Because Amy Schumer is one of the loves of my life and her words speak truth to my soul, I’m opening and closing today’s post with a quote of hers.

To begin, “I am a woman with thoughts and questions and shit to say.”

 
This morning, those thoughts, questions, and shit to say pertain to the pressure to be a certain way and the inevitable judgement if one doesn’t meet those expectations – In what that individual eats, wears, says, does, shares, essentially, lives. This may be due in part to the conversation surrounding those who make resolutions and are attempting to keep them, and those who are cynical of the idea and find it improbable that others would choose to make that attempt.

It occurs to me, that no matter what your resolution is (or is not) you will in many ways succeed, and in some ways you will fail. Because you’re human.

In the process of completing my personal training and yoga teacher training programs, I remember the daunting feeling I had that my future clients and students wouldn’t benefit from my teaching style, wouldn’t enjoy my classes, and beyond all other fears, that they wouldn’t like me.

So, in addition to giving myself pep talks while driving to teach (and I’m sure getting weird looks from strangers as I passionately pumped myself up) I also made it a point to memorize and absorb John Wooden’s words of wisdom, “You can’t let praise or criticism get to you. It’s a weakness to get caught up in either one.”

Wouldn’t you know it, not everyone likes my teaching style, not everyone enjoys my classes, and I’m not 100% sure, but they probably don’t all like me. And while I’d be lying if I said that doesn’t ever affect me, I also know that I didn’t sign up for the impossible job of receiving the undivided approval of others.

I still don’t have a 5 year plan. In fact, I’m not even sure what I’m going to eat for lunch today. I semi-regularly pose the question ‘What am I doing with my life?’ both internally as I scroll through my Instagram feed and aloud as I’m watching ‘Teen Mom‘.

With all that being said, I’ve committed to letting 2016 be the year that I commit to being me. Authentically, imperfectly, unapologetically (unless I’m being a jerk) me. Getting down with my best and most bad ass self.

I say if I’m beautiful. I say if I’m strong. You will not determine my story — I will. – Amy Schumer

Here I go again on my own blog. The blog where I continuously hop back and forth between posting daily and shutting down altogether. Just when I think I’ve signed off for good (how official does that sound?) one of my favorite writers reappears to spark inspiration, or I feel the need to process some life moment, and writing becomes my go-to menu item. Today it’s a combination of the two. 

We closed on our house one year ago and I spent January 6 in the upstairs bathroom with our dogs as movers carried our Texas belongings into our Connecticut home. The nonstop barking, cold Winter air, and not knowing where to find the closest Target (Kidding. Kind of. But not really) had me wondering if a cross-country move was a mistake. My mom would tell you I suck at change (she’d use kinder words than those) and I would agree. My default reaction to discomfort becomes a shoulda/coulda/woulda mindset. 

365 days later, I still have my moments of doubt. Because who hasn’t peered over the fence to the neighbor’s yard to check out if their (proverbial) grass is greener? I like to think that’s human nature rather than unique to me. But beyond and greater than that questioning, I’ve also had moments of faith that this is where I’m meant to be. 

In his 2005 commencement address at Stanford, Steve Jobs remarked, 

You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something — your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. Because believing that the dots will connect down the road will give you the confidence to follow your heart even when it leads you off the well-worn path and that will make all the difference.

In moving from Iowa to Texas, I never imagined I would meet my husband from New York. And in stepping into my first Power Yoga class, becoming an instructor was the furthest thing from my mind. Few things, like my love for margaritas, college football, ‘The Bachelor’ fantasy league, and spontaneous dance parties, have been constant. Most of the best people, experiences, hobbies, and memories in my life have been a result of connected dots and a product of change. So, I guess change isn’t so bad after all.   The dots will connect. Follow your heart.

I’ve loved blogging for the ideas it’s sparked, the motivation it’s provided, the entertainment it’s offered, and more than anything else, for the way in which it’s continued to serve as an outlet to genuinely connect with others and to highlight our shared similarities and also, our unique experiences. 
We all have stories, and this one is mine.
When I was 17, my older brother passed away in a tragic accident. Within the same year, my sister was married, my parents moved, and I started college. For the first time in my life, I was away from home, and with the recent change in life circumstances, my sense of home dissipated. 
I combated my feelings of grief by hyper focusing on coursework and I rejected feelings of loneliness by investing my time volunteering, playing intramural sports, signing up for extracurricular activities, and making new friends. 
I became a pro at avoidance, at smiling outwardly while suffering inwardly, and by adopting a “fake it til you make it” mentality. I’d always been a happy go lucky kind of girl, and I wasn’t going to allow life stressors to dampen my ability to choose to be happy. 
As feelings of adversity increased, causing my inner turmoil to heighten, so did my drive to create and maintain an outward image of perfection. I hit the gym harder, got better grades, became more involved on campus, and diminished any risk of appearing as someone who needed help. The more out of control my feelings became, the more effort I put forth in asserting control in all other areas of my life.
I alternated between genuinely enjoying my college experiences on my best days, and feeling that God had made a mistake in taking my brother’s life over mine on my worst. A little survivor’s guilt was normal, I convinced myself, as I studied Psychology and became determined to solve my own problems before admitting them to anyone else. 
Ironically, I chose to go into a field where I could help others, while maintaining a refusal to let others help me. I saw vulnerability as weakness, tears as unproductive, and grief as something to get over rather than to work through. I endured pain alone, because the thought of having to admit that I had a problem that I couldn’t fix was too much for my stubborn pride to handle. 
It wasn’t until almost 10 years into my decided commitment to deal with my shit on my own that I came across a book that entirely changed my perspective on dealing with pain, loss, and life in general. In ‘The Gifts of Imperfection’, Brené Brown writes “Many of us are willing to extend a helping hand, but we’re very reluctant to reach out for help when we need it ourselves. It’s as if we’ve divided the world into ‘those who offer help’ and ‘those who need help.’ The truth is that we are both.”
Depression and anxiety do not define who we are as human beings, they are byproducts we experience along the journey of life. Similarly, expressing pain isn’t a sign of weakness, asking for help isn’t a burden to others, and acknowledging that life isn’t always okay doesn’t mean that we’re doing anything wrong. 
As my hands tremble lightly and my voice begins to shake in launching into my own personal struggles, I’m convinced that admitting I’m far from perfect and that I’m not void of pain requires far greater strength than masking my struggle ever did. I’m hopeful that in owning and speaking my truth, marked with emotions on each end of the spectrum and everything in between, others will find the courage and comfort in embracing their own. 
In sharing our stories, the whole stories, complete with the crap we’d rather leave out, we grant ourselves and others the compassion, forgiveness, grace, and permission to be human. 
I’ll of course be back to share about baking, yoga, and everything in between, but I decided that today was as good as any to share the behind the scenes and under the surface that are often easier to leave out than to acknowledge. Here’s to being human and all the offering help and needing help that it entails.