I’m [Losing it]

So about three weeks ago, my amazing best friend emailed me a list. What I should be eating, what I shouldn’t even think about touching, ways to work out, ways to burn calories, etc. She formulated it into a nice neat plan for me to follow and I’ve been following it to the letter.

I’ve been making progress as well. I started this little project at a specific weight and in 3 weeks, I’ve lost over 17 pounds! It’s really thrilling to be able to see the progress. I’m not dropping weight quickly by any means, but hey, loss is loss.

I’m so excited, because the Theta formal is the first Friday in November and I want to wear a really cute dress for it.

 

Here’s to progress!

Summer Residence #3

A few months ago, I wrote about my experience with the amazing Millers (who actually left for Colorado today on a 1 year sabbatical).

Today, I’d like to write about another family – the Kochers. I’m staying with them for a few weeks until school starts. (The awesome part is Mrs. Kocher follows my blog!)

It’s day two in residence with them and I must say they’re awesome.

They eat super healthy, which is helping keep me on track. (Grilled pineapple – YUM!) Their house is adorable! Their dog, Nala, is crazysilly.

And the best part is? They have two children, and the daughter looks almost exactly like I did when I was her age. The resemblance is uncanny but it’s actually really comforting. Being away from home all summer, even though I haven’t complained, can be hard. I get lonely, even when surrounded by people.

Here’s to a good summer finale! <3

Tattoo Time!

“let it be”. Let the past go. Move on. Grow up.

Yesterday, July 24th, 2012, I got a tattoo. For those of you who are close to me, you know I’ve been talking about this tattoo for over a year now. But regardless, I finally got it!

The tattoo signifies a lot for me. I’m typically a dramatic person, so it’s a simple reminder for me to chill. There’s also been a lot of strife and whatnot in my past family life, and it’s a reminder that things happen for a reason, and if that part of my family wishes to reunite with me someday, it’ll happen. If not, let it be. More than that, it’s a reminder to just kinda let things roll off my back. Sometimes I get so caught up in what’s going on in the moment that I forget to consider the tomorrows and the next years and so on. Taking that time to chill out will really help me out in the long run.

I debated for awhile over what exactly to get, but eventually I came down to two options. The basic concept of the tattoo I got, or the same tattoo layered over the heart monitor symbol (as a reminder that it’s my past life I’m supposed to be “letting be”).

I love the tattoo, and Mike, the guy that did it for me, was awesome. I can’t wait for my next one!

 

I’m not all [hot] air

Once upon a time, I was four years old, and obsessed with my mommy’s camera.  Today that’s no different, except I’m a little older.

It’s amazing to think that in 14 years, so little has changed. When I was younger, my birth mother took me to the Jackson Hot Air Balloon show (JHABS), along with my sister. In between Kayleigh getting sick and the amazing balloons, I played with a camera. As I played, magically or not, a contest-worthy photo came out. I/my birth mom entered said photo into a contest at the Show, and to [our] surprise, it won.

Today was day 1 of the 2012 JHABS, and I headed out to the show, grandparents in tow. As the balloons took off, I’ll admit it, I was bored. It wasn’t the glorious sight that I had remembered. In fact, it was kinda…..lame. But then, as more and more balloons took off, this single blue balloon started to lift of the ground and I started crying. It was that balloon. I have two memories of that show 14 years ago…..a blue balloon with a dove flying right over my head and scaring me, and how early it was. This blue balloon? It was THAT balloon. Still 10x my size, still gorgeous.

I don’t know what it is about the air, but I love it. Solo wings, flying in a balloon, soaring in a glider? All amazing things that I’ll never forget. But it’s memories like today that send me right back home, to my inner child, where I’ve longed to hide for far too long.

Imperfection

“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.”  ― Marilyn Monroe

If I told you I’m perfect, well you’d know one thing for sure – that I’m a bloody liar. However, it’s my imperfections that make me who I am. I have physical imperfections, emotional ones, even ones I’m not aware of. That’s what makes me beautiful.

My physical imperfections are vast. A little pudge here, a little crooked there. The way one of my teeth twists a little if I go too long without sleeping in my retainer. The way I’m getting a second dimple in my left cheek – not because I’m super happy, but because I’m carrying a lot of the weight I’ve gained lately in my face. The way my roots show way sooner than they should. The chips in my nailpolish, the bags under my eyes. However, the great thing is, all these little imperfections show my true beauty. That second dimple? It reminds you how lovely my dimples are. The chips in my nailpolish? Leftover remnants of a long day at work. The bags under my eyes? A reminder that I work too much so that I can succeed. That weight I’ve gained? A reminder that there are things that stress me out. Those little imperfections make me real.

My emotional imperfections go far beyond what the eye can see. When I’m in a relationship, I’m really needy. Not because I’m annoying, but because I’m insecure. That insecurity dates back years. My lack of trust for people is astounding but it comes from years of broken trust. My need to overshare information about myself is annoying, but it reflects a past where nobody paid attention to who I really was. However, these imperfections show my true beauty too. That neediness? It often translates into care and love for my partner. That lack of trust? Sometimes it translates into a desire to get to know another person better. That need to overshare? Well at least you know I’m not keeping secrets.

 

Just my thoughts for the day

Live Intentionally

People tell me that all the time but I wasn’t really sure what it meant, until today.

Break it in half and you have two words - LIVE and INTENTIONALLY.

So, live: ”to have life”

and intentionally: “to do something deliberately and with purpose” 

So basically – do something with your life. Or live with purpose. Or both.

Which, thankfully, I’m doing. I’m 18 years old and I actually have a plan for life. I’m working towards a tangible and measurable goal. However, I haven’t lost my spontaneity. Either way, I’m going places.

And I’m rambling.

So we’ll end it with this thought – live with pure intention.

What do I mean, “pure”.

Well, to be honest, wouldn’t we both like to know

SMASH.

I’ve gone through about a million phases when it comes to things I’ve loved. Perhaps this phase will be a passing trend as well, but for now, I’m living it up.

SMASH

The deliciously amazing television show about a Broadway production. Starring a past American Idol and a cast member from Wicked, it’s a fantastic show, one I’ve become rather obsessed with. The music is fantastic, incredible even. The dance numbers make me want to learn how to dance (not gonna happen, ladies and gents). And the cast? Well. It’s the perfect mix of drama and plot. The composer is gay, dating the lawyer that saves the writer’s son from jail. The writer’s husband is a science teacher, and so she decides to mess around with the lead male actor instead. The lead female actor is messing around with the director, who tried to get with one of the chorus girls (who also auditioned for the lead role) – you see my point?

Well worth the time, ladies and gentlemen.

Are Strength & Perfection Really Key?

Someone at work today said to me, “Dannie, I am so jealous of you. You’re doing really well in everything, you’re pretty, you work hard and are rewarded. You’re a Manager in Training, a junior in college, with a successful life behind you that most 50 year olds haven’t achieved. You have a perfect family. Everything works out for you. Why can’t I be like that?”

My first thought was “PAH! If only you knew.”

But then I thought about it. Why do I have the life I do. Where do my successes, my apparent perfections, my safety, my accomplishments…where do they come from? The truth is I have no bloody idea.

Here’s the truth: I struggle. alot. With temptation, with pride, with selfishness, with mere balance. I smile because I’m more afraid of people asking me questions than what’s going on inside me. My attitude is simply me trying to make the best of the hand of cards that life (or God or whomever) has dealt me. Things go wrong, but if I let that effect how I look at the world, I wouldn’t walk outside my door each morning, let alone get out of bed. You can be certain it’d take away from the overwhelming joy and happiness I have. Simply, I choose to be grateful for what I have, instead of pouting about what I don’t.

As for the perfect family part, are you kidding? To that person who complimented me today – I’m alone. You have no idea what it feels like to carry everything you own with you, always. What you see in my dorm room? That’s 95% of the possessions I own. You have no idea what it’s like to not be able to talk to the siblings you grew up with. Or what it’s like to literally be living on the edge, flying by the seat of your pants, 24/7. I don’t know if next semester is paid for yet. I don’t know how much money I’ll have in December when it comes time to renew my (expensive) license plate. I don’t even know what next month’s bills look like. Why is all this the case? Because my family situation is crazy. Lisa, my birth mom, always used to tell me growing up, “Your blood? That’s all you have. Those three siblings that you fight with every day? They’ll be your best friends until death.” She told me I wouldn’t understand until I grew up, but I began to understand a lot sooner than she thought. Most people have no idea what it’s like to live in perpetual uncertainty. Yes, I have an amazing adoptive family. Yes, many of my extended family members from birth are still there for me. But that unconditional love and support from a mother – always unwavering, always present? I don’t have that anymore. Cyndi, my mom, she loves me. 100%. I know that. But to the person who told me how perfect my life was – if you can find a way to remove the dozens of pounds of burden from uncertainty that press on my shoulders daily – I’d give you all my riches, all my wealth, my everything.

My future is still hanging in the balance. Yeah, I’m going to college. Yeah, I’ve wanted to be a corporate lawyer since I uttered my first word. But you know what? Who knows. Come ask me at graduation what job I’ve gotten – I may not even have an answer for you then.

 But here’s how I make it through, well as much as I can tell you. The rest I don’t really understand. I am blessed. And given grace. And for those things I have chosen to be grateful. I have chosen not to fret about the things I can’t control when there are so many things I have been given. In this year, the Lord is really teaching me to find the blessings, to make differences. My niece and nephews, my family, my best friends, my lover – they show me the blessings life has given me. It’s amazing how an attitude of gratitude can make a noticibly large change in what people see in you.

So my response to this compliment I was given: “Haha thanks. I appreciate the compliment, but trust me, there’s always more to a person than the eye can see.”

As you can imagine, I got no response to that.

Sometimes, but really Always.

My dearest Aggie used this blog post format and I’m going to give it a shot. I really like it.

 Sometimes: I am really needy.

Always: I am searching for solace, for someone that will love me without ever leaving.

Sometimes: I eat too much.

Always: I just need an escape, and knowing my lack of pain tolerance, food is safe.

Sometimes: I cry.

Always: I feel scared and worried, knowing I can’t protect you or be your shield.

Sometimes: I see you.

Always: I wish I did.

Sometimes: I regret walking out that door.

Always: I remember that where I am today is a million times better than where I was, as long as I can learn to wrestle with my demons.

Sometimes: I say what I am thinking.

Always: I cover every possible situation before it occurs and pretty much write out a script to every single scenario.

Sometimes: I don’t listen to you.

Always: I know that you know what’s best for me, better than I ever could, but I’m scared to step into that place of total trust.

Sometimes: I panic.

Always: I want things to run smoothly.

Worrybug.

It’s spring, and sometimes those nasty little viruses go around. From spring fever (my favorite) to random little colds (the worst), everyone catches something. I’ve caught something a little different this year – I call it the worrybug. What is this little virus – you ask. Oh, it’s the worst in all the right ways. The worrybug is what I get each year come summertime. I get it for different reasons now than I did in high school, but my object of worry has never changed.

You see, when summertime comes, my best friend of 11 years and I are inherently separated, without fail. So what? – you ask. You see, it’s not that simple. Her and I, we’re quite alike. Crazy family situations, crazy successful, crazy attractive…haha. I’m getting ahead of myself. In all reality, it comes down to some bad blood between our families (my birth family) that always seems to keep us apart.

Why am I talking about it? Well, because if I tell her, she’ll worry about me more, even though I tell her not to. Besides, I love getting my thoughts out to my blog followers – you guys give the best feedback!

First, I need to explain a couple things. This summer is different from previous summers for three main reasons:

1. We’re a heck of a lot closer than we were.
2. We’re both adults.
3. We’re actually “allowed” to communicate with each other.

Also, you see, we promised to be transparent this summer. This means that if we’re struggling, for whatever reason, we’ll tell each other. If we’re hurting, upset, sad, lonely, or even happy, overjoyed, excited, whatever, we’ll share.

Sounds fabulous, right? Lol. Somehow, it’s making me more nervous. This summer, for the first time in history, I cried when we separated for the summer. Cheesy as all get out. Also, this summer, things are a lot different. I pay my own way through life, she’s going to be in school. I’m going to be doing 4,000 things, she’s not playing travel softball. I’m going to be working/researching, she’s going to be stuck with the Crazy Lady.

So why am I so worried? Well. My best friend is really strong. Physically, she’s a beast. Emotionally, she’s a rock. That scares the crap out of me. I know she promised to tell me when she’s hurting, but she knows I’ve got a lot on my plate. I’m scared she’s not going to tell me when she needs me because she doesn’t want to “bother” me. Well dear, here’s the thing – you’re a heck of a lot more important than anything else I’ve got on my plate. Hands down. Additionally, she likes to think she can solve her own problems. Sure, she usually can, but everyone has those days where they just need a shoulder to cry on or someone to tell them everything’s going to be okay. I want to be there for that.

Well, I’m only 500 words into this post and I’m already rambling. Go figure. So what’s the TL;DR of this post? My best friend infected me with the worrybug and no amount of antibiotics is going to cure it.

HELP!

TAFN.

Dannie