Us at my Nerdy 30 birthday party last year.
Growing up, I think we all form this idea of what love looks like. We think it’s magical moments full of candy and flowers, and over-the-top romantic gestures. Kevin and I have been together for over 6½ years, and our relationship looks nothing like this, and that’s a good thing. It's the inside jokes, shared passions, endless support, and tiny acts of love that make our relationship what it is.
We'll celebrate tonight with a simple dinner cooked at home and an exchange or cards. It's what we've done for every Valentine's Day so far, and I hope it's all we continue to do in the future.
Happy Valentine's Day, my love!
A few days ago while I was catching up on my Simple Abundance reading, I read something that really stayed with me: “Perhaps if one really knew when one was happy one would know the things that were necessary for one’s life.” (Spoken by Joanna Field) It’s days later, and I can’t stop thinking about this.
You see, Joanna, way back in the 1940s, began questioning if she was living her authentic life. She was worried that she didn’t know what truly made her happy, so she began keeping a journal of what triggered feelings of delight in her daily life. She talks about digging through “the minutiae of the mundane” to find what was missing.
I’m a firm believer that the right books (or the right words) find you at the right time. Lately, I’ve been thinking about what makes me happy. My thought is that in order to be happy, you need to be able to recognize what it is that makes you feel that way. (Don’t get me wrong, I’m very happy, but I think we can all stand to be even happier than we already are.) So, that’s what I’ve been up to lately: taking note (literally) of what brings me joy. I’ve been really sinking back into myself to connect with my happiness.
Sometimes, I think the moments that bring us the most joy are so small and fleeting that we don’t always recognize them when they happen. I’ve been trying to slow down a bit as well as pay more attention so that I can recognize those bits of magic that appear in my days. That giant stretch I do when I first get out of bed. That first sip of coffee. The sunlight just beginning to peek through the windows. Seeing our house lit up as I pull into the driveway. The weird leap Hamburgers does whenever we let him outside. What I’m finding as I pause and appreciate these moments is that they’re not so fleeting anymore. The joy I feel seems to last a bit longer.
These little moments are tiny, so seemingly insignificant to everyone else, but they make up who we are. I think that’s what I’m finding so fascinating about happiness ¾ we may share some things that are the source of our happiness, but we also have things that are unique to us. And as cheesy as it sounds, I think that’s what makes the world such a magical place.
This weekend my mom got her first car at the young age of 57. It was a gift to her from my dad. A testament of his love.
My parents are not flashy people. They’re far from it, actually. They live in a humble little house in a humble little city. They don’t go out to dinner, and they’ve been wearing the same clothes for ages. My dad drives a trusty (and maybe a bit rusty) old SUV to work each day while my mom stays home and tends to the house.
Did I mention that they’re still madly in love? As in, my dad has written a love note to my mom each day of their 36-year marriage. As in, my mom still holds on to every single word he says.
Back to the car, though.
While we were growing up, my dad got it in his mind that he had to buy each of his children --- my sister, brother and me --- a new car for high school graduation. We needed something nice and reliable as we embarked on the next leg of our journey: college. It was just like my dad to insist on this. He always wanted us to have the nicest of things and made sure that we did. Did I mention that he worked two jobs my entire childhood so that he could afford to do this?
To make sure they were able to afford to buy us new cars, my dad drove the same van for nearly 15 years. When the van fell apart, he bought an old SUV. My mom was able to drive it when she needed it, but it was my dad's car, and she was OK with that. She would occasionally borrow our cars when we were home, which wasn’t often. Still, she was OK with all of it.
This isn’t a story about cars. No, it’s far more than that. It’s the story of a woman, who was selfless enough to go without so that her children wouldn’t have to. It’s the story of a man that is always looking for a way to show his wife that he loves her. It’s the story of selflessness. It’s the story of patience. It's the story of good people getting what they deserve.
This is why, when my mom called on Sunday to tell me she finally had a car of her own, I cried.
(For some reason, this was perhaps one of the most emotional things I've ever written. I realize it's unlike anything else I've ever shared, but it was a story I had to tell.)
As much as I tried to play it off like it was no big deal, turning 30 was a struggle for me. I jokingly pointed out the gray hairs starting to appear at my hairline and questioned if smile lines were really from smiling or just old age, but I did have a hard time with it.
When you reach a milestone age, you can’t help but look back and reflect on all that you have and haven’t accomplished. And you can’t help but not feel completely satisfied. At first thought, 30 years is a substantial amount of time on this planet, enough time to do something of substance. But really, I don’t feel like I truly got a grasp on who I am until at least 25, and I still don’t fully know what I want from life. So really, I now feel like life really begins at 30. Once I accepted that, I embraced getting older and am looking forward to what the future brings.
Books are my passion. My mom, also a book lover, couldn’t wait to teach me how to read. So, at age 3, I was reading Dr. Seuss books to her. My siblings weren’t readers, so we bonded over our love of books, and she took every chance she had to spoil me with them.
I’ve only come to love reading more with age. My weekly trips to the library are what I look forward to most. Leaving the library, a stack of books in hand, I feel like I have a world of possiblities before me.
Here’s my biggest regret: I don’t keep track of what I read. In fact, I checked the same book out of the library three times this year. About halfway through the first chapter, I realized I had read this book once or twice before. I’ve signed up for Goodreads, but always forget to log in to mark off my recent read.
Still, one book has stuck with me throughout the entire year: The Gifts of Imperfection by Brene Brown. I had read I Thought It Was Just Me, but I didn’t connect with it nearly as much as The Gifts of Imperfection. I highlighted pretty much the entire book and often found myself wanting to high-give the book. It’s just … perfect. It was exactly the book I needed to read at the time I read it. It was truly a gift to me, which is exactly what I think a good book should be.
For 2012, however, I’ve decided to make a commitment to GoodReads. Even if I don’t review books, I want to at least be able to look back at the books I’ve read and loved. Won’t you join me?
Who could forget the infamous friendship bracelets/buddy bands conflict?
I’m not the best at making new friends. My shyness is often misinterpreted. I’ve always admired people who can start up a conversation with anyone about anything. I think my problem is that I think too much. I worry that I’ll say the wrong thing, and so I don’t say anything at all. For years I’ve watched Kevin make friend after friend, wondering how he does it. I’ve come to the conclusion that he doesn’t give it much thought, and so his relationships are easy from the start.
In 2011, I know I met new people here and there. What I find more significant though is that I finally reached out and truly “met” some of my acquaintances. By this, I mean that I turned them into friends. Perhaps one of the strongest friendships I grew this year came as the result of finding common ground – crafting. The girlfriend of a friend of Kevin’s and I both realized we had the same passion, and just like that a friendship was born.
It’s been the same with a few other people… people I would see at friends’ houses or Kevin’s work events. I learned that if you just start talking … talking about anything … that the people you are meant to be friends with will start talking back. You just have to break that initial ice.
For this year's Reverb, I'm using Kaileen Elise's prompts. Feel free to use them, or create your own!
Have you seen a happier group of folks? And does anyone else miss my long hair as much as I do?
Where did 2011 begin? After waiting until the absolute last minute to decide how to celebrate New Year’s Eve, we decided to throw a party with our friends/neighbors. All of it was thrown together in a couple of days, so naturally the planner in me was nervous. What if everyone else already had plans? What if no one else shows up? What if the food doesn’t reflect an overall theme? (Have I mentioned that it’s exhausting being me?)
The night of the party came, and to be honest, not very many people did show up. (Apparently New Year’s is a holiday you plan ahead for. Who knew?) But, one by one, our closest friends arrived, as did those who would later become closet friends. Of course they didn’t make plans. They all knew we’d be spending it together. We donned ridiculous party hats, flower leis, drank champagne, and rang in the new year. It was by far the most memorable New Year’s Eve to date.
I realize now that it was that particular night that set the stage for the rest of the year. So much of 2011 was about friendship. It was the year that I allowed myself to open up to others and connect with them. It was the year that our group of friends became a true family.
As for New Year's this year? There's no question who I'll be spending it with.
For this year's Reverb, I'm using Kaileen Elise's prompts. Feel free to use them, or create your own!
