The Halloween Costumes of My Childhood

Do you remember what you were for Halloween as a child? I was thinking about this today. The only two I really remember were when I was Princess Jasmine and when I was Josephina (The American Girl). I know I had to have been many, many other things, but I just don't remember what they were. In my teenage years, I think I was a witch/vampire a few times, and I know from pictures and stories that I was a pumpkin as a baby.

I keep wondering why only these two costumes in between stand out. I think the Josephina probably does because my mom took a lot of time trying to collect the right clothes and jewelry to make me match my favorite book character. Jasmine kind of baffles me. I've been told Beauty and the Beast was always my favorite movie, so why do I remember Jasmine so vividly? I remember the beaded headband and the way the flowy pants felt when I walked. Something about that costume really sticks.

So do you have a specific costume that sticks out to you? Share your memories in the comments!

Who Am I?

Have you ever seen a Facebook profile with the person never smiling? Or a dating app profile with the person sitting on the couch in every picture? My guess is that you haven't. That's because profile pages are a place to present ourselves as we want to look to others. We want to show others we are happy and successful and have our lives together. We want to show we do fun things on a daily basis. Maybe we want to show we are artsy or creative on Instagram or Pinterest.  I mean not all of us are climbing mountains or skiing or ziplining every day, but what dating profile doesn't have the obligatory "adventurous" picture?

Whether it's because I live in a world of social media or because it is just a natural human instinct, I know that I am constantly "editing" myself and trying to be the best me for the situation and context. Because of that, I often feel like I lose my core self.  Most of my friends would tell you I am very "chill" and laid-back. My family or students would tell you the opposite. Sometimes, I wish my friends could see me take charge and be the control freak that I often am. More often, I wish I could show how relaxed I can be to family instead of taking over conversations and decisions so often. A while back, I had a wonderful day at work and thought, "I wish other people in my life could see this "me." This is the "me" I like best."

Isn't that a weird thought? Why didn't I just enjoy the day? Why does it even matter what anyone else sees or thinks?

This is something I think about a lot, but haven't ever adequately put into words. This week, though, one of the characters in my book really spoke to me on this subject. In the story, she gets a nose piercing and talks about how she kept seeing herself from outside her body. She was hoping this look would capture the personality she wanted to show to others. Later, she sees her father's reaction to the piercing and feels instantly bad because she now doesn't fit the "good daughter" persona anymore. Throughout the book, she talks about how everyone dresses each day with someone specific in mind, whether it's a boss, parent, crush, husband, or new friend. She looks at herself from the outside instead of how she feels inside her body.

"Quinn wondered why she didn't stick in her own body more...why did she slip out of it so easily? Why wasn't her obligation to herself more binding? What if she slipped out of her body one time and forgot to come back?" --The Whole Thing Together by Ann Brashares

Something about that line really speaks to me. I "slip out" of myself all the time. I've never heard anyone describe it that way, but so often I'm not even really a part of the conversations I take part in. I feel like I'm watching them as a bystander. I look at myself in the mirror with other people's eyes.

As someone who prides myself on my independence and self-efficacy, this is a nagging thought. I have been  working hard to be more present in myself. This is why I started going on hikes alone this summer, trying to ground myself. Unfortunately, most of my hikes involved thoughts of pictures I could post on Snapchat or other people who would like this trail or how out of shape I looked when climbing a hill. I had to keep stopping myself. Stare at that sunset. Take a deep breath. Listen to the breeze in the trees.

I'm also trying to ask myself what I like and who I am a lot more. Do I actually like this or do I want others to think I like this? Am I editing my reaction based on the audience? Who do I really want to be for ME? Who the heck am I? I'm still working on it. I probably always will be. But if I find any answers, I'll keep you posted.

My "Me Too" Post

Over the past week, all over social media, there has been a trend of women writing "Me Too" to indicate an experience they have had with sexual assault or sexual harassment. When I first saw this circulating, I chose to ignore it. It wasn't because I didn't agree with the intent. I just knew it was another social media fad that would be forgotten in a few weeks. If people don't believe women testifying in court about these things, who is going to believe a Facebook post? But I kept scrolling through comments of "I can't believe that" and "Wow, I'm so sorry." This confused me. The definition of sexual harassment is "unwanted advances or obscene comments." What woman hasn't experienced that? I'd say almost every woman I know has. Personally, I plan grocery trips for high volume hours because of the times I have been followed into the parking lot. I've been grabbed at bars so hard I bruised. I've been called all kinds of names just for saying "No thank you."  This is not a rare or shocking occurrence.

For some reason, though, it seems that so many people think this is a problem for others and doesn't happen in their worlds. I had a friend tell me once that her dad thought catcalling wasn't a thing in Nebraska. She said it happened to her about once a week. I've had people from small towns act like "predators" are only in cities. The time in my life that I was sexually harassed the most was in high school in a small town. There was a boy that made me feel uncomfortable almost every day for a year. He would corner me when I was alone and make sexual comments daily and touch me as we went by in the hallway. He wasn't some criminal. He was a nice boy from a good family that was friends with all of my friends. He went to church. He was someone all the teachers and parents loved. I spent most the time thinking something was wrong with me for not liking the attention. I'm not writing this to bash this guy or to get pity. I honestly don't think he thought he was doing anything wrong. I just want to point out that this is not an isolated or "other" problem. This is about men feeling like they have the right to say of do whatever they want to women.

Thanks for letting me vent a bit, Internet friends. Have a great week. As I tell my students whenever they leave the room, "Work hard. Be kind."

Striking a Balance

The older I get, the more I realize that no one has it all together. I used to think it was just me. I hoped eventually I would "grow up" and start cleaning and making regular meals and going to the gym everyday. I wanted to be a teacher who wasn't staying at school until 6:00 at night and still struggling to get by day to day. I wanted to write in my blog every week and pay my bills on the same date every month. Some days, I just wanted to be a person that got a regular amount of sleep each night.

So far, I haven't gotten good at any of these things. I'm perpetually behind on everything. I'm sleep-deprived, throwing lessons together, not healthy, and just basically a mess. And I don't even have anyone to take care of besides myself. The secret? Neither does anyone else. When you really get to know someone and peek behind those curtains, even the "perfect" people have problems. So many people are trying to balance work life and home life and social life and personal time and most people are falling behind in at least one area. Even those who aren't often have vices to deal or have anxiety or depression as a side effect of being so perfect.

I'm only human and I can't do it all. There are only 24 hours in a day. I still hope I keep getting better, but I may never get to the point where I have it all together. But I guess I'll just make the most of it. One step at a time. One goal at a time.