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