Sit Still, Look Pretty

When I was a kid, my grandma would often call the house on summer afternoons. My siblings and I would see the number on the caller ID of our home phone and sigh. "Should we answer? Are you up for it?" we'd ask each other. Usually, at least one of us would volunteer to take the trip to get ice cream. You would think kids would be chomping at the bit to get ice cream with their grandma, but that wasn't the case for us. Those trips to grab soft serve weren't a carefree afternoon, but instead a performance. I won't speak for my siblings or cousins. Their experiences may have been very different, but my ice cream afternoons always started with an evaluation. Grandma would look me up and down and make a comment on something with my appearance. Sometimes the comments were small praises. "Your hair is so pretty." "I like your shirt." "You look so thin." Other times, more cryptic comments. "You wear those flip-flops a lot." "Are you wearing your hair up like that because you are playing a sport?" "Is that a new t-shirt? It's different." I smiled agreeably. After we ordered ice cream, Grandma had us sit at a table near the door. She watched for any person who walked through the door and immediately intercepted their trip to the counter to place an order. "This is my granddaughter, Roxanne. She's in ___ grade. I'm just so proud of her" was a usual interjection. We lived in a small town and most people already knew who I was, but they politely would assure my grandma that I was a fine young girl and I would smile politely back and thank them. 

I never understood why those afternoons bothered me so much. I got free ice cream. I didn't have to do any chores. But twice this week, a song called "Sit Still, Look Pretty" by Daya popped up on my randomized playlist and, for whatever reason, both times I thought back to those ice cream days and even the memory made me feel drained. I think what bothers me was the lack of worth outside of being pretty and obedient. I wasn't a "fine young girl" because I was intelligent or well-spoken or kind or funny. My grandma (or the many people that walked into that dining establishment) didn't know if I was imaginative or hard-working or brave. They never asked me anything about myself. I was only "good" because I didn't speak at all. I was valued for my appearance only. 

This feeling wasn't isolated to interactions with my grandmother. I was a "great student" at every parent teacher conference, not because of my innovation or leadership, but because I never spoke up and complained or made problems at school. Teachers liked me, not because of my actions, but instead the lack of them. My parents would get compliments from doctors or waitresses about how "well-behaved" I was. I learned early on that silence and complacency were praised and I would feel overwhelmingly guilty every time I would cry or make a mess. I didn't want to be a burden to anyone in any way. I was more worthy of love if I didn't cause anyone any inconvenience at all, right?

Unfortunately, I have taken those standards for myself into my adult life. At work, I can't remember a single time that I met with a manager or boss that I spoken up and said anything except to answer a question. I always smile and nod and tell him/her that everything is great, even when it's not. I don't want to create problems. I want to be a "good" employee. In almost every job I've had, I've been assigned more tasks than I can juggle, because each time I'm asked if I can do something, I smile and say, "Of course." 

Even with friends and family, who I know love me for much more than my appearance, I often try to make myself still or invisible. I'll have the urge to call a friend and tell them about an experience, but then convince myself they don't want to hear from me. I'll vent about something to someone and then immediately feel terrible for not shutting up and just keeping my feelings to myself. I regularly tell myself that it's okay to take up space and that my feelings are important too, but I'm not very good at listening to my own voice. I hope I can get better. My voice matters. Yours does too. We don't have to contort ourselves to fit what others prefer to see. We can be loud. We can move. And I think we'll still be pretty.

A Lifetime of July 4ths

 Tonight I am sitting on my 4th floor balcony, watching fireworks light up the city with the mountains in the background. Nothing too special on this Tuesday evening, but with a warm breeze and a cold beer, I feel content. My favorite fireworks are those that start out as a small golden spark. I love the anticipation of them. Will their explosion be blue, green or yellow? Will they be big or small? A short flash or a lingering crackle? There's no real way to predict. You just have to wait and see. That's a lot like my Independence Days. I can never predict them from one year to the next, but they always turn out spectacular in their own way.

The first 4th of July I remember was in a park in the tiny town of Bloomington. I sat on a blanket. I remember it was so loud and so smoky, but I was so enamored that I wanted to cry when the booms went silent. I think we probably went to this show more than once, but this is the only memory that lingers. The warm night, the grass, the smoke, and the feeling of never wanting to leave. 

In high school, Independence Day took on a new purpose for my family and me. My mom took initiative and started a firework business out of our shed. For the week leading up to the 4th, I woke up every morning, grabbed the cash box and a book and walked barefoot across to the shed to open up for business. While I didn't enjoy the spectacle of fireworks in this season of my life, I enjoyed many things. I will always remember those afternoons sitting on a picnic bench as my sister meticulously organized and reorganized the shelves and my brother and dog chased bunnies. I'll remember when we were slow and I walked around, grabbing a drink from the garden house or picking pears off the tree in the yard. I'll remember the days when my grandpa brought Casey's pizza over for lunch and we all complained about the mosquitoes. I will always be thankful for those memories as well as the money we earned that helped make my college experiences possible.

Speaking of college experiences, I ended up spending one Independence Day in Scotland as I studied abroad. I remember that the residence assistants felt bad that this group of students from the U.S. were missing the holiday and set up a tea party with plates of scones decorated with American flags. We thought a tea party was the least patriotic thing we could think of and laughed about it, but the thought was nice. We threatened to throw all the tea into a nearby loch, but the RAs didn't appreciate that idea.

The following year, I spent July 4th with friends. I was so excited to get back to Lincoln after weeks at home for summer break that I actually left my entire suitcase in the driveway. I had to make a trip to Walmart when I arrived in Lincoln to get the necessities. I remember I bought a $5 sun dress to wear to the house party we went to. It didn't fit right and I spent the whole night adjusting it, looking completely ridiculous. That's why it was so funny that after way too many red, white, and blue jello shots, a boy at the party told me I looked "lovely" in my dress. He then proceeded to kiss my neck like a very sloppy vampire. Hillary, always the best friend, decided maybe now was time to go home. Unfortunately, I proved just as sloppy as my vampire friend as I pranced around and spilled macaroni salad all over her parents' driveway. Hillary has never let me live this moment down.

After college, Hillary once invited me to Seward, Nebraska, 4th of July City. After hours of walking around booths and watching the parade, we took a break from the sweltering heat and popped into the air conditioning to watch a movie at the local theater. As the sun finally set, we headed to the park. As I sat on the grass, I watched the smoke fill the dark sky and was taken back to that moment in the Bloomington park long ago. 

This Independence Day may not be a core memory like those I'm remembering tonight, but it's beautiful nonetheless. Each year, like each firework, brings something new. I know my future Julys hold many memories full of new locations, different people, and experiences I can never predict.

Happy 4th of July, all!

...So I Go Alone.

 I went to a concert tonight and as I slid into my seat, a single seat between two couples, the girl next to me asked if I was riding solo tonight. I said, "Yes, I don't let a lack of a date hinder me from having fun with Kelsea." (Kelsea Ballerini was the concert we were at).

She laughed and we talked for a while about concerts we'd been to recently. Eventually, she said, "You're so brave coming alone. I made my boyfriend come even though he doesn't know any of her music because I couldn't show up by myself."

This is not the first time I've heard this sentiment. Friends tell me I'm "brave" for going to movies or hiking or restaurants alone. In fact, it's quite the opposite. 

Ever since I can remember, I've suffered terribly from social anxiety. I never felt like my classmates or my cousins or even my siblings wanted me around. This may have been a false perception, but I'd get so worked up with worry in social settings, that I discovered coping mechanisms. Sometimes I'd take on tasks that made me feel helpful; volunteering for classroom tasks or handing out drinks or desserts at birthday parties. Sometimes I found solo activities. I would spend recess reading or swinging alone.

I wish I could tell you I have become more confident in my 31 years and handle social gatherings better, but I generally fall into my usual patterns. I start to panic. I begin to feel overwhelmed and unwanted, so I tell myself to be helpful or to get out of the way. At my brother's wedding rehearsal, I started greeting people at the door and directing people to the bathroom. No one asked me to...it just made me feel less awkward and out-of-place. At the reception, I couldn't find any tasks or any corner to hide in, so I probably drank too much to calm my nerves.

I do activities alone not because I'm confident and brave and don't care what people think, but because I care too much. Going solo means avoiding rejection. Going solo means not spending the entire interaction anxious. When I do actually go to movies or restaurants or hikes with others, I spend the entire time wondering if they are happy. Have you seen the scene from New Girl about Jess worried about others' feelings? (I'll share it below). That's me. All the time. And it's exhausting. So to avoid it. I just go alone.

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZT8e9cVjJ/

People aren't always how we perceive them to be. I once worked with a woman who I admired greatly. She seemed to exude confidence. I'd watch her teach or even walk through the hallways and thought she had it all together. I wanted to be just like her. Then, I went to grab a drink after work with her once, and I realized how much she relied on external validation. She was telling me stories asking me to assure her she did the right thing. I later noticed she posted good deeds on social media to incite compliments and went out of way to impress our principal. It didn't make her a bad person. It just made her more relatable.  

We're all human. We all have insecurities and flaws. I'm not "brave". No one has it "all together." As Kelsea Ballerini said at the concert tonight:

I'm doin' my best
I'm lettin' the rest roll off my shoulders, baby
Don't always get it right
Hey, and that's alright
That's what I'm learnin' lately, I keep
Growin' up, I keep
Rollin' up my sleeves and I think
That showin' up is good enough for me

Looking for...

 I've always been somewhat opposed to online dating. This is not because I don't think it works. I know it does. Many of my friends met their significant others this way and they have wonderful relationships. What I dislike is the importance of appearance in connection. I hate how I feel when making quick judgements about other people. But most of all, I feel like an imposter in a world full of those who know exactly what they are looking for. I remember during my first year of teaching, I had a coworker that constantly asked me if I was dating someone. I told her that I didn't want to date because I wasn't sure what I was looking for. "Exactly why you have to date. You have to figure out what you are looking for."

I've downloaded all the dating apps. The first question is always "What are you looking for?" I tried to make a blanket statement about being open to meeting people, but then guys would message me and ask me the same question. I'd make up some vague answer and guys lost interest immediately. The truth is all I was really "looking for" was approval from others. I wanted to be able to respond to the constant inquiries from friends and co-workers and family members. I felt like some kind of effort was expected of me. But I was never the little girl who planned out a wedding growing up. I do not have any aspiration to have children. Instead of sounding like a dream, the idea of sharing my home with another person sounds suffocating. 

So, a few years ago, I deleted all my profiles filled with false platitudes and masks over who I am. I started focusing on what I need to feel successful or relaxed or joyful instead of what others wanted for me. I traded fakey text chains with strangers for conversations with myself. As Miley Cyrus says in her latest single, I can "talk to myself for hours...say things you don't understand." But as soon as a friend or co-worker asks about my dating life, I still react instinctually and make up an excuse or flat out lie. It's like I'm apologizing for not wanting the same things as them instead of accepting we have different life goals. 

I've spent a lot of time trying to make excuses for my lack of desire for the things everyone around me wants. I've spent WAY too much of my entire life working to be complacent and helpful because I thought I needed to fit in. But being needed or being liked are not the same thing as being understood.  So, what am I looking for? I'm looking for:

-Self-assurance 

-Kindness and acceptance of all lifestyles 

-Honesty with myself and others

Hoping you all find what you are looking for, even if you don't know what that is yet. Have a great week!

When the Best "Discipline" Is Just Showing You Care

When I was a teacher, I had people tell me all the time that kids today are so "spoiled." Yes, kids were, and are, out of control sometimes at school. For me, though, almost all of my students who acted out weren't spoiled. They were neglected. They were screaming (sometimes literally) for attention. 

When I first started teaching I was always trying to impose some sort of discipline. I thought that was how you got kids to behave. You had to take away a privilege or sent them to detention, right? This was NOT working. Kids continued their bad behavior and sometimes got worse, resenting me for embarrassing them in front of peers or not listening to them. I blamed the "out of control" kids for quite a while. 

In my second year of teaching, I remember one student very vividly. He was defiant and aggressive and rude every single day. He was the first student I ever yelled at. And I really lost it with him. I regret it to this day. Then one day, I happened to go down to the gym after school and watched his basketball game. Afterwards, I told him how impressed I was by him. He actually smiled. "You came to watch me?" he asked. Truthfully, I had no idea he was on the team before I walked into the gym that day, but I nodded and smiled back. The next day in class? He didn't argue. He didn't talk back. I was stunned. I later learned that his parents had never come to see him play. Of course, this wasn't a cure-all solution. He continued to act out, but each time, I would make a comment about being disappointed in his work or his behavior and I could tell he didn't like disappointing me. 

I remember being the same way with my parents and teachers. If you showed you cared for me, I didn't want to disappoint you. I wasn't motivated to do well in school because I was disciplined for getting a bad grade. I don't remember my parents ever being angry about a grade I got. I do remember my mom asking almost every day how I did in school that day. I remember her hanging assignments from the fridge. I remember her offering to help with homework. I was motivated because I knew she cared. 

On the other hand, I remember one teacher who lectured me in class for not paying attention. He called me "irresponsible" in front of my peers. I never tried in that class ever again. I'd say most of my teachers would call me a good student, but I truly was bad in his class. He didn't realize that the day he lectured me, I was being bullied by a classmate. The intention of his "discipline" was to make me rethink my actions and be better, but instead it signaled to me that he didn't care about me so I no longer cared about his class. I thought about that encounter a lot after I did the exact same thing without considering why students might be acting out.

Of course, I never perfected the right way to respond to unwanted behavior with my students. Shortly before I quit, I sent a student to the principal and he screamed at me that I was the "worst teacher ever" before slamming the door. A little harsh, but a decent call-out for a day when I had little patience and didn't follow my own beliefs about student interactions at all. I don't think any teacher (or parent) ever gets it right all the time. 

As someone who is no longer a teacher and does not plan to be a parent, it's probably strange that I'm so invested in this topic. But honestly, this reaches far beyond interactions with children. Just this week, I had a coworker call me crying. A manager had reprimanded her for a mistake. The manager hadn't called and asked for my coworkers side of the story. She hadn't made a plan to work together to fix the problem. She, like so many other managers/parents/bosses/teachers, was trying to be "tough." She was most likely trying to command respect, but instead communicated she cared more about the perception of our team than this person. And now this very good employee might leave. 

Almost all of my friends and family members have the same complaint about work: "they don't care about me at all." Almost every complaint I hear about marriage/relationships stems of a perceived lack of caring. So, if you interact with people at any capacity at all, maybe think less about being right or being perfect and more about recognizing the efforts of those around you. I've honestly never known anyone that responds well to being "disciplined." We might behave better out of fear (of being hurt, of losing our job, etc.) but I truly believe we all, adults and kids alike, want to know that we are appreciated; that people care about the work we are doing. For those who care about us, we are willing to listen and willing to change.

When You Don't Have a Passion

 Once, I was in a college class and I overheard two boys discussing the show Survivor as we waited for our professor to show up.
As a fan of the show, I spoke up. "I'm a huge Survivor fan!" I interjected.
One guy turned toward me and said, "Well, who do you think is going to win this season?"
I hesitated. The season hadn't started yet. I didn't even know the contestants' names yet. "Well, I don't know yet. I'll sure I'll get a better sense after the first episode."
"If you haven't researched the cast, you're not that "huge" of a fan, are you?"
I sat silently as he proceeded to tell me about his weekly Survivor podcast, numerous auditions for the shows, and an actual Survivor contestant he had interviewed. 

I still think about that moment a lot. Before that precise moment, "Survivor fan" was a part of my identity. I think I even had a Survivor reference on my online dating profile at the time. Though I am fully aware now that that guy was an asshole, he was correct. In comparison, my fandom could not be considered "huge". I dedicated no time outside of show hours obsessing over the cast or challenges. I'd never even applied to be on, despite saying I wanted to. 

This has been a somewhat common trend throughout my life. I thought I liked journalism until I took a single journalism course and was even a tiny bit as excited as my classmates. I love watching sports, but can't even tell you who won the Super Bowl 5 years ago and fall behind in conversations with my dad and brother. I have always been an avid reader, but in an interview for a high school English teaching position, I was quizzed and told in no uncertain terms that I didn't have enough knowledge of literature to fit the position. I recently joined a trivia group in town and told them that I knew a lot about music and movies, but it turned out my knowledge was not deep enough and I couldn't answer a single question in either category. I like hiking, but I don't track my trails and set goals. I like baking, but I've never made anything to brag about. I feel fairly tech-savvy, but when my cousin talks about computers, it's like a different language. I'm a casual gamer, a mediocre bowler, a blog-once-a-month writer. 

I don't have a "passion."

At my current job, we have people called Subject Matter Experts. If we have a question about a specific product, we find the SME for that product and they will have the answer. I thought, Wow, wouldn't it be amazing to be the person that had the answers? What would I want to be an "expert" in? I can't think of anything. There's a river near where I grew up that was often described as "a mile wide and an inch deep." Recently, I've started to think of myself like that river. I love a lot of things. I'm curious. I'm inquisitive. I love to learn and I'm willing to try new things, but nothing in my life has ever really been my expertise. My interest only goes so deep.

Does this bother me? A little bit. I think we are told to follow our passions in life and realizing you don't have one is like going through life without a map. But sometimes it's when you're off the path that you discover the most beautiful things. Sometimes when you're not buried deep into something, you're free to run after a new opportunity. As J. R. R. Tolkien said, "Not all those who wander are lost." So I'll keep wandering. 

Joyful, Grateful, and Kind

 In January, everyone wants to be something new. The month is like a big reset button. I think that's great. I'm the kind of person who actually likes Mondays because of that "new beginning" feeling. Over that past year, I've done a lot of reflecting on who I want to be. I think that comes with the territory of quitting a career you thought you'd spend a lifetime doing. I know what matters to other people. As a people-pleaser, I'm always attune to what others are talking about the most: money, appearance, job title, home's appearance, etc. The problem is I've spent my life trying to be what everyone else admired that it was difficult for me to specify what means the most to me. 

My parents have always put a lot of weight into being successful. Our grades were important and we were always encouraged to our best on every assignment. Honors programs and awards were praised, and now degrees and promotions are touted. 

In the community I grew up in, involvement was important. I remember how often I heard adults in my life publicly talk about kids that weren't on the football/basketball/volleyball team in disgust. Since sports weren't my forte, I tried desperately to hit the right involvement percentage by joining clubs and plays and student council and even videotaping sporting events so I didn't seem lazy. 

To my friends, loyalty has always been important. I want to always show up with open ears and arms. I want to be on their side no matter what. I have dropped everything else at their request. 

My bosses always respect a go-getter attitude. I constantly volunteer for extra tasks or responsibilities. I stayed after school doing all kinds of tasks to show initiative. "Whatever you need me to do" became a common mantra. I never wanted to be disagreeable. 

And I can't deny that I've tried to be what several guys wanted in my life. For the guy always speaking up in class, I wanted to be intelligent. How many nights I spent poring over the reading so I'd have something insightful to say! For another, I tried to be helpful, always offering my time and energy to drive him to the airport or help him move or bring him a treat after a bad day. 

I want to be clear. None of the previous examples are bad. I am so glad I worked hard in school and was involved in so many activities. I'm glad I have been a loyal friend and a good employee. But I think our ideas of who we want to be change throughout the stages of our lives. These qualities served me well in the past, but I have new priorities.

There are people I know that always have a beautiful house and are great hosts. Some that always look beautiful, with hair and makeup and clothing meticulously thought-out. Some that are in great shape. Some that are amazing leaders and are moving up in their careers. I have idolized all of those kinds of people. I could strive to be any one of them and with enough effort, I could probably be successful. But, right now in my life, I don't think any of those is the person I hope to be.

In 2023, I want to be 3 things: joyful, grateful, and kind. 

Joyful comes first for a reason. Life isn't worth living if you aren't prioritizing joy. I want to always be laughing (even if it's loud and obnoxious). I want to be the person who finds the joy in situations that lack hope. I want to continue seeking adventures and consuming stories and seeing the world and not taking life so seriously. I've seen too many people, 20+ years my senior, worrying about the number on a scale or the number of steps they've taken that day or the number in their investment account. We don't remember numbers of anyone when they leave us. We rarely dwell on their mistakes or inadequacies. We remember the memories of joy. So, I hope I have created a lot of them.  

Grateful is next. Over the past few years, gratitude has helped me a lot. I try to think about 3 things I am grateful for every day. It helps me to not fall into feelings of despair. It honestly helps me sleep...or get out of bed in the morning. I also think it's important for me to express my gratitude to others vocally. I think we can assume that those we love know we are grateful for them, but sometimes they need to hear it. We all want to be appreciated.

Kind will always make my list. The world can always use more of it. It is probably the thing that I am attracted to most in others as well. I will be kind to a waitress even if the service hasn't been superb. I don't know what her day has been like. I will be kind to coworkers because we work better if we are working together. I will be kind to strangers, but also to family, who have the power to frustrate me the most. To me, this is essential to who I am.

I hope your 2023 is everything you want it to be.