I recently sprained my back.
“How?!” is the first thing that immediately pops out of people’s mouths when they hear that. And “…how old are you??” (Some people only think this in their heads; some people say it out loud.) I’m 24 going on 85, thank you very much. And I have no clue how I did it. No. Clue.
What started off as my back being a bit sore as I was at the grocery store quickly turned into me clutching my back in my kitchen, confusedly telling my roommates I had no idea what was going on. Fast forward a week and a half – including a morning text to my boss of “currently can’t move or get dressed, TBD if I can make it in today”, traveling around with my heated blanket that I was using as a makeshift heating pad, a fun 4 day road trip (OUCH), and more Tiger’s Balm than I knew was possible to put on one body – I was sitting in the doctor’s office hearing the strange diagnosis. “Well, you definitely sprained it.” Add that to my list of fun health problems. Read More
New years used to come with New Year’s Resolutions, anyone remember that? Yet I’m finding less and less people are into resolutions these days – it’s all about goals and dreams and the like. The really, really hip thing this year is having “a word” for 2016. I’m not quite sure if this is Reddit popular or simply just a Christian millennial thing – but its definitely a thing. I’m not knocking it or anything, because I jumped on the band wagon.
I asked God for “a word” for the next 365 days ….and I got 4. Blame it on my chronic overachieving, the fact that I’m a writer by nature, or God’s sense of humor – the fact is, I asked for one and I got quadruple the amount. Trust me, I tried. “God. I need a word. Like, one. Not four. Not two. But one, single word for 2016 – to focus on and write on my mirror and maybe turn into a cool tattoo one day. One word!” No, He reminded me gently, what you need is Me. Also, you need to listen.
[He has this conversation a lot with me.] Read More
For the month of December – in honor of Dressember – I’ll be blogging everyday! Thoughts on anything from fighting for justice to feminism, from dresses I’m wearing to books I’m reading, and everything in between.
I have a bad habit of believing lies. I know, I know, I must be the only person who does this – right? “You’re too fat.” “You’re dumb.” “You’ll never be good at anything.” “Of course he never liked you, who would?” Things I would never, ever say to my friends. Yet things I continually tell – and belief – myself.
I keep convincing myself that my life would be better if I liked running. Like, so much better. I would be in great shape – which equals a happy life, right? I would have this great stress reliever, so my life would be stress free. I would get more sleep at night, as I’d have to in order to wake up for all those early morning runs. I would finally experience that wonderful feeling I hear so much about – the runner’s high. It’s magical and gives you shinier hair and I’m pretty sure also gets you a raise at work. Instead, I’ve only experienced the runner’s hangover – I end up hating life and feeling like death and laying on the floor, eating anything in sight. Read More