A year ago, I never thought I’d be back here. Going on three days of not sleeping, trying to figure out my hair’s newest texture – figuring out a new normal as my body and thyroid battle it out once again. A war I thought was over. Now a seemingly never ending battle.
My dad got para-thyroid surgery a few weeks ago. Soon we’ll have matching scars on our neck; our health problems slightly different while our age of diagnosis makes all the difference. This holiday season I realized you can be mad about the disease or thankful for the medicine. Mad about the genetic lottery you seemingly lost or thankful for winning some kind of birthright lottery that landed you in a country with modern technology. Mad over what feels unfairly taken or thankful over what feels unfairly given. Read More
It’s currently April, which means I’m wearing red lipstick every day. Taking a stand for Sexual Assault Awareness Month is always a little scary and a little vulnerable – but also, I believe, very needed. I’ve always loved Red My Lips simple but profound mission, and this is my third year participating. (I’ve blogged about it before, or you can visit their site!)
The tone around the issue has changed a lot. I’ve been able to have more conversations than ever about consent, about abuse, and about assault. Conversations that need to be had, for sure, but are usually quiet, closed door, one on one conversations. I wonder if people are simply more aware these days or more willing to talk about things they see discussed so often in media (shout out to Brock Turner and Donald Trump). I also wonder if I’ve became known, in my circle, for caring about these things. For knowing a bit more than the average people about statistics and laws and the like. Whatever the reason, I’m seeing real change take root in people’s minds and real awareness being born, 3 years after I picked up some red lipstick. Read More
A lot of people have spoken out against the Women’s March. A lot of people have laughed it off, declared it useless, rolled their eyes. But can I tell you what it meant to me? Read More
I’m not the biggest new year’s resolutions person (I find they typically involve weight loss and equally get forgotten about), but I do love dreaming up when the new year can hold.
The latest craze, that I love, is choosing a word for the new year. One word. Focusing on it, digging deep into it, maybe reading a book or two on it or learning its origin. For the less nerdy, possibly just writing it on the front of their journal and calling it a day? One word. One. As much as I love this idea, I keep failing at it. I keep getting four.
Last year I tried so, so hard. I really did. I still got four. Maybe it’s my indecisiveness. Maybe it’s my love for words. I think it has more to do with a sneaky God who keeps reminding me it’s okay to live my life outside the lines I create for myself. Fine, Jesus, whatever – four it is. So this year, when they were spoken into my life, I didn’t even put up a fight. Yup. YUP. That’s it. That’s me. That’s 2017. Read More
A dear, dear friend (cough Pinterest cough) once told me,
In a society that profits from your self doubt, liking yourself is a rebellious act.
Doesn’t that make you want to go and love the $!@# out of yourself, just to piss off the world? Anyone? Just me? I love getting to be a lil’ rebel. (Probably because 90% of time I’m the biggest rule follower…)
When you get to be a rebel and it’s good for you… I’m a fan. Committing to liking myself, at the very least just to make society suck it, has been empowering for me. Here are five simple and sneaky ways I’ve been trying to rebel against what is assumed of us, what others consider normal, or what the world wants us to do. In 2017, let’s resolve to be rebels. Read More
I’ve mentioned before that I’ve joined a Make Blogging Fun Again group. Let’s not talk about how good I’ve been at keeping up with it (aka horrible). With a heavy heart this morning, I opened my inbox. Some ‘fun’ and some creativity seemed like a good idea, so I opened up to where I had left off before – and found myself staring at a prompt on gratitude.
I immediately brightened up a bit. Gratefulness. It’s used to make anyone’s day better, a small trick countless boast of to improve both your mood and your life. An “attitude of gratitude” is a hip thing to have these days; it’s supposed to win you more friends and lower stress levels. And I have plenty to be grateful for. I’ve actually started practicing (what some call) the Prayer of Reflection – taking time each night to reflect on the day, where I saw God show up, what I was most thankful for. Then, from that place of gratitude, praying for the next day, for more of God’s presence, for more awareness. It’s a game changer, people.
All that to say, with the prompt of gratitude, I beyond ready. Let me tell you all about what I’ve been grateful for lately – I reflect on it every night! Let me tell you about the wedding I went to this weekend, the faces I was reunited with. Let me tell you about what God has been growing in me lately, where I’ve seen such unexpected providence. Let me tell you about all the little things I’ve become extra thankful for in my life. Let me write you the most beautiful, reflective, eloquent blog on gratitude.
And then, I stopped, because I remembered why my heart was so heavy 5 minutes prior, why I had escaped the land of newsfeeds and news stories and retreated to my inbox.
I was going to write a status. (Isn’t it funny, how that’s our idea of doing something? I’m gonna go on Facebook and write a status!) I was going to write about the anger, the shouting, the hate filling up my newsfeed. Bombs in New York, bombs in New Jersey. Police shooting in Tulsa, police shooting in Charlotte. It’s been a terrifying week in America, and it’s only Wednesday. And what are we doing? Mourning? Grieving? Rallying together? No, we’re yelling. Read More
As if I haven’t talked about it nearly enough, a lot of my girls are heading off to college. Girls that I met as little freshman, who were just learning how to navigate high school, who were 14 years old like three seconds ago, are now college students. I’m not freaking out, you’re freaking out.
I’ve been asked for all kinds of college advice: tips on what to pack, questions about giant lecture halls, how in the world to go about making friends. Then a blog was officially requested: “23 things you wish you knew before going to college, Krysti. 23, that’s a good number. That will make a good list.” Oh, will it? Read More
“Hey, have you been losing weight?”
I’ve been getting this a lot lately. Which makes me smile, because in some cultures it would be the rudest thing one could say. Yet America deems it the highest compliment. Eye roll.
It makes me smile, because it’s usually men. And they’re usually trying to be nice! But it’s a reminder that women’s bodies are always on display, always being evaluated, always open to be commented on. It’s a reminder that our society sees no problem with this.
It makes me smile, because although I have been at the gym more and eating healthier recently, I’ve invested so much more in personal growth. As much as my outer appearance may have altered, I feel like my inner person is completely different. I’ve valued self care at an all time high, and I can see the results. It makes me laugh, because the inward improvements don’t show to the naked eye. Can you imagine if they did?? We’d care far more about our personalities than our hair. We’d spend far more hours in therapy, and less at the gym. We’d be far nicer to other people – and probably nicer to ourselves.
People comment on my outward appearance, “Good for you! Hard work pays off!” I smile, thinking of my inward self, You have no idea… Read More
It was February 2014.
I was at winter camp with Flood Youth, I was standing outside in the dark, and I was mad.
I had been with these students for a year and a half, seeing how far God had brought them in such a short time, seeing small glimpses of the work He was doing in their lives. I cried – me! crying! – during our church time, when girls who barely opened up to anyone stood up and shared vulnerably to the group. I held their hands as they shook from nerves, I stood next to them and belted out “Oceans” during worship, I stayed up far too late giggling with and affirming girls who had come to mean more to me than I’ll ever understand. It was a beautiful weekend, in so many ways, and I was pissed at God. Read More
I’m mad because last month we were so worried about bathrooms. Bathrooms.
I’m mad because NOW people care about rape culture – when a very white, very privileged, very athletically gifted person made headlines for something that goes on everyday in this country. Only after a very educated, very well-articulated victim was given a platform, do we stop and listen.
I’m mad because NOW people care about the LGBT community – only after a massacre. Only after a senseless act of violence so horrible that we can’t even fathom it; we can only grieve it.
I’m mad because NOW people care – while it’s in the spotlight, while there’s a hashtag, while it’s still news. But we won’t care next week or next month. We won’t care enough to actually change anything; we won’t care when there’s hard work involved. We won’t really care until its our brother or our sister or our child or our neighbor – we won’t really care until its too late. Read More