20 Lessons I've Learned at 20: Lesson Twelve

12.      Believe in that four letter word.

 

 

As a child, I was fortunate enough to see my parents happily married. Of course, as a child, I didn’t see myself as fortunate. I saw it as gross and repulsive that the two people that diapered me at one time, actually, like, ya know, kissed and stuff. The thought makes you shudder when you’re young. I mean, hello! Cooties!

 

But then I got older, and learned that I was actually quite blessed to have two parents that loved each other. Granted, I skipped a large chunk of time in this story. There was the stage I thought my parents were as smart as that Miss South Carolina Teen contestant and the stage that I thought I was smarter than them. But now that I’ve lived two decades, I can say that all I hope and pray for is to find a love that withstands the test of time that they have.

Sometimes I feel the judgment when I still cry at the end of every predictable romance movie. Not because it’s another Jennifer Aniston rom-com and everyone including the husband half asleep in the theater knows the ending. But mainly because my friends and family know I have been on some of the most painstaking dates and have survived incredibly numbing heartbreaks. I have heard the corny pick-up lines and the witnessed the emotional roller coasters. Yet I still have every bit of faith in love.

A couple of years ago I wrote a letter to the future me to open on my wedding day. I wrote one for the lucky groom, too. I don’t know who I will be or who he will be. But I do know that on that day every tear shed during those movies will be worth it. I will no longer cry because that love is what I’m searching for—I’ll cry because it’s everything I’ve found. I will know that the way my parents still look at each other will be my future. And you better believe that the groom will have one heck of a tolerance for quirkiness and sassy oddballs.

 

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

20 Lessons I've Learned at 20: Lesson Eleven

11.     Laugh at yourself.

 

Most of my lessons have been years in the making. I have lived through multiple episodes of the same plot resulting in the same lesson. (I’m hard headed). But this lesson came as an epiphany. Let me set the scene for you.

 

I have been planning the largest canned food drive at my beloved Ohio University. The logistics of this event are similar to fixing the haircut we all tried to give ourselves when we were three. You can keep trimming away the details, but there will always be those inevitable loose ends. I won’t bore you with more, but let’s just say on this particular day, I had lifted well over 1,300 canned foods, spilled horrid mushroom soup down my front, and accidentally punched a cabinet. I felt like the bird in that Windex commercial that is tricked into thinking the glass door is actually an open window.

 

So after slamming into my day and sliding down the window in slow motion, I hit the ground. I walked into my apartment, took my pants off, and made hot dogs. I turned on Law & Order SVU and dug into my mustard covered feast. It was two hot dogs in that I put down my fork and just started giggling at myself. My giggles turned to belly laughs and my belly laughs turned into full-on, teary-eyed cackling. At this point, the tears were rolling down my cheeks and it was literally becoming difficult to take a deep breath…

 

I mean, come on! Here I am sitting in my living room with no pants on eating bun-less hot dogs watching Detective Benson do her thing. I had a hundred things I should have been doing. But I wasn’t worried about them. My biggest concern was my roommate walking in and checking me into a mental institution.

 

We’ve all had these moments. You may have had pants on in yours. You may have been 20 feet below sea level. Or have just realized your fly was unzipped for the entirety of your day. But either way, enjoy that moment of just doing as you feel and having the ability to realize sometimes you’re an absolute oddball. After all, if all of us are oddballs, then really none of us are odd at all...  

 

 

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

20 Lessons I've Learned at 20: Lesson Ten

10.      You have the pen that writes your life story.

 

 

If you were offered to leave the country for a month, would you go?

If the plane was going up and you could skydive out of it, would you jump?

If your friend asked you to dance on the table, would you get up?

 

 

 

If you answered yes to all three, congratulations! You have the eye of the tiger as my girl Katy would say. But chances are you probably didn’t. Or you mindlessly read them wondering where I was going with them… But, regardless, I’m not going to preach that you should take every opportunity that presents itself. Sometimes just because you have the ability to take your pants off or tattoo your mother’s name across your chest doesn’t mean you should. But if you do, that’s cool too. The point is that you shouldn’t feel as if you must follow the story society writes for you.

 

I sometimes think when I find the “end-all, be-all” love, it is going to be like a romantic comedy. You know the ones. Girl meets boy. Girl loves Boy. Boy loves girl but messes up. Girl struggles with a decision. Girl decides she still loves Boy. Girl and Boy kiss. The End. But life isn’t a rom com and I’m not Jennifer Aniston. Instead of waiting for life to write my story, I must realize that the paper is in front of me and the pen is in no one else’s hand but my own. If the person makes your heart happy and your wheels turning, let it happen. It's your story.

 

 

Write your story. Cross things out. Make things bold. Write softly, write with meaning. Hell, doodle outside the lines. Just make sure when you turn the last page, you're happy with the memories within the bindings and your name is staring back at you as the author.

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

 

20 Lessons I've Learned at 20: Lesson Nine

9.      Look up.

 

WARNING: This material may be too sassy for younger audiences.

 

We’ve all experienced it or have done it ourselves. That moment when you’re talking with someone about feeling broken hearted or pooped on by life and that special someone has his or her eyes down on a screen. I say screen because at this point, people have phones built into watches for crying out loud. And all you want to do is SCREAM. You want to scream:

“Oh, I guarantee that tattoo idea you’re pinning on Pinterest is so much cooler than life pooping on me.” Or, “Wow! That tweet you just sent to Busta Rhymes sounds super compelling and noteworthy!”

 

But, instead, you continue on your conversation with the fascinating brick wall of a friend you have, and pretend it is the norm.

 

On a more serious note, this lesson applies to other situations as well. Sometimes life does seem to be pooping on us—it is one thing after another. I spilled half of a jar of mushroom soup on my sweater then accidentally punched a wall. But instead of looking down and pouting, I remembered I was Taylor Swift (read lesson eight) and looked up. I looked up to the fact my mushroom soup would dry and that someone was watching over me with a giggle.

 

 

We've all heard the saying, "when life get's you down, get back up." But I'm here to tell you that you don't even have to exert that much effort. Just merely look up. Look up from your phone screen, look up from life, and look into the eyes of someone who needs you. Chances are they will be a more beautiful sight anyways.

 

 

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

20 Lessons I've Learned at 20: Lesson Eight

8.      Life will place you exactly where you need to be.

 

 

One of my greatest blessings in life is my title of “aunt.” I am an aunt to four little ones, and it has brought more laughs, love, and unsurprising lessons than I could have imagined. Just the other day, two of my nieces, sat down to chat with me for a few minutes. As usual, one of the most commonly asked questions in my life came up.

 

So you’re thinking, “Oh, Rachel. Did they ask you how you were?” Funny you ask, actually… No. That is not the question I had in mind.

 

“Oh, so they asked you how college is going, right?” Yes, they did. But we are talking about my sassy little divas, here, so no, that isn’t what I’m referring to.

 

They asked me if I had a boyfriend yet. And, I said, “No, ladies. Do I need to have one?” And like the two angels I have taught them to be, they replied, “Oh, no, absolutely not! You’re like Taylor Swift!”

 

I winced in agony for a good while. But, not for too long. Mainly because this isn’t the first time they have told me this. But also because I know in the mind of a 4 year old, that is the biggest compliment you could possibly give someone.

 

Now I know life has placed me exactly where I need to be. Some people can grow with someone beside them. I suppose this is when you know you have found the person who should be beside you until you take your last breath. But for me, not having someone beside me has forced me to look within myself for the answers. I haven’t had to explain myself, my actions, my choices, or even my outfit choices to anyone. (Purple pants and a convict-orange sweater? Taylor Swift says yes.)

 

Now don’t get me wrong, I look forward to the moment my life aligns with someone else’s. I’m a hopeless romantic; I cry at the end of every sappy “I love you and I always have” movie and have my wedding dreamt up in my head. But the time I have had to define just what my life means as a product of one is invaluable. And among other opportunities that have come my way, I have learned that God will put just what I need on my plate when I need it the most.

 

 

Have confidence that life will be all you need it to be. Shout out to all my Taylor Swifts out there. We're doing it-- and we're rocking it out with sequined guitars and one kickass attitude.

 

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



20 Lessons I've Learned at 20: Lesson Seven

7.   Never stop doing what removes you from the chaos

I’ll never forget that minty blue-green leotard and the magic it encapsulated. It was about the same size as would fit a Chihuahua. I visited my grandmother who now dances from above, and the day was what every three-year-old little girl has ever dreamed of. (Minus Cinderella making me the long lost Disney princess and living in a castle with my invisible friend Amy.)

I began dancing that day back 17 years ago, and it began my love of movement and the power it gave me to express myself. I truly believe this passion of mine paved the way to a creative talent I share with you today—writing.

The way a poetic melody paired with a compelling lyric made my toes flutter and my heart pound was intoxicating. It was as if the music moved through me. My brain didn’t need to equate or calculate. It was a beautiful escape.

After 15 years of some interesting dance concepts on my part—I recreated the infamous Tom Cruise in Risky Business scene as a solo performance and wore a costume that made me look like a glittery pickle—I packed up everything I had ever known and moved to college. And with my reliance on my parents, my dancing fell to homework and college boys.

I have learned to incorporate dance and creativity into my schedule. And when I fail to do just this, my mood tends to show it. Because as time will tell you, the movement that removes you from the chaos is sometimes difficult to keep up with. But remember that little leotard and the look on your loved ones face when they saw a future for you before you created your own. There’s a reason you were given that talent. It is your ticket to sanity and a world your three-year-old self could have only dreamed of…

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

20 Lessons I've Learned at 20: Lesson Six

6.      Never overuse “I'm sorry.”

 

 

 

So you went all Edward Scissorhands on your roommate’s hair in their sleep. Apologize.

 

You thought it would be cool to dye the dog’s hair fuchsia. Apologize to little ole Chunks.

 

You didn’t see a problem in scrubbing the toilet with your sister’s toothbrush. Apologize. (Props to you, though)

 

You said no to spending time with someone who contributes little to your happiness. Go you!

...and don’t apologize.

 

You fought to the end of the world for someone that didn’t raise a finger for you. Don’t even think about apologizing.

 

You looked the person that dropped your heart on your feet in the eye through tears within your own. Do. Not. Apologize.

 

We’ve heard time and time again to overuse "I love you." But overusing apologies has seemingly replaced the love. If we even stutter on a word in a conversation, we apologize. If we even slightly touch someone, we apologize. We are a society of apologetic people who try our damnedest to not make too much of an impression or an impact.

Don’t get me wrong—there are many situations in which apologies make sense, as outlined above. But if you pull through the need to speak softly and act gently, you will feel the pride it took to stand before someone. To stand before someone feeling vulnerable and weak. To stand before someone and look them straight in the eye and spill the pain you’ve tucked away inside for too long. This beautiful sight is in need of no apology.

Apologies have no place in a room full of strength and courage.

 

 

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