20 Lessons I've Learned at 20: Lesson Three

3.      Counting calories doesn’t help you count your blessings.

 

We’re all guilty of it. So just leave your Weight Watcher trackers at the door of the previous page you visited. For the few brief minutes you’ve invited me into your home or office or closet to hide from Aunt Betty and her ugly sweater party, let your self-doubts go.

 

Now, I’m not going to turn into a Special K commercial on you and tell you that your jean size is now “Fabulous” or anything. But I want you to take a second and think about how beating yourself up over a wrinkle here or a roll there helps you to enjoy the people in your life and the purpose you strive to fulfill. If you delete that pesky little app from your phone and the voice inside you that prevents you from fully enjoying that Krispy Kreme, you’ll see that it doesn’t help you at all.

 

And isn’t that an essential part of our lives? Counting our blessings? Without these blessings, we would struggle for motivation. I would bet some Ramen noodles (hey, I’m a college student) that your fitness tracker will never motivate you quite like the blessings in your life can.

 

Shift your focus from the numbers to the faces, the calories to the people and the hate to the love. Then, take a deep breath… and take a bite.

 

it’s an outlet. it’s an inspiration. it’s a gift. it’s a purpose

20 Lessons I've Learned at 20: Lesson Two

2.      No amount of inspirational quotes will comfort you quite like your mother can.

 

We see them every day. Pinterest has made a business out of it. Teenage girls have become Instafamous on Instagram with them. They haunt us with their clever plays on words and millisecond of satisfaction.

 

I’m talking inspirational quotes, people. The words that weave together dried tears and a pat on the back in a poetic melody. The melody wraps around our heart convincing us to make it our background on our phone. (Just me?) We pretend to live our lives by these quotes like “live in the sunshine” or “the best thing to hold onto in life is each other.”

To be frank, you can’t live in the sunshine where there are clouds. Now, I know you can create your own figurative sunshine and learn to “dance like no one’s watching” beneath that figurative sunshine, but will it really last? Will these momentary flashes of inspiration help us uncover the bed sheets in the morning and face our chaotic lives?

 

If there is one lesson I have been so fortunate to learn, it is that not one of these quotes—no matter how applicable they may be to our current situation— will ever make us feel quite like our mother can.

 

If you’re one of my soul sisters or brothers and have one of those generic quotes with whimsical letters on an image straight off Pinterest haven, delete it. Replace it with a photo of your mother. Or your sister. Or your dog, Chunks. Whoever that person or animal is that makes you feel like you’re not alone—and you’re right where you need to be—make him or her your background. Look at them and feel the love they speak to you each time you struggle to put one foot in front of the other. They are the melody in the movie of your life. They are the best thing to hold onto in life. No need for sunshine. They will always be the light that guides you home.

Love you “oodles & doodles,” Mom.

it’s an outlet. it’s an inspiration. it’s a gift. it’s a purpose

 

20 Lessons I've Learned at 20: Lesson One

1. Take advantage of the time you are responsible for no one but yourself.

There are few times in our lives that we have few obligations. For some of you, this time may have seemingly passed. And for others, you may be experiencing it now. But even if this lesson applies to the thirty minutes you have during naptime, read carefully.

Sometimes we take for granted the fact that we don’t have to hold someone’s hand as they choose which tie looks best for work, or whether that lipstick is too daring for daytime. (Ladies, it never is.) For some of us, we don’t have to wake up because someone has the sniffles or sees a monster beneath their bed.

 

These years we live with little obligations and responsibilities are spent wishing that we had someone next to us or complaining that a midterm is approaching. But we must learn to cherish the only agenda we have in our lives right now—our own. Our time will come when we must coordinate and calibrate his and hers or his and his or hers and hers schedules. Our time will come when we can’t sip on wine and watch The Notebook on a Tuesday because we feel like it. Our time will come when we can’t wake up at 6am on Homecoming Saturday and decide not only is it appropriate to have beer with our eggs, it is expected. Our time will come when our grandparents and parents aren’t the ones there to hold our hands through this crazy maze we call life. Our time will come when our worries turn from taking tests to praying for hope.

 

Hold on to the time you have when your only responsibility is finding yourself and creating who you envision when you think of you. Make an imprint where you see potential while there’s no one there to ask you why.

 

it’s an outlet. it’s an inspiration. it’s a gift. it’s a purpose

New Series: 20 Lessons I've Learned at 20

 

Living isn't merely existing or breathing.

Now, this is coming from someone who thinks in grey scale and majors in news & information. I'm sure if you asked a biology major who thinks in black and white, you would get a much different definition of living. But for time and sanity's sakes, let's say simply breathing and letting life pass you by in scenes isn't enough. It isn't sufficient in defining living.

In the twenty years I have spent living, I have learned lessons worth sharing. Now, these are simple lessons. These are not the secrets to life. I have not gone sky diving, bungee jumping, climbed Mt. Everest, or saved the world. I'm not Ghandi, I'm a college-aged girl from Ohio. But I have been pooped on by a bird, had my heart broken more than once, gone on some incredibly awful first dates, had braces, survived middle school, and ran a 5K. Which, honestly, are all victories in themselves.

So here's to all of you out there-- the ones who have cried into tubs of ice cream, tripped walking upstairs, wet yourselves a little from laughing, gone all day with your fly unzipped, and been pooped on by a bird. This series of posts over the next few weeks is for you. We are all survivors in our own way, and because of these small victories, we have learned and we have lived. I hope you enjoy my 20 Lessons I've Learned at 20. Because I sure love uncovering the feeling-- the feeling I get after brushing off the dust (or bird poop) and drying up the tears-- the feeling I know I'm going to be okay.

 

it’s an outlet. it’s an inspiration. it’s a gift. it’s a purpose 

complaints → blessings.

 

Complaints are something we speak each day; they are uttered beneath our breath, struck through our brain, and yelled in times of desperation. From insignificant to life threatening, gripes and complaints slip from between our lips without second thought. But what if we turned every complaint we have into a blessing? What if we could shift our thinking from garbage to gratefulness?

Instead of focusing on the chilly temps, let us say thanks for being affluent enough to afford a coat.

Instead of cursing from beneath our breath about a spilled stain, let us be grateful for the kids God has blessed us with who create them.

Instead of furrowing our brows at early morning alarms for work and school, let us say a prayer for being fortunate enough to have a job and a means to education.

Instead of letting the housework overwhelm, let it remind you of just how lucky you are to have a roof over your head.

Instead of feeling guilty for eating that last bite of chocolate lava cake, feel grateful you are fortunate enough to eat. (And feel gracious enough to share a bite… with me…)

Let the discouragement motivate.

Let the curveballs teach.

Let the complaints say thanks.

And let your heart open to every day’s disguised blessings.

it’s an outlet. it’s an inspiration. it’s a gift. it’s a purpose

less like friends, more like sisters.

Introducing a heartwarming story on one of God’s gifts to this earth. It has been approved for effectively treating minor hopelessness, cold-heartedness, frowning, sadness, doubt of love, and lack of inspiration. Side effects are rare, but do include: active tear ducts, “aww” noises, grins, swelling of the heart, laughter, drowsiness, loss of appetite, and runny nose.*

*Okay, so the last three are just for my own personal enjoyment. False advertising, my apologies.

Morgan and I have known each other since we were six. I mean, as much as you can actually know someone in kindergarten. She actually strongly disliked me. Which, I can’t really blame her for considering I felt it was my duty to tell everyone what their position was in the ever-so-popular game among kids… “house.” (This part becomes ironic later.)

The years went by, and I felt the responsibility to serve as commander of my peers slowly subside. My brain-to-mouth filter never really faded, but Morgan’s disinterest in me, did. We slowly started to become friends as the years went on, and at no particular “aha!” moment we did become best friends. (I know this is not the most exciting and/or fairytale story, but stick with me.)

Morgan crept into my life and became my sister, my support, my counselor, and my best friend. She was by my side through my first (and second) heart break. She wiped my tears when I didn’t understand why God took my family. She is the only person that could get into my head and stop me from crying every tear inside my body when my cousin passed away. She is also the reason I haven’t ended up in Juno, Alaska when I was going to Columbus, Ohio.

Now, “house” isn’t just a game. It is real life, as we are current college roommates and are in search for an apartment. Though, now, she has a much different role in my life then she did when we were six. Instead of playing a pretend mother, daughter, maid, or dog, she plays a true friend. (Although considering how moody I can be, she probably wishes for the days when she pretended to be a mother, daughter, maid or dog.)

When many people get married, they claim they are “marrying their best friend.” I, on the other hand, would be lying if I ever said that. My best friend will always be the one that held my hand when we walked on stage to speak to our graduating class for the last time. That title will always go to the girl who I called after my first kiss. She will always be the girl who carried my books when I broke my ankle, gave me a place to stay when I bickered with my parents, and wore sunglasses with me at night when my eyes were swollen from crying. My best friend will always be the girl who my nieces consider their “bonus” aunt. Morgan will always be the one who held my hair while I was sick over the toilet. My best friend will be the one zipping my wedding dress up and standing next to me when I finally say, “I do.” She will be the hand I hold when I need girl talk. She will be the one that I support no matter what. And, she will always be the person I call my best friend.

it’s an outlet. it’s an inspiration. it’s a gift. it’s a purpose

a tribute.

People enter and exit our lives every day, every month, and every year. Some leave us unaffected, while some leave us wanting more: more lessons, more love, more inspiration, or more time.

Very few, if any, exit with us wanting more of all of these: lessons, love, inspiration, and time.

A year ago today, one of those select few left this temporary home we live in. He left us wanting so much more. So. Much. More.

Of the last 365 days that have passed, not a single one passed without a thought or memory crossing my mind. We were left wondering why God would take such a beautiful heart and pure soul. We searched, we prayed, we questioned, we mourned. We begged for more. So. Much. More.

It is human nature to want more of a good thing. Blessings are no different, even if they come into our lives in the form of people. Those blessings exit our lives and we are left with cold, blinding grief. But after the grief slowly and painfully starts to leave our bodies, we are left with sweet memories, love in our hearts, and a guardian angel above us.

We must never forget the love, the memories, and our angels. They give us reality of life and heaven. They remind us of how short our precious lives are, the significance of love, and the protection only an angel can provide.

Last year at this time, I said goodbye to a lot: high school, familiarity, my home, and my cousin. I stood on a stage and promised my angel that I would live life through him. I promised I would experience the things he never got to for the both of us. I squeezed his hand and made a promise to him.

Every day I want more. So. Much. More. But when it comes down to it, I am left with his sweet memories, his never-ending love in my heart, and one kick-ass angel watching me navigate this temporary home.

We miss & love you, Ian- forever & always, together & apart.

it’s an outlet. it’s an inspiration. it’s a gift. it’s a purpose