I left) and Dad (who's been with him almost as much). At the same time, it's hard not being there to sit by him and tell him how much I love him. It's excruciating not being able to look over at him and see that he's still alive, still breathing. I miss talking with him and getting caught up on TV shows with him. I'm tearing up just typing this.
Starting grad school was hard. I've already got my days/times confused and accidentally missed a class... that I have with the professor who decides whether or not I get my assistantship next semester. Hopefully he'll understand. He was very helpful in getting me scheduled so I'll have four days off from school a week to travel to Denver.
This weekend, another test. I offered to go to Manhattan and finish cleaning out Mom and Tuck's apartment because I'm the closest, and I have a few friends in town who I hoped would help. I texted two people: an old classmate (Derek), and my first college room mate, Madison. Like the wonderful people they are, they both immediately agreed to do whatever they could to help.
A little back story: Madison and I met on this social networking site for K-State students looking for room mates, and I swear it was like dating. We had the nervous first "meeting," talked for a few months before trying anything, and we were both trying to work up the courage to ask each other to live together. Luckily, Madison had some lady-balls and asked me. We were only room mates for six months before Ty and I moved in together, but it was a great six months! :)
Anyway, it was looking like it was going to be a horrible weekend. About an hour into the trip, Papi--who never gets carsick--starts vomiting. So I pull over and have to clean up sick-smelling doggy barf in below-freezing weather. Of course, shortly after I finish cleaning that up and get to driving 65 mph he starts barfing again... Needless to say, I'm hoping I can get the vehicle I borrowed smelling better before I return it.
Poor, sick Papi.
Then, the apartment was locked, so I had to hang out in the pukey car until the landlord came by to unlock the apartment for me.
In retrospect, I'm not sure an excuse not
to clean was such a terrible thing.
Derek met me in Manhattan after he got off of work on Friday, which is amazing considering he works in construction doing hard labor. We got started cleaning and made a good dent in the apartment. Cleaning wears me out, so I needed FOOD. We went to IHOP, and he paid. Grr. I even tried the whole "my husband's going to get mad about another man buying me dinner" card, but it didn't work.
Also, in an act of supreme kindness,
he left some B-E-A-utiful selfies
on my phone...
I'd been planning on sleeping in the apartment, and had even brought an air mattress and blankets, but Derek said I could stay at the house he shares with some room mates. I got to thinking that it might be hard to sleep in the place where Ty and I used to live with Tucker and decided to take him up on the offer. Long story short, a nice room mate of his gave up his room and slept on the couch so I could have a room to myself.
We got up bright and early (8:30 AM) the next morning and started cleaning.
I wore my gram's bright tie-dye shirt.
I think she was onto something with
the bright colors.
Derek had to leave for a prior engagement and Madison (who'd worked a 2-10 the night before) came to help just before he left. I think we spent about half the time cleaning and half the time catching up on everything we'd missed since we'd seen each other last.
I feel like this quote applies to these two gems.
We went out for lunch at Chilis, came back and cleaned some more, and then agreed to meet up later to go out on the town AKA Aggieville. Derek agreed to come too. The plan was to have a couple of beers, relax, and do some swing dancing.
But this quote is also startlingly accurate.
As is this one. I'll have you know that I only almost-face planted
three times while attempting to swing dance. And I have to admit
that Madison and Derek are a lot better dancers than I am. Pre-
and post-wine.
After a few hours of marching around Aggieville, we decided it was time to go home and we walked in 0 degree weather to Madison's house. After nearly losing a cell phone to the toilet, and sliding down some stairs (everyone's okay!) we played some cards and went to bed. It was one of the funnest nights I've had in a long time, and I definitely needed it.
Madison and me. Fun fact: we didn't take
a picture together for the whole six months
we were room mates. Had to make up for
some lost time.
Madison and Derek. So thankful for these two.
After far too little sleep, we got up, got some McDonald's breakfast, and I went to mass. Ironically, mass was about the wedding at Cana where Jesus turned the water into wine. The priest gave a nice homily about how Jesus's love is always more than enough.
I went to the apartment after that to do some last-minute cleaning, and Derek came to pick up his cleaning supplies that he'd generously loaned for the job. I looked around the apartment one last time, and officially said goodbye to that part of my life.
Life is constantly changing and a new chapter of life has began for all of my family. Our priorities are different, our future plans are different, our outlooks on life are different, our lives are different.
So we're obviously getting near the end of this post, and you're probably wondering about the title. Well, there's two reasons for that. 1) Because I thought it'd make people read this. (sorry not sorry ;) and 2) Because we need to think twice about burning bridges. Myself especially. You might be thinking that it's liberating to clear people out of your life, but think again. What are they going through? Are they going to need you? Will you need them? Because who knows, someday you might be asking some version of "Who's going to help me clean out this apartment?"
This "daily odd compliment" isn't so odd after all.
Oh, and in case you were wondering. Papi's doing better.
Thursday, January 14, 2016
The UN-Steal
Mastered the UN-steal tonight... It's when you accidentally take something from the store, then sneak back inside to return it... Winning.
From student graduate to graduate student
Do you remember that scene in Finding Nemo? It's where we first meet Nemo. He's unbelievably excited to attend his first day of school. So much so that he pummels his dad (Marlin) awake and somehow gets stuck in a tube. Don't remember? Here's a refresher:
If I try and look back on the first time I was ever that excited for school, it would have to be before I started school. Before preschool. Pre-preschool if you will. And don't get me wrong, I really did enjoy school up until fifth grade. (Yech, the awkward years.) And I guess in some ways I still enjoy school.
I enjoyed it enough to get a bachelors degree, and it must not have been so horrible because I've applied and been accepted to several masters programs. Heck, I even took one of them up on the offer!
It's been quite a while though since I've had a true "first day." Actually, it's been almost two years. I was in the Czech Republic, starting a study abroad program at the Czech University of Life Sciences. Now, two years later, I'm at it again.
Tuesday was my first day of classes at Oklahoma State University in Stillwater Oklahoma. I'm starting a masters of science program in Agricultural Communications. This semester, I'm taking eight credit hours (Media Ethics, New Media, and Statistics) and working part time as an assistant to a professor. I'll be helping teach a class, and also writing some research articles. Fortunately, I've scheduled my classes so they are all on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays.
Over the last few days, there has been a lot of "new" in my life. New home, new city to name a couple. I was shown my new work space (a small office I share with five other graduate students) with my "new" personal Mac computer, with my new computer programs (Adobe, Microsoft.. you know, the works), a new campus to figure out, new professors, new graduate students to meet, and new classes to take.
I don't think I realized how difficult this would be until I was sitting in my first class. It was Media Ethics, with about ten other students and I was "this" close to a panic attack. If you've been reading my blog, you know how much I love meeting new people. Starting the class didn't help because the professor walked through every. single. tiny. little. thing. we would ever have to do for the rest of the semester. Needless to say, I was more than a little overwhelmed. (So what do I do? I write a blog post. Naturally.)
I had another class on Tuesday called New Media, and it sounds like a lot of work, but it sounds interesting. We'll be talking about social networking, building a brand online, and learning how to interview people. Since I've been interviewing women and writing about them for another project, that should be a great asset.
I'm helping to TA a professional development class that takes place on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so that's what I'm hanging around campus for between 2:30 and 3:30 now. Plus, I have to figure out how the heck to work a Mac. I'll keep you posted on that because I feel like it might be a struggle.
The other graduate students in the office with me seem really nice. I've already been invited to watch the Bachelor on Monday nights, and exchanged a couple phone numbers. Here's to hoping I'll make some lifelong friends with these lovely ladies. :)
On Wednesday, I attended my most-feared class: elementary statistics. I feel like the name is a little oxymoronic because there is nothing "elementary" about statistics. Admittedly, the first class was easy, but we'll see how the semester develops. I was a little miffed because right before class I went to the student union to buy my book (that the instructor posted online that we needed) and in class she said we don't need that version of the book--that we could use an older (and $100 cheaper) version of the book for the class... guess who's going to the bookstore later to return the book.
On a brighter note, I've already discovered my favorite place on campus. It's a series of ponds with a walking trail and some very lively geese. It kind of reminds me of the pond in the middle of campus at Czech University of Life Sciences. Makes me miss it.
The hardest part about being a grad student is not being in Denver with Tucker. For two weeks, I slept in the hospital room next to him, helped him play It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia on Netflix, and bought him Arby's. Now, I'm nine hours away and I feel totally powerless to help at all. I'm glad I have four-day-weekends to make the trip there to help. People keep telling me I'm in the right place, and maybe physically I am, but my mind and heart are split between Tucker in Denver and Ty in Nashville. All I can do, though, is keep praying and hope they know how much I love them.
Overall, it's been a long week, and it's not even Friday yet. Hopefully I'll be able to relax at home and take a nice long nap... I'm sure Papi will appreciate a cuddle buddy.
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