Yes, that.

As much as I love class, and I do love my classes, summer school is still trying to kill me.

I have fifteen 500 word essays to write for Monday. Awesome. Not.

My eyeballs also feel like I went swimming in the ocean for ten hours while clothes pins hold my eyelids open. They hurt, a lot.

I need a nap, an extra week to do all the things, something to make me sleep, and some simple solutions to big problems that I can't fix.

Yes, that.

Broken

I'm in love with a man that I've just broken up with. That makes no sense, does it? No, it doesn't. 

He's the perfect man for me. He's kind, aware of my needs and utterly willing to meet them, so full of love and tenderness for me, encouraging, patient, honest. He's wonderful. 

But he lives 4500 miles away and I'm not strong enough to do distance any longer. He was willing to put everything in his life away for me. He planned to move all this way, just for me, and I told him I couldn't wait. 

I caved to the pressure I feel from everyone else to be able to explain our age difference, when the only explanation I have is that I love him. I'm in love with him.

I think I've made the biggest mistake of my life. I've been looking at what it would mean if we eloped, so he could legally stay here, so we wouldn't have to wait... Even then, I have to have a full time job to prove (to the government) I can support us both until his  work status was changed. I don't have a full time job, I can't prove that I can bring him here. 

And it feels like I can't keep waiting. I am such a fool. I hurt everywhere. I deserve it for hurting my best friend, the man I love, like this. I don't deserve him and his love. That much is obvious. I'm an idiot, a fool, and I'm cruel. 

I am so broken.

Number three: I have the best "family"

Post three in my series:

I come from a small family. I have three first cousins. We, meaning my brother, sister, and I, are not close to those cousins for various reasons including the age gap, how far away we live from one another, and general differences in disposition that make us less inclined to make massive attempts to change any of this. That may seem rude, and it probably is. I'm just calling it like it like I see it. (It's a two way street, they could make an effort, but choose not to either. I am ok with this.)

That said, our "family" is the best. It mainly consists of the family friends that my are people my dad either grew up with, or went to college with. Their kids are the closest thing I've got to cousins. They are the best.  I consider myself lucky to hang out with this crowd. They're the cool kids and I lucked into calling friend. Any one of them would have my back if I needed it. 

These pictures come from Kelby's (another one of my "cousins") wedding this weekend. I don't have any with the bride but, these are just a few of the important people I adore. 

Me and Sam

Susan, my mom, and Sherri

As my dad refers to himself, "the dad"

Susan and Monty

Jacque, me, and Sam

Jacque, me, and Sam enjoying the post wedding festivities

We're so attractive.

Someone should have taken away the technology at this point :). 

I am a lucky and loved girl. I only hope that I show them how much I appreciate them.

numero dos

Welcome to post number two about the crazy that I can lovingly call the past few weeks. 

I do not doubt you wait on baited breath to read about how Color Me Rad 2013 went. I won't drag out the suspense any longer, this is the post you anticipated. 

I decided to do a 5k a few months back. Now, I do not like running. In fact, I detest it. This is why deciding to run a 5k was somewhat out of character. Ok, a lot out of character. This is how my day started: 

Yes, I'm super fly. All clean and shiney, I was ready to go. I spent the last several months training for Color Me Rad. My initial reaction to training was somewhat skin to my thoughts on slathering myself with sugar water and hanging out in the Houston bayous without mosquito spray. That said, it got a little better. 

Then I fell off the bandwagon a bit when the semester went crazy on me. Combined with the course being mainly gravel and potholed road, and the fact I had a wedding to attend later that evening, I did not attempt to run the whole thing. I wasn't ready. I did the 5k anyway and had a lot of fun. 

This picture is right before the race started after the preface zumba class.

This photo is just after I crossed the finished line. I ran about 20 minutes of the 5k in total over several different parts. 

I could be disappointed in myself for not running the whole thing, and if running was my gig, I might be. But running hurts and it takes so much effort for me. I am just proud of myself for getting out there by myself. I was my own motivation. 

It was worth it and I'm going to keep working at it. I'm worth the effort. 

first of a few

It's been a busy time in microcosm called graduate school. This semester consumed every bit of energy I held in reserve and a little more just for good measure. Lost somewhere between the good, the bad, and the ugly, I found a little bit of equilibrium.

I have pictures to prove it. This will be the first of a few posts summing up the past few months. 

Let's start with friends. This subject is both awesome and tough. I've made a few close friends at OU this time around. I've also spent a lot of time alone. Sometimes, it's just really hard. I've met some great friends that I've gotten to do really bomb things with. Kate is a perfect example. She's wonderful and we get along so very, very well.

We made these awesome ottomans from shipping palates. Yes, we're legit. 

Then, there have been other moments with people I would call friends that make me realize I'm just not a cool kid and probably won't ever be. I'm ok with being nerdy, passionate, and a know-it-all. I have to accept those parts of myself because I cannot change it no matter how hard I try. They've always been there.  I always considered myself a good friend, though. I am loyal, generous with my time, energy, and anything I can share, and I love to be my friends' biggest cheerleader. These are truths about me as a person. 

But, it hurts when a huge group of people I would have counted close friends from undergrad and some  people I've only come to know this year, but would consider friends, don't think to include me in some fun stuff they're doing. I wish I could say it's just a random oversight, but this is also a group of people I'd call the cool kids of undergrad. I was not a cool kid by any stretch, but I did work closely with many of this group so many times for different events. Some of them I even considered my closest friends from my bachelors'. I am learning that it wasn't necessarily a two way street. 

And that's really hard. I want to accept it and be thankful of the people I do have in my life. The ones that want me around as much as I want to hang around with them are the people who should matter. Still, when I realize that I'm not a cool kid and plenty of people don't think of me as someone to invite when they are the people I would think to invite, it makes my breath catch if it hits me in the right moment. Ouch. 

And all of this made me think. I'm grateful for the people who matter, and will work on reminding myself that not everyone needs to like me as long as I love myself. It's a process. I'm working on it.

BFFL

I've made a new best friend. Have you ever met someone and it just clicks? If you haven't - there is still time. Don't you worry. If you have, isn't it just so nice?

That's how it is with Kate. Kate and I met about a year ago on an interview for the same position. The vibes from everyone on that weekend were weird, so I didn't really try to make friends. I wasn't being rude or anything, but we were all interviewing for the same 6-10 jobs... It was bound to be a little awk. 

Kate and I really met about a month or so ago. I ADORE her. She's sunshine and glitter and laughs and  artsy and yes. We get along SO SO SO well. Perfect example: we were talking about pintrest and then spent the next three hours searching for shipping pallets to steal from dumpsters take off some store that was just going to throw them out to DIY on. We were massively successful. For the win. We're going to have so much fun crafting this summer. In all the ways I'm crafty, she is artistic. And it's going to have some BOMB results. Just you wait, blogosphere, just you wait. 

And we had almost this exact conversation yesterday spontaneously.

She's a rock star and I am lucky to have such a good friend here. We're also insanely alike in some big ways, and yet so different in others.

I seriously love her.

For all the time I spend with other people, I felt pretty lonely in the past semester or two... This has been just what I needed. 

Notice all the red?

Today, I am wearing red. Are you?

I believe, most sincerely, that everyone, ABSOLUTELY EVERYONE (with no exceptions) deserves the right to marry whom they wish regardless of sexuality or identity. Love is love is love is love. It is all equal.

Today, the issue of marriage equality goes before the Supreme Court. Today, I wear red to show my support of a cause that our children will look back at in awe and wonder why it was ever an issue for whether or not everyone was allowed to marry. Today, I want people to know exactly where I stand.

So, today I'm wearing red. Are you? 

it hurts so bad sometimes

My sister just told me that right after I left for college my brother used to tell her that she needed to make sure she went to the gym so she didn't end up like Mallory. By like Mallory he meant fat. Kirby was a pudgy little kid. She wasn't fat, but she wasn't skinny. Puberty, sweat, and pressure from a lot of people did what most of us would call wonderful things to her body. I think she's stunning. I also know that while I'm biased on that, it's also the absolute truth. She worked hard and the extra inches she gained in the height department I'm consistently jealous of worked WONDERS. Kirby is beautiful on the inside and the outside.

I find it ironic that I'm crying as I write this post considering how I celebrated a small accomplishment diametrically opposed to this conversation in my post yesterday. I also find it especially heartbreaking and hurtful considering that after Michael came back from his awful study abroad experience in China with an extra fifty-ish pounds packed on his body, I was the one to defend him to a lot of people. I've spent years on the receiving end of those god-awful comments. I would not wish that experience on anyone, including my (occasional) jerk of a brother, and yet that is clearly not a two way street.

I know I'm not perfect, but I am a good person. I work hard, love big, am loyal to a fault, and so sincerely enjoy being my friends' biggest cheerleader, but I'm the person my own sister is warned away from being similar to. I am the person she needed to watch herself around so she didn't end up like me.

You know, because what I've got is contagious. And, because we all know that being a fat person is clearly a worse fate than being a bad person. Clearly.

And the people who know me wonder why I'm in therapy...? Some days are good days, and some days just really suck.

thumbs up

I hit the 230s. I didn't hit 230, but the first two numbers of my current weight are 2 and 3, in that order. I know that for a lot of people out there, you might be thinking, "Dang, that's something blog worthy?", but, for me, this is absolutely blog worthy. I'm a girl who definitely hit a whopping 302 towards the end of my senior year of college. I'm not busting out the happy dance at the 230s, but I am going to give myself a thumbs up and a nod.

or I'll let Taylor give me a thumbs up and a nodd. whatever. 

Random thought: why do we call it thumbs up even if it's only one thumb. That gif isn't TSwift giving me a thumb (singular) up - even though she totally is. 

Ok, back to why I'm posting, this is cool. I had a really long plateau, think 8 weeks long, of being in the 240s. I started running and still was not losing ANY weight... what the heck? I couldn't tell ya.

Regardless, I don't remember the last time I weighed in the 230s and this is coming off of Vegas and rich food, people. It could have been the end of high school... maybe? When you spend a lot of time feeling ashamed of your weight, and believe me, I totally have spent a TON of time being ashamed, you try to avoid the scale like it will give you leprosy forget the numbers on the scale ASAP. It doesn't feel good to look at a number that society tells you that you should be ashamed of, and I think that's probably putting it lightly when I'm totally honest. 

So, when I stepped on the scale this morning before work, saw 239.4; I did a double take, and smiled when the number stuck. It's not perfect, skinny, or even remotely in the normal/healthy range by any means, but it's a process. I'm taking steps to be where I'd like to be. I'm not there yet, but I'm closer than I was yesterday. And I get to give myself a thumbs up for that. 

High five to all the other ladies who have been here, who have struggled, and made it through. And to all the other chicas who are stuck, want to change, but are overwhelmed at where to begin or how daunting a task it seems to be, I feel you. I know where you are. You aren't invisible. I support your choice to stay exactly as you are or to make changes. You get to decide, and I support you either way. 

productivity

I'm being uber productive right now. Not.

We're watching a film in class, and I'm writing this post. I don't typically do this...at least not in this master's program. I enjoy my classes. Massively. I think I'm lucky in that respect. I find them relevant, engaging, important. They mean a lot to me. What I am learning means a lot to me. The students I want to work with mean a lot to me.

I'm trying to figure out where I am headed in the long run and even still, a year from now. I have an extreme dislike for ambiguity and the unknown. I like having a plan and sticking to the plan. I don't always have to stay with the plan if something else comes up, but I am a fan of a good list, setting goals, making a plan and using it.

I can be a bit of a control freak. 

I know, shocking. I'm working on it.

As a back up to changing my entire personality, I'm working on a plan. Where am I applying for jobs? I graduate in May of next year. I want to work at OU so badly. I also recognize that I am coming from a really cool program where a big chunk of the people in the program would also like to work here full time. Reason stands that it's just not a possibility for all of the recent grads from OU to work at OU. So, I need to look beyond the beauty of Norman and my beloved Crimson and Cream. Dang thinking like a grown up. 

I also need to figure out if I am going to pursue a PhD at some point. I've already taken the GRE. Twice. I scored pretty well both times (better the second). Those scores "last" for 5 years. I took it fall of 2011, so I have until fall of 2016 to use those scores without needing to retake it. I have no desire to retake that test. It's gross. This is keeping in mind that I don't finish this program until May of 2014. I plan to work for a year or two before doing the application process over again. Otherwise my dad may disown me, or at least threaten to. 

So, I've got a bit of a time line to when I apply if I decide that's what I want. In that, I also need to figure out what I want to research (because that's what you do in a PhD) and what program I want to apply to. Maybe I apply to multiple programs at different schools in different areas. Do I pursue a doctorate in higher education and student affairs like I'm currently studying and love? Do I look into trying for a PhD in counseling psychology? Do I dare try again for the clinical psychology PhD? I mean, I've only already applied twice to those programs with no success. I don't know. I don't have an answer. 

But, that's the problem with my desire to have it all planned out, isn't it? Yes, it probably is. 

Things I'm working on in my life.

I sincerely believe in my heart of hearts that every person could benefit from therapy at some point in their lives. Whether you've survived the death of someone close to you, lost a job, watched your dreams stay dreams, recognized you're in a funk and need help getting out of it... going to counseling, talking through the things that are hard, that beat us down, that defeat us, it is GOOD.

There is absolutely NOTHING wrong with asking for help.

There is NOTHING wrong with admitting that sometimes we can't do it alone. 

There is NOTHING wrong with seeking out a therapist. 

There is so much stigma with asking for help to deal with emotions or mental illness. No one will shame you for going to the doctor to put a cast on your broken leg, to get chemo and radiation (literal poison to your body) to fight the leukemia. So, why the heck do we make a point of tearing down people who have the courage to ask for help for anything else???

Seeing a therapist gives you a few specific things that are sometimes hard to find in regular life. 

1. A safe place to discuss things and people that it might not always be easy talk about to the people around you. 
2. A third party perspective that has no ties to your life, and can offer another way to look at things without the problem of muddled connections that sometimes friends and loved ones have to take into consideration. 
3. And, a person to help you work through your own reactions since we can't change anything else. It's impossible to change our environment, it's impossible to control other people, it's actually not even possible to control our initial reactions to things. That said, we can choose what we do with all that information. That's what therapy can help a person do. 

Now, I have to admit to being a little biased because I once dreamed of getting a PhD in Clinical Psychology and going into practice with kids with attachment issues. That probably makes me a little more pro-therapy/counseling that most.  And, I'm in therapy right now. That probably also makes me a little more pro-therapy than the average joe. I'm ok with that. 

Therapy is hard. I think it takes someone brave, someone strong, and someone who is willing to admit weakness to ask for help instead of putting pride ahead of their needs. And work. Therapy is a place to analyze, to talk, to plan, and find the ways to work so things get better. It's active, not passive.

One of the things we're working on right now is that I feel the need to do things for people, to constantly prove my worth or value to them as a person because I don't expect them to want me around based on my personality. I'm not so sure I want me, why would anyone else? It comes down to not believing I'm good enough for them to want me around if I fall short of the mark or am less than perfect. At work, this means that I will say yes to the things I'm asked to do, and do everything I can to work above expectations and well into excellent. This is also how I view my schoolwork. I put a lot of pressure on myself to perform at a pretty high level. Generally, this isn't a bad thing, but with me, it's not because I take satisfaction in a job well done, but because I am not sure they'll want to keep me if I don't do those things.

I've had some very specific instances that have knocked the fact idea that I am unworthy of acceptance and lacking in value way out of the ballpark and into my head so succinctly it becomes really hard to dislodge it from my brain. The easiest of these experiences to talk about that still can make me cry if you catch me on the right day is the story of when I went through rush before the start of my freshman year of college. If you're not from the south or a school with a massive Greek system, you might not fully understand this, but I was not invited back to any houses for preference night. I was cut from recruitment. Now, part of me wishes I could say this was because I didn't have community service hours, or had made mediocre grades, or didn't have recommendations. But, I know none of that is true. I graduated in the top 2% of my high school class, I was a legacy to a house not only on campus, but to the house my mom was actually a member of years before (she went to OU, too), I had volunteer hours out my ears, recommendations in triplicate to EVERY house, I'd held leadership positions in almost every organization I was involved with in high school which equated to about 8 in total, I was rushed by family friends' children at almost every house I went to, and I was savvy when I went through. I wore the right thing, said the right words, was excited, open, willing and so very ready to join.

On paper I was a perfect rushee; an ideal PNM. I was also fat. In reality I became the girl that no one wanted to wear their letters, to invite to date parties, to mar their pictures on facebook. To say I was devastated is an understatement of epic proportions. The message came through loud and clear. I was not worthy as I was, as I am.

Now, I did end up pledging in the spring of my freshman year to a wonderful house full of women I came to love dearly. They also happen to be one of the 11 houses that cut me the fall before, but I found a place to belong.

But, this is just one of the cases where I learned I was not worthy of people to love me because of who I am with devastating clarity. 

In my personal life, it's sometimes really hard...

I found this picture on pintrest earlier this afternoon. For the people I care for, want to spend time with, find myself drawn to, I see that I work really hard to impress them. I feel the need to make sure they recognize what I can do for them, and then that's why I'm allowed to hang around. If I'm indispensable, then I'm not so easy to ditch. I'm worth the effort. 

Therapy Man (my doctor... he doesn't know that I call him that, haha) says that I shouldn't do this. He says my overachiever tendencies are a great thing in general, but when I let them overrun my ability to see that I am worthy - just as I am, I tear myself down far worse than anyone else ever could. 

And it's hard. Very hard. I've had quite a few experiences, more recently than in my past, where someone has told me that I am not good enough as I am. When that's replayed in my head over and over I simply hear, "I am not worth it. I do not have value outside what I can prove I am able to give. So prove it. If you can't - obviously you don't deserve it." Whatever "it" is. I do not doubt my capabilities to perform, but faith in others to want me just as I am without what I can give them is not a sure thing in my head. 

So, I'm working on it.

On my other blogs that I've had (and not kept up with), I would never have written about this. Never. But, this is a place for me to be myself, to be honest. So, I'm being honest. I'm not perfect, I don't have all the answers, I need help and have asked for it.

I'm finding a way to make sure I know I am worth it. 

Youch!

I'm at the gym cooling down on the recumbent bike as I type this post, and whoa. This last go at 3x4 (third of the week) run was capital ARE OH YOU GEE AYCH (rough). Holy cow.

I won't lie and say the first two were a breeze. They totally weren't. Not at all actually. This one was on a whole new level of hard. I was not expecting that. Set one was tougher than normal, but I managed. Set two I couldn't go to the full three minutes, and I was already going 0.2 slower than I normally work out. The third set I intentionally started slower to making it all the way through. I made it, but dang. I decided that because I didn't hit the full amount on set two I needed to add in a fourth set... Didn't hit three minutes on that one either.

Yikes.

Welp, guess this girl is planning to do a second week on the 3x4 rather than attempting to bump up. Good thing I've got a little time to do just that.

Dedication. Determination. Desire.

Yes, that. It's what I'll keep telling myself.