16 May 2012

I Suck at Trust

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The hand is stretched out. It’s there. Ready. Waiting.

“I’m fine,” I whisper. “I got this on my own.” I keep my eyes from looking at the bruises and scrapes. One

on an elbow, another on a knee, all of them proving that I am lying.

“All you have to do is trust. I’ve never failed you before and I never will.” His voice is kind but firm. It’s like when your father tells you that he’s not going to let go of the bike when you are learning to ride a two-wheeler.

“There’s that word again. Trust. I want to, really I do, but... it’s hard.” A sigh comes out with the words, weariness setting in. I’ve never been good with the whole reliance thing. I’ve always been a fierce force of will and independence. Trusting people makes my skin crawl a bit. It’s not like they’ve proven themselves trustworthy in the past.


“It’s not about trusting people.” He said reading my secret thoughts. “It’s trusting me. I know what I’m doing with you and your life. My job isn't to make everything crystal clear at first glance. Sometimes it'll be a bit blurry.Don’t worry. Just pry those white fingers away from your heart and let me do what I want with it. It will be beautiful. You will be beautiful. But you have to trust me. Really trust me.”

“But, but, but... I don’t want to. I’m scared.” I’m ashamed that those words ever came out of my lips. People aren’t supposed to know that I am afraid - I’m supposed to be strong.

“I know.” The hand covers mine. Not demanding, just there. Comforting me to the depths of what I am. “I gave everything so that I don’t have to fear me. You don’t have to fear your future. I have control and I want what’s good for you. Just surrender and let me hold you up.”

I took a deep breath. The kind of breath that you take right before you jump off of a cliff into a pit of water. You still feel terrified, but it’s a now-or-never moment and you can’t put it off anymore. In you go, terror striking you for a moment before hitting the water. Then you can’t figure out why you were ever so scared. It seems silly.

That’s what it’s been like for me with trusting God. Procrastination - the lunge - the terror - the hindsight. Once again, I’m in the lunge stage. A breath in. A hand out. “I need you,” I whisper; feeling the terror of the air rushing around me. Then, I’m free.

Freed by the truth. Freed by the assurance that I’m going to be fine. Freed by surrender.

 

15 May 2012

The Boy with the Trampoline

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“Bounce me Livy-ya!” He squeals with his blue eyes radiating his very soul. So I bounce him. Using my four times his weight to launch him high into the air, stocking clad feet slipping from beneath him as he slips to his bum, a fit of giggles emerging - the kind that’s purely infectious.

When we purchased a trampoline this week - my first reaction was to tease my parents.

My brother and I are twenty-one and sixteen respectively and my parents had us when they were still young and had energy. Well, by the time they survived adopting a beautiful, but crazy Romanian girl who’s changed our lives by bringing the beauty of disability to our home - they got tired. They were considered crazy when three years ago they brought two little boys into our home - 11 months and 2 years. My parents are much more tired than they were when I was young.

Because of that, they’ve got some things that Sam and I never had. Like video games. We were told they’d rot our brains out - so we were content with our imaginary friends (or mops in Sam’s case) and watching Arthur every day. My little brothers are growing up on Mario Kart Wii and Angry Birds. When I was young, I begged for a trampoline. My grandmother’s neighbor girls, who were like cousins growing up, had one and we spent uncountable summer days learning to do flips and playing those endless games of “crack the egg.”

And now my little brothers are growing up with a trampoline. About %70 of the reason is just for my mother’s sanity. Harper - Mr. Blue Eyed Giggle Boy is a four year old “all boy” who’s filled with enough energy to tire out a twenty-year-old mom, let alone an *ahem* age-not-to-be-named *cough* mother. The question of, “how can we find a way for him to release his energy while keeping him safe(ish)?” was asked and a trampoline was the best fit.

The very thing that made my mother cringe when I was eight is now her sanity reliever for her four-year-old wild child who drinks milk from the carton and who we find ourselves saying things like, “you can’t go outside without clothes on!” to. He’s the child that has the nickname of “frat boy” due to his party-hardy toddler years. Sometimes, you look at him and all the energy in your body magically drains out.

He’s a boy that was born to have a trampoline.

 

4 May 2012

Clueless

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I feel clueless.
 
It’s this cluelessness that no amount of pats on the back and “you’ll figure it out in time” statements will fix. It’s the type of clueless that sets panic to your heart. The type of clueless that makes you just want to run away from the world that you know. The type of clueless that leaves you feeling frustrated, anxious, and burnt out.

I stand at the brink of my life never being the same. I stand at this time where my options are more than I can count. I stand at a fork in the road - with a hundred different roads to choose from.

It might be making me a little anxious, a little bit snappy, and maybe the fatigue from the end of the semester is making me go crazy. Maybe it’s making me realize that I only have a year left to make up my mind - and that is not a long time at all.

This cluelessness is softened by one thing - that I am not alone in this journey of figuring out my life. Many are the high school and college students who feel like the world is a giant buffet of craziness that is completely unpredictable and unknown.

Yesterday I had lunch with one of my dearest friends and I was telling him how having mounds of debt at 19 (when I’d graduate college if I was to go the traditional route) and being bound down at such a young age doesn’t sound appealing. He reminded me that a friend of ours is nineteen and married. She certainly did not know it’d be like that three years ago. The future holds so much that’s beyond our knowledge.

And you know what? That really scares me. It should excite me, but I’m too tired for that. Maybe this is just rambling at the end of a semester. My words don’t seem to be making perfect sense in my own mind anymore - but maybe yours aren’t either. Maybe we’re all going a little bit crazy. Maybe we’re all more than a little bit stressed. Maybe it’s just part of being young - realizing that life is completely unpredictable. Completely. 100%. Insane.

30 Apr 2012

Nostalgia - the Key or Hinderance to Happiness?

 Today I come to you with something different than normal - an academic paper. This is because I know that everyone is just tickled pink to be able to read college writing essays. The truth is, this essay turned out decently interesting and my prof liked it and, well, college has currently stole my brain and writing ability. I haven't really slept in over a week. I'll be back to writing inspirational hoopla next week - but for now, school stuff is all I can give ya'. 

 

 The assignment was to write a persuasive arguement about happiness. Also, side note, my brother tried to sing this out loud to me when he read it. So maybe that'll help you to enjoy it too.

 

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Nostalgia - the Key or Hindrance to Happiness?

Paris in the 1930s. This is the picture of bliss that a young American writer has in his head in the movie Midnight in Paris. He travels to Paris with a stuck-up girlfriend just to find this magical pathway to the time he had coveted the most. He tramps around Paris with the likes of Hemingway and Picasso, any nostalgic artist’s dream. The ironic thing is that he meets this girl in the 30s who’s been the lover of men like Picasso and she craves the era of the 1880s. He comes to a realization that there will always be a point in history that will seem better, but in reality, the present is where we need to live our lives and find our happiness.

This poses the question, were the times in the past better than the present or does nostalgia actually inhibit our happiness? Happiness can be altered not only by where we put our happiness, but when we put our happiness. Humans are wired to function in different mental time zones, focused on the past, present, or future and these focuses can impact the way we live our lives (Zimbardo).

If we want to look at not nostalgia impacts our happiness, we must have a clear definition. In market research conducted by William Havlena and Susan Holak, they define nostalgia as follows, “Nostalgia is an emotion contains both pleasant and unpleasant components. This ‘bittersweet’ quality of the emotion is a distinguishing characteristic of nostalgia. It refers back to an earlier period in the individual's life and draws on biased or selective recall of past experiences” (Havlena and Holak par. 3). Nostalgia is looking into the past, often with a overly sentimental view and dwelling on that past.

Typically nostalgia is related directly to our own personal experiences. It’s that mental picture you get when you think of the mother of teenagers who can’t get past her own teen years or Uncle Rico from Napoleon Dynamite. While much of nostalgia is based on personal experiences, there is another type of nostalgia that is generational according to Havlena and Holak. “As one generation both privately and collectively reminisces about its adolescence, these memories become, in essence, a new experience for the next generation” (par. 14). This leads to the historical nostalgia like the type seen in Midnight in Paris where a person is longing for a time that they have never known.

This view of the past affects how we view history and where we can go in the future. “Whereas progress looks forward and attempts to improve upon the past, nostalgia looks back, regarding the past as the ideal which must be reproduced.” (Greenwall pg 3) There tends to be an attitude that says that our present day and age is the most evil, worst age to ever exist and everything would be better if we went back to the way things used to be. This view is found in the essay “About Love” where Danielle Crittenden shows a nostalgic view of how things were done in the past in regards to romance and marriage.

What many people fail to note is that the past has many of the same problems of our modern age - they were just packaged differently back then. With the advancement of technology and media, it’s easy to blame things such as women’s body issues on our modern age while failing to look at history and seeing how women have always put extreme and at times reckless value on their outward appearance. Instead, people will just look at how women weren’t diagnosed with anorexia or bombarded with heightened sexualized images.

Our current age has a lot of benefits to it that those in the past could never dream of. We have rights for people of all color and gender - a feat that has only come to fruition in the last fifty to one hundred years. Our lives have been made extremely easier, though at times busier with pointless things, due to the technological boom. We also have more freedom to chose what we want to do with our lives, freedom to practice whatever religion we so chose, and the freedom to pursue our happiness - so therefore, happiness sought in the present and future makes the most sense.

If we look at the past with a mentality that it was perfect, we in turn tend to the folly of the past. When that happens, we are prone to make the same mistakes that they did in the past. This also happens with our own personal past as we can focus on the good aspects to such a level that we fall flat on our faces in the present. Despite the fact that reminiscing can be a temporary surge of happiness due to fond longing, the reality can be the harshest part as shown when taking a look at the way our culture handles the past. “Nostalgia makes people feel good. Nostalgia helps soothe the worries of the present (if only for a short while) by incorporating the warm memories of the past. The desire to escape the turbulence of the present is often such that they will spend money, a lot of money, to achieve it” (University of Virginia).  

Nostalgia is used as an advertising method because it creates a pleasant emotion that does not last long and therefore requires constant supplementation. Despite the temporary high, when it wears off, it simply leaves us discontent with the current state of our life. In a study done through American Studies at the University of Virginia, the results of relying on nostalgia for our happiness as listed clearly:

"The refuge sought in nostalgia is an attempt to escape the present for a more comfortable, recognized past; but the more one tries to escape the present through nostalgia, the more the eventual (and impending) return the pain of the present is amplified. Like a downward spiral, the need for nostalgia seems to grow with the more that is consumed. To this effect, commercial enterprises that survive on the commodification of nostalgia attempt to build the experience of moving into the past more real and more complete”

Nostalgia has been linked in the same study to poor morale of soldiers and homesick college students.

Even though nostalgia can give us a spike in our happiness with warm fuzzy thoughts of either our own past or a past time period in history, the hangover of a nostalgia trip is one that makes it an unreliable method to finding our happiness. In order to find happiness, you need to balance your focus on the past with a focus on the present and on the future. When you get a harmonious balance between the three, then you get a realist view that you can work with. If your view of happiness is moving forward with your life, that cannot happen if you only live in a rose colored past.

22 Apr 2012

Stop the Comparisons - We're All Hot Messes

Source: elembee.com via Olivia on Pinterest

 


She’s gorgeous. She’s kind and compassionate. She’s talented. She’s a good friend. She’s basically perfect. And of course - she’s with the guy of your dreams.

As one day, my mind drifted to this girl that I know, a girl I’ve compared myself to far too often over the last few years, I had a question that became an epiphany.

“What if she thinks the same thing about me?”

This blew me away. As women, we have this tendency to compare ourselves to others. We’re not as naturally beautiful as Beyonce post pregnancy and we’re not as holy as Mother Teresa. We aren’t a cultural icon that exudes confidence, beauty, and poise like Michelle Obama or Jackie Onassis Kennedy. We don’t work out as much as our neighbor. Our picture on facebook doesn’t get as many likes or as many males drooling in the comments as the girl in the bikini. We aren’t getting a 4.0 while also putting in 50 hours of volunteering per month.

“We aren’t, but they are,” we tell ourselves, “and they have everything together in the meantime.”

Yet we don’t know the lives of these women that we compare ourselves to. I very rarely compare myself to people when I know all their cobwebs in their hearts and dead bodies in the closet. There’s still a bit of, “Oh gosh, why is her hair always perfect when mine looks like a frizz ball?” but there’s a whole lot less of, “she’s perfect and I suck.” No one can keep up a perfect life. Everyone will have areas where they will succeed and everyone will have areas where they fail - focusing on either of those extremes leaves us jealous, angry, and in the pain of comparison.

When we as women get so focused on “she is and we aren’t” comparisons, we find ourselves losing our joy. In addition to that, we also find that it brings a lot of girl hate to the party. The last thing that we need is to build walls that separate ourselves from the rest of our gender - there are too many walls up between us already. So for heaven’s sake, stop comparing yourself to someone who is not you and never can be you. Embrace the fact that you aren’t perfect - and neither is the person you think is perfect.


We’re all a bit of a hot mess.
12 Apr 2012

Young Entrepreneurs - We Have to Bring It

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When you are young and trying to start a business - you have to bring it and bring it hard core. There’s no slacking. There’s no grumpiness. There’s no lack of professionalism. And if there is, you end up in deep trouble.

I am not perfect. As a person, business woman, or photographer. I’ve had my share of mistakes and of putting things before my business that have resulted in me not doing well. Procrastination is brutal in this business. So is the craziness of a busy life outside of photography.

  • There have been times when I’ve not brought my very best effort forth and disappointed clients.
  • There have been times when I’ve been late with delivery and realized that I need to under promise and over deliver.
  • There have been times when I simply want to fall asleep rather than spend 4 hours staring at a computer screen losing my vision.
  • There have been times when I have screwed up, presumed, and have felt like I wasn’t good enough.

On the other hand - this is one of the most exciting and thrilling things I’ve ever done in my life.

  • There have been times when I’ve felt like a real professional - introducing myself to everyone before a wedding, sending business emails, and dressing for the part.
  • There have been times when I’ve seen results from networking play out to benefit me.
  • There have been times when I’ve heard the words, “you got better shots than the photographer we hired.”
  • There have been times when I’ve been absolutely on the highest high because I was proud of what I had done.

I have so far to go and I’ve also come so, so far. This is only the beginning of the journey. Sometimes, it’s difficult for me to not be as good as I want. Then, I think of the fact that I am sixteen. I need to strive for the very best now - but I do have lots of time to become the brilliance that my very soul cries out for. I’m not Alex Beadon, Jasmine Starr, or Stephanie Pana... yet.

I hope I’ll be able to look back on this in ten years and smile. Hopefully I’ll be rocking my camera and the industry. Hopefully I'll never stopping the pursuit of excellence. Hopefully I’ll find whatever success means for my life. Above all - I hope that I will still be trying to bring it - every last thing that I have.

 

3 Apr 2012

You are Not Alone

Source: facebook.com via POTSC on Pinterest

 

 

It was somewhere in the mess of the last two years that I’ve found a stunning truth.
 
Somewhere between the nerdy boys who’ve spilled their guts to me and the childhood family friends who have said, “me too.

Somewhere between all the intimate conversation in public places and the one-on-ones with campers, fellow counselors, and youth group leaders.

Somewhere between all the, “I thought I was the only one” and the, “you too?” responses.

I realized that we aren’t that different.

Sure, we’re individuals and unique and snowflakes and yada yada yada, but really - in our hearts - we’re more alike than any of us tend to think.

I crave love.
I get hurt and feel pain.
I try to put on a strong face.
I am more than what I appear.
I dream of brilliance.
I don’t think I’m the only one anymore.

This isn’t to be insensitive to your pain, to your story, to your heart - no, those things still have their sparks that I may never be able to relate to, but there’s probably more to your story that we share than either of us knows. Sometimes, I’m pretty sure God gave me a life where He decided to throw in a little bit of every crazy (and tough) thing possible just so I could relate to people.

  • When I was seven, my mom got sick and almost died.
  • I have 3 adopted siblings - two of which have mental disabilities.
  • My dad lost his job and we were homeless for six months when I was 9.
  • I’ve experienced Christians who’ve burned me deeply.
  • I’m a diagnosed mental basket case. Depression as well as some lovely self diagnosed anxiety, PTSD, and ADD on the side. This has resulted in some other issues in my life over the last several years.
  • An extroverted personality has left me with an ability to make friends and connections quickly, but a struggle to maintain deep relationships.
  • My family has moved about 7 times in the last 16 years.
  • I’ve been home schooled, private schooled, and public schooled.
  • There are things I’ve experienced that I may not speak of - thinking they’re too big or too small to be worth sharing.
And you probably relate to at least one of these things. We’ve shared shoes at some point without knowing it. You are like me. I am like you. Don’t you see? That’s brilliant! We aren’t alone.

Every time I hear “no one understands what I’m going through,” I want to run to that person and give them the best hug of their life, then grab their shoulders and tell them that they are not alone. I may not be able to relate to everything - but I can empathize with something in your story. I want to hear it. I want to hear what makes you yourself. I want to hear what goes on in that brilliant little heart of yours and why your heart pitters and patters the way it does.

If you don’t want to share with me - simply take a moment and think of this: there are 7 billion people on this planet. You are are one of them; somehow completely unique and yet you belong to this beautiful collage with a master fit. There is someone out there who will get you. You will find them. Open up your heart, expose who you are, and you’ll find people just like you at every turn.

And if you needed to be told again: You are NOT alone.

2 Apr 2012

Growing Up - Facing the in Between

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To curl up with a stuffed puppy and chocolate milk.

To get to spend the entire day reading and have no stressful consequences.
To sleep in and eat chocolate chip pancakes.
To not worry about my messy hair or if my figure is pleasing to others.
To go back.
To be innocent.
To be a child.

I was always a girl who was eager to grow up. I still am a little girl who’s been a bit too eager to grow up. Some aspects of growing up I absolutely love. I love adventures, working toward crazy goals, helping people, coffee at night, and being able to spell. Yet at some point, I look at my schedule, my to-do list, and my heart - and I find myself feeling a bit weary.

I’ve found myself in a state of tension as these last few teen years are upon me. It’s a bit like purgatory, a limbo in between two different worlds. On one hand, those pudgy fingers of childhood reach out to me - wishing me to stay with them a little bit longer. To blow off everything that grown ups deem important and just go pick dandelions all day. On the other hand, I see this world that is at my fingertips. I see backpacking around Europe, college in a big city, fixing problems, pursuing my dreams and getting somewhere with them.

This is an exciting time. I’m experiencing so many first; everything from my first internship to my first solo road trip. I get to do so many things that I used to only dream of with faraway longing. Yet part of me is still this little girl. The little girl needs to go to the park and swing. The little girl needs to take time to read good books. The little girl needs a giggle fest with a gaggle of girls on a Friday night.

  Today, I played soccer in the backyard thanks to the eager requests of two boys with huge eyes that I can't say no to. At one point, Harper and I had climbed up on our "epic tower of awesomeness" and with a thumb in his mouth and cuddling in my arms, he turned to me, blue eyes radiating insane energy and said something about growing up. He's turning 4 next week. He's been my boy for 3 years and they flew by. Before I know it, he will be writing about not wanting to grow up anymore. He will be in this situation.

I want to go back to being that little girl. I want to leap back into time, grab her shoulders and tell her to slow down, but I can't. Tnstead I have these two boys begging me to take time away from my homework to cuddle and kick a soccer ball around the yard.

And I shall do my best to help them slow down; to teach them to enjoy being little. It doesn't last long.

 

 

31 Mar 2012

Speech and Audrey Hepburn

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Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop.

The sound echoes against the hard school floors.
 
Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop.
 
“Gosh, I sound a bit like a horse.” I think to myself while smiling, feeling rathered empowered by the feel of my heels hitting the tiles with a distinct thud. My long sleeved black dress floats around my knees, making me feel like someone Audrey would be proud of.
 
In all, speech has made me feel, for the most part, like someone Audrey would smile upon. Something about it has made me feel a bit more classy. As I bid adieu to my dream of “State2012” this weekend - I made a point to handle this in the way that Audrey most likely would have. She wouldn’t have been expecting anything grand and she would have been gracious to all the others who did well.

So I held my head high. I gave out congratulatory hugs like I was a professional hugger. I was confused and frustrated by the scores and was honest about that, but I did my best to brush it off. I gently nodded a goodbye at the school, while also saying goodbye to state and the speech season.

It’s been a good speech season. I had been at the top of my section all season long. I had a piece that I was proud of. I had characters that I was in love with. I had fun competitors. And best of all, I had the best of bus rides filled with laughter, heart-to-hearts, and relationship building.

This is success. This is victory. This is acting like Audrey.
28 Mar 2012

Dear Little Liv (A Letter to Junior High Girls)

 Hi guys, In addition to this being a post on my blog, it is also a guest post over at Sincerely Rachel Christine. I'm super excited to be a part of this series of guest posts aimed at women and what your heart yearns to tell them. So therefore - I'm only posting part of the letter here. Go HERE to read the rest. 

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Today's post is something I wrote as a letter to myself as I was five years ago, something that I wanted to tell to all the girls that I know and love in my life. My sweet camp and youth group girls mean the world to me and this is my love letter to them. It's a plea for them to be patient with romance, but also that I've been there before and I remember. 

Dear Little Liv,

You sat there with your feet dangling out your open window on a warm May night and you cried to yourself, wishing for a man to throw pebbles and sweep you off your feet. You were almost twelve. I wish that the one night could have been the only night you cried in your loneliness, but it wasn’t. There will be many more nights to come.

There will be nights of loneliness - of deep heart aches and longings for boys to notice you and for life just to hurry up so you can find a man. There will be nights of regret - of giving your heart slowly, over time to boys where you realize that things are suddenly complicated and you just lost a friend. There will be nights of deep pondering - of questioning intentions and feelings when you’re not sure if you like the attention or are terrified of it. There will be many tears, many racing thoughts, and many desperate prayers.

It sounds daunting, but there are also brilliant days ahead. There will be days of comfort - of realizing that the men in your life are a blessing. There will be days of confidence - of knowing that you did the right thing in a friendship with a boy and seeing the positive results. There will be days of laughter - of getting to be the little sister to the boys around and having their respect. There will be many brilliant days that will in time make up for the tearful nights.

.......... Continued here.

Olivia Erickson's Space

I want to look cute, make beautiful things, think and speak smart, show unabashed kindness, and do it all to make my God look good.
Trying to keep things simple, raw, and honest.