10 Things I Want You to Know

For many years, when people asked me what I blog about, I'd pause before jumbling together a few words about 20-somethings, Atlanta and relationships. They'd walk away and I'd stand there, wondering what the heck I actually did write about and why I couldn't explain it with more conviction. 

In retrospect, it's kind of symbolic for my 20s in general. I knew, mostly, what I stood for and believed in, but, sometimes, when people who ask me to explain it, I'd get a little jumbled up. I'd get turned around and, after they'd walk away, I'd find myself wondering if I really knew who I was. 

Now that I'm 30 (and almost a half!), I feel so much more secure in, not only who I am, but what I write about. In case you're new around here or have forgotten:

I wanted to remind you of a few things I hope you, dear reader, know, believe and feel when you read this blog:

1. You are enough RIGHT NOW

Not when you lose five pounds. Not when you get a better job. Not when you have a boyfriend. Right now! Right, as you are, in this moment. You are enough. You don't have to strive to be better. You are already enough. So you can stop hustling. You can rest here. 

2. You deserve a relationship with good, gentle love

You deserve to be with someone who is kind to you. Who is gentle with your heart. Who pursues you. Who treats you well and loves you as you are. And, the person you're with deserves the same thing. Love is gentle, safe and reciprocal. It is not conditional. If the relationship you are in is not safe and kind, it is not healthy. And you deserve a healthy, whole relationship. Don't settle. 

Pst: I love this simple illustration from Brené Brown about what love is.

3. You don't have to be perfect

Perfect is an illusion. It's a lie. I hustled for WAY too long trying to be perfect when, as it turns out, being the real version of ourselves is so much better. Perfect is tiring and boring. Also, it doesn't exist. Don't buy into the lie. 

4. It's OK if you don't know what you want to be when you grow up

As humans, we're constantly changing and, hopefully, growing. If you wanted to be one thing a year ago and this year, it isn't sounding so good, that's OK. I think sometimes people forget that most of us will work for the next 40 years. Take your time finding the right path. Make changes, turn left when you thought you might go right. Don't put so much pressure on yourself to know right now what you want to be. It takes time and you don't have to be in such a hurry to matter. 

5. Your worth is not in question

It's not in your work. It's not in what people say about you. It's not in how much you accomplish or how well liked you are.  It's not in the trips you take or the ring on your finger.

Your worth is inherent because you were designed to exist. You don't have to prove anything. You don't have to hustle anymore. You are already worthy of love. 

6. You are going to be OK

Even if everything is a nightmare right now. Even if it feels like you've lost yourself. Even if you're not sure how to put the pieces of your life back together. I've been there. It hurts. It's scary. But you can do this. You are resilient and you are brave. I believe in you. 

7. Kill your dreams

Remember when you were eight and you thought you'd be married by 22 and have two kids by 27 and you'd all sit around the dinner table in your fancy house laughing and smiling at each other every night? Kill that dream.

Remember when you were 15 and you thought you'd be the youngest person to win a Nobel Peace Prize? Kill that dream.

Remember when you were 20 and you thought you'd have an amazing career as a surgeon and own a house by 30? Kill it. 

Kill it not because you can't make your dreams come true. You can! But kill the timeline. Kill the idea that you should be doing something by a certain age, because a younger version of yourself said so. Do your best. Work hard toward your goals. But don't let some fake timeline become the noose that makes it so you can't even appreciate the beauty of the season you're in now. 

8. Self-care is not selfish

You only get one body. You only get one brain. You only get one soul. Be a good steward of these things. Set boundaries. Make time for rest. Go to the doctor when you are sick. Sleep. Exercise. Respect your body and mind. Listen to what they need. 

And, if that feels selfish (*it's not*), remember this: when we care for ourselves better, we are able to love others better. When you are spiritually, emotionally and physically able, you can care for the people you love more wholly. 

9. You are welcome here 

Even if you don't believe what I believe. Even if you are struggling with the things I talk about. No matter who you are, you are welcome here. 

10. Breathe

You are loved. You are worthy. Take a deep breath. Right now. Seriously take a breath. In and out really slowly. Every day, keep breathing. Sometimes, remembering to take deep breaths is the hardest part of all. 

On Being Brave

My brother brought home puppies this week, and, if you know me well, you know I'm not an animal person. I'm more of a love-them-from-afar girl, instead of a let's-snuggle-in-my-bed girl. But! These puppies stole my heart and completely ruined my productivity for the week. My friends were texting asking if it was really me in the picture, cuddled up with tiny labs. It's me, guys! 

Yesterday, I pupsat while attempting to work, which really just meant I held them, stared at them and obsessively checked to make sure they were still breathing. My sister said it is similar to what it will be like when we one day bring a baby home from the hospital. :) 

A few months ago, I started practicing feeling sad for the first time in my life. Sadness isn't something I easily access. I'm not comfortable with the feeling, it overwhelms me and I tend to push it down and ignore it. Why be sad when you can be happy, right Joy!?

But, after a lot of reflection, I realized that by ignoring sadness, I was stifling my other emotions, too. You can't embrace the depth and breadth of joy (or any other emotion) if you're squelching a primary feeling. The less I allowed myself to be vulnerable to sadness - the really painful, hard kind - the less I was able to experience joy - the really abundant, elated kind.

Over the course of a few months, I started practicing sadness and yesterday, as I watched these tiny puppies whimper and shake, clearly missing their mama, I felt sad. A few months ago, I would have thought: Whitney! You're not even an animal person. This is dumb. They're fine. Separation is natural! But yesterday, I didn't do that. I felt sad and, as I sat there alone, I cried for these tiny puppies. And then, I cried for all of the real babies who are abandoned by their mamas. And all of the mamas who have to say goodbye to their tiny babies without wanting to. I didn't kind of tear up. I cried and cried - multiple tears coming out my eyes at once. When my brother came home, he probably thought I'd lost one of the puppies. Or my mind? 

As silly as it sounds, as I sat there, allowing myself to cry, I encouraged myself by repeating: Be brave. Stay in this moment. Feel the sadness. Be brave enough to experience this moment.

Sometimes, I think we get a little confused about what being brave means. A few months ago, I would have said being brave was taking a deep breath and putting a smile on my face while playing with the puppies. Lately I've learned that, in this very moment, it was braver to let sadness overcome me. 

From time to time, I get Letter Requests from women who are writing in on their own behalf. They know they are hurting and they need extra love and support from other women around the world. Every time, I'm blown away by how brave they are. There was a period in my life when I would have called that weak. Now I know it's not even a little weak. Self-care is brave. Advocating for yourself is brave. 

Sometimes, bravery is big adventure and leaps of faith. But other times, bravery is staying in the moment and being vulnerable to how you really feel, not matter how hard it may seem.

Yesterday afternoon, as I went about the rest of my day, I noticed how elated I felt. I was cleansed. I'd lightened my load. Joy was back, because I wasn't afraid of the sadness anymore. I was reminded then, that sadness doesn't last forever. Sometimes it lasts a lot longer than we want it to. But, it isn't forever and, when it goes away, the joy is so much better. 

An Open Letter to the Man Bothered by Lady Gaga's "Gut"

Dear sir, 

You sat next to me at a restaurant on Super Bowl Sunday. Before the game started, you showed me a picture of your daughter. She had beautiful eyes and a sweet smile and I could tell that you adore her. You told me that you moved across the city to be in a better school district; you and your wife wanted the best possible education for your girl, even though she is only two. 

We cheered together for the Falcons and you joked around with my husband. When we first arrived, I felt annoyed that there were only seats at the crowded Community Table. But as we all cheered and high fived at the end of the first half, I realized it wasn't so bad, watching with strangers. 

My eyes were glued to the screen as Lady Gaga started her halftime performance.

But then, I heard you say, with disdain, as her ballad echoed through the restaurant: I forgot she's not even hot! 

And then, as she finished her performance, you complained a little more: 

She's got a bit of a gut. I can't believe they didn't put a net over that!

My heart pounded and my ears burned and I wanted to breathe fire on you in that moment but, as I took a deep breath, my husband chimed in: Come on man, that's enough. We left the restaurant after that and you will probably never think about us again. But I am thinking about you today.

You see, I don't surround myself with people like you. I forgot there are still people in this world who could find Lady Gaga's "gut" offensive. I forgot there are still people who would look at a woman - a talented, powerful woman - and see her "gut" and her lack of "hotness" before they see anything else.

I forgot there are people who still value a woman based on her body and you reminded me there are, in fact, people who do just that. 

I wondered, in that moment, if you knew that you were inadvertently feeding into the lie that there is even such a thing as a "perfect body."

I wondered if you knew that one day, your daughter will be playing in the room where you're watching TV and that, when you complain about an actress' weight, she will look down at her little tummy and wonder if you're bothered by her's, too.

I wondered if you knew that you are feeding into the lie that women should be smaller and tighter and firmer and take up less space. And that one day, your daughter might worry more about the size of her waist than the magnitude of her thoughts and feelings. 

I wondered if you knew you were insulting every woman, everywhere, when you complained about her stomach fat, implying that she should be smaller in order to be more pleasing to your eyes, as you drank your beer and ate your nachos. 

In that moment, did you know that you were insulting me, as I sat right next to you? And that you were insulting your wife, as she sat at home with your daughter, generously allowing you to go to a restaurant with friends?

Did you know that you were contributing to a society that will one day focus more on your daughter's looks and waist size, rather than the education you're already paying for? Did you realize that, with your comments, you were, inadvertently, reinforcing the societal pressures your daughter will begin to feel as early as the next four or five years? 

Do you know that when you deem one woman more or less valuable because of the tightness of her stomach, you devalue every woman, everywhere? And, when you devalue a woman, you devalue a man, too. Did you know that?

But I didn't ask you any of that. And today, as I finished my own workout with crunches, I smiled at my own "gut." Thank you for reminding me not to strive for a "perfect body" because, as I watched you criticize Lady Gaga's smoking hot physique, I remembered there will always be someone, somewhere who chooses criticism over generosity. I can't stop that. But I can stop my part in it. I refuse to buy into the lie that I must be smaller to be more valuable. Thank you for reminding me of this.

Sincerely,
Whitney