Minnesotans United for All
Families ran a campaign against the marriage discrimination
amendment last fall called "This is what family looks like". People
submitted pictures of their non-traditional families (often a same-sex
couple, with or without children). It's great that same-sex couples can
now be legally recognized as family, but there are a lot of other
equally valid ideas of what family includes, which I think are important to recognize.
I recently experienced some criticism around the idea that my family
values are lacking, or that I don't prioritize family in the way that I
"should". My response to that: I DO value family intensely. But my definition of
family may be different than yours. I recently lost my primary family
member, my husband, along with the entire family I married into. My
parents lost a son-in-law who they cherish(ed), and my sister lost the
only brother she has ever had. People say that friends come and go, but
family is permanent. Clearly, that is not true. My recent experience has
been a salient reminder that family takes many different forms, and that
it is constantly fluctuating.
Blood relatives are certainly very important to me, and I'm lucky
enough to have a strong relationship with the family I was born into.
But family can also be CREATED. My family includes the people who I can text to meet me at the beach at a moments' notice. Those whose
refrigerators I can open and take anything out without asking
permission. Those with whom I can stay out until the sun rises, doing
whatever spontaneously comes up. My family are the people who know the
parts of me that I haven't told everyone, and who I know will accept me
100% no matter what paths I choose. My family includes my lifelong best
friend, who lives halfway across the country but who called me every
day for the first two or three weeks after my marriage ended, sometimes
for updates, sometimes to tell me that she loves me, sometimes to let me
cry. My family are the people with whom I can share a look and
instantly "mind read" one another's thoughts. My family are the people
whose doors I don't have to knock on, because I can enter freely. They're my ever-expanding community of people who I value and relate to and resonate with. You
will not be able to convince me that these aren't the definitions of
family.
We don't share blood lines, and we aren't bound legally, but this IS what family looks like.
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
Unlearn It!
Is my face too round? Does this dress bring out curves in all the wrong
places? Am I too extroverted? What is he thinking about me? Is she
just pretending to like me? Am I good enough? Am I smart enough? Am I
thin enough? What if I get rejected?
Do these questions sound familiar? Maybe the questions you ask yourself aren't identical to these, but if you are honest with yourself, you've probably experienced a similar internal monologue. If you're like me, you have no filter and forget to think before you speak sometimes.... and therefore these questions, which would be better off remaining as internal, spill into the external.
I've posed all of these questions, and so many more, to my friends recently. It's not that I have a severe lack of confidence, really. But I think we've all been faced with messages that chip away at our self-worth. This feeling of inadequacy is not intrinsic, and it is not an actual reflection of our shortcomings. It is learned. We've learned it from people who don't appreciate us or deserve us. We've learned it from magazine ads. We've learned it from society. We've learned it.
It's time to Unlearn It.
A good friend of mine coined the term "Unlearn it!". This is his answer to all of my "Am I good enough?" questions. Translation: Maybe you've been told/taught/made to believe that the answer is negative. But that doesn't mean that it's the correct answer.
Unlearning it is easier said than done, especially for someone like me, who is going through the greatest betrayal and rejection of my life. The easy way out is to say "He left me. He doesn't like me. I'm not good enough for him. I'm not worthy of love." The first statement is true. The second is somewhat true. The third is untrue. The forth is absolutely ridiculous. It's EASY to take a circumstantial fact and spin it into so much more than what it really is. It's DIFFICULT to derive a sense of confidence and self-worth from a situation of being rejected. But I believe that in this case, the difficult choice is the correct one. And it really is a choice.
Whatever the self-depreciating questions are that you are asking yourself, it's time to unlearn it. Know that you are valuable, beautiful, and worthy of love.
In the mean time, I'll keep working on this, too. Sometimes it's easier than others, but it's always important.
Do these questions sound familiar? Maybe the questions you ask yourself aren't identical to these, but if you are honest with yourself, you've probably experienced a similar internal monologue. If you're like me, you have no filter and forget to think before you speak sometimes.... and therefore these questions, which would be better off remaining as internal, spill into the external.
I've posed all of these questions, and so many more, to my friends recently. It's not that I have a severe lack of confidence, really. But I think we've all been faced with messages that chip away at our self-worth. This feeling of inadequacy is not intrinsic, and it is not an actual reflection of our shortcomings. It is learned. We've learned it from people who don't appreciate us or deserve us. We've learned it from magazine ads. We've learned it from society. We've learned it.
It's time to Unlearn It.
A good friend of mine coined the term "Unlearn it!". This is his answer to all of my "Am I good enough?" questions. Translation: Maybe you've been told/taught/made to believe that the answer is negative. But that doesn't mean that it's the correct answer.
Unlearning it is easier said than done, especially for someone like me, who is going through the greatest betrayal and rejection of my life. The easy way out is to say "He left me. He doesn't like me. I'm not good enough for him. I'm not worthy of love." The first statement is true. The second is somewhat true. The third is untrue. The forth is absolutely ridiculous. It's EASY to take a circumstantial fact and spin it into so much more than what it really is. It's DIFFICULT to derive a sense of confidence and self-worth from a situation of being rejected. But I believe that in this case, the difficult choice is the correct one. And it really is a choice.
Whatever the self-depreciating questions are that you are asking yourself, it's time to unlearn it. Know that you are valuable, beautiful, and worthy of love.
In the mean time, I'll keep working on this, too. Sometimes it's easier than others, but it's always important.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Are They Really Bigots? An Alternative Response
Two weeks ago, I had the exciting, incredible, once-in-a-lifetime
opportunity to witness the dream of same-sex marriage become a reality
in Minnesota. There is no adequate way to describe the feelings of
joyful victory. I got to watch my best friend shed
tears of joy as he hugged his boyfriend moments after the final vote. I
got to join thousands of supporters at the Capitol rotunda, singing
hymns of praise, and our National Anthem. I was inspired by the dozens
of clergy members standing in support of equality. Never in my life
have I been so proud of my state, so proud of my community, so proud of
my friends, and so happy to be living in this moment of history. It was
one of the most significant experiences of my life.
But, I also witnessed a state senator say these words: “Some people have said that they are concerned about being on the right side of history. I am more concerned about being on the right side of eternity.” The implication of that statement is not only that LGBTQ-identified people are destined for hell, but that anyone who supports marriage equality is as well. That attitude is personally and sociologically harmful in ways that he probably will never fully understand.
Unfortunately, this senator is not alone in this thinking. The Minnesota for Marriage campaign fought hard and long to keep "traditional marriage" in our state. Their press release indicated that, with the passage of the bill, all those who don't support marriage equality will now be labeled as "bigots". I have heard many people on the pro-equality side of the debate respond to that assertion by saying, "yes, that's right. You WILL be labeled as bigots, because you ARE bigots."
I'm not sure this response is helpful, and I'd like to propose an alternative approach. But, before going any further, I want to acknowledge this: I have never walked down the street afraid to hold my partner's hand. I have never been told that I can't marry the person I love. I've never been bullied for my sexuality or been called a fag or a dyke. I don't know what it feels like to be trapped in a body with a biological sex that doesn't match my gender identity. I have never been abandoned by my family after bravely expressing who I am. And I want to be sensitive to the fact that some people who are reading this HAVE had these experiences and have been hurt by them in ways that I may not ever personally understand.
But: I also know people who oppose marriage equality. I know them to be good, true, authentic people who absolutely have the best intentions. To name-call and to point fingers shaming them for their beliefs renders US as the intolerant ones. They are not bigots; they are not stupid; they do not lack logic; they are not immoral. We are ALL products of our culture and upbringing, and many of our peers who are on the other side of this fight are very good and (I'm daring to say) well-intentioned people. Maybe they grew up in a religion or a family that taught them that being gay is a sin. Maybe they really are worried that the "traditional" family structure is threatened.
Can we respond with love instead of anger? Although we're coming from different perspectives, can we be open to dialogue and a mutual respect for our differences? The only way that anyone can get from one side to the other is by bridging the gap. And to respond to people who disagree with us by calling them bigots or homophobes is not building a bridge; it is tearing it down.
Over 70% of adults under the age of 35 are in favor of marriage equality. In another generation, that number will assuredly grow. But let's not let anger and hurt get in the way of our ability to increase that number.
But more importantly, let's celebrate the fact that we're in the middle of history in the making, and that beginning in August, all Minnesotans will have equal access to civil marriage. It's not the end of the fight for legal equality, but it's a huge step in the right direction. Love is Louder.
But, I also witnessed a state senator say these words: “Some people have said that they are concerned about being on the right side of history. I am more concerned about being on the right side of eternity.” The implication of that statement is not only that LGBTQ-identified people are destined for hell, but that anyone who supports marriage equality is as well. That attitude is personally and sociologically harmful in ways that he probably will never fully understand.
Unfortunately, this senator is not alone in this thinking. The Minnesota for Marriage campaign fought hard and long to keep "traditional marriage" in our state. Their press release indicated that, with the passage of the bill, all those who don't support marriage equality will now be labeled as "bigots". I have heard many people on the pro-equality side of the debate respond to that assertion by saying, "yes, that's right. You WILL be labeled as bigots, because you ARE bigots."
I'm not sure this response is helpful, and I'd like to propose an alternative approach. But, before going any further, I want to acknowledge this: I have never walked down the street afraid to hold my partner's hand. I have never been told that I can't marry the person I love. I've never been bullied for my sexuality or been called a fag or a dyke. I don't know what it feels like to be trapped in a body with a biological sex that doesn't match my gender identity. I have never been abandoned by my family after bravely expressing who I am. And I want to be sensitive to the fact that some people who are reading this HAVE had these experiences and have been hurt by them in ways that I may not ever personally understand.
But: I also know people who oppose marriage equality. I know them to be good, true, authentic people who absolutely have the best intentions. To name-call and to point fingers shaming them for their beliefs renders US as the intolerant ones. They are not bigots; they are not stupid; they do not lack logic; they are not immoral. We are ALL products of our culture and upbringing, and many of our peers who are on the other side of this fight are very good and (I'm daring to say) well-intentioned people. Maybe they grew up in a religion or a family that taught them that being gay is a sin. Maybe they really are worried that the "traditional" family structure is threatened.
Can we respond with love instead of anger? Although we're coming from different perspectives, can we be open to dialogue and a mutual respect for our differences? The only way that anyone can get from one side to the other is by bridging the gap. And to respond to people who disagree with us by calling them bigots or homophobes is not building a bridge; it is tearing it down.
Over 70% of adults under the age of 35 are in favor of marriage equality. In another generation, that number will assuredly grow. But let's not let anger and hurt get in the way of our ability to increase that number.
But more importantly, let's celebrate the fact that we're in the middle of history in the making, and that beginning in August, all Minnesotans will have equal access to civil marriage. It's not the end of the fight for legal equality, but it's a huge step in the right direction. Love is Louder.
Friday, May 3, 2013
You are Not Alone and Never Will Be
In early April, I received an e-mail from a good friend. The final line was
this simple message: "You are not alone and never will be." He had no
idea how powerful those words would be to me, but I have repeated them
as a mantra nearly every day since.
I am at a point in my life where I feel like I don't have a lot to give; I feel like all I can do is stretch out my arms and receive love. So I have. And it has been incredible. I have experienced daily, living, dynamic reminders of my friend's message: I am not alone and never will be. I have received texts, e-mails, cards, hugs, flowers, chocolate, care packages, stuffed animals, books, cookies, phone calls, lunches, dinners, jokes, memes, shopping trips, prayers, visits, referrals, help with my house, encouragement, and even rocks with (potential) metaphysical healing properties. Each of these acts of love has touched me and has made me understand the meaning of the phrase "my cup overflows". It is honoring, and humbling, and moving, and unbelievable.
And I don't deserve it. I am not owed any of this. Mark did not have to let me come over in a state of shocked panic. Alicia and Rebecca were not obligated to send me stuffed animals in the mail. Kara, Craig, Tom, Nick, and Erin were not required to treat me to lunches and dinners. Anne didn't have to make homemade cookies, and hand-deliver them to my house. Stace and Dave did not need to supply me with a gift card to Let's Dish to make sure that I have easy, healthy food available. Seth didn't have to teach me how to moisturize and properly apply make-up so that I could feel pretty. Erin didn't have to hand-deliver a May Day package to my office, on her OWN birthday. And the list goes on, and on, and on. I could call out by name several dozen people who have made my life not only bearable, but legitimately incredible. Every person in my life has responded in unique and beautiful and personally appropriate ways.
I know a multitude of people who are going through really tough situations. Maybe there is something in the water here; I don't know. I have a friend adjusting to life after a break-up. One dealing with financial concerns. Another with a serious illness. Another with some legal troubles. Another with a sudden death in the family. None of them, none of us, deserve the pain we are facing.
But none of us are alone, and we never will be. We were not created to experience life on our own, and we don't have to. We were created for community. The past five weeks have been some of the hardest I have ever experienced. They have also been some of the most beautiful, because I have been constantly reminded of these simple truths.
I fully intend, when I'm able, to pay back and/or forward all of the kindnesses that I have been shown recently. Who in your life has provided you with an act love that you didn't deserve - a reminder that you, also, are not alone? What simple acts of love can you participate in to remind someone in your life of the same thing?
No matter what season of life you are finding yourself in, remember: You are not alone, and never will be.
I am at a point in my life where I feel like I don't have a lot to give; I feel like all I can do is stretch out my arms and receive love. So I have. And it has been incredible. I have experienced daily, living, dynamic reminders of my friend's message: I am not alone and never will be. I have received texts, e-mails, cards, hugs, flowers, chocolate, care packages, stuffed animals, books, cookies, phone calls, lunches, dinners, jokes, memes, shopping trips, prayers, visits, referrals, help with my house, encouragement, and even rocks with (potential) metaphysical healing properties. Each of these acts of love has touched me and has made me understand the meaning of the phrase "my cup overflows". It is honoring, and humbling, and moving, and unbelievable.
And I don't deserve it. I am not owed any of this. Mark did not have to let me come over in a state of shocked panic. Alicia and Rebecca were not obligated to send me stuffed animals in the mail. Kara, Craig, Tom, Nick, and Erin were not required to treat me to lunches and dinners. Anne didn't have to make homemade cookies, and hand-deliver them to my house. Stace and Dave did not need to supply me with a gift card to Let's Dish to make sure that I have easy, healthy food available. Seth didn't have to teach me how to moisturize and properly apply make-up so that I could feel pretty. Erin didn't have to hand-deliver a May Day package to my office, on her OWN birthday. And the list goes on, and on, and on. I could call out by name several dozen people who have made my life not only bearable, but legitimately incredible. Every person in my life has responded in unique and beautiful and personally appropriate ways.
I know a multitude of people who are going through really tough situations. Maybe there is something in the water here; I don't know. I have a friend adjusting to life after a break-up. One dealing with financial concerns. Another with a serious illness. Another with some legal troubles. Another with a sudden death in the family. None of them, none of us, deserve the pain we are facing.
But none of us are alone, and we never will be. We were not created to experience life on our own, and we don't have to. We were created for community. The past five weeks have been some of the hardest I have ever experienced. They have also been some of the most beautiful, because I have been constantly reminded of these simple truths.
I fully intend, when I'm able, to pay back and/or forward all of the kindnesses that I have been shown recently. Who in your life has provided you with an act love that you didn't deserve - a reminder that you, also, are not alone? What simple acts of love can you participate in to remind someone in your life of the same thing?
No matter what season of life you are finding yourself in, remember: You are not alone, and never will be.
Monday, March 25, 2013
Perfect is the Enemy of Good
I have a great dad, who has a tendency to over-use certain phrases and one-liners. Growing up, I heard "Close, but no cigar", "You can't always get what you waa-aaant" (in the style of Rolling Stones), and "The floor is not a storage space for your clothes" more times than I can count.
My dad also always told me that "perfect is the enemy of good". This one has really stuck with me.
Life ebbs and flows, and recently I was in a phase in which it truly felt like I had a PERFECT life. Everything was falling into place and I was at the top of my game. My biggest concerns this past fall ranged from where to find the best stuffed chihuahua for my Elle Woods Halloween costume (One-click shopping on Amazon, obviously!), to whether I'd be able to dance all night in my red heels without my feet hurting (Definitely not, so I threw some spare flip-flops in my purse). I was the girl who everyone could count on for a crazy story from the preceding weekend. There was a running joke that I should be on "depressant" pills to tone down my incessant happiness.
Currently, I am not in that phase. There are some things that I need to change, and some things that are not in my control to change. Things are not perfect.
But they're still good. All of my basic needs are in the bag. I live with my husband in the best city on earth, and we have a house in a great part of town. We are debt-free and have stable jobs. I get to see friends almost every day in some capacity. I'm constantly meeting new people, and becoming involved with various communities. I am continually impressed with the goodness of the people in my life, and I still maintain that I have the most amazing friends in the world. And, yes, there are still parties to look forward to.
Perfect is the enemy of good. To be satisfied only when things are perfect is to set ourselves up for perpetual unhappiness. Even when things aren't perfect, if we focus on the good, we can find joy.
My challenge to myself today, and to you: Don't aim for perfection. Recognize and seek out the good, and use the challenges as opportunities for growth. And always, always, always keep looking forward.
My dad also always told me that "perfect is the enemy of good". This one has really stuck with me.
Life ebbs and flows, and recently I was in a phase in which it truly felt like I had a PERFECT life. Everything was falling into place and I was at the top of my game. My biggest concerns this past fall ranged from where to find the best stuffed chihuahua for my Elle Woods Halloween costume (One-click shopping on Amazon, obviously!), to whether I'd be able to dance all night in my red heels without my feet hurting (Definitely not, so I threw some spare flip-flops in my purse). I was the girl who everyone could count on for a crazy story from the preceding weekend. There was a running joke that I should be on "depressant" pills to tone down my incessant happiness.
Currently, I am not in that phase. There are some things that I need to change, and some things that are not in my control to change. Things are not perfect.
But they're still good. All of my basic needs are in the bag. I live with my husband in the best city on earth, and we have a house in a great part of town. We are debt-free and have stable jobs. I get to see friends almost every day in some capacity. I'm constantly meeting new people, and becoming involved with various communities. I am continually impressed with the goodness of the people in my life, and I still maintain that I have the most amazing friends in the world. And, yes, there are still parties to look forward to.
Perfect is the enemy of good. To be satisfied only when things are perfect is to set ourselves up for perpetual unhappiness. Even when things aren't perfect, if we focus on the good, we can find joy.
My challenge to myself today, and to you: Don't aim for perfection. Recognize and seek out the good, and use the challenges as opportunities for growth. And always, always, always keep looking forward.
Wednesday, February 20, 2013
Camp WAPO Memories
I recently came across a box of memories from 2002-2003. These were the two summers I worked at camp WAPO. The notes, journal entries, pictures, and art projects I found made me feel reflective about my time as a camp counselor.
I spent a week at WAPO every summer growing up. Located on a peninsula between two gorgeous lakes near Amery, Wisconsin, this camp was my favorite place in the world. I looked up to and admired my college-aged counselors, and anticipated a time when I would be old enough to be in that role. That time finally came in the summer of 2002.
Driving up to WAPO to begin my first summer as a counselor was one of the most exciting times of my life. I fretted about what I should wear (I'll be running around a lot, but I also want to make a good impression, so do I curl my hair?? Do I wear a cute top? My favorite doc marten sandals?), how I should present myself (should I be the shy one? The out-going one? The boy-crazy one? The Jesus freak?), and how the social aspect would pan out (I was freshly out of a relationship and looking for fresh meat, but I also wanted to make friends and be social). Upon arriving, I was thrown into a "Family" (a small group of counselors who planned activities together) of about 8 counselors, three of whom would end up having a significant impact on my life. We decided on JIMBF as our family name, which stands for Jesus is My Boyfriend. We had two weeks of staff training, during which I lived in a cabin with a dozen other girls my age (at 19-22, we could hardly call ourselves women). Although this seems completely uncharacteristic for anyone who knows me now, during those weeks I was the first one up and in the shower, and usually the only one to blow dry my hair, put on mascara and lip gloss, and carefully choose my outfit for the day.
My first summer as a counselor was intense. I turned 21 that August, and although I looked and felt like a grown-up, the reality is that I was still a child. Although the young girls I counseled saw me as a role model and a good Christian example, this really couldn't have been further from the truth. I often didn't feel like I was being honest with my campers, or with myself, by leading Bible studies and answering their questions about faith. My time as a camp counselor was just one part in a long process of examining my religious faith, which is something that's still on-going and a work in progress.
Relationally, camp counseling was the most unique experience of my life. My co-workers were also my best friends. There was no boundary between work and play, 23 hours a day (we had a one-hour break afternoon, during which we'd pile the maximum number of people possible into a car and head to the town coffee shop for a Frescata... a highly caloric frozen caffeinated chocolate beverage). We had weekends off, and I spent as many as possible sticking around camp. We'd hang out on the lake during the day, and stay up until dawn in the staff lounge on "big blue", this disgusting old couch that everyone loved, reasons unknown. I really felt like I fit in with my peers at camp, and got along well with ALMOST everyone. I formed close friendships with two other girls, and the three of us stayed in touch for many years. Recently, I've mostly lost touch with one of them, but the other remains one of my closest friends. If there is one single thing for which I'm most grateful to WAPO, it is that friendship.
In addition to fun and friends, I was also looking for love that summer, and I found it almost immediately. Although it was definitely not a right fit long-term, I have nothing but positive things to say about my camp relationship. It lasted through that first summer, long-distance during the school year following, through a second summer at camp, and half-way through another school year. I invested much more of my life to that relationship than any 21-22 year old should. Although I felt completely blind-sided by what seemed to me to be an abrupt ending, looking back, I can see now that saying good-bye was the best thing he could have done both for himself AND for me. We parted ways at a mid-winter camp reunion, just a few yards from the spot we had met a year and half prior.... and we haven't seen each other since. At the time, the 19 months we'd been together felt like forever, and starting over "at ground zero", as I referred to it, felt impossible. Nine years later, that time in my life almost feels like a blip on the radar. A blip that taught me a lot, and that I remember with fondness. I think, and hope, that he would agree. Although broken hearts are one of the hardest things many people go through in life, they also help us remember our strength as individuals, and the importance of balance and having multiple "significant others" in our lives, beyond our romantic partners. During the time that I felt weaker than I've ever felt before or since, I also felt infinitely supported and loved by my family and friends.
If you were ever a camp counselor, you probably have similar experiences and stories. Ultimately, I think my summers as camp counselor hold all of my most influential "coming of age" stories. I worked a little, played a lot, made mistakes, made friends, made enemies, fell in love. As a young camper looking forward, being a counselor seemed glamorous and grown-up and exciting. As an adult looking back, being a counselor was formative; a learning experience and a stepping stone. If you are reading this and were a part of my WAPO experience, thank you for that.
I spent a week at WAPO every summer growing up. Located on a peninsula between two gorgeous lakes near Amery, Wisconsin, this camp was my favorite place in the world. I looked up to and admired my college-aged counselors, and anticipated a time when I would be old enough to be in that role. That time finally came in the summer of 2002.
Driving up to WAPO to begin my first summer as a counselor was one of the most exciting times of my life. I fretted about what I should wear (I'll be running around a lot, but I also want to make a good impression, so do I curl my hair?? Do I wear a cute top? My favorite doc marten sandals?), how I should present myself (should I be the shy one? The out-going one? The boy-crazy one? The Jesus freak?), and how the social aspect would pan out (I was freshly out of a relationship and looking for fresh meat, but I also wanted to make friends and be social). Upon arriving, I was thrown into a "Family" (a small group of counselors who planned activities together) of about 8 counselors, three of whom would end up having a significant impact on my life. We decided on JIMBF as our family name, which stands for Jesus is My Boyfriend. We had two weeks of staff training, during which I lived in a cabin with a dozen other girls my age (at 19-22, we could hardly call ourselves women). Although this seems completely uncharacteristic for anyone who knows me now, during those weeks I was the first one up and in the shower, and usually the only one to blow dry my hair, put on mascara and lip gloss, and carefully choose my outfit for the day.
My first summer as a counselor was intense. I turned 21 that August, and although I looked and felt like a grown-up, the reality is that I was still a child. Although the young girls I counseled saw me as a role model and a good Christian example, this really couldn't have been further from the truth. I often didn't feel like I was being honest with my campers, or with myself, by leading Bible studies and answering their questions about faith. My time as a camp counselor was just one part in a long process of examining my religious faith, which is something that's still on-going and a work in progress.
Relationally, camp counseling was the most unique experience of my life. My co-workers were also my best friends. There was no boundary between work and play, 23 hours a day (we had a one-hour break afternoon, during which we'd pile the maximum number of people possible into a car and head to the town coffee shop for a Frescata... a highly caloric frozen caffeinated chocolate beverage). We had weekends off, and I spent as many as possible sticking around camp. We'd hang out on the lake during the day, and stay up until dawn in the staff lounge on "big blue", this disgusting old couch that everyone loved, reasons unknown. I really felt like I fit in with my peers at camp, and got along well with ALMOST everyone. I formed close friendships with two other girls, and the three of us stayed in touch for many years. Recently, I've mostly lost touch with one of them, but the other remains one of my closest friends. If there is one single thing for which I'm most grateful to WAPO, it is that friendship.
In addition to fun and friends, I was also looking for love that summer, and I found it almost immediately. Although it was definitely not a right fit long-term, I have nothing but positive things to say about my camp relationship. It lasted through that first summer, long-distance during the school year following, through a second summer at camp, and half-way through another school year. I invested much more of my life to that relationship than any 21-22 year old should. Although I felt completely blind-sided by what seemed to me to be an abrupt ending, looking back, I can see now that saying good-bye was the best thing he could have done both for himself AND for me. We parted ways at a mid-winter camp reunion, just a few yards from the spot we had met a year and half prior.... and we haven't seen each other since. At the time, the 19 months we'd been together felt like forever, and starting over "at ground zero", as I referred to it, felt impossible. Nine years later, that time in my life almost feels like a blip on the radar. A blip that taught me a lot, and that I remember with fondness. I think, and hope, that he would agree. Although broken hearts are one of the hardest things many people go through in life, they also help us remember our strength as individuals, and the importance of balance and having multiple "significant others" in our lives, beyond our romantic partners. During the time that I felt weaker than I've ever felt before or since, I also felt infinitely supported and loved by my family and friends.
If you were ever a camp counselor, you probably have similar experiences and stories. Ultimately, I think my summers as camp counselor hold all of my most influential "coming of age" stories. I worked a little, played a lot, made mistakes, made friends, made enemies, fell in love. As a young camper looking forward, being a counselor seemed glamorous and grown-up and exciting. As an adult looking back, being a counselor was formative; a learning experience and a stepping stone. If you are reading this and were a part of my WAPO experience, thank you for that.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
If You Told Me A Year Ago That I'd Be Doing This Today, I Wouldn't Have Believed You
2012 is the first year I've ever actually kept a New Year's resolution.
It's also the first year that my resolution wasn't something like dropping 10 pounds or eating more vegetables.
There were a lot of social unknowns at the beginning of this year. (see December 2011 "The Privilege of Saying Good-bye"). A good portion of my friends had recently moved out of state, and others were disappearing into a suburban world of 2.5 kids and picket fences. To avoid boredom and loneliness, I knew that I needed to make some changes and do something new. So...
I decided to make it my resolution to accept all invitations, to take relational risks, to have new experiences, and to not worry about staying up past my bedtime.
Check, Check, check, and CHECK.
The result: beyond my wildest imagination. So many times this year, I've found myself saying, "If you would have told me a year ago that I'd be doing this today, I never would have believed you." And it's true. Every day (that's only a slight exaggeration) has been an adventure. I haven't said no to anything. I've had more "firsts" in 2012 than I'd had in the decade prior, combined.
I've not just stepped, but LEAPED out of my comfort zone more times than I can count this year. I didn't know if I'd be accepted, if I'd make friends, if people would appreciate or understand my quirkiness. There were a few false starts, and a few little road bumps. But I learned from them, and moved onward and upward.
The payoff has been so much greater than I expected. I don't even have the words to explain my feelings about this year, so instead, here is a Top 10 list of "If you would have told me a year ago that I'd be doing this today, I never would have believed you" Moments/Experiences:
1. Meeting my new best friend, and the resulting whirlwind of adventures, invitations, hilarity, and general awesomeness.
2. Traveling to Colombia with some of my favorite girls, to visit some of my other favorite girls. Particular highlight: Taganga, which to date is my favorite place on earth. Meeting people from all over the globe.
3. Holi Party - wearing white and throwing colorful paint on friends, in the rain. Getting messy can be the most fun.
4. Ben's re-proposal to me on our 5-year anniversary.
5. Being part of my Ami's wedding. Okay, so THIS I'd known I would eventually be doing since circa 1998, but it was too special to not mention.
6. My 30 Before 30 Project. Doing one new thing each day for a month to celebrate the beginning of a new decade.
7. Having an amazing 30th birthday celebration.
8. Impromptu trip to Wisconsin Dells and Market Days.
9. Becoming involved in the largest grass-roots political campaign in Minnesota; joining 27,000 like-minded volunteers and witnessing The Day that Love Won.
10. Making my "drag debut" at the hottest "night club" in town, Chateau Fremont.
To say that this year has been a success is an understatement. To say that I am blessed beyond belief is an understatement.
I don't think it will be possible to have this many new experiences in 2013. But I've learned this year to not be limited by expectations. Every day is a new adventure, and I can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring.
It's also the first year that my resolution wasn't something like dropping 10 pounds or eating more vegetables.
There were a lot of social unknowns at the beginning of this year. (see December 2011 "The Privilege of Saying Good-bye"). A good portion of my friends had recently moved out of state, and others were disappearing into a suburban world of 2.5 kids and picket fences. To avoid boredom and loneliness, I knew that I needed to make some changes and do something new. So...
I decided to make it my resolution to accept all invitations, to take relational risks, to have new experiences, and to not worry about staying up past my bedtime.
Check, Check, check, and CHECK.
The result: beyond my wildest imagination. So many times this year, I've found myself saying, "If you would have told me a year ago that I'd be doing this today, I never would have believed you." And it's true. Every day (that's only a slight exaggeration) has been an adventure. I haven't said no to anything. I've had more "firsts" in 2012 than I'd had in the decade prior, combined.
I've not just stepped, but LEAPED out of my comfort zone more times than I can count this year. I didn't know if I'd be accepted, if I'd make friends, if people would appreciate or understand my quirkiness. There were a few false starts, and a few little road bumps. But I learned from them, and moved onward and upward.
The payoff has been so much greater than I expected. I don't even have the words to explain my feelings about this year, so instead, here is a Top 10 list of "If you would have told me a year ago that I'd be doing this today, I never would have believed you" Moments/Experiences:
1. Meeting my new best friend, and the resulting whirlwind of adventures, invitations, hilarity, and general awesomeness.
2. Traveling to Colombia with some of my favorite girls, to visit some of my other favorite girls. Particular highlight: Taganga, which to date is my favorite place on earth. Meeting people from all over the globe.
3. Holi Party - wearing white and throwing colorful paint on friends, in the rain. Getting messy can be the most fun.
4. Ben's re-proposal to me on our 5-year anniversary.
5. Being part of my Ami's wedding. Okay, so THIS I'd known I would eventually be doing since circa 1998, but it was too special to not mention.
6. My 30 Before 30 Project. Doing one new thing each day for a month to celebrate the beginning of a new decade.
7. Having an amazing 30th birthday celebration.
8. Impromptu trip to Wisconsin Dells and Market Days.
9. Becoming involved in the largest grass-roots political campaign in Minnesota; joining 27,000 like-minded volunteers and witnessing The Day that Love Won.
10. Making my "drag debut" at the hottest "night club" in town, Chateau Fremont.
To say that this year has been a success is an understatement. To say that I am blessed beyond belief is an understatement.
I don't think it will be possible to have this many new experiences in 2013. But I've learned this year to not be limited by expectations. Every day is a new adventure, and I can't wait to see what tomorrow will bring.
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