My Many Shields*

*Originally written for 30DNM campaign and website. 

I might be an extrovert according to the tests but truth be told, I process the deeper and harder things on an internal level. Sometimes it takes me awhile to come to conclusions. Sometimes I just need to let things marinate within me. 

If nothing else, nature reminds me that beautiful things take time. The way flowers grow, how seasons change, the birthing process. Forming “pretty” isn’t easy and is often much more counter cultural than we'd assume. 

I was really excited for #30daysnomakeup to be over. I was a little sad too. I had come to really look forward to seeing posts and encouragement on their Instagram and blog. I found other people with similar views and passions for empowering women. However I was ready for the holiday, for wearing make-up, for dressing up and embracing all the glitz and glitter. 

As December 15th approached, I made a plan for my day. I would take a long hot shower; I would use oils; take time on my eyebrows and hair. I would PUT ON make-up. And I wouldn't skimp on anything. There would be eyeliner and red lips. After it was all said and done I worked to take a picture of my "new and improved" face. Truth be told, I was strikingly underwhelmed. 

I was so underwhelmed it was actually depressing and embarrassing. Why couldn't I just snap a picture of my face!? I had worked so hard to make it look good! I kept staring at my face and feeling weird about it. I had assumed that I would feel 10x more beautiful finally being able to wear make-up but I didn't. 

I believed my experience was dissimilar to other people's experiences. Maybe that wasn’t true, but I envied those who I assumed felt beautiful without make-up and beautiful with make-up on. They looked so happy in their skin. I realized I was still trying to feel safe in my skin. Make-up wasn't nearly the shield I had hoped it would be for me. All this time it made me feel safe. It was my barrier from the harsh and critical world. But on December 15th, that barrier didn't seem to stick the way I wanted it to. My face was still there, buried under all that make-up. All that time, all that thought, all that precision. Me. 

My vulnerability was still looking right back at me. 

It's hard to face the world unarmed. It's especially hard to face myself unarmed. There are always shields available to us wherever we go. As a child, make-up wasn't my shield but being good and perfect was. As I became older, staying thin and running became my shield. Smiling when I was angry was my shield. Saying yes instead of no was my shield. People-pleasing was my shield. I let go of these shields when I found something that was actually more powerful than my shields, things like courage, kindness, vulnerability and breathing. 

The thing about shields, though, is that they are heavy and exhausting. After awhile they just don't serve me the way I need them to. The more I access my courage muscle and practice shame resilience the less I need them. 

I'm not saying I never wear make-up now. I'm not even saying that going make-up free is the better, cooler, less toxic, more hip (or however you fill that blank) thing to do. What I am saying is that participating in #30daysnomakeup freed me a little bit more. It empowered me. It made me less afraid of me.  It allowed me to drop one of my shields for a little awhile. I need my make-up less now and I wear it less.  And that feels really, really good. 

Unfiltered thoughts from an unfiltered face

Well hello there day 5.

At this point in my 30daysnomakeup I'm feeling many different things.

Yesterday I found myself at the mall and felt entirely invisible (and utterly pale and like my eyes were going to shrink into my forehead). There was posters the size of garage doors staring me down. Air brushed and photo-shopped and perfect faces peered at me from every angle and corner. It's that time of year. The holidays. I love this time of year but the malls becomes progressively more and more crowded and chaotic. I feel like everything is screaming for my attention to consume. So many mirrors. The clothing department stores tell me I don't have enough. Never enough! The models plastered to every corner and square inch of space tell me I am not enough in my own skin.

My own skin.

My own skin is hard to be in. I'm embarrassed to say this is harder than I thought it would be. I often forget all about the fact I'm not wearing any make-up, until I look in the mirror. Rather than people being the ones who I fear to judge, I am the one judging myself. After all I don't feel the need to wear make-up around my closest friends or my husband. I never felt a need to wear make-up when I nannied Owen. I am beginning to observe the places and people I feel safe with and around. The little boy I spent years nannying=safe. My husband=safe. Dark Horse Coffee Roasters=safe. Library=safe. The garden outside of the monastery=safe.

I have never felt like "Oh I'm going to see Scott tonight, better put on some make-up or I want to head down to the library! Where is my mascara?!"


Nope. But when I am going somewhere I don't feel emotionally safe I want my make-up bag and I want all my Clinique make-up ready for action.  I am not talking about those times you get dressed up and put on make-up and you feel like a cool artist at work before a glitzy holiday party or a summer wedding or a work presentation. To me, those are fun events where I choose make-up as a form of creativity from my insides. But more often than not, I wear make-up as a barrier. It protects me from others. I don't have to let others really see me.

It's vulnerable.

It feels bare and uncomfortable.

And you know it's okay. Some people may have not earned my trust or respect enough to see the real me. The person behind the gloss. I think if someone doesn't want someone to see their acne because they feel nervous about what other people think that is understandable. It's normal and human. As a therapist working at a high-school I hear so much about bullying. I would never tell my clients to drop their shields if they don't feel safe. Maybe they need their shields.

Sometimes I need mine.

This month I'm observing what has sometimes been used as a shield in my life.

My hope for this month is that I can gradually come to love the woman behind the gloss, the paint, and the ever enticing mascara. She is worth loving and caring for. She is worth being brave for.

Big Bear Moments

 A few days* of goodness really does something for the soul. Even a few moments of quiet beauty does wonders. I know it’s said that for every negative comment, you need 5 positive comments to cancel it out. However I feel that for every stunning moment, I am given the courage to face the next week with eyes wide open.

For labor day weekend I traveled to Big Bear for the first time for a girls trip while Scott was away for a Bachelor party. I’ve been dreaming of this trip for some time now. My heart has longed for nature living in an urban neighborhood in San Diego. My soul has missed water living in the drought here and chlorine pools and salt water don’t just do the trick sometimes. I was raised on fresh water. Growing up, I learned how to canoe, water ski, tube and fish on fresh water lakes.

          

We stayed in a community called Sugar Loaf on top of the mountains. I could feel the altitude changing as my breathing became more thin. Trees on trees on trees as we slowly climbed. Our little log cabin we rented was from Air B&B. It was as quaint and cozy as they come. It was even smaller than Scott and I’s one bedroom apartment I think and that is saying something. The girls and I took shifts making dinner in the kitchen because it was so small only one person could comfortably stand inside it. There was a fireplace and a loft. These are my favorite things. First things first, I climbed up the log ladder onto the loft and overlooked our cozy cabin with dancing eyes and breathed in my surroundings.

 There is something about mountain air. It just smells so fresh. The trees smells of oak and leaves and must. The whole world smells like earth and somehow I feel like my soul belongs here. In nature I feel closer to God. I know that it’s not like God suddenly shows up as if he doesn’t hang out in the urban areas, I just feel it more. I can sense something divine and heavenly up high in the mountains where I am swallowed up in blue.

 Up here I felt released from my financial concerns as if making dinner every day and making my own coffee was how things were supposed to be. Cabin life made me feel like I lacked nothing. I didn’t wear make-up and I didn’t feel a need to shop for clothes. I felt safe in my own skin. I was with my safest friends and in an environment I have always felt serene and safe in. Growing up in the country, I seemed to find what most people deem as dangerous as friendly: specifically wildlife. I feel that bears and coyotes just want to be my friend. Thunderstorms are just there to remind me that everything is being made new. Jumping off and driving boats and climbing on rocks and jumping off of them are just part of nature life. I am not very realistic when it comes to fears as I’m sure most of you understand. For example, I am still deathly afraid of kidnappers. I am also afraid I will leave my journal in a public place…mainly like church. I don’t think they would appreciate my profanity.

The girls and I settled into an easy rhythm of sleeping, eating, laking and rom coming (chick flicking) In the mornings I had my coffee outside watching the trees sway to the breeze and hearing the pinecones fall with a thud every few minutes. We rented a boat and had a picnic on some rocks overlooking the lake.

 The moments where there is no need or desire to numb with shopping, drinking or restricting food. There is no need to numb by hiding how I really was. I don’t have to pretend with these mountains and with these friends. 

These moments change me. 

I can’t believe there is a place where I don’t need my vices to fix my anxiety.

I don’t need to mute my joy. 

It can just be.

 I think this place might be inside all of us. It’s the image of God that tells us you.are.okay. I know life is hard but you don’t have to shield yourself from it, you can experience life. You don’t have to numb yourself from feeling it. 

It’s like I was naked and raw all weekend and it was beautiful. My sensitive brain and body accepted all of me. When I jumped off the boat and felt the shockingly mind numbing cold, I felt it. When I realized it was a 4 feet jump and I didn’t have the strength to do one more push up to get back on the boat, I felt small panic seeping in. When I drove the boat like a boss I felt sheer joy. When I inhaled the fresh air I felt relief. When I looked at my friends in our pajamas and fuzzy heads after a day of sun and lake I felt understand. I could laugh and cry, no pretenses necessary.  

          These are the moments that give us courage to face whatever is next. For me, it’s financial struggle. It’s the excruciating wait of that next pay check. This weekend took the edge off. My problems are not necessarily fixed. I was just given permission to let them be and to be scared. When I gave myself this permission I realized I could handle it.  I can face myself and be okay with it. God in me is brave. And me abiding in Him is strong.

          

* Written September 1, 2014

TWENTY | On Being Brave

Today’s Prompt: Share a day in the life. Pictures, timelines, stats, however you like.

Since my schedule has been super wonky for a month now I have decided to share a couple specific days in the life. It was only this week that I started back up working at the high school. I am sure as the weeks go on my schedule will become a bit more solid. For now, this give you a peek into a couple of my days and my thoughts on what it means to be brave 

The past couple days I have had moments to be brave.

Last Friday, my friend Rachel and I finally came together to complete a long term dreamt of project. We had been planning all summer to make homemade soap but since its 100 degrees out we figured we could still do this in September. I brought all my essential oils over and Rachel had all her cooking gear laid away in a safe neat pile complete with rubber gloves. We met at 1:30 that afternoon. We made some iced coffee, caught up on our weeks and then got to work. 

We donned our aprons and watched a tutorial. We were specifically trying to be very careful about the whole lyre situation as in we didn’t want a deadly chemical reaction . About the time I was measuring out ingredients, Rachel turned on the immersion blender.

I wasn’t paying attention until I heard her say something to the affect of ‘shit’ in a very calm and collected manner. 

I looked over in time to see blood literally FLYING OFF the immersion blender in EVERY direction of the kitchen. Rachel had sliced her finger deep. 

I asked Rachel if she would want to sit down and if maybe she would like some water since we were about to have tea together. I think it was eerie how calm we both were. Rachel told me she didn’t feel anything even though her tiny finger was now releasing what I believed was all the blood her entire body had. 

After I tried to clean up the blood all over the floor, we decided it was in fact, urgent care time. Rachel and I skipped off to the car, leaving her keys and phone locked inside her house like the true heroes we are. 

Meanwhile my phone battery was dying and it died completely once we got to urgent care. So that was convenient. I guess this is what happens when a social worker and a therapist encounter crisis together. Everyone is calm. They ask about the other person’s need and wants. They forget about practical things like phones and keys. They hold each other’s hand and laugh about the crime scene they left in the kitchen. 

Rachel ended up getting her first ever stiches (and for me, the first time I saw it done on someone), she had some giant shot, lost an incredible amount of blood and had x-rays taken. Rachel was brave.

It was natural for me to rise up and be Rachel’s care taker. (also she was pretty easy to take care of) I got to be brave and be a hero while I valiantly drove her to urgent care and fed her water through a straw and wiped blood off her hands.

Being brave felt great.

I felt strong and steady.

I felt adrenaline pumping through me.

I felt that this was a big moment in our friendship.

This was almost exciting! In fact it was! I didn’t pass out from all the blood and I borrowed a charger from the doctor and called Rachel’s husband and kept him in the loop. Rachel recovered well and now we can’t stop compulsively saying “REMEMBER WHEN” every 5 minutes.

Today I had to be brave too.

 It was a less valiant feeling.

It was more uncomfortable.

It was not exciting.

Today, like the past month, was another day of me not working. My job starts next week and for that I am grateful. I know it seems like an entire month of work might be a dream come true…it’s a dream alright….I just wish the repetitive dream would end already. The first week off is nice but after that it’s hard.

It’s especially hard when you can’t run off to the mall to shop because you are bored. 

It’s hard when you are not making any money for the month and are just home ALL DAY alone. 

It’s hard when it’s not vacation.

It is absolutely mind numbing.

Today Scott had to work a long 10 plus hour day. I dreaded him leaving. I tried to be productive by doing things like calling DMV (which is mind numbing as well), cleaning the house, reading a new book, writing and picking up at yoga class at the YMCA. I even returned some pants at the mall. I made breakfast, lunch and dinner. I don’t think it’s very much fun to eat alone. All my friends were busy today. It is Monday after all. Most people go to work and then come home to their roommates or spouse and eat dinner and watch Netflix together.

Today I felt loneliness creep in like a foreigner.

I felt anxious upon recognizing this angsty emotion.

I worked on staying present, showing up and choosing courage over comfort. I can’t believe that it is 100000000000000000x more difficult to be brave in the “small” things than in the “big things”

When I think of brave, I think of blood, stiches, and urgent care, I think of jumping off diving boards and climbing mountains, I think about travel and about being an undercover spy. I think about rescuing victims of injustice out of prison in the dead of night.

It’s hard to remember that sometimes you need to muster up the most courage for those ordinary moments that sneak up on you and threaten to suffocate you.

These ordinary, mind numbing, incredibly scary moments are where bravery is born.

When I tell my husband what I need and want, it is terrifying. It takes so much more bravery to do that than to go cliff diving.

 It takes more courage to use your voice and stand up for yourself and your convictions at work. It takes more guts than signing up to run a marathon.

Looking at your body in the mirror and accepting all the shapes and curves takes COURAGE. It takes more courage than bungee jumping.

Moments that are disguised as ordinary are some of the most sacred environments to develop your courage.

Asking for help is courage.

Admitting you are not perfect is courage.

 Being vulnerable is courageous.

Saying no to racism and sexism is brave.

Standing up for the helpless, that is strong.

Owning your story, that is a hero.

Today I didn’t like being alone. I didn’t like how I felt at all. Being brave was not exciting. But I did it. I took a deep breath and told myself I can choose courage over comfort. I can do hard things. I can be brave.