Get(ting) Real: Just Being Me

I've always been pretty shy. If it weren't for those people blessed with an outgoing nature, I'd have no friends. Imagine my relief when I found out about the word "introvert" and realized that I wasn't alone in this world.

My husband laughs at me when I try to tell him I'm introverted, but I still am. The only difference is that I've learned how to pretend that I'm not. I chose a career that is very people-oriented...but the small people don't scare me, just the Grown Up People.

Ironically, for being an introvert, I've really loved blogging. I think it's the idea that I can hide behind a computer screen and share my thoughts without actually holding a conversation. I value the comments and feedback to my posts, but I also am not offended if I don't get any of that on what I share.

I can't believe how long I've had this blog, either. I was reading back through random posts from over the years, and I'm so thankful to have snapshots of who I was and what life was like at those times. I'm sad that I trailed off, but I have my personal journals as snapshots of those times, too. Every day until now has shaped who I am today, and I may not always be proud of each decision but I'm glad to be where I am right now. I know that I'm not perfect, but each day is full of opportunities to grow.

I've toyed with the idea of starting a new blog for some time now. I even went so far over the past few days as to set up two new blogs on two different blogging sites. I have picked up this fear that someone will come along to read this and will get bored enough to look back through the years and suddenly get offended by something Old Me wrote. I have awful visions that somehow I'll be outed as a secretly terrible person, and I'll lose my job and friends and...I know it's silly not to blog or to start over again over a thought like that, but I feel like nowadays it's too easy for people to find even the tiniest thing to get worked up over. I don't want to put myself in that position. I began to feel the need to brace myself to apologize for something that may upset someone, and I posted less to avoid that.

And yet...I don't want to give in to fear. I don't want to make assumptions about what other people may or may not be thinking about me. I can't blow off something I enjoy doing for the sake of preventing problems that may not even ever happen. That's just silly.

Some people who are stopping by have been around since before the beginning of this blog. Some have entered my life at some point along the way. Regardless of when you've come into my life and ventured forth into my tiny corner of the Internet world, you are getting to see me here. I don't promise to be perfect, and sometimes I may be the only one laughing at my jokes, but this is real.

And you know what else is real? Yes, there are some people out there who need a life beyond seeking out things to get mad about, but there are far more awesome people out there who are willing to humor you and listen once in a while (or in this case, read). There are plenty of people who are supportive, encouraging, and loving out there. It's time to shift my thinking and see that there are people who enjoy reading this stuff, and sometimes it's even helpful. But most of all, I need to remember that I never started writing to make other people happy; I write because it makes me happy to put words together, contemplate things, and share what I think.

Music Monday: Hawaiian Style

Today I'm sharing with you one of my absolute favorite songs of all time. Not only is it stunningly beautiful in lyrics, voice, and instrumentals, but it also holds a lot of sentimental value for me.

First of all, I can't say enough about how awesome ukulele music is. It just always seems so joyful and carefree, and it's contagious. This is one of those songs I turn on when I'm stressed out or grumpy, and it usually does the trick. I can't help but envision an island with a gorgeous beach and ocean waves crashing on the shore while I'm listening to it.

Secondly, it had a role in our wedding. On the RSVP card we added a line asking our guests for a song that made them feel like dancing, and my dear sister-in-law responded with a great list of songs. Her list included this song and a note about how their dad loved this song. I wanted to include it as a way to honor him that day. I got to watch my husband and mother-in-law dance to it while I held hands with my sister-in-law, and it was a powerful, emotional moment in time. To be honest, that was one of my favorite parts of our wedding day.

Then the wildest thing happened at my sister-in-law's wedding. There was a ukulele player doing a fabulous job with music during the ceremony and for a little bit afterwards. While we were congratulating the newlyweds, he began to play this song. It made me tear up because of how perfect it seemed to hear it again in such a happy, beautiful time. It's also pretty fun to have something in common between our weddings like that.

I bet you can imagine how excited I was to find a beautiful t-shirt that included the words "Somewhere over the rainbow" on the front while we were in Hawaii. :)

So here's one of the most beautiful songs of all time, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow/What a Beautiful World" by Hawaii's own Israel Kamakawiwo'Ole, aka IZ.

I dare you to turn it on during the week if you find yourself stressed out. I bet you won't stay stressed for long after your short "island vacation" song.

Trust

I feel that voice answering me after many, many prayers.

It's not a clear answer. It's not a loud, definite command.

It's a delicate whisper.

Trust me.
Remember I am with you wherever you go. 

"Yes, that's true, but which way do I go, Lord?" I ask.

Wherever you go is where you should be.
I have great things in store for you. 
Trust me. 
I'm here. 
I will not leave you. 

Strangely I am encouraged as I move forward on the dark, foggy path before me. I go with the Light and therefore go with everything I need.

Trust.

Music Monday: "I Don't Dance"

Side note: I know it says "Music Monday" despite being posted today (Tuesday). I was having computer issues last night. Better late than never! :)

Today's song, "I Don't Dance", is by Lee Brice. I originally came across this song after looking up another of his, and I instantly fell in love with it.

Before our wedding I tried so hard to get Tim to practice dancing with me so we wouldn't look uncoordinated during our first dance. He adamantly refused, and he would often tell me, "I don't dance." [Spoiler alert: When Tim tried to get fancy during our first dance and spin me, I tried to spin the opposite way...more than once...and we laughed our way through a good portion of our first dance.]

Fast forward a bit to the few weeks before our wedding. I told him he has to dance twice in his life and then I'd let him off the hook for the rest of our lives: once with his dear bride to a mutually-agreed upon song, and once with his momma. He accepted that offer begrudgingly. [For the record- my hubby has danced with me at least double that amount since then.]

There's something powerful about the things we do for the people we love -- especially when it challenges us to step outside of our comfort zone. This song captures that in a simple yet beautiful way.

Get(ting) Real: Vulnerability

There's a nearly overwhelming amount of excitement that comes with starting something new. There's hope for the joys and victories ahead. There's exhilaration that comes with having the courage and determination to get started and see it through.

On the other hand, there's also a certain amount of vulnerability that comes with new beginnings as well. There's doubt that your abilities will be enough to be successful. There's fear of mistakes to be made along the way. There's a worry about the outcome that could be radically different from the highly optimistic picture of perfect results you have in mind.

For some people that vulnerability is enough to quit trying.

I've never been a stranger to trying new things with excitement and enthusiasm --
kayaking on the ocean
playing clarinet
trying out for college theater productions
attempting to earn a solo in choir
climbing a mountain
sliding down a mountain in the snow
getting an eight week old puppy 
training dogs
taking a six hour Amtrak ride alone
walking through downtown Chicago alone for the first time (without getting lost!)
calamari 
driving a boat
leading preschool story time at VBS
gardening 
teaching
moving across the country
moving partway across the country
running power tools
making salsa
blogging for a year 
-- but I've also never been a stranger to that vulnerability or times where it has held me back.

I've been pushing myself to delve into hobbies more so I can be defined by more than my career. I never intended to let fear or vulnerability hold me back in life, but at some point I gave up on regularly pushing myself to feel that rush of excitement that comes with trying new things. It makes a huge difference when you lose touch with yourself that way, but it's also a huge difference when you bring that excitement back.

Two hobbies I've been diving into are watercolor painting and photography. I may now be the world's best at either one, but I love it. I love to feel that sense of exhilaration again. I love to feel wonder again. I love the feeling that comes with creating new things and learning new things. I still have that vulnerability, though, and that  makes it difficult to share the outcome of my time and effort -- even with my husband. Learning these new skills also means learning to be open and honest.

It means learning how to get real. 

I found this quote a few years ago on Pinterest, and I immediately wrote it down to put by my desk where I would see it every day. Sometimes all it takes is a nudge to remember the value in trying.

Park Games

We unpack the bag with the game, and I hope it will go better than it did with the kite. (Those puffs of wind that cooled us weren't enough to keep it afloat for long.)

I give a gentle toss, and we search for where the little, white ball lands. Our eyes squint as we differentiate dandelions past their prime from the top of the ball in the tall, sturdy crabgrass.

There. 

With our target in sight we take turns throwing.

Red.

Black.

Red.

Black.

My competitive side aches to win while the rest of me savors the sunshine, the breeze, and the company as we take turns getting points. 

An uninvited tick joins us - we take it as our cue to leave. 

As we pull away I realize I don't remember who won. I remember instead the joy, laughter, and relaxation as the pressures of life melted away in the summer sun while we played Boccie ball next to the lake. 

I'm sure that means we all won in the end. 

Get(ting) Real

"Get real."

I remember that used to be a phrase uttered when someone was being unbelievable -- like that they could climb all the way to the top of the tallest tree in the yard or hit the ball all the way out to the field. That was back in the times where life's big struggles included deciding between a bologna or pb&j for lunch or why your favorite pair of shoes (the jelly shoes with the sparkles in them) always gave you blisters no matter how few minutes you wore them on your feet.

"Get real."

That phrase now offers a nudge into truth and honesty. It is a challenge to own and embrace now for what it is rather than being frustrated or sad over what it's not. It's a call to opening up and exposing things I'd rather sweep under the rug than utter aloud.

We tend to let ourselves feel like we are alone in our negative feelings or experiences in a world that pressures us to be perfect in appearances and hide our struggles. We buy into the lie that everyone is more pulled together, happy, and better than we are. We brag about our ups while lying about our downs.

And you know what? All of this effort to project perfection is exhausting. In high school we'd finish a play and have an unbeatable rush of joy, pride, and excitement; this kind of performing is crushing. Buying into that lie took away my feeling that this blog was my safe place to be myself. And that's not okay.

So now's the time to heed the call to get real. This is my blog, and this is my life. It's not always witty, funny, or entertaining, but it's real.