Life Lately: What I’m Thankful For

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Hey, guys. It’s been a while. If you think I didn’t notice, believe me: I did. But sometimes, you can have grand plans for things — like this blog — and life will just get in the way. That’s certainly what happened on my end. I have a plethora of saved blog posts, series I planned to launch, and a schedule I had hoped to keep to.

And then, well, life just got too busy.

But you know what? That’s okay. 

It’s something I’ve had to preach to myself often during this blogging journey. I find myself frustrated that I, quite frankly, haven’t made the time to get this little platform of mine to where I’d love for it to be. But then I remember that the reason I haven’t been as diligent about setting aside time for the blog is because I’ve been so busy doing other things, things that I’ve deemed as a bigger priority. All year, I’ve been trying to focus on balancing what’s work and what’s fun, what’s necessary and what’s a bonus, what’s rewarding and what’s stressful. I never wanted to look at this blog as a job, something I had to do. So, yes, sometimes, that will mean I disappear for a month. It means I’m not quite so good at that blogging planner my best friend bought for me. It means I won’t post as much on Instagram.

That’s perfectly, 100% okay.

So anyways. Long rambling reasoning for my temporary absence aside, here I am.

It’s Sunday morning, and it’s a little chilly outside, at least for Arizona. I haven’t opened the windows yet, at least. The tree outside our apartment is finally shedding some leaves and turning a proper orange; I’m loving it. Currently, I have a pumpkin candle lit and some pumpkin creamer in my coffee. It’s finally feeling like fall.

So, naturally, I decorated for Christmas last night.

Before you all jump on me with “it’s too early!” or “Thanksgiving first!” — I just gave you all examples of how the pumpkins have decidedly not left yet. I just added some Santas and a Christmas tree to the bunch.

Needless to say, the holidays are my favorite time of year. Christmas is my number-one favorite, but Thanksgiving is a close second. Partly because I always go home. Partly because there’s stuffing and mashed potatoes. Mostly because it gives me a chance to look back and reflect on what I’m most thankful for this year.

This year, I’m thankful for the little lessons.

I’m thankful for the growing pains. It’s been a year of transition in some ways. The boy is hard at work studying for the CPA exam, and at some times, that’s been a little taxing on both of us. On top of it, there’s definitely been moments when I’ve unfairly taken my own stress out on him, whether that’s with snippy words or general disinterest. But we’ve continued to learn and grow through the more challenging seasons, and in the end, we’re learning to love each other better. I know this is a natural progression of a relationship, and I know that we are stronger for it. For that, I’m ever so thankful.

I’m thankful for distance. I won’t lie — it’s hard to have your best friend live several states away. It’s hard to not be near the majority of your family. There are times I wish I could just show up at my Grammie’s house, or call up the Shining Twin and demand a chips and salsa-fueled Friends marathon. But as I get older, I realize that there’s a level of effort that goes into maintaining relationships over distance. This is something I used to take for granted, especially when it comes to my family. Yes, family will always be there, but you’ve got to work at it like any other relationship. I like to think I’m getting better at managing the distance. Who knows if that’s true? But I’m grateful for the opportunity to learn from it.

(And, of course, this isn’t to discount my friends & family that are here. I’m of course so thankful for the immediate family that is nearby; not everyone’s so lucky to have their parents, siblings and brand-new niece less than 30 minutes away.)

I’m thankful for stress. This sounds weird, I know. But I mean it more of this way: I’m thankful to have a job I care so much about to be so stressed about sometimes. Granted, it’s not always stressful. It’s less often stressful than it is not, really. But there are certainly times, as with anything we care about, where pressure mounts — whether that’s to hit a deadline, to prove you can do it, or just to get the job done. However, I do think that a lot of my own pressure is self-inflicted, and I know for a fact that I do it because I want to excel in this position I love so much. Ultimately, that’s a wonderful thing.

Three simple things, and three big lessons I’ve learned this year.

So while I do apologize for not being as consistent with this blog as I might ideally like to be, I don’t apologize for the reason behind it. I don’t apologize for learning to be more present when I need to be, I don’t apologize for spending more time Facetiming than doing Instagram photoshoots, I don’t apologize for setting aside my side hustle for my main one. Life is about prioritizing sometimes, and in different seasons, different things will be important.

This blog is still my outlet, and I hope to have more time to devote to it once life calms down a little. For those who are hanging in there: thank you. I’m endlessly thankful for you, too.

Happy Thanksgiving, friends.

Real Talk: Self Care September

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Guys, I had a plan for September. I had it all laid out — every blog post, every media event, every photoshoot I wanted to squeeze in. I was ready to dive into this blog again headfirst, after the August craziness that always comes with my birthday.

That said, it’s now the twenty-first of September (I’m noting that, just in case I don’t end up getting this post up until much, much, later), and I’m just now sitting down to blog. Not only that, but this particular post was definitely not on my editorial calendar.

And yet, I think it’s a pretty important one.

Needless to say, as you can see by that sorrowful schpiel above, this month has gotten away from me. My friend Nicole actually called me last night and we both spend a few seconds in awe of the fact that not only is it the ninth month of the calendar year… we’re more than halfway through it. Aside from the general panic that causes me about the upcoming end-of-the-year events (holidays, travel, potentially moving), it’s also just amazing to me that this month has flown by so quickly.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s been a fantastic month. I got up to the cabin, I puppy-sat for my brother and sister-in-law as they took their babymoon, my best friend came to town, the boy passed the first phase of his CPA exam (praise!), I got to work yet another rewarding work event, my mom and I took the best Rory/Lorelai trip to Tahoe (more on that later, I promise), and my little niece was born.

Seriously, it’s been a great month.

But even in the midst of spectacular seasons like this one, I often find myself caught up in it all and, as the hype begins to wind down and things settle back into a more normal routine, I tend to find myself feeling a little, well, blue.

It’s not that I’m not appreciative. I’m so, incredibly grateful for the opportunities to live a life so full, and I thank God every day for it. It’s just that, as I transition back to “real life,” so to speak, it can feel a little… anticlimactic.

It’s in seasons such as this that I rely heavily on self-care. I know myself well enough by now — I hope — to know when I’ve run myself a little too thin, and usually, this heaviness is a key symptom of that.

So, I know it’s time to take a step back and take some time to reflect, reevaluate, and, more importantly, relax. In the spirit of doing so, I wanted to share my key elements of self-care this September:

A regular routine. Oddly enough, I thrive on routine. I like to know what’s coming next — it keeps me calm, and lets me feel on top of things. That means planning out my weeks to the best of my ability, including time allotted for workouts, errands, blogging, and reading (yes, I plan out my reading time and yes, I know that’s weird).

Hit the gym. This is a big one for me, and I know it is for a lot of people. I feel all out of sorts if I’m not exercising regularly. My anxiety and stress levels skyrocket, I’m irritated, and I generally just don’t feel my best. Which is why, these past few mornings, I’ve taken advantage of working from home and dragged myself out of bed an hour early to go running — it helps, of course, that Arizona has suddenly decided that autumn can, temporarily, be a thing.

Sit still. I’m terrible at this. Ask anyone. Unless it’s on a beach with a book, sitting still isn’t my strongest point, but I know it’s important. Even if it’s sitting still as I read, binge watch something on Netflix, or sleep, it’s the stillness that’s important.

Go to church. It’s so easy for me to fall out of the habit of going to church when life gets busy. I adjust my priorities, and my spiritual health takes the hit as a result. But I know it’s important to get that structured time with the Lord, to gather an outside perspective on what’s happening, and to spend time in my church community. When I’m not doing that, I don’t feel quite right, which is why it’s always at the top of my self-care to do list.

Cry it out. Okay, yeah, so I’m one of those people who sometimes just has to release it all, and I’m learning to be okay with that. Crying is just as much of a release as anything, and while it can sometimes be embarrassing to walk back into the office with my eyes rimmed and my makeup gone, it also, 9 times out of 10, feels so much better once I’m stopped holding it in. Don’t let anyone tell you it’s not professional to cry sometimes. Who cares? It’s still human. 

That said, I’m taking this weekend to do all of these things — readjust my routine, get some good workouts in, sit still for a while, go to church and, who knows, maybe even cry a little, even if it’s just at a sad part in my book (and I’m reading Les Mis… everything is sad in that). We’ll see how it goes.

What are your self care rituals? Whatever they are, I hope you take some time to indulge in them.

Remember, even when it’s so easy to run around taking care of everyone else, it’s just as important to take care of you.

Prioritize Yourself: A Lesson From My 23rd Year

August 1 is always a day of reflection for me. It’s the last day of whatever age I’m at, the day before I start a brand new chapter. With that comes the anticipation of what’s next, as well as the sweet melancholy of looking back at what has passed.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my birthday and I am happier than ever to see this next one come. So far, my twenties have been some of my favorite birthdays, earmarked by celebrations full of bubbles and love and milestones in my career and my life. Honestly, it’s been a wonderful handful of years and I can’t wait for what’s still to come.

That said, I like to look back at the past three hundred and sixty five (366 on a Leap Year) and consider what the world has taught me.

This year, the lesson is quite simple.

It’s okay to prioritize yourself.

This one took me a long time to learn. I’m a born people pleaser. It’s difficult for me to let go of the idea that something I do might let someone else down. In some ways, this has greatly benefited me and strengthened my relationships with my friends and family. I like to think of myself as reliable, as someone that will always be there if needed.

But in other ways, this has resulted in me neglecting my own self care, and as I navigate through adulthood, I’m realizing that self care is not selfish.

If you aren’t okay, how can you help anyone else be? 

In particular, I learned this lesson after my grandfather passed at the end of last year. It’s the first time I’ve experienced that sort of loss in my immediate family, and it was the second loss of someone close to me within the year. It wasn’t easy, to say the least. And while I remain bouyed and grateful that he left the legacy of an impeccable family behind, I’d be lying if I said I bounced back right away.

During that time, I had to say no to a lot of things, just for the sake of taking care of myself. I didn’t reply to texts as quickly as usual, I didn’t go to as many holiday happy hours as I may have liked. I needed time to be alone; I needed time to be with God; I needed time to be with my family. I just needed time, and for the first time, I recognized how important it was to put that time ahead of something, or someone, else.

Learning to be with yourself is an important part of learning about yourself.

When I emerged from my hermitting to rejoin the real world, I had a new perspective on putting yourself first.

Mainly, I finally decided to dub time spent with yourself as equally important to time spent in community.

It goes beyond that, though, of course, because we’re never truly alone these days, are we? That little thing in our pocket is always buzzing and beeping and tweeting and posting. I’m a huge fan of social media and an even bigger fan of messaging apps that let me keep in contact with loved ones who are flung across the world, but it is just fine to shut off sometimes. It is just fine not to reply to a text that is not urgent. It is just fine to laugh at the meme you’re sent, give it a little like, and then be on your way.

That is just fine. And no one should make you feel guilty for disconnecting.

It’s perfectly okay for work to be important. Just remember, your personal life is, too.

Now, I’ve always been a huge proponent of working to live rather than living to work. Admittedly, that’s a hard thing to do in my industry. PR is always on, and the deeper I get in my career, the harder it is to fully “switch off.” In fact, I was talking to my cousin last night and she asked what my schedule is, and as I rambled on about the hours I’m in the office vs. the hours I’m checking email, I realized how ridiculous it sounded to say, “Oh, but I make a rule not to scan too much on Saturdays.”

Alas, that’s the industry I’m in and, for better or worse, I love it.

But I’ve been better at setting ground rules. I only work late when I need to, and that’s usually just within the first couple of days of the month when all the reports are due. I try not to send emails after 6 p.m. or before eight in the morning. I try not to open my inbox on Saturdays at all, and on Sunday evenings it’s only to clear out the junk mail and get a footing for Monday. I turn off my email app on vacation. I try to be as present as possible at work so I can be as present as possible outside of it, too.

And so far, it’s working out pretty well.

Granted, there’s so many more lessons that you learn within the span of a year, but this one stands out to me as the most important. It’s so easy to get overwhelmed by all of the stimuli in our lives. It’s so easy, especially in our twenties.

So, as I enter my twenty fourth year (ack! Writing that out makes it feel so real!) I pledge to myself to prioritize myself when I need to. I pledge to switch off when I can, and be present as much as possible. I pledge to do these things in order to make myself the best that I can be, but also to make myself better for those I love.

And with that said…

Bring it on, 24.

ps: happy birthday, J. thanks for always looking out from that giant cloud trampoline in the sky.

Travel Diary: Denver for a Trip Around the Sun

I am sitting at the airport as I write this and, first off, I would like to acknowledge just how much I love the airport. It holds such a sense of adventure, such a promise of what’s to come. Plus, it’s a wonderful place to people watch.

But I digress, because that’s not really what this post is about.

I am on my way home from Denver, where I just spent a lovely three days with one of my favorite humans and her two cute pups. This is becoming a bit of a tradition. Every year at the 4th of July, I fly up to the Mile High City to see my best friend. Of course, this year, the Fourth fell on a Wednesday which was mildly inconvenient, so we just bumped our timeline up a little. Which actually worked out so well, because we also have a mutual love of Kenny Chesney, who happened to be playing in Denver this past weekend.

Naturally, we went.

This was my fourth time seeing Kenny, and Jen and mine’s second Kenny concert with one another, and it was just as fun as it’s ever been. I’m the product of Parrotheads, which probably means I was destined to be a part of the No Shoes Nation, but even without that prerequisite, there’s just something about a Kenny show.

I’ve always loved water, and always felt like, eventually, I’m destined to live beside it. Every Kenny Chesney concert simply confirms that prediction. There’s a feel to him — he’s a little bit country, a little bit rock, but he’s island through and through.

Plus, there’s the fact that Kenny was my first ever concert (I don’t count the Cheetah Girls in fourth grade), and you tend to have a bit of an attachment to whoever that was, right?

Besides, in my adult years — more specifically, since my junior year of college — it’s become a bit of a tradition to see him every tour, and if you know me, I’m a huge sucker for traditions.

I love knowing that you can always have something to look forward to. I love know that every summer, I’ll buy a plane ticket to Denver (granted, next summer may be an exception as we potentially shift our annual reunion overseas… but still, you get the picture.) I love knowing that Kenny Chesney will put me in a great mood and that I’ll be whisked off to the islands no matter where I am — whether it’s in the middle of the desert, at the edge of plains, or in the foggy bay.

But most of all, I love knowing that a friend will be there. I love knowing that I can call her up in the middle of the night because she’ll answer, and not just because she’ll be awake because of her crazy producer schedule. I love knowing that I can text her about the most mundane things and she’ll at least read it even if we’re both awful at replying. I love knowing how easily we can freak people out by accidentally saying the same thing at the same time. I love knowing that there’s a person I can always go to to remind me what’s important. I love the fact that we went from random Spanish project partners to coworkers to roommates to twins.

I mean, come on. We even unintentionally matched our outfits.

Now, to be honest, I didn’t start this post with the intention of making it a note of appreciation for my Shining Twin. But, I also started this blog on the floor of the Denver airport and I’m finishing it sitting upright at my desk, so I guess intentions can change with time, right? I always fall into a post-trip funk (anyone else with me on that? Coming home is great and I love what I come home to, but there’s still an element of sadness when a trip concludes). It’s heightened, when you just leave your best friend.

Anyways. Thanks, Denver, for another incredible trip, and here’s to the next one, in (pretty much) one trip around the sun.

Unexpected

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If I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s that we don’t get to plan life’s twist and turns. We can try, sure, but trying is one thing — life actually going that way is an entirely other, and you’re a rare breed of lucky if that actually works out for you.

To be completely honest, I never expected that my life would offer the path that it has thus far. I didn’t expect myself to “settle down” — for lack of a better, if terribly overused, phrase. 

My disclaimer now, and perhaps the point of this post, is that I hardly view myself as settling. Instead, my life was rocked by a totally changing, overwhelming, incredible love story. I have said this countless times, and I wholeheartedly believe, that the reason the Lord called me to stay rooted in Phoenix was to find this love.

And my, oh my, am I so grateful for it.

I think about this sometimes. I don’t think I’ve ever told the boy this much, in as many words, but he really has changed my life, in the most cliche and the absolute best ways. The future that I once saw as an endless string of running — off to the next city, the next place, the next opportunity — has slowly molded into one a bit slower, a bit more intentional.

If I’m being completely honest — and again, that is the point in all of this — I think the future I once envisioned for myself involved a lot of running. Not in the literal sense, but rather the figurative one. I’d be lying if I didn’t look at a vagabond-type lifestyle as one that offered a route for escape whenever the going got tough. It may have been hard in some ways, but it certainly felt easy in others.

I no longer have the option to just run. If I did, I’d lose the very thing that has become most important to me.

And you know what else I’ve realized?

That’s not a bad thing.

I am by no means stuck. In fact, I’m quite the opposite. The Lord called me to grow roots, and now, I am blooming. My heart blooms with the possibility of love and a future that I never imagined wanting but now I deeply ache for (eventually); my career blooms with opportunity and growth; my own sense of self blooms with peacefulness and presentness.

If I’ve ever had a true testament to my faith, this realization has absolutely been it.

In actuality, and according to one of my dearest friends, I’ve “always been that type of girl.” The type to fall in love fast, hard, quickly, and long for something lasting. It’s just been that previously, nothing has lasted.

This one has. This one took a trial of faith and blind optimism, as well as a whole heck of a lot of trust in the urgings of my own heart.

And, of course, guidance from the Lord.

To say that my trust in my relationship and my trust in the Lord go hand-in-hand probably sounds naive, or love blinded. But I truly believe that. I believe that the Lord offered me this relationship as a way to prove that He does provide, and He provides so abundantly, so long as you trust and obey his will and his Word.

He called me to stay put.

So I did.

And, without looking, He offered me the most wonderful love I could have ever asked for… the sort of love I didn’t even dare ask for.

I remember reading an article one time about how the butterflies went away for one writer’s relationship after a while, and how that was okay because they were replaced with an overwhelming sense of security and love and warmth.

I’m proud — or maybe actually humbled? — to say that I feel the same way, but I do still get those butterflies when the boy walks in the door every night. But when I think of him, it’s not the same heart-pumping, nervous anticipation I’ve felt before. It’s calm. It’s comfort.

It’s wonderful.

I apologize, truly, for what is essentially a rambling love letter. But I just so deeply hope that you, dear reader, understand that this is more than just about my abundance of love for my boyfriend. That’s well and good and so very true, but this is about more than that. This is about giving into the unexpected and getting what you never knew you so deeply longed for as a result. This is about trusting what you are called to do, even if it goes against every other desire you thought that you had. This is about believing in the surprised that life has in store.

It’s infinitely better than anything I could have planned out for myself.

Building Balance

I’ve been staring at the blank page of this blog post for a while, wondering where to begin. (Update: I wrote this post and then let it sit in my drafts for a while, that’s how unsure I was of posting it.)

When I dove back into the blogging Instagram world, I was quickly reminded of the effect that it can have on one’s psyche. There’s so many pretty pictures out there of pretty people doing pretty things, and it can, sometimes, be a bit overwhelming.

It has gotten me thinking a lot about balance. And, in honor of National Mental Health Awareness month, I thought it best to share a bit of my own story. Forgive me if this is rambling, or redundant, but this is also a little leap of faith as I open up about something I don’t often do: namely, my relationship (or, my previous one) with food.

Trigger warning: this post deals with eating habits, restrictions, and dieting.

Now, there’s obviously a lot of different types of balancing acts. It seems like these days, we have to juggle so much, whether it’s our health, our jobs, our social media usage. Where is it that you find the sweet spot of feeling like you’re doing enough, but not too much? How do you know when to take a break, without doing too little?

It’s taken me a while to figure it out, and I won’t even pretend like I’m an expert at it. I think that balance comes as you grow and get to know yourself better, and I also think that balance can mean different things at different stages in our lives.

For example, once upon a time (aka, my freshman year of college) I decided to go “healthy.” I was determined to avoid the Freshman 15, so I rerouted that determination towards only eating healthy foods, work out regularly, etc. The only problem is, I went way the other direction. I skipped eating mindfully and started to pay too much attention to what I was eating, and working out regularly became like a drug: if I didn’t get my run in that day, I felt miserable, and not due to lack of exercise. If I didn’t get to work out and I ate something “bad for me,” I felt worse than miserable. Granted, I did indeed save myself from gaining the Freshman 15… I lost it, instead. And then some.

Needless to say, I wasn’t so healthy, even though, in my mind, that’s all that I was. Ironically, it was my mind that wasn’t.

I remember coming home from school that summer and my mother reminding me, gently, to be careful. I knew what she meant, and though I was stubborn at first, I eventually eased up a bit. I started being okay with the extra slice of cheese on my sandwich, with not knowing what I was going to eat for dinner until I ate it, with skipping a day or two at the gym. Eventually, I found my true balance again, and by the time I went back to school, I regained my balance with food again.

Besides, that sophomore semester, I had a goal, one I needed to be happy and healthy for: I was going to England.

I left for England the January of my sophomore year of college, and I spent the next seven months having the literal time of my life. (I’ve written, talked, and reminisced on that time more often than not, so there’s no need to rehash the wonderfulness of it now, just know that it was incredible.) It was the first time in a long time that I literally did not think about food or worry about how I looked. I just wanted to experience everything, and experience I certainly did.

I came back from being abroad heartbroken to be home, and upset with the number on the scale. But I was so afraid to fall back into my freshman year habits, so I took it one step at a time. I started junior year with a resolve to be better about exercise, but maintain my England-driven attitude towards food. And it worked, at first, but as all exercise-only diets do, I plateaued after a while. Then I dropped the exercise and started to only eat “healthy foods.” That, again, worked for a bit but stalled after some time. I couldn’t seem to get back into healthy habits I had once had.

The rest of college was a struggle to get that balance back. I’m not saying it was an unhappy struggle, though there were times where I would get discouraged or upset. But who doesn’t? I tried to make the most of my junior and senior year, because if England taught me anything, it was that the time spent in that atmosphere was short, and I didn’t want to take it for granted.

The idea of true “balance” came when I was out of college, as I think it does for many of us. Suddenly, I no longer had the excuse of too many classes or a looming thesis deadline. At the same time, I was living completely on my own, for the first time ever, and learning so much about myself in the process.

And of course, lot of my story is, of course, so strongly about faith. Don’t think for a second that I think I could have gotten to where I am today had I not unrelentingly turned to God for guidance. I have Him to thank for the courage to get through it, the support He put in my life, and the strength to find that balance. In fact, I can honestly say that I didn’t feel the full power of regaining my own balance until I fully pulled Him into the equation, and for that, I am incredibly grateful. He showed the true force of His stable, loving hand as he guided me through this journey.

This journey that, in time, helped me figure out what balance means to me.

Balance, to me, is working out 4 days a week and being an utter slug the other 3. Balance, to me, is eating eggs for breakfast and a salad for lunch, and pizza for dinner. Balance, to me, is a hard workout followed by a bagel breakfast. It’s running 3 miles one day and just weight lifting the next. It’s having a wine night only to wake up and hike the next day. It’s putting a stone in the “healthy” side and a stone in the “happy” side at the same time. It’s making sure the scale stays even.

That said, I’m not saying that this is what balance looks like for everyone. For some, maybe it’s a daily workout and a strict vegan diet, because that’s what makes them feel their best. Because, really, that’s what it’s all about. Once you figure out what makes you feel happiest, and feel healthiest, then you’ll be able to get into that cadence more easily. If I’ve learned anything as I built my own structure for balance, it’s that there’s no one way to do it.

Balance looks different for everyone, and everyone has their own story for getting there.

PS: If you’re struggling, please don’t be afraid to reach out for help. The National Eating Disorder Awareness Helpline is a wonderful, life saving resource.

Blogging with Purpose

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To be honest, I almost didn’t post today. I almost broke my fairly regular cadence of Tuesday/Thursday blog posts out of mere busyness and lack of true inspiration. This week has just gotten the better of me — social commitments have had me slacking on my workouts, work has me exhausted (in the good way! but still…), and I didn’t plan well for blog content. I didn’t want to post just for the sake of posting, so I wasn’t going to do it at all.

And then it struck me: there’s my post.

Diving into the blogger world, I’ve realized that it can be so easy to be insincere, not genuine. With all of the sponsored posts that keep blogs going, a battle for visibility within the algorithms, and so much more, it can be tempting to post just to post. I’ll admit — I’ve done it, and I’m fooling myself if I think I won’t do it again.

But I try, so hard, to avoid it. Why? Because that’s not at all what I started on this blogging journey for.

The other day, someone asked me a question.

“What is your blog about?”

I had to pause, for a moment, before offering a rambling response of: “It’s a lifestyle blog. Well, a faith-based lifestyle blog. Well, no. Kind of a faith-mixed-with-lifestyle blog. I’m still trying to figure it out.”

And while that’s true, it still got me thinking. What is this blog about?

I always said that I didn’t ever want to blog just to blog. I wanted to write things that have meaning to me – whether that meaning stems from pure interest or curiosity, or whether it’s something a bit deeper like faith. I never wanted to write just to spew some words out there. I live by F. Scott Fitzgerald’s motto:

You don’t write because you want to say something,
you write because you have something to say.

So as I pondered the question, I started perusing my own feeds. I started looking for the people and bloggers whose content I admire the most, who I look up to and admire in this crazy, saturated blogging sphere.

I noticed that my favorites were the ones with stories to tell. Not only stories, but their own truths. I am the biggest fan of real-life rawness, and I am so in awe of people who are vulnerable enough to share those moments with the world.

So that, I’ve decided, is what I want to tell people my blog is about:

Real life.

That’s not to say I won’t work with sponsors or affiliates. That’s not to say that I won’t occasionally post just to post — but I’m going to try to avoid it.

This is my pledge to you, my readers, that I will continue to blog with the utmost purpose. I will not hide details for the sake of making my life look more “shiny.” I will not shy away from the tough stuff. I urge you, whether you’re a blogger or a reader or just a random passerby, to live your life with that same mantra.

Can we do that, together? Can we promise to be real, and purposeful, and intentional?

I pray that we can. I pray that I can. And I pray that you continue to offer me the grace of your listening ears (or… I guess… your reading eyes?)