Make-up was a dead end

Who knew beauty could be so complicated? For my birthday last year I decided to make my first serious foray into the world of makeup. I didn't know what I was getting into. In a naive way, I thought I would be able to show up at a makeup counter at a department store, buy an entire line of products, and be good to go. Looking back, I can't believe how absurd and laughable a notion that was.

The makeup artist at Nordstrom rattled off an overwhelming, large amount of steps meant to "prep, correct and conceal." I could barely keep up: face base, under eye cream, eye base, layering three eye shadows, gel eyeliner, mascara, foundation, sheer powder, bronzer, blush. When she was done, I looked in the mirror and felt conflicted. While I knew I now looked more conventionally "beautiful" I questioned if this was a step in the right direction.

My justification to wear makeup was tenuous at best. I was bored, I had recently gotten a new job with higher pay and I thought, "Why not?" Some irrational part of me believed that makeup was the one missing piece I needed to manage to attract a boyfriend. According to my then-logic, if cultivating my intellectual prowess and spiritual depth wasn't enough, if it hadn't managed to end the seven-year drought since my last romantic relationship, then maybe outer beauty paired with inner beauty would do the trick.

Well, it's almost a year later and I've spent a bunch of money, wrecked my skin and still don't have a boyfriend. What a bust.

T r a i t o r s (chronological use L to R)

Correctors, concealers, BB creams, foundations, cream and oil primers--brand after brand left me with dry, tight skin and pimples galore. Did I look great in pictures? Even glamorous? Sure! But at night, alone and makeup-less in front of the mirror with my own thoughts, I was unhappy, disappointed and doubting myself.

I know that for others, makeup isn't such an agonizing ordeal. Good on them. They are hashtag blessed.

My skin just won't abide make-up, but it's taken a while for me to finally give in to defeat. Each time a product wouldn't work for me, I'd return to Sephora, deflated, and an enthusiastic employee would suggest some new wonder product: a cleanser with a four star review, a serum, a foundation that's completely weightless and "totally buildable." I'd go home wanting badly for it to work for me; none of them did.

All this to say, I'm throwing in the towel when it comes to makeup. It's created more problems in my life than benefits.

On a deeper level, this is all about adequacy. It's about trust in God. I've spent so much time wondering why some women my age are dating, married and having kids, and I'm not. I know that God is not doling out rewards or punishments to women based on whether they "deserve" a boyfriend/husband/kids. On a bad day, though, I crumple in on myself in prayer or ignore God altogether in a passive-aggressive attempt to rebel against how he wants to order my life. Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret.

Look, no amount of navel-gazing or hand-wringing will get me a boyfriend any sooner. Makeup, new clothes, a better body, fancy haircut; it really doesn't make any difference. Perhaps this sounds bitter, but it's been my experience. Okay, okay, being single is not the end of the world; this much I know. It's painful, though.

I'm doing my level best to make the most of it. I'm reading a lot of books, joining rec leagues, going on fun outings with my other single friends. I have a lot of time to pray for others. I write short stories three paragraphs at a time. I talk to God about the things I'm thankful for. If I focus on other things maybe I won't feel so sad.

Until next time...

Reflections on 2016

Originally shared at my church's Christmas Eve service.


Good evening. For those who don't know me, my name is April, and I have been attending this church since I was born—I'm what you might call a "lifer." No, but really, I am proud to call Presby home and this year especially I am grateful to be a part of this community—because I could have gotten into some real trouble if not for the grace of God in my life.. I almost made a mistake that could have seriously harmed me and probably would have changed my life forever.

This year I had planned to move to South America to do what I thought would be missionary work: entering into full-time ministry with a local church in Bolivia evangelizing, interceding and teaching. I had a lot of hopes and dreams to glorify God there.

However, a couple months before I had planned to leave, I found out from a couple of friends who were serving that that "church" that the "church" was actually a pretty psychologically and emotionally abusive cult. My friends were not allowed to leave the "church" (where they lived) without supervision, were bullied aggressively by pastors whenever they questioned the way things were run, and my one friend was even locked into the kitchen alone without promise of release. It was a horrific time, and thankfully my two friends left the Bolivian "church" shortly thereafter, around the same time I decided not to go down and join them.

As you might imagine, I spent much of this year coming to terms with this whole fiasco. The main question I had for God was, of course, "Why?"--but also the immediate question of "What now?" I had quit my job! I had been hurtling toward what I had thought was an international ministry opportunity "from God" and now needed to, in many respects, turn on a dime and change course.

I was disappointed and hurt, and felt very confused about God's direction in my life. I didn't know what to do, and God wasn't giving me epiphanies on how he wanted me to "recalculate," as it were. I spent time in reflection and prayer to God, pouring out my heart to him as it's written in Psalm 62. To be fair, though, I also spent a lot of time trying to be numb and trying to survive, in an attempt to ignore my pain and anger towards God for how un-glamorous and stuttering my life had become.

One theme from this year is pretty clear: God has invited me again and again to trust him—to believe he is everything he says he is, taking into full account my painful past, my present shaky circumstances and even my own negative feelings, no matter how strong and all-encompassing they may be.

There were many days this year when my alarm went off in the morning and I just did not want to get out of bed. I didn't feel like I had the energy or the will to face another day. To get motivated, I would sometimes listen to my gospel playlist, which has a song by James Fortune called "I Trust You." The chorus deeply resonates with me and I wanted to share it with you tonight: "I'll trust you/ Lord it's not easy/ Sometimes the pain in my life/ Makes you seen far away/ I'll trust you/ I need to know you're here/ Through the tears and the pain/ Through the heartache and rain/ I'll trust you."

I still don't know a lot of the "whys" behind the whole Bolivia debacle. I'm not yet at a place where I can genuinely thank God for that trial which has tested my faith significantly this year, and brought a fair share of heartache and despair.

However, there are a few things I can say with certainty and conviction:

1. God warned me and protected me from going to Bolivia; he loves me.
2. It's not over; God is still writing my story.
3. Jesus Christ is Lord.

Jesus Christ is Lord. This truth has helped me a lot this year and comforts me greatly.

For me, no matter what happens, no matter how difficult things get, no matter how little things may make sense in the moment, no matter my own helplessness or God's seeming silence—

Jesus Christ is Lord.

In the midst of failure, embarrassment, mistakes and crippling self-doubt—

Jesus Christ is Lord.

When I am lost and don't know what to do—

Jesus Christ is Lord.

"In him was life, and that life was the light of all mankind. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it" (John 1:4-5).

On Not Being a Pretentious Shepherd

"The next session covered briefly the three types of relationships we need, if we are to be people growing. We need those who are further along the way, who give us hints of where we are and raise the question of where we are going--what the next step might be. They may be teachers or counselors, or, when we are without these, books. Then we need those who are our peers--fellow pilgrims with whom we share the day-by-day events of our life in Christ, the discoveries we make, the places where we are challenged, our discouragement, our hope; brothers who hold us accountable, who remind us of our covenant relationship; brothers who mediate forgiveness. And thirdly, we need those who are not so advanced as we--a little flock which is ours to tend and nourish. 'All these relationships,' said Gordon [Cosby], 'are utterly necessary to our spiritual development, but the one I want us to look at in this class is the one of being shepherds, because it is at this point most of us will feel the most hesitancy or timidity. We will feel that it is pretentious for us to be guides to others at the point of their life in Christ.'" (110).

-Elizabeth O'Connor, Journey Inward, Journey Outward

So I've been reading this book about a group of folks in D.C. who started a coffee house church before it was "cool," and am fascinated by this quote. According to O'Connor and her peers, there are three essential types of relationships that every believer needs. I'm going to rename them into my own vernacular:

1. Titans
2. Sisters
3. Little Sisters.

I had a bit of a contentious discussion the other day with a colleague of mine who was reluctant to consider anyone in his life to fit into category #3: "Little Sisters" (or "Brothers" in this case, whatever). In O'Connor's words, "We feel that it is pretentious..." I hear that. I feel that. I understand that there are hierarchical overtones to the notion of shepherds and the "little flock." Yes, the shepherd/flock "construction" creates a dichotomy that has implications of power and influence. Yet somewhere along the way, in our postmodern culture, hierarchy has become nearly synonymous with evil! I don't necessarily believe that to be true. I'm not saying that it's unwarranted. It seems that aversion to hierarchy is a reaction to countless misuses of power in the form of paternalism and dogmatism in the church. I mean, that and the fact that this country was founded on supposedly "egalitarian values." So it's in the American bones and psyche to defy hierarchy, so to say.

This being said, I am coming to a pretty strong conviction that there are varying stages of spiritual maturity (in the Greek it'd be nepios, teknon, paidion, and huios--see Cooke, Prophecy and Responsibility), and that any any point in time, any believer has people "ahead" of them (titans), "beside" them (sisters) and "behind" them (little sisters). I have also come to the strong conviction that it's high time that I start giving some attention to my lil' sis cohort and stop being a greedy asshole!

Titans

If you know me to any degree, you'll probably hear me at one point and time rant and rave about the 'titans' in my life. These are the folks that I just 'want to get in the room with' to soak up their words of wisdom, receive their prayers, encouragement and teaching for the journey. I also often describe these people as "nuts" (in the best way, duh). In the spirit of the now far outdated meme, here are my titans in somewhat chronological order:

Grandpa &
Susan &
Ann &
Ruby &
Joyce &
Celia &
Debbie.

These are people that have walked beside me, shared of their lives with me and listened to me. I pretty much just draft off of them. They are my coaches and consultants. I love them and thank God for them VERY frequently.

Sisters

My peers are also folks that I cherish deeply and love and want to hug constantly. They're the ones that I talk to on a regular basis, who are usually grappling with similar questions. They're less intimidating than my titans but they go hard spiritually:

Hillary &
Faith &
Laura &
Lisa &
Courtney &
Naomi &
Kim.

These are my peeps! They're the ones I can pray with throughout the week and who keep me accountable. I love them so much, too!

Little Sisters

Okay, so now I hit the dreaded "growing edge." It was a sobering realization that while I love to receive oodles of instruction and encouragement from my titans and my peers (who wouldn't?), I'm making little to no concerted effort to "pay it forward" by seeking out and staying loyal to any "little sisters." Do I actually have little sisters in my life? HAHAHA, maybe two, perhaps three, and those being very informal mentorship-esque relationships. My best friend has an older woman at her church to prays for her literally every day. I am not that dedicated.

It has recently emerged in prayer that the Lord is calling me to step into a new role of discipling some of the people he's brought into my life. Is it "pretentious" of me to start moving in obedience to that call? I'd like to believe not. Did I think it was pretentious of my grandpa to disciple me while I was in high school? Hell no! "This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers" (1 John 3:16). My grandpa would have laid down his life for me, so I could all the way trust him to be my shepherd. "The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep" (John 10:11b). I believe God is inviting me to shepherd others with this same heart of love. I mean, literally in prayer I heard, "Are you willing to lay down your life for these people?" My first thought was "Fuck," but, after some crying and stuff, I said, "Yes."

I've been thinking a bit about what it means to be a part of the "royal priesthood" (1 Peter 2:9). It's part of my priestly duty not to be a spiritual elitist, and to draw near to those who may be (relatively) immature spiritually (believe me, I have plenty of immaturity issues I am praying through). "Every high priest is selected from among men and is appointed to represent them in matters related to God... He is able to deal gently with those who are ignorant and are going astray, since he himself is subject to weakness" (Hebrews 5:1-2). This just makes me think of Pastor Kerry, of Japanese Presbyterian Church, who in my opinion is a shepherd of shepherds and lives this out daily. Rather than disdaining people around me, or getting overly frustrated with them for being fearful, hard-hearted, unbelieving, etc., God is inviting me to intercede on their behalf, love them and in humility consider them to be better than myself (Philippians 2:3). In many ways I sense the Lord reminding me to remember the condition I was in when he first found me, so as not to become blinded by my own self-righteousness and self-importance. I'm just learning loads!

As you go, disciple

All this to say, I'm entering into a new season and stepping into a new role of discipling others. *Scary!* What I am writing about isn't especially revelatory and it isn't profound. It's just that I am discovering new levels of meaning to the words of the Great Commission, which used to make my skin crawl (I save that for another blog post), but now have a whole lot of operational meaning: "Therefore go and make disciples of all nations" (Matthew 28:19). A student who was doing Fuller extension once told me (and I never went back to fact-check, just trusted him blindly so... *shrug*) that a more accurate translation of the verse would be as you go, disciple, like it should just be part and parcel of the whole following Jesus thing. It doesn't necessarily feel natural to me now, but I am praying that one day it will.

Well, that's over.

So I can now say that I've had the complete 500 Days of Summer experience. I've been both protagonists now: Summer Finn, the heartbreaker, and Tom Hansen, the one with a broken heart. You guys, I really think it's making me mature and wise; I'm not even joking. It's making me a more compassionate person.

When I was young I didn't understand why people in relationships would treat each other in shitty ways and make each other cry, but now my eyes have been opened. I get it so much more. I don't judge people for making mistakes in relationships, hurting each other inadvertently[i] because of fear, selfishness, misunderstandings and incorrect assumptions.

I was really struck by a statement Rashida Jones made in an interview for her movie, Celeste and Jesse Forever which she co-wrote and acted in. Paraphrase: “I’ve learned not to take things so personally. When people hurt me, I’ve learned that very rarely are they doing it maliciously or intentionally. So I just need to get over that.” Ugh, it seems so obvious, but it’s so helpful to remember this.

The Bingley/Bennett saga I’ve off-handedly mentioned in some of my past posts is now over and done. And what could I possibly write to express the odd mixture of relief, sadness, anxiety and peace I am feeling[ii]?

Last July or so I started being interested in a person, kind of out of the blue. As my dad says, “The heart wants what the heart wants,” but I didn’t know why my heart wanted what it wanted. I was confused by my own feelings and attraction to this person, who, in my opinion, was not necessarily the kind of person I’d usually feel drawn to.

My first instinct when I sense that I might be starting to “like” someone is to suppress the feelings and try and amputate them, as if they were something unnatural, undesirable and foreign. I do this because I have internalized 1 Corinthians 7[iii] beyond what is actually healthy and helpful. I automatically assume that any “crush” I may have on a person must be an idol that must be destroyed as soon as possible. Joshua Harris, if I ever encounter you in the street, I will jokingly strangle you but it won’t be a joke at all. Ugh, curse you and your “infatuation” talk and “one size fits all” Christian courtship paradigm!!!

That rant aside, I continue my narrative. I sensed that I “liked” this certain person last July, and decided to take a gamble, be mature, and not just deny and stuff down my feelings but actually acknowledge them, feel them and see where it would take me. Maybe a romantic relationship with someone could be something good and useful, not just a means to distract me from my devotion and life lived in service to God. Perhaps God could have a good purpose in two people becoming partners and working as a team together. I was willing to give it all the benefit of the doubt.

And yet, I found myself embroiled in the often overly complicated “dance” of not knowing if this other person liked me back, and of not knowing if I was making it clear enough that I was interested. Throughout it all I was praying, “God, what do you think? If this isn’t supposed to go anywhere, would you make that clear? If you want it to go somewhere, would you please talk to [insert person’s name] so that they’ll take the initiative to talk to me about it?”

And I waited. Oh, did I wait. It was so confusing! It was uncomfortable.

I told close friends and family: “I think we’re on the road to nowhere.” Now I know without a doubt that we actually were. And now it’s over.

I don’t regret opening up my heart and allowing myself to “like” someone. I’m proud of myself for being fearless and putting myself out there, even if it meant getting my heart moderately broken. I applaud myself for being vulnerable.

I may appear strong and intelligent, articulate and competent, but I’m never going to apologize for or hide the fact that I am human, sensitive and deeply desire to one day to be with someone that will love and care for me.

It didn’t work out this time. You know, that’s okay. Six months of unemployment and a failed graduate school attempt have taught me that despite the seeming “dead ends” of life, God’s always got something greater up his sleeve.

God, you devious bastard. Looking forward for what you have for me next.

---

[i] I wrote “inadvertently” for a reason. Keep in mind that I absolutely believe that those who perpetrate psychological and physical abuse, any kind of intimate partner violence, must be held accountable. If perpetrators aren't seeking active treatment or counseling in order to develop non-destructive ways of coping and engaging in conflict, they should be condemned and penalized to the fullest extent of the law, goddammit.

[ii] I made a weird break-up YouTube playlist that is speaking to my soul, if you’re interested in listening. http://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLasRvYvSQDcVvhbUhMetxz8jR6jAo6bVH

[iii] “I would like you to be free from concern. An unmarried man is concerned about the Lord’s affairs—how he can please the Lord. But a married man is concerned about the affairs of this world—how he can please his wife—and his interests are divided. An unmarried woman or virgin is concerned about the Lord’s affairs: Her aim is to be devoted to the Lord in both body and spirit. But a married woman is concerned about the affairs of this world—how she can please her husband. I am saying this for your own good, not to restrict you, but that you may live in a right way in undivided devotion to the Lord” (1 Corinthians 7:23-35).

Rebellious Tirade

I've been feeling pretty uncomfortable lately, but I'd like to think that means that God is pushing me in a new and different direction. I think I'm still dealing with the disappointments and failures of the past year (post-graduation), and trying to maintain a hopeful attitude. Ever since graduation, I've been applying for lots of different things: service sector jobs, social work jobs, graduate school and now international work--but none of them have worked out so far (apart from my current job, which I didn't even technically apply for?--have to add that caveat).

It's kind of demoralizing to be on this roller coaster of applying, and then getting rejected, applying, and getting rejected again. I want things, but I don't get them.

That's why I'm really thinking hard about this opportunity to work in Mexico, and already trying to prepare myself for rejection. In many ways it would be a dream come true to return to San Miguel de Allende, which is why it'll be a real blow if I am not offered the position.

I have this messed-up idea that God is cruel and putting these dreams in my head (to go to graduate school, work abroad), only to not allow me to live those dreams. God denying me things. I've been thinking about that a lot lately.

When I was a young girl, I really wanted a Barbie car. I wanted to be able to cruise around in the back yard with my shades on like the white kids in the commercials did. I brought this to my parents' attention whenever the commercial came onto the television, asking them to get it for me. I circled the car repeatedly in the Toys R Us catalogs we received in the mail. I begged my parents...like, a lot. I wanted it.

My mom and dad were firm, though. No Barbie car for me. I'm sure I was a brat and sulked but they refused to be manipulated by my persistent pestering and whining.

To go to graduate school? I want that. To work abroad full-time again? I want that. To be in a committed romantic relationship with someone I respect deeply? I want that. *groan* When will God just give me what I want already???

My parents would probably be the first to tell you that patience is NOT one of my virtues. They told me growing up that they should have named me "Patience Yee" in order to mock me for my consistent, marked impatience. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr... God, I am sick of waiting! If this period of my life is your attempt to cultivate patience within me, can you PLEASE realize that your cause is lost? Are you trying to teach me that *your* timing, not mine, is perfect? *eyeroll* #bye

Obviously I'm going to come full-circle on this and end my rebellious tirade and surrender to God eventually but I still want to fight him on this for a little bit longer. I'm sick of having to defer my dreams.

Muddling through, but with panache?

Life post-college has been a journey of second-guessing my intuition, inclinations and ability to make decisions. Should I apply for this job or that job? Should I try for graduate school, and if so, which schools? Which programs?

And then, even when I get the job: Should I take it? When I'm working 40 hours a week at the job: Should I be looking for a different job? When I get accepted into graduate school: Should I enroll? When I decide not to enroll in graduate school: Is this an indefinite hiatus from higher learning or should I just try again next year?

I think to myself, I should feel liberated, free and excited that I have so many options before me--but I can't help but feel overwhelmed and a bit distressed. All these huge life choices of where to work, where to study, where to live involve stakes higher than I've ever known before and for once--because I'm an "adult"--these choices are fully mine. I'm making them for myself. I'm responsible for them. shit.

As I mull over potential jobs, schools and programs to study, I've noticed that a couple of my older, wiser mentors are perplexed that I doubt myself so much. If "the heart wants what the heart wants," why do I often assume that my "wants" and desires are selfish, misguided or just plain wrong?

Well, it's because when I've "listened to my heart" and gone fully with my "gut," it's sometimes gotten me into trouble. I'm talking about suffering and I'm talking about failure, both of which I go to great lengths to avoid at any cost. Early in college I was super pumped to work with Spanish-speaking folks, which led me to YouthCare's Casa de los Amigos--which was one of the darkest and difficult times of my life. When I graduated from college I was excited to look for jobs outside of social work--like working in retail or the food industry--but that was a complete bust. Why am I afraid of my own longings and passions? Because when I go for my dreams, it can--at times--be uncomfortable and discouraging.

Sometimes I pray those kinds of cop-out prayers to God: "Just show me EXACTLY what you want me to do, where you want me to go, and I'll go!" All this time self-reflecting and trying to "discern" and surrender all of my plans to God--it's just so murky! Ambiguous. Unresolved.

I'm going to keep trying to "listen to my heart" and not doubt myself so much. I'm going to go for the things that interest me and lay myself on the line, even if it means facing rejection and having to be flexible when the timing doesn't work out. You know, I wanna be fucking fearless.

I hope God rewards fearlessness.

Free to Be

Yesterday I received in the mail a bottle of "Riots Not Diets" 3-free indie nail polish from Plump Polish, a brand recently launched by fat activist bloggers Kyla and Margitte. Each of their fun and quirky colors are named after a different blogger ("Riots Not Diets" is the name of Margitte's blog) and include colorful confetti! I was surprised how excited I was to receive and try out new nail polish. Like, I was really delighted. Why do I find so much pleasure and solace and satisfaction in painting my nails? I don't really know. It's therapeutic to me, and that's all that matters.

So what if nail polish is a conformist way of performing my gender? So what if its unnatural-looking and artificial? It's one hour a week where I'm doing something utterly and completely mindless, where I don't have to analyze things or be intelligent and articulate and self-aware.

Last Saturday I attended a six-hour long retreat meant for a time of silence and listening to God. I fell asleep three times. It's so hard to transition from "work" April into praying April. I still feel like I need to be super competent, "on top of things," focused and "in the zone" when I'm with God. I feel like I need to be thankful for all of the right things, and praise him instead of being self-involved, and have all these deep questions for him, and know exactly how to express my needs and desires to him, and pay attention without my mind veering.

And yet the phrase from the Bible readings that stuck out to me most at the retreat was "just be there" (from Eugene Peterson's paraphrase of Matthew 6:6-7 in The Message).

Hm.

I've been considering to myself lately, "Who do I feel safe with?" Who do I feel safe enough with that my "just being there" is enough--I don't have to "perform to the best of my abilities"? In those safe relationships, I can exhale mentally because there is no performance compenent to our relationship. I'm not expected to be my "best self." I'm just expected to be myself.

Whew, I cannot wait to spend time with Rachel tonight so that I can just be me. ilu, Rachel. Happy Friday, everyone!

The Timing's a Bit Off...

"A Dream Deferred" by Langston Hughes

What happens to a dream deferred? Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load. Or does it explode?

-------------------------------------

This has been a really weird past couple of months--just kind of uncomfortable overall. Do we ever stop coming of age? Like seriously. I want to know. Growing pains. Ugh.

My Academic Future

I'm sad to say that this fall I will not be enrolling in graduate school as I had anticipated. Last fall, despite some doubts and misgivings, I decided to apply to the UW Evans School for their Master of Public Administration program, figuring that if it was "meant to be," God would make "everything fall into place," as it were. Well, as my dad put it last night "the puzzle pieces just aren't aligning." It's a bit sad to admit defeat, but I keep trying to tell myself that it isn't defeat, but a delay. There's a difference between the two.

Although I was offered admission to the program, I did not receive any merit-based financial awards, which, you know, makes sense. The program is competitive. I guess I'd naively thought that it would work out, but without a merit-based scholarship, financially I just can't swing it. I've spent the past few weeks moping and feeling sorry for myself at the thought of continuing to work full time for another year and a half, but I'm hoping to be able to "get over it" and "get on with it" soon.

I'm learning a lot at my current position, not just skills wise, but socially and personally. I can see the benefit of having some "on the job" experience before immersing myself into academia again. Thankfully, my division is undergoing some systems/culture changes that are will be interesting to participate in. We're looking at how we can function better as a division (two continuous improvement retreats on the way), and I've recently joined our department's Equity and Social Justice Leadership Team, with the goal of providing trainings for staff, similar to the Race and Social Justice work I did with the Seattle Housing Authority.

I think mostly what was bumming me out about work was this letdown from college. I'm not surrounded by like-minded peers like I was at the School of Social Work. I don't have the luxury of leisure time. I'm basically out of the house Monday through Friday from 6:30am until 5:40pm, and that's the way it is. It's making more sense now, why adults say that the college years were "the best of their life." To have fifteen hours of lecture a week and the rest be free time that I decide how to spend? Fking luxury, mayn.

That being said, I'm becoming more "at peace" with not getting what I wanted (grad school) when I wanted it (fall 2013). I'm starting to take pride in the fact that, come next year, I'll have saved up all of my big girl dollars to pay for school and living expenses all by myself. I think that social workers were onto something with the whole "empowerment theory" versus dependency. It feels good to be on my way towards self-sufficiency. BUH-BAYUM.

Valentine's Day Reflections

Kay had a couple of epiphanies so I need to type them out really quickly before se me desaparezcan.

Romantic love and desire to to be worshiped

I was doing some self-examiniation this morning--just trying to press and prod myself to figure out why in the world I'm so bummed to not be in a romantic relationship at the mo--like, I don't really understand it? THEN IT HIT ME LIKE A TON OF BRICKS (hackneyed idiom use is ironic, duh): I miss being worshiped! When I was in a relationship, I had this constant stream of affirmations coming my way (at least when we were in the initial honeymoon phase). It was like, every time my ex would find out something new and unexpected about me he'd be like, You are just the cutest thing! I wanna put you in my pocket! He basically thought I was adorable. I felt adorable. I was like, Yah, that's right, I'm the sh1t!

Being in a relationship fed my vanity so much, because my ex would tell me in person or through his hand-written letters (yep, we were one of those couples) all of the little detailed things about me that he loved. Wow, I could get used to this. Someone is fascinated by me. Finally, I'm getting the recognition I deserve for being so amazing! HAHAHAHA. This is nothing new, but it's nice to be noticed. It's nice to be paid attention to.

So on Valentine's Day, when lots of people are going out to celebrate with their "special someone," I'll admit, I miss having a person to treat me like I'm special! And I berate myself for being an ungrateful brat because obviously, I have so many people in my life that appreciate me on a daily basis--mostly my parents and Rachel and HALF and, like, hella women at church are super affirming and nice to me--soooo why am I pining for a guy to gush about how awesome I am? I don't know. Why do I feel what I feel! "STOP. POOPING." -Chris Traeger of Parks and Recreation.

The point is that I realized that some of my motivation for wanting to be in a romantic relationship is purely selfish and vain and needy and weird? K. That's one epiphany I had.

Romantic love as discovering another person

The other plus to being in a relationship is, like, really delving into the mystery of who another person really is. Having a crush is exhilirating because I'm thinking to myself, Who are you? Definitely meaning to be arrogant, I can usually "get" people pretty quickly--like I understand their motivations for behavior and can predict pretty well how they'll react to me. I guess it's a gift? Intuition, BAM. Thanx, Lord, for making me the way that I am. The exciting thing about having a crush is that there's more of a sense of a challenge.. Like, the guy I am interested in currently, I can't read for crap. It's like, I seriously don't know what he's thinking, or how he'll react to me. It's frightening because I'm proved incompetent in the very area that I profess to be infallibly competent (intuiting peeps), but also great???

Thank you, nedroidcomics for your eerily apropos art.

Anyway, that's enough self-actualizing for now. Happy Valentine's Day to my readers (e.g. Mom and Rachel). Don't worry. I'm, like, 67% content with being single, and a D+ in this department is pretty much good enough for me.

I LOVE YOU ALL and APPRECIATE YOU ALL--YOU ARE THE BEST.

Positivity and the like.

Self-Hatred

Every time I have tried to write about this I get too afraid and I quit before I even begin. I think it's because I feel that I haven't "arrived" at a "good place" regarding self-hatred, but I've decided I'm never really going to ever "arrive," so I may as well just write about it. Warning: This may get dark.

Since a young age I've always had a deep-seated fear of not being good enough. Okay--before you protest with April, don't be so hard on yourself; what are you talking about; you're so good at _____, etc. let me explain. I'm not fishing for compliments by being self-deprecating. I know that my fear of inadequacy is dramatic, and I know that it's irrational. Knowing it's irrational doesn't make it any less real or powerful.

The way I've coped with this nagging fear that deep-down I'm a useless deadbeat is by trying to be perfect, by pushing myself. So I try to excel and most of all, try to be competent. Capable. This is unrestricted and applies to all domains of life: academically, professionally, physically(!), relationally and spiritually. No matter how "good" I am at any certain area, I can always be better. It's exhausting to demand so much of myself and all it does is feed my need to be "adequate," whatever that means.

A couple of weeks ago I came face-to-face with my self-hatred and it was terrifying. I had a moment of realization that the Charles Bingley/Jane Bennet relationship I'd mentioned in an earlier post--yah, that whole thing was more just a one-sided unrequited interest on my part. FOOM--what little self-confidence I had imploded completely. HE DOESN'T LIKE ME! my inner voice wailed, as I spiraled down into the depths of the it's confirmed--I'm no good inaccuracy-chasm. Frankly, I was heartbroken, and beating myself up even more for even liking a guy in the first place (setting myself up to get hurt). It was just an awful week. It was like all of the dormant negative self-talk within decided to ignite and I'm, like, surprised I wasn't consumed by the fire? (God, am I writing horribly on purpose? Whatever. That's more negative self-talk right there.)

But my mini-crisis had less to do with this boy than it did with my own toxic thinking. I think cuz I'm so afraid of not being good enough, I have this sick, slanted view where I try and confirm that fear. Like, when I get rejected (romantically or otherwise) I think to myself, "Oh, yah, I guess I should have seen that coming. Not. good. enough." Things that would appeal to my vanity (like getting offered the permanent position at work or being complimented on the way I look), I try and downplay, like excelling in whatever is just to be expected, like NBD, why all this hoopla; I didn't even do that much to deserve it?

Wow, it's cathartic to write down all these dysfunctional thought patterns. I mean, I recognize them as they're happening, but it's just such a habit to be down on myself and accusing myself that it's a huge effort to fight against it.

Last week was extremely alarming because the way I decided to cope with not being liked back by this guy, or whatever, was to be all anorexic. What the heck? I was hating myself so much, I was just like exercising as penance for being such an unlikeable person and ate, like, a bite of my lunch and threw the rest away. Like, my brain was so twisted and messed up that it actually made me want to gag when I put food in my mouth. As a friend aptly put it, You don't deserve that (the food you're about to eat). I was internalizing the stress by punishing myself. Ah, what the heck, brain, why are you so sick???

Thankfully, after some prayer and good conversations with close friends and family, I've mellowed-out quite a bit. I'm eating three full meals a day, and not feeling horrible about myself. It was an eye-opening, albeit hollowing (and "hallowing," I suppose?) experience to realize how much I hate myself. I know, it sounds super bizarre, but I'm all for self-reflection and self-awareness, so this was fascinating in a masochistic way.

It would take a whole nother post to unpack how self-hatred interacts with Christianity. Maybe I'll get to that someday. Or maybe I'll just watch TV with Rachel and eat chocolate and do my nails. You know how it goes.

I'm not gonna be rich.

I was waiting for something interesting and profound to write about, but it looks like this post will be an indulgent, stream-of-consciousness ramble like most of my posts are anyway?

I've been thinking about perfectionism and exploring the different reasons that I feel this compulsive need within myself to be perfect in all areas of my life. I've been thinking about how new wave feminism failed my mother's generation and my own because it basically sends the message to women that they have to achieve competency not only family-wise and looks-wise, but intellectually and professionally as well. It's simply unfair to expect that "liberated" women achieve academic greatness, have a great career, keep a good house and stay thin. I am tired of this.

I'm starting to realize that it isn't my goal anymore to be able to "do it all." I'm also starting to toy with the idea that once I'm living on my own, I most likely will not maintain the current standard of living that my parents maintained for me throughout my childhood. I'm going to make less money than they do. I'll need to learn to make due with less "nice things," and give up the idea of having both prestige and happiness.

I think that's one thing I learned this Christmas. During the holidays, when I was with family celebrating and whatnot, it wasn't all about whether you got a promotion that year, or if you were rich enough to afford really nice presents for each other. It was about being together, status and class aside. I mean, that was nice, to not have to worry about apologizing for the fact that I'm not currently in graduate school and that the job right now is a temporary one.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm more than willing to give up monetary wealth and my upper middle class status if it means that I'll be content and able to enjoy life. I see the people around me at work coming in at 8am and staying until way past 6:30pm. I mean, that's just a horrible way to live. I covet my leisure time alone and with the people I love. Making enough money to afford a Craftsman home in Seattle is not a proper trade-off with losing most of my waking hours to work. You know what I mean?

Okay, this may sound idealistic but I'm definitely not idealizing living in a lower income bracket. Making less money than my parents isn't going to be glamorous; I know this. I'm just publicly confirming that I value my own well-being and my relationships over personal luxury and status, okay???

Thanks.

"Let's not be elitist, April."

Okay, so hopefully every human being in the world is on an individual path of continual growth and transformation. Soooo I'm going to share a little bit about mine. Since moving back in with my parents after graduating from college, spending so much time with them has made me privy of their flaws, just as they have become privy to mine. Today I want to talk about being elitist.

Symptoms of April's Snobbery: 

• Biting, disdainful comments about mainstream popular culture (e.g. Dancing with the Stars, Miley Cyrus/Taylor Swift, Glee)
• Passive-aggressive comments about people making uninformed consumer choices (e.g. shopping at Wal-mart, buying bananas and Proctor & Gamble products, "Oh, I only buy organic fair trade cocoa powder")
• Smugly & inwardly gloating at single-occupant motor vehicles as I bike to my alternative homeopathic massage therapy appointment 
• Using abstruse academic jargon unnecessarily (e.g. constructivist paradigm, internalized oppression, the law of diminishing returns, fundamental attribution error)
• Being impatient with friends and family that are not progressive enough (e.g. anti-racist, feminist, body-positive, anti-oppressive and intersectional-->Subtext: "Why can't you be cool like me?")
• Projecting (intentionally or not) a demeanor of judging and self-righteous superiority

Why am I like this? Okay, so now let's commence the nature vs. nurture argument. 

NATURE: I'll be honest; my personality-type tends to be rigid and preachy. This is "how I roll." Granted, I can notice when I'm getting way too ramped up and tightly-wound and try to "tone it down." However, it's an indisputable fact that whether or not I verbalize my harsh judgments of myself and others, I still have them. 

As a self-absorbed perfectionist, I demand a LOT of myself--spiritually, ethically and intellectually. It follows, then, that I'm also quite hard on others when it comes to their thoughts and behaviors. Ugh, and as an intuitive person sometimes all I can see are others' flaws and their selfish motivations. I am a critic and a "glass half-empty" sort of person. Tuff. That's how it goes.

NURTURE: The prevailing cultural hegemony of my generation is without doubt (white) hipsterism. As a middle class American woman, I am about 70% hipster, for better or for worse (mostly worse). Elitism is a cardinal tenant of hipsterism. Being cynical, sarcastic and holier-than-thou in general is what being a hipster is all about.  

Furthermore, as a graduate of an institution of exclusive and elite higher learning I am, by default, an elitist. The main assumption of elitism is that being "enlightened" with "knowledge" makes a person inherently better than a high school dropout or a boorish midwestern redneck (sorry to use this slur, but uh, you'd be lying if you don't use it in the privacy of your own home, too). 

All hail the king of elitism, Dr. Frasier Crane!

I apologize if that pop culture reference is lost on you. 

So. Conclusions? Yes, I am an elitist. I am a snob. I am a self-righteous, grudgingly hipster, unbearable judger of all things that can be judged. There's no use in denying it. 

All I can tell you is this: I'm working on it. I have good days and I have bad days. Ideally, I always want to be in the space of "I just love everyone and I want to affirm everyone and you are beautiful and weeeeeee! life is beautiful, the end." Until then, I will try my utmost to be more compassionate, gentle and understanding with myself and humanity in general. Can't make any promises. But I will try.