Hard Things

I am having a particularly difficult time digesting what happened over the weekend in Charlottesville.

Imagery of white men with their torches and their helmets and their weapons.
The epithets they hurled.
The symbols they carried.
The anger they harbored.

And their faces--exposed, clear, proud.

Hate is not hooded in 2017.

I am having a hard time with this--but I should not be surprised by this.

In the wee hours of the morning post-Election Day, I very vividly remember being ridiculed for posing the following question on social media:

"How am I going to explain to my daughter what it means that we elected a man like Donald Trump to the American presidency?"

People told me that Peyton is too young to be wrapped up in such things. This is beyond her. This will all be a blip in history by the time she's old enough to care. To suck it up and move on.

And now, more than six months into a presidency that broke my heart and made me afraid for the future, disgusting and hateful campaign rhetoric has manifested itself into action.

Hate is not hooded in 2017.
These people are no longer afraid.
So why am I afraid?

By not having conversations about hard things with my daughter--about things like hate and bigotry and racism--I am failing in the work of equality.

By choosing to wait until I think Peyton is old enough to talk about hard things, I am complicit in allowing subtle social cues in our world to covertly shape the way she sees other people. I am failing in the fight for justice.

By hoping my daughter isn't paying attention when the news is on, I am failing in teaching her about how we can find opportunities to love harder.

I saw things that made my heart ache this weekend. And I need to do more. We can all do more.

Educate yourselves. Talk about the hard, terrible things. Acknowledge they exist. Name them. And then work to dismantle them.

For me, it looks like talking about hard things with my daughter--and going from there.

To all my parent friends teaching their wide-eyed children about fairness, equality, justice, compassion, dignity, and human decency: I see you. I salute you. Let's keep fighting the good fight in raising up an army of world changers.

"We are not to simply bandage the wounds of victims beneath the wheels of injustice, we are to drive a spoke into the wheel itself." - Dietrick Bonhoeffer

On the Other Side

Well hi there, my little space on the interwebs. Long time no see.

I'd be a dirty liar if I said I missed this blog. After writing for so long here, looking back through the archives had me feeling some type of way. It was a pretty vicious reminder of how much things have changed. Some changes are good--some changes still sting a little bit.

Coping well...that's been my mantra for the last year of my life. Making do. Ditching the five-year plan. Mindfulness. Leaning into certain moments, no matter how painful, knowing there is potential for growth on the other side.

I've done a lot of coping. A lot of flying by the seat of my pants. A LOT of leaning in. A lot of kicking and screaming through some pretty awful days and nights when I felt like sticking my head in the sand and knowing full well that cannot be an option. I could not allow it to be an option.

And, as I'd hoped, I lived. I am slightly bruised and wincing, but alive nonetheless.

There is a quote by Jack Canfield that I've been clinging to pretty closely:

"Everything you want is on the other side of fear."

If you asked me what I wanted 365 days ago I would have probably just said something like, "I just want to wake up tomorrow and have it be a normal day." Please understand that my definition of normal then was "nothing that will make me want to curl up into the fetal position and cry for the rest of the day." I was afraid of literally EVERYTHING--my foundation was already so broken that a minor bump in the road would rock me to my very core. What was on the other side for me? Beats me--I couldn't look past my fear.

Ask me now what I want and the definition has changed again. This time, I've learned enough about myself and who I am to know that what I want (and deserve) is everything of which I am worthy--great things.

Happiness.

Love. 

Support.

Fulfillment.

Belonging. 

Potential. 

Success.

And with that, I almost find myself back in the same place I was last year--but this time it looks different. Last year was more about merely keeping my head above water. Living in fear because my life as I knew it had been destroyed. This year is more about thriving and finding my groove in the universe as I am meant to live it. With that comes a new kind of fear: stepping outside of my comfort zone. Pushing myself into finding my potential. Discovering what personal fulfillment looks and feels like. 

I can feel my mindset shifting because I am feeling the itch to be creative again. It's scary--but it's kind of thrilling, too.

The last year has been an adventure to say the very, VERY least. I'm just grateful that I am on the other side of that adventure, ready and more prepared than I could have ever imagined for the next one.

So on this day, exactly one year since I walked out of a court room clutching a piece of paper that said my life was changed forever--I say bring it on.