Story: Exhibit A

"The most often repeated commandment in the Bible is 'Do not fear.' It's in there over two hundred times. That means a couple of things, if you think about it. It means we are going to be afraid, and it means we shouldn't let fear boss us around. Before I realized we were supposed to fight fear, I thought of fear as a subtle suggestion in our subconscious designed to keep us safe, or more important, keep us from getting humiliated. And I guess it serves that purpose. But fear isn't only a guide to keep us safe; it's also a manipulative emotion that can trick us into living a boring life." ~Don Miller

I am so flipping proud of myself right now. And it's because I've done something insane.

Allow me to explain.

I am going alone to San Francisco, a place I've never been, on a train in June with what I can carry in a backpack to see Paul Simon and I have no idea how to get anywhere and I am staying with a person named Joan who I have never met and found on airbnb and then flying back two days later.

Insane.

And I'm so excited. I mean, it has all the ingredients for an incredible experience, so there's that. But honestly, I am proud of myself for ignoring fear.

One of the side effects of being an older and single woman that people don't address very much is fear. There's an endless need to be smart, to weigh the potential upsets that sit outside your circle of normality, to defend yourself emotionally and physically because you are the only one fighting that fight day in and day out. It sounds irrational and paranoid, and sometimes I'll admit it walks that line; doesn't everyone walk that line when it comes to protecting those in their immediate circle? That's what our fight/flight/fear response is. It's a neurological reaction that shuts down our logic and relies on instinct for protection. Which actually, is the only reason any of us are alive right now. So thank you fear, you are important. But you also are annoying.

It takes incredible balance to identify valid concerns and respond healthily and wisely. Organizing, conquering and working one's way through that balance can be a struggle. Grabbing fear by the shoulders when necessary and shaking until that measly little instinct cowers down and wanders off with it's tail between it's legs takes courage and fierce bad-assery and a little bit of faith in oneself. And sometimes it also takes something as motivating as a ticket to Paul Simon which, luckily, I happen to have.

So peace out. I'm determined to live a grand life and you're welcome to join if you like. If not, Paul, Joan and I will send you a postcard.

Refugee Crisis Resources

Earlier today I was feeling so empowered to make an impact on the refugee crisis. However, reality quickly set in and I realized I had no idea (like, none. 0% ideation) how to move forward. I live in Orem, Utah! I am not rich! I cannot fly across the world to volunteer, as much as I would love to! How can I possibly make a difference?

So I started doing some research. I actually came across some great resources for options of ways to act right now in your own life. Several of these are focused specifically on the Salt Lake area, but there are typically links to other areas as well. So I'm sharing links here just in case there are others who might feel stumped as well. This is in no way a comprehensive list of organizations or options. I started here and that led me to some great websites. A lot of them ask mainly for monetary donations, but if you do some hunting there are other ideas too. Here are a few links.

Enjoy. But also do something.

Seriously, do something.

Letter to Congress via Catholic Relief Services (CRS) 

https://secure.crs.org/site/Advocacy?pagename=homepage&page=UserAction&id=941&AddInterest=1881&_ga=1.204646800.1203597671.1459738876

Online Fundraising through International Rescue Committee (IRC)  http://diy.rescue.org/

Generation Rescue (There is a location in SLC)   http://www.rescue.org/genr

DIY fundraiser event (Includes a link to some event ideas) 

http://www.rescue.org/do-it-yourself-diy-fundraising-events

Specific gifts (Range from $23-$84) 

http://gifts.rescue.org/

Rescue Programs in SLC (For program descriptions/options)

http://www.rescue.org/us-program/us-salt-lake-city-ut/volunteerintern-opportunities

Rescue Programs in SLC (For program coordinator contact info)

http://www.rescue.org/us-program/us-salt-lake-city-ut/programs

Contacting your elected officials 

http://www.rescue.org/tell-congress

Raising awareness via social media

http://www.unhcr.org/pages/49c3646c443.html

Spread the word and organize events

http://www.unhcr.org/pages/49c3646c37a.html

2016: Story

"Much wisdom often goes with fewer words" ~Sophocles

2012: Pause

2013: Listen

2014: Accept

2015: Ready

2016: Story 

Starting in 2012 at the approach of each year I choose a word to spend those twelve months focusing on, and every year I am blown away by how pertinent that word becomes. 

2015 was full. 

January to May I student taught in a city I love with a person I view as an immensely valuable friend and mentor. From May to August I worked summer camp with brilliant kids who taught me that I am capable, just like them. I also learned during the sweltering Virginia summer what depression feels like. With wise and loving help I gained some tools for allowing a spectrum of emotions into my life without defining myself or my day by any of them. In August I accepted a job across the Country in familiar territory with new everything. A job that surprised, stretched and excited me then and every day since. 

In 2015 I went to Arizona, California, Mexico, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New York, and drove myself from Virginia to Utah. I read twenty-nine books, watched the entire series of Parks and Recreation, and finished my Master's degree. 

And I bought a new car. So could I be more adultly? No way Jose. 

I also bombed all of my 2015 Resolutions (like, bombed), moved back into a shared apartment (an apartment), went on one date (yep, one), and I still use a phone that has buttons on it (really, buttons). Lest ye think me fully put together. 

But man, that was a good year. 

I didn't put together how packed 2015 was until I got to the end of it and started reviewing through photos and  my once-a-day journal. (I made a journal where I write down one line about what I did that day. It can fit about ten years worth of days. I'm obsessed.) As I thought about how my 2015 word, Ready, permeated every phase of those twelve months it made me want to select my 2016 word carefully and purposefully. And it's Story. Story. 

There are many things that led up to me selecting "Story" as my 2016 word: Family history interviews from the past two years and the invaluable insights that came from them; Writing a book with my dear friend Connie; Accepting unexpected experiences and empowering their ability to impact through sharing them with others; A friend of mine planting a writing idea in my mind for kids with autism; Attending the Storytelling Festival in September; Hearing the incredible stories of people I love across the Nation through my travels, and reading "A Million Miles in a Thousand Years" by Don Miller. 2015 left me no choice. Story had to be my word. 

In 2016 I want to live a better story. I want to hear stories, share stories, record stories, create stories, understand what makes a good story, and live a story I'd like to have told to me. That's my word. No resolutions this year, no plan, just an idea. 

"You can call it God or a conscience, or you can dismiss it as that intuitive knowing we all have as human beings, as living storytellers; but there is a knowing I feel that guides me toward better stories, toward being a better character. I believe there is a writer outside ourselves, plotting a better story for us, interacting with us, even, and whispering a better story into our consciousness." ~Don Miller

My hopes for 2016 in three words: Character. Setting. Conflict. 

Thoughts on a plane

I wrote the following on my flight back to Utah after spending my Christmas break in Virginia. I read it again today and found it worth a laugh, so I'm recording it here. Enjoy.

Happy New Year. I'm on a plane on my way back to Utah. I remember now why I always try to deprive myself of sleep before a long flight. I've finished my book candy ("From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E Frankweiler") and am now being serenaded by the loud, brassy tones of the woman in front of us sharing how many cranberries she eats each day to bring up her probiotics, and how to increase prebiotics which are food for probiotics. She's upset her husband won't join the program. Dear man. I don't know where he is but he is probably eating twinkies somewhere with delight.

Now that I've been a snob, let's have a confession paragraph. My flight for christmas break was a red eye from SLC to Charlotte, NC, a two hour layover then a one hour flight to Charlottesville, VA. Fairly ideal. Being the end of the year with its traditional and customary whirlwind of visits and obligations I was exhausted. I slept the entire flight to Charlotte and thought I was feeling rather chipper as I reached my gate. I settled in, read my book and counted down the ten minute blocks. So close to home!

And then I woke up.

"Why are these people different? Why is the gate lady gone? Why is the door closed? WHY?"

It was ten minutes before my flight was set to take off. I stumbled to the neighboring gate and established that I had indeed slept through the entire boarding process. I was keeping it together fairly well until they asked me to confirm once more what flight I was on. I pointed out the window to my plane taunting me with its presence on the tarmac and cried/spoke "It's that plane... right theeeere!" Sitcom level, I tell you. Painful and pure gold.

I got a standby ticket from the customer service desk, then as I walked away felt a prompting to go back, to start the conversation again. I did so (repeating my preface of "I'm emotional and upset but at myself not you. Apologies.") and this time the woman changed my arrival airport and got me there only two hours behind schedule. I could have cried all over her efficient and manicured personage. A very patient mother and Granger picked me up in Roanoke. Mom's back was out so Granger did some super swell stealthy spy moves to find me, then we drove all the way home. Bathroom break, then back in the car to drive the additional hour to Charlottesville to get my luggage.

The whole experience was embarrassing, frustrating, a waste of valuable time, and an opportunity to practice vulnerability, sincerity, and choosing humor. And in my opinion it makes a great story. Lots of people sleep through their flights I suppose. But I don't know how many manage to do so in the airport at their gate. Aren't I impressive?

Lies I told myself about Depression

Ah, uncontrollable sadness. Let's laugh at you, shall we?

I am not a doctor of anything. (Well, truth be told I am a Master in Special Education. Please do call me by my proper title.) I have no medical background and no plans to formally further my knowledge in that field. This past summer, however, I gained empathy for clinical depression because I lived it. Processing that time has given me a lot to think about. What I kept coming back to was how long my healing process was delayed because of falsehoods I had somehow bought into at different points throughout my life. I haven't dug deep enough to find the root of all those lies, nor do I care to at this point. But may be there are some other people who have the same delays in their healing because of the same intellectual mistakes.

So I'm coming clean. I had depression. It was awful. And then it was better. Here are some of the things I discovered along the way.

The Lie: Depression is only justifiable if there is no cause for it.

What? Yeah. Let me explain.

The lie I bought into is that if I was sad because I lacked coping skills than my depression was a shaming act that I was responsible for, and there was no justification for it. "Come on Elizabeth. Your life's not that hard and you should just get over it. What's wrong with you?" Now, if there was no reason to be depressed and I still was then that would be a chemical imbalance and not my fault and not something to be ashamed of.

The Truth: It doesn't matter right now why or why not. Meet yourself where you are and get help.  

I believed people who were depressed because there were sad things in their life just lacked the coping skills they needed to be happy. Truth be told, I still believe that. Sometimes the coping skill is a little pill, sometimes it's a therapist, sometimes it's a person, sometimes it's faith. But in the midst of mental imbalance the see-saw of self-examination that accompanies our flaws is not a stabilizing endeavor. Stop it. Recognize your need and take action. Empower yourself, stop examining yourself. You'll get to that when your mind is steady and your vision is cleared.

The visual: From this: 

To this: 


The Lie: Depressed people are not able to function.

My image of being depressed was being unable to get out of bed or have a conversation. I've known people who have that level of depression and I have mad respect for their resilience and the fact that my friends who have been there have also been positive, influential, powerful forces for good. In my mind that was depression, and anything less than that was just being a wimp.

The Truth: Depression is a spectrum. Because humans. 

I could function. I worked. I felt kinda happy. But not for a whole day. On a daily basis I found myself sobbing in my car for a reason  I could not identify. That was the point when I knew I was beyond my own help, and I was a depressed, broken little person. Of course depression is a spectrum! Guess what? EVERYTHING IS A SPECTRUM! We are humans and while I believe there is black and white in relation to truth, I also believe that our emotional daily function exists on a spectrum. So if you're on it that's okay. And if you're not, congratulations! We'll try to figure some stuff out so we can be there for you when it's your turn.

The Visual: 


The Lie: Depression should be carefully hidden to make people comfortable, and then processed very loudly to make people educated.

We're going to start off with a visual here.

"Elizabeth isn't really stepping up today like she normally does. She must be an imperfect human."



"Elizabeth was very dismissive and uncomfortable in that social situation. She really brought us down."



"Elizabeth was rude and did not seem like she had all her emotions together."



"What the heck is wrong with Elizabeth?"



I avoided social events because I always arrived and left feeling completely inept at people-ing. I very carefully controlled my interactions with the world desperate to avoid any implication of my identity as someone with depression.

But! Then when I started to get better I wanted to shout it from the rooftops. I became this weird, presumptuous, bubbly, false empathizer (#notaword) that seemed laden with the burden of helping everyone label their own depression, understand mine, and be perfectly aware that I knew what they were going through. It was over the top. In some ways this short-lived era is almost harder for me to understand than the depression era. It was like I was so relieved to be crawling out of this hole that I went overboard trying to cram my experience down other people's throats. (Single friends: Like when someone gets married and they're so happy and their one mission in life becomes getting you married too. Am I right?)

The Truth: Rock what you got/Be a class act

Just yesterday I watched a kid who can barely control his own body movement stand up in front of a dozen people and bounce-wiggle-dance his way through a four-minute song. Rock what you got.

My brother on the autism spectrum broke up a fight at scout camp by telling the kids to stop it and go get a drink of water. Rock what you got.

I wanted to serve people during my depression but also didn't want to see people. So everyday I wrote a note, sent a text or wrote an e-mail expressing gratitude for someone else. Rock what you got.

Do your best. Take what you have and run with it. Be sincere. Rock what you got. (Shout out to Dave for teaching me that phrase in the first place. I use it everyday.)

But remember, be a class act. When my Dad calls someone a class act it's a big deal. That person is awesome. So I've watched carefully my whole life the people who are class acts and I've tried to understand what makes them so awesome. They're open when it is beneficial to the matter at hand. They are efficient with their energy and with yours. They are more invested in people than in things. They think long-term without losing sight of the short-term. They take care of themselves and others. They do not wear their history on their sleeve, nor do they portray themselves as superhumans. They're not in it for themselves. So be proud of your progress, but be a class act.

In summation:

I, a typically happy and positive person, had depression. For me I responded beautifully to weekly meetings with a therapist, a lot of practical changes to the way I ran my day, a good deal of humble prayer, and a little more fluidity to my own expectations. Those things then led me to greater self-empowerment that led me to an incredible job, a courageous cross-country move, and a deep gratitude for the incredible people in my life. For me, depression is no longer something I fight with, but I am perfectly aware that at some point life will knock me down flat and I'll have to build my way back up again. So if you're in that spot know that there are people who get it. If people are imperfect in the way they help you, guess what? They are trying to help you! Focus on that for just a moment. We all have bought into lies and we all have truth on our side. The trick is to use the gift of hindsight to honestly analyze which is which. In the end we're all helpers, and we are all the people who need help.

Don't be this: 


Be this: 


And also this: 


And depending on the day either this walrus or the guy with the fishcake:




And I'm out.

Spring Break 2015

(Oops. Meant to finish this six months ago. Well, I went to New England once!)

I have been loving my student teaching experience, but I tell you what, I was so ready to get out of town and enjoy seeing something new! Months ago I was thinking about Spring Break and looking for affordable plane tickets pretty much everywhere. I found a $140 round-trip ticket to New Hampshire, so I bought it, and then called my dear friend Lauren to inform her I was coming. (Not very considerate, but here we are.) It was a perfect week and I was so very happy to spend some quality time with Lauren and her family.

Newport Mansions in Rhode Island. Bleeeew my miiiiiind!

This was The Elms. It was my favorite. 

At the time I was eagerly seeking a job in New England, and this "Children" sign seemed like an excellent omen. 

In New England everything is named something a little strange. It's the law. 

We found a beach! This is also in Newport. 

Even the litter in Newport is high quality.

Lauren being beachy. 

Back at The Elms. I'm too lazy to fix the photo order guys. 

We are children, therefore, we spent an entire evening experimenting with ways to dye easter eggs. We are very, very good.

The drip technique. Impressionistic period. 

New England Cemeteries. I'm obsessed. 

Also I made pasta! Lauren made it, I draped it. Homemade pasta is delicious. 

New England is one of those places I hope to visit consistently throughout my life. I love it there.

My favorite poem

Several months ago I was at the beach. I love love LOVE the beach. 

I would wake up early in the morning and go down to see the sunrise.

 I find few things more rejuvenating than being on the beach watching the sky change. 

Maybe netflix. Yeah, that's a close second. 

One morning the sunrise was particularly striking and as I whipped out my very old camera 

my favorite poem kept coming to mind.

 It's one that I recently memorized to meet one of my 99 goals. I'm so glad I finally did! 

This has been my favorite poem for years. 

It reminds me that every effort is valuable, that the wise cling to hope rather than cynicism, 

and that there is almost always something very good on its way. Enjoy. 

Say Not the Struggle Nought Availeth

By Arthur Hugh Clough 

Say not the struggle nought availeth, 
The labour and the wounds are vain, 
The enemy faints not, nor faileth, 
And as things have been they remain.   

If hopes were dupes, fears may be liars;
It may be, in yon smoke concealed, 
Your comrades chase e'en now the fliers, 
And, but for you, possess the field.  

     

For while the tired waves, vainly breaking
Seem here no painful inch to gain, 
Far back through creeks and inlets making, 
Comes silent, flooding in, the main.  

And not by eastern windows only, 
When daylight comes, comes in the light, 
 

In front the sun climbs slow, how slowly,
But westward, look, the land is bright.