Pure Abandon

Pure Abandon

 I love this title. I want to be this title. My child Piper is this title. She is 2 years old in September and she embodies pure abandon. Not long ago she started running at full speed. I would watch her and wonder how the heck she was staying on her feet! She wobbles and meanders but never worries or fears what is going to happen. This girl has no fear of injury. I will surely be in the ER with her plenty of times in my life (fb updates will keep you posted). :)

Recently she fell at full-speed. She hit her head straight on the concrete. Bleeding, she got up with scrapes all over her face and cried for a bit. Fully expecting to go home, I was shocked that the girl wanted to keep going.....to the park. She wiped the blood from her nose and kept walking, clearly determined not to quit. Her destination was more important than her failure. I ADMIRE her perseverance and long to be more like this beautiful representation of abandon.

Have you ever felt abandon? The kind of abandon when you don't try, you don't manipulate, you don't have expectations and you don't have an agenda? That is what makes it pure....it just happens. I can recall moments of abandon. When I let go of all control and live completely in the moment. When I don't care what people think, what I'm wearing, or how dumb I look. When all the world is fading away and I am soaring. I picture it as skydiving......jump out and soar with no care in the world. But do we live this way? Do we take each moment and abandon ourself to it? I know I don't.

 I see my daughter live this everyday. She has no fear of previous circumstances, she throws herself into the moment, and is ok with failing, she will pick herself up and KEEP GOING. She may have not reached her destination but she will die trying. She will shed some tears, wipe off the blood and continue without fear.

I recently had a first-impression moment. I just couldn't wait to get it over with. I seriously thought to myself, "once this is over, a weight will be lifted off of me." Have you ever felt that way? Maybe a presentation or job interview or just a tough week ahead. As the dreaded moment is coming closer I remembered "pure abandon." What if I went INTO this situation with pure abandon instead of feeling weightless AFTER it was over? What if I was completely throwing myself into authenticity? What if I REALLY believed God and His will for my life? It would be then and only then.....I would take that petrifying leap.

But why, why don't I just jump? Because....... I don't want to jack up my face. I'm afraid of the fall, the blood, the tears. I don't want to fail. Joy for me is still not in the process but in after reaching the final destination. My destination determines my mood. If I fall.....I fail.

Piper has taught me that falling is apart of the journey. She shows me courage and heart. She lives fully as a child of God and embraces failure. Sadly I know this too will fade for her. She will see the scrapes in her reflection and feel ashamed. We as parents and educators will tell her to confine her abandon. But I pray she can harness this ability to live freely, without fear. I am blessed to witness it and desire to have a few cuts and bruises myself. And although I am the WORST example of authenticity, I strive to live it....to fall....to fail....to bleed.

Never Good Enough

Lately my mind has been exploding with just great stuff. My therapist told me about this researcher who is seriously amazing. She researches shame, vulnerability, and authenticity. After reading several articles from her and watching her speak I just felt like I didn't need to blog anymore. Her research captures the very essence and passion that I have been writing about but of course in a much more organized fashion!

 After being motivated and fueled by her findings, I couldn't wrap my head around just one topic to tell you about. So many solid truths and great research, my mind was reeling. Then it came to me......in fact I thought I had blogged about this experience before only to find that I had failed to be truly authentic in this.

The image is still in my head as well as the feeling I had in my gut. My church was doing a "labels" series in which we were talking about how we label ourselves with lies. The labels we give ourselves are shameful and stay in darkness where they fester and live very comfortably. My blog on "rats" was birthed from this experience. After hearing that our labels take over our lives and we live by them, we were encouraged to wear a bracelet for the week. On the bracelet we wrote down our label was so that it was out of darkness and could hold no more shame. I immediately knew what mine was.... "not good enough."

As I wrote it on my bracelet I thought, "this is going to suck." It was crazy how wearing my label was a physical representation of how I emotionally carry this burden. I found myself turning my bracelet around, trying to cover it up. When asked about it I thought, "Maybe I will just tell them it's the name of a band or something." I was embarrassed to talk about it and felt painfully vulnerable when it came up. I wanted it to go away, to hide it, to lie about it.

 Months later I'm realizing that I hide this shame in so many different ways. I say things to myself like, "I need to be tanner, thinner, more in shape. My teeth need to be whiter, my students higher and my own children well-behaved. My house and classroom need to look perfect as well as I. Everyone in my family needs to be happy because that is my job. I need to make more money, work harder, be better.". Then it hits me that the standard I have for myself is just another way to not deal with the shame. Brene Brown (the amazing researcher) says that we eat, drink, spend, and work ourselves out of dealing with our shame. Soo true!

Perhaps the most encouraging aspect of her research is I am not alone in feeling this way. Browns research found that only 15 to 20 percent of us are "whole-hearted" or those who feel worthy of belonging. That's a small percentage people.

 A week later I was able to cut off the "label." I wish that cutting it off meant I never felt it again but the truth is, I've only just discovered it and started dealing with it. I have a lot of years to undo. (just re-read the first paragraph of this post to verify that I feel "not good enough" to keep blogging).

 Make no mistake, this blog was purposely not created months ago because of the shame I felt in it. But now that I know 80 percent of you are with me on this....it helps :). My hope is that you might start to identify why you drink, eat, spend and work your way out of shame. It's not easy, or fun, but I can't wait to live life "whole-hearted."

It's Open House, Now Put Away Your Stapler!

It's Open House, Now Put Away Your Stapler!

 I've never really focused on work in my blog before but when focusing on authenticity, it is hard to overlook Open House.

Open House is a lovely time when parents can come to your classroom and admire all your work and see where you sit, who you sit next to and talk to your teacher. As a child I remember showing my mom my pencil box and the books in my desk. I loved coming to school at night and I had so much pride in my classroom.

 Now that I'm a teacher I wonder what has changed. Is it the "times" or the fact that I'm an over-achiever?

 Last Thursday I was frantically finishing my final touches to my classroom before the doors opened....That morning I picked out the perfect outfit and brought everything I needed to look my "best." I had backed everything in my room with black construction paper, searched high and low for a 3-D shark to make for one of my walls, and I even found my educated self (with a masters, mind you) coloring ocean animals. I think the point where I said, "what the heck is wrong with you," is when I started shoving everything that is real into cabinets and drawers. "They can't see this pile of ungraded work," I thought. I started putting extra papers, clutter and everyday teacher items away. Post-it's, teacher manuals, pencils, scissors, and yes even my stapler found its way thrown into the cabinet. Finally I looked around and it was perfect....and completely a facade.

The truth is there is dust, piles, clutter and half-wrinkled student work every single day. Open House is the epitome of in-authenticity. Why do I try so hard to shove the "truth" in the closet? Because.......I want you to believe the lie that I am perfect. A perfect teacher has everything graded, perfect student work and pop-out sharks on their wall right!? Of course not, you say....but the fear is in being vulnerable.....what would you say if....? How would you see me if...? What if I'm the only one who.....?

 The funniest part of the whole night for me is standing in the middle of the room and smiling like, "yes, my room looks like this everyday and it is a perfect representation of my teaching. Then the next morning, I'm frantically trying to locate my damn stapler!

 As I've grown more passionate about trying to live an authentic life, I've come to find that I'm really aware (and frustrated) with situations that aren't authentic. More importantly I find that shove a lot of "crap" into my cabinets everyday. It's what we do, we innately show the facade, the smile, the idea of "yes, I am cool, or smart, or pretty, or popular, or......whatever it is for you." You see we put away the stapler and only show you the result of the stapler. We don't want to show the tools of what got us to our end destination....the blood, sweat, and tears. You see, I want you to think I magically got there, cause I'm cool like that.

 Now that I've finally located all my teaching "crap," I chuckle at my madness....I don't know if the actual Open House night will ever be different but I will be more aware of my true intentions next time. Who knows, maybe I will leave out some teaching tools....like my.......

#winning

#winning

This term has been made popular by the very erratic Charlie Sheen amongst his many rants. It was very clear to all of us that Charlie was not "winning" (yet he clearly thought he was) and perhaps that is why it has stuck with us as the newest phrase.

Lately I've been thinking about what "winning" really is.... I've been raised in the church where I was constantly told, " you can do anything with God.". We clung onto books like the Prayer of Jabez, and read books that made us a better version of ourselves. You could turn on Oprah and hear about how you can envision the best life and it can be yours if you do xyz.

  It's no wonder that my generation has high hopes and big dreams. We put some of our dreams on a pedestal and think that if we reach it, than we have "won." We take the "ordinary" and feel that maybe it isn't good enough, even in our Christian dreams.....

I was deeply moved and impressed with the movie, We Are Marshall. It was about Marshall University and the tragic plane crash that killed most of their players and coaching staff. After the crash, the university considered not having a football team, no coach wanted to step up and take over such a "hot mess " of a situation. But one coach did, Jack Lengyel. He was quite the character and the movie depicts his arrival and struggles while rebuilding the new program.

The team he had to put together was mediocre and just not capable for many reasons. One of them being, he had to use freshman and sophomores because no legitimate player wanted to be apart of the "hot mess" program either. The movie highlights one of their successful games as an organization.

The scene I will never forget is when the assistant coach (Red) confides in Jack and really is frustrated with the multiple losses. He tells him that losing isn't honoring those who lost their lives in the crash. Jack then states, "Red, it doesn't matter if we win or lose. It's not even about how we play the game. What matters is that we PLAY the game. That we take the field and we suit up on Saturdays and we keep this program alive."

Jack didn't take this coaching job to be famous or to do great things with his career, he took it to lose multiple games (his final record was 71-74), to be ridiculed, to be.......ordinary. But his goal was just to show up....that was winning to him. It wasn't the score on the scoreboard.....he kept the program alive. He didn't think to himself, "one day I will write a book or go to the Hall of Fame, or make a big movie." He was just being himself and living his passion. All those things did happen to him but he wasn't motivated by that, he wasn't in it to be a hero, he was in it to give of himself.

How on earth is this related to me? Well, I get caught up in "winning.". I measure myself by looking at the scoreboard and seeing if I have the bigger number. I can use God as my mask of selfishness and greed. But I'm so grateful that through this life I can just "show up" and win. I can show up as my ordinary authentic self and just live this life passionately. I have been turning this blog into a score and I want to apologize to you for making your heart and soul a stat. I pray that I can just be and love without making you into a number. I have heart for this blog and it can be turned into greed for something bigger. If God has bigger plans than so be it, but for now.....I show up and THAT is #winning.

An IE Girl in an OC World

An IE Girl in an OC World

There it is. The OC stereotype does exist. I've lived in the IE for 95% of my life and it has been awesome. Really when you don't know of anything different, you don't have anything to complain about. I had heard of the stereotypes but didn't really care. Then I move to Anaheim Hills....

I started noticing the differences right away. Saturday morning we stroll out lazily with our grubbies on, our hair unkempt and just barely brushed teeth....this was our tradition afterall. We loved not caring as we spent a Saturday morning together As we walk into Target, I'm suddenly finding myself feeling self conscience. Beautifully put together people walk around the aisles and shop. I start thinking about what I should have worn and, "gosh I could have at least put some eye liner on.". The differences in where we live start revealing itself...I start noticing that where we live can start making us who we are.

I also realize that my current location is not supporting my efforts in living an authentic life....I can't imagine that lady in her super cute workout clothes with pristine make-up and hair-sprayed ponytail wants to get up early to go through all that effort on her "day off." Perhaps more importantly, I wonder, does she ever have a "day off" from perfection? She wakes up day after day to look perfect. Work-out attire was no exception. Naturally, this pisses me off when I realize, "great, no day off for me....".

You see, perfectionism is what I want you to think I have. It is a source of shame for me. Yes shame. Shame is a word that is uncomfortable because by nature it makes us squirm. Shame is something we ALL feel, but we ALL find ways to hide it. Mine shame is channeled through perfectionism.

Then, there was this OC police officer who ruined my life one morning and caught me not being a perfect driver. It was my first ticket ever because I had a "perfect" record. The reality is, I was never a perfect driver, I just knew when to hide it at the sight of a cop. I speed, don't make complete stops, but when you look at my record it was spotless, just how I like it. Being pulled over to someone else may be second nature but it hit the core of my shame. So what did I do? I did what I do best, hide my shame by telling people my sad story and having them make me feel better. Once I compared myself to them, it was all good. After all, it was my very first ticket, that was pretty darn good......but ultimately for me, it wasn't good enough.

You see someone explained shame to me this way.....our life is a perfectly manicured lawn. Beautiful to the eye, it gleams with green tailored perfection. And then a weed appears. The weed (being shame) is unwelcome. So, we go a pluck it. But plucking it is a short fix because the root still exists, and where there is a root....there is still a weed.

My weed was the cop, the ticket of shame that labeled me a "failure" at driving. I plucked the weed by comparing my imperfection with others, it made me feel better for awhile. But the core of the problem still lie under the perfectly manicured lawn waiting for another episode to grow again.

How do we get rid of the root? Well the cerebral obvious reason being "give it to God.". You know, "nail it to the cross", "let go and let God," blah blah blah. I've heard it my whole life but my roots are still there. I'm not blah-ing it because it's wrong, I'm blah-ing it because I don't know how to authentically let God dig out the root. I have all the garden tools, I've read the gardening instructions......oh and I tell others how to get rid of the weeds too. But living root free myself is something I'm still working on.

Practice makes perfect. Look at your lawn, what weeds are growing? Where is your pile of plucked weeds, can you identify them? Do you know the source of what makes your weeds grow? What things do you do to pluck away your weeds? Most importantly, are you able to hand over the shovel and give up your root of shame? I'm still a lawn in progress. However, I've decided that I'm not going to "feed" my weeds anymore which may affect the look of my front yard. Although the thought of a weed-filled disheveled lawn petrifies me, I'm looking forward to my "days off" of plucking.

Wearing my "ugly"

Wearing my "ugly"

Pink eye was the devil. MarKay had it four times and Piper was on her second time. I had washed every item and wiped every surface.....somehow it would find its way back into my innocent girls' eyes. It was maddening for me.....and then, I woke up with it. It was a Wednesday and I didn't have time to take the day off. I remembered a year or so back that my brother had gotten drops for his pink eye and gave me his left over drops. Quickly I dug through the cabinets to find it and SCORE! I saved myself from taking the day off! As the day went on (and I put expired eye drops in my eye), I could tell something was very wrong. My eye was blood red and very painful. All the teacher co-workers at my meeting slowly moved further and further away from me, afraid to catch the dreaded eye infection. By 2:00 I my eye started swelling and I knew I was either doctor bound or urgent care bound. My fear started as I wasn't sure if I could drive. Thank goodness my mom was able to go with me.

As we went on the adventure of urgent care, we were hilarious....my mom and I are Mascots, we love to be funny in serious situations. I'm not sure when the last time was that I laughed so hard. From making fun of my eye to her high blood pressure, the stories from that night are just too funny. But the greatest thing I was masking was my fear.....by this time my eye was swelling almost shut and I starting feeling what they call "toxic."

Most people couldn't see the worst of my eye because by this time the only relief I had was covering it with a wet paper towel. But when I revealed it, it was shocking. After two hours of waiting it was finally my turn to be seen. The doctor was very concerned and diagnosed me with some serious condition. He told me that I needed antibiotics to overdose in my body. He ordered a shot, oral antibiotic and and eye drop antibiotic. I had to see my doctor the next day because if i wasn't better, hospitalization was in my future.

This is when the panic set in. I was unable to mask my fear with jokes, I felt like I was going to pass out. I started having a panic attack.....I knew it was serious, I just didn't want to hear it because then it made it true. Waiting for the 10 minutes it took for him to give me the shot felt like an eternity. I knew this shot was my key to healing and it was taking so long for them to get back.

Finally I was able to get the shot and then it was time to fill my prescription. By this time my sunglasses were a permanent fixture on my face to the general public. Finally I made it home and knew I would wake up significantly better.

The next morning my eye was matted shut, the swelling had not gone down at all. Panic set in again, I knew this wasn't right. I immediately started crying, my face disfigured, my eye was unavoidable to everyone I would come in contact with. My vision impaired I wasn't sure if I would ever regain that.....panic. Again I put the sunglasses on my head and set out for the doctor.

As I walked into the room the poor unsuspecting nurse asked the innocent question, "what brings you in today?". All I had to do was lift my sunglasses....the horror that was on her face I will never forget. She was very kind but I almost felt bad for her as I surprised her with the ugliness of my face......needless to say, the doctor came in very shortly after. As he asked me questions and looked at my eye he kept saying "ok, ok, ok," as if to not over react but I could hear his concern. He proceeded to tell me that I needed another antibiotic shot as well as some powerful antihistamine to rule out an allergy. Then he was emphatic that he needed to see me the next day and to not return to work. I was vulnerable enough to let him know that I was really scared.....he assured me I would be ok....

I proceeded to horrify the poor prescription lady at Target when she asked me the innocent question of why I needed antihistamine. I decided the sunglasses were a must in order to protect these poor unsuspecting people.

I could tell within 20 minutes that the antihistamine was taking effect....my eye was draining and the pain subsided. The next day when I came back to the doctor, he was so happy. He told me he could sleep better at night and he was worried about me. I instantly felt like he was my Dad and was so happy to be under his care.....

I spent 48 hours wearing "ugly" on my face. The eyes are unavoidable and are often said to be the windows to your soul......the horror I saw when revealing my "ugly" reminded me of telling others about losing my son. It never ceased to amaze me when I experienced the uncomfortable interaction from the other unsuspecting person. When I lifted my sunglasses of my soul to reveal the "ugly" I felt towards God or this world, or the authentic reaction I had toward life would shock those around me. I started feeling sorry for those around me and have fallen silent lately. Someone asked me how I got Pipers name the other day......that is connected to Jerin.....I didn't mention it. I mean after all, this person was pregnant and I didn't want to freak her out.... No one wants to be in an awkward interaction. One where someone feels pity and also shock at knowing something so deep about a person. They are unsuspecting, they will not expect the authenticity, the reality.

This whole experience got me wondering, "what if we if we all wore our "ugly" to where we could see it?" Would it be shocking? Horrifying? Maybe if we all were so vulnerable and willing, it would be normal. The truth is, it's serious.....we just don't want to talk about it so that it isn't real. We make jokes or become the "mascot" to avoid it. We put on our permanent shades to protect those around us from the hurtful or painful truth.... Our eyes are red, pussy, and clouded with the seriousness of who we really are.....the core. Maybe you're not in urgent care but what do you hide on a regular basis? What's the real soul-stirring story that is covered by the tinted lenses?.......What's your ugly?

On this blog I lift my sunglasses to you.....you may move away or wash your hands an extra time, but maybe, just maybe you can see through the windows to my soul.....my prayer is that you will join me in this journey. That even if your eyes are clouded, red and hard to see through, that you lift your lenses and show your soul. Maybe it starts to yourself in the mirror, but my hope is we can all wear our "ugly" so that it becomes the new normal instead of a horror.....

The Perfect Box

The perfect box

Looking back on the last five years has been a bit overwhelming. We've had our first daughter, lost a son, had another daughter, and had to short-sale our home. Our lives have slowly been stripping away the things that don't really matter. Our home is a possession, a place that houses souls. We were upside down as many of others are. We found ourselves working in order to keep a possession, I likened it to being a hamster running on a wheel. The best thing that ever happened was Jerry losing his job. We financially could no longer maintain the insanity of running endlessly with no end in sight. So, we packed up our pride and cleaned out/got rid of the furniture that wouldn't fit in our two-bedroom apartment.

As we were packing I would look at a pile of things I valued enough to move to our new space. I surveyed the items and went to the garage of endless boxes. Every detail was considered when picking the box, the size, shape, and sturdiness. When I found the gem, I deemed it a success if every item fit with no room to spare, no wasted space, even the lid wouldn't buckle at the top. Perfect.

As I slowly saw my house lose it's "home," I felt like I was putting pieces of me in those boxes. The pride, the secrets, the lies....taping it up with no room to spare. I box up what I feel is important enough to carry around from place to place....the things I can't let go of. I'm willing to lift the load sweat over the process and bleed from breaking my nail over taping it up. I struggle to carry it to the truck as I see it drive away.

Then there is the unpacking...

It's funny how when you get to the new space, it is so easy to only bring up what you really "need.". The game changes. The place is smaller, the needs are different. Then the garage becomes a storage for all the lost boxes. We don't get rid of the "baggage" because we convince ourselves we "need" it. We house it and keep it "just in case." so the garage becomes a grave of dead unneeded boxes. And when guests come to visit, we let them think that our place has no clutter, no wasted items. No one can the dreded garage where we keep things unnecessarily to keep them safe. All that pride, lies, secrets are "safe" taped up in boxes stacked up high to the ceiling.

What I've realized is the important things in life is the unpacking. It's going through those boxes and showing others the truth. Sorting through the perfectly packed crap that we store and keep because we still have room for it. Sharing in the pain and life lessons that have brought us to this place is the real secret. The secret to the invaluable gem of relationship. My huge backyard and completely renovated (with our own hands) house is no longer ours. We can never get back the hours we spent sanding the cabinets or working the extra hours to make ends meet. But my husband, you, and my friends can know me and meet me on a deeper level. A level that you understand too but never discuss. You see, we have the same garage, the same boxes and the same packing abilities. We have found the perfect box for all of our junk, all of our crap that doesn't really matter but we move it from place to place. The pain and beauty is unpacking those boxes, releasing life together sharing our box cuts and tears. We can't short-sale a relationship. There is nothing like deeply knowing and understanding the soul of another. This kind of love transcends death, it is packaged in the heart.