Candle Light

 When I began this blog, I aspired to serve a purpose: I wanted to connect you to the joy and happiness of the light and protect you from the loneliness that comes from the dark; I wanted you to know you aren’t alone in this journey.  In the last month of thought and word not left on page I have struggled to do exactly that, remind myself that I am not alone. 

 After three posts in my blog, I was beginning to create a pressure to expose my collective insights to all of you; to assign words to the thoughts in my mind and to explain or inspire some reflection to anyone in any situation. In June, I began a commitment to not only write down my thoughts, observations, and ideas, but to develop a relationship between myself and my audience (whoever you are), between my internal and my external,  and between my thoughts and my voice.  I began to realize this is more about me than I expected it to be. 

 At times I have felt unworthy of doing the things I love; to let myself free to thrive creatively and reflectively. I begin, as you can conclude, to create a pressure to attend to others needs and expectations before my own (Ironically, you see a declination of self confidence and conviction from my previous posts; what happened to my direction and "un-expectations"?). As many of us thrive on those highs of life and grasp as well as we can to those gold stars God seems to send down from heaven, why do we so negatively receive the lows and disregard the silver stars that are given? 

 In life there will be days that you will be discouraged and you will feel sadness in your heart and mind that will seem to never go away, but you must not let it overcome you. Little do we realize by not helping ourselves, we cannot help others; we can neither hope to connect to the joy and happiness, nor protect from the loneliness life may bring. Someone very special to me once said, “Focus on the things that make you happy, even if they are small”; that day I realized that your light, no matter how small a flame, can never be overcome by the darkness. 

 I encourage you to discover your flame. Let it dwell in your joy and happiness and be an inspiration in your loneliness. You can only help others by helping yourself.

Do what you love.

Damsel in Distress

As with any adjustments that are made to living quarters, supplies are needed to make any house a home. In my most recent transition into free living, I have found myself making more trips to Lowes and Home Depot than I ever have in my whole entire life. Contrary to popular belief about my personal encounters with hardware stores, my exposure is quite vast as my family used to take trips there for fun; but that is another story related to my unique upbringing. So, I understand that females are rarely seen within a hardware store, but it isn’t like we walk into them thinking it’s a Forever 21.  

In my most recent experience, I was in the plumbing section of a hardware store browsing the prices of some galvanized pipe when an employee passed the aisle and took a long look at me; clearly I was in distress. He proceeded to yell down the aisle, “Hey!” to get my attention and asked--in the most condescending way, “Do you even know what you’re looking at?” First of all, I may be a girl and not know the difference in pronunciation between phalanges and flange, but I have the ability to navigate my way around a store. Little did he know I was looking at the piping in order to begin construction on a closet and what I really needed was the wooden dowel section and not galvanized pipe so in fact I did need some help, but I responded by pulling out a 4” pipe, in the most threatening way possible—at least that’s how I pictured it-- and walking off. I was so taken aback by the condescending question of that man, that I can no longer take the friendly, “Can I help you with anything?” questions objectively.  

Though men and women have equal rights constitutionally, why does society hold true to the ever cinematic scenario of ‘Damsel in Distress’? I may not be able to win in a race against a couple of guys or have the ability to keep my composure when something hurts my feelings, but it doesn’t mean I can’t compete. I understand that having equal rights does not mean having equal ability, but I just don’t understand how I, as a female, am deemed incapable by the majority of society to have the competence to survive in the plumbing section of a hardware store. 

Without giving the impression that I don’t want to be taken care of, because I of all people appreciate my dad’s automotive and carpentry skills and my boyfriend’s effort to make shelves completely level, but  I just don’t want to be viewed as that girl tied to the railroad tracks in need of saving; helpless. Now I know that not all men are bad, and the conclusion of this story really is that hardware stores make me feel uncomfortable and out of place which is comically ironic, but there are times where I want to consider the differences between wooden dowels and galvanized pipe in peace and be trusted to ask for help when needed—and I think all women should be granted that same consideration.

Lubbock Abroad

At the end of the day I will have traveled 323 miles to arrive in my hometown. For the last two years, I have been living from place to place leaving portions of my possessions in rooms and cars and freezing good times and new friends within frames on my walls where ever I go. I have become a completely different person from who I was on the 6 am morning drive to Lubbock, TX in 2010.  I wouldn’t have exactly called that day the reclamation of self where I realized I didn’t have to be that girl I had always been, but it was the first 323 mile trip that got me closer.

I used to picture myself as a Hometown Glory. I fantasized the idea of always returning to the 10,000+ population as “exceeding expectations”. Exceeding expectations defined: Meeting all of the expectations people had for you based on your childhood achievements, but more polished. It’s like refurnished furniture; you expect it to be the same shape and have the same dimensions, but you know the color and use might change. That way of life, I eventually came to find, was inevitably going to cause a conflict between the needs of the “perfect society” of 10,000+ and my natural drive to be an individual.

Referencing Psalm 139, I know I was beautifully and wonderfully made; I was created to be me and not to meet or exceed anyone’s expectations.  The day I realized home is about your foundation and not about what you decide to build on top of it, was the day I reclaimed myself. 

Since that day, I have made many 323 mile trips to arrive home, where my heart is. The ability to realize my love for home had nothing to do with the 10,000+ people in it, the buildings, or the memories good or bad, was the day my family became a priority of my world. 

After today I will have traveled 323 miles to arrive to a place where many people meet my expectations with a little more polish than before. However, after today I will have traveled that 323 miles proud of who I am and hoping to not meet anybody’s expectations of me. Today I arrive to family who accepts me always; today I arrive home.

My Direction

The priorities of my world exist, really, in three categories: Love, family, and happiness. I care about other things too, naturally, such as being successful and having heaps of money, but society expects us to be achievers of those personal goals anyway. Everyone of course wants to meet their own terms of success, but I expect that answering to my priorities will lead to those societal expectations.

 All twenty year olds, of course, are stuck between looking at their future from an aspiring distance and facing reality as it is. For example, sometimes I like to see myself as on my way to having life figured out by next week as a result of my impeccable reflection skills, and other times I see myself as financially irresponsible as I eat oatmeal for every meal to save up some extra cash to pay my rent. Twenty is really the best age to be; you’re not only leaving the adolescent stages of immaturity and oblivion, but people understand when you only eat oatmeal and only do your laundry once a month. 

Thus, my priorities have some justification in my mind—it’s ok for me only to have three, because eventually I will get what I want out of life regardless of my age. But for now, I am in a really good place. I am happy, full and capable of love, and I have a family made up of relatives, friends, and everyone else that I meet on the way. I live like a gypsy—twenty and in limbo between my foundation and the real world.