Really good news.

"Chasing meaning is better for your health than trying to avoid discomfort."  

Watch this video.  And then we'll talk.

TED strikes again, ladies and gentlemen.

This science changes things for anxious folks.  One of the most powerful tips I have ever been given about coping with stress and anxiety is to let myself feel the physiological feelings my body experiences in anxious moments.  Just let the feelings wash over me.  Acknowledge them.  Experience them.  Because they are JUST feelings.  And I don't always have to know why my body feels them.  There isn't always a good reason or something I should be worried about.  In fact most of the time - when I was feeling anxious often - it was just because of my serotonin and Mood Monsters.  

So knowing this, what Kelly McGonigal* talked about above, COMPLETELY CHANGES THINGS when it comes to our stress response!  I would LOVE to think of the "yucky" anxious feelings we all feel from time to time as my body preparing me for success!  So now I will.  And then maybe we can take those moments of I-feel-so-anxious-for-no-apparent-reason and turn them into "Hmmm I'm feeling pretty anxious... maybe that means I'm about to do something cool.  Or that I should go for a run.  Or go kick some a$$ at a Zumba class.  Or just say 'Hey body, we're all good here.  Save it for a time when I'm really going to need this preparation.'"  

Wow.  I think this changed my life.

And I hope it can do a little something for yours too.

Happy Sunday, everyone.  I hope you are relaxed and content.

*Her last name is McGonigal!!  I'm going to pretend like it's actually spelled McGonagall, and that her first name is actually Minerva.

Bye!

Today's jam: "Little Too Much" by Natasha Bedingfield 

About Time

I saw About Time last night, the new(ish) movie starring Rachel McAdams, Bill Weasley Domhnall Gleeson, and Bill Nighy.  It was amazing.  I absolutely loved it.  In fact I haven't had such a strong reaction to a movie in a while.  I mean I don't think it's gotten any serious critical acclaim, and I don't know what Ebert and Roeper would say, but I don't care.  It really got me good.

And the main message, driven home in the moving final sequence of the film, couldn't be more appropriate or meaningful for us anxious-minded folks.  In my humble opinion, anyway.

So get after it!

Today's jam:  "Wild and Reckless" by Austin Jenckes

(Because I'm mourning his elimination from The Voice last night.  I mean really!!!)

Who, me?

Hi readers (all 3 of you... ba-dum-CHHHH)!

I have something pretty exciting to share.  A little over a month ago, I attended an incredible event called Collide - a day for women.  Collide gatherings are held quarterly, at First Presbyterian Church in Bellingham, WA; the same building where I attended The INN (a college ministry) during my time at Western.  The INN is a beautiful place and so is Collide.  A wonderful day full of care and compassion and community for women of all ages.  After the last event, I felt compelled to share - via the contact cards provided - that I have been through a lot when it comes to anxiety and would be happy to chat with other women who might be struggling.  To share stories, validate feelings, etc.  

Well lo and behold, after communicating with the wonderful women who are the brains behind the Collide operation, I have been invited to share my story and experiences as a breakout session leader at the next event - this Saturday, November 16th!  

I am still kind of in shock.  But I am SO excited, so honored, and so looking forward to this amazing opportunity.  And would love for you to join me!  ... If you're a woman.  Sorry fellas.  I don't make the rules.  

Anyway, if you are interested in this event, CLICK HERE to register!  You don't have to pre-register to attend, but it is appreciated if possible.  Or if you have more questions, feel free to check out the Collide facebook page here or email me at AndieLovesCompany@gmail.com :)  And did I mention it's FREE?!  What a deal!  If When you are uber impressed with the day and delicious lunch provided (!!!), there will be an opportunity to donate to the cause, should you feel so inclined.   

So here I sit (bet you can't guess where), trying to collect the millions of thoughts I've had about what I want to share since agreeing to speak.  Yikes.  Prayers, good vibes, and/or whatever good mojo you believe in are much appreciated!

I am pretty dang nervous, but I know it will be a great day.  Crazy how life happens, huh?  You just never know when the urge to write your name on a contact card could turn into an amazing opportunity.

Today's jam:  "Lost in the Light" by Bahamas

Bye bye, love birds.

(I don't know... I'm running out of pet names for you)

For it is in giving that we receive.

“I slept and I dreamed that life is all joy.
I woke and I saw that life is all service.
I served and I saw that service is joy.” 

                                            ― Kahlil Gibran

Hey losers.

Sorry, just kidding.  I was feeling feisty.  It's the beginning of the week.  Moving on...  

Remember this post from a month or so ago when we I discussed the remarkable impact of gratitude on our lives and well-being?  Well I love that idea.  And I hope you did too.  And if I may be so bold, today I would like to talk about something I feel has just as profound an impact.  And that is giving.  Now don't freak.  I don't mean giving money (necessarily).  Though, that is wonderful if you are able.  What I am referring to is giving of your time, energy, heart, passions.  A few months ago I decided that seeing as it is my job to coordinate, recruit, and retain volunteers, I should probably stop just "talking the talk" and start walking the walk.  That is, become a volunteer myself.  In management / coordinator / director positions, I think it's important to put ourselves on the other side of the training every once in a while and get an idea for what it's like to be in someone else's shoes.  It's here where we get to answer questions like, "How could I improve?"  "How long is too long to sit in a training?"  "How long is too long to wait for a call back after an interview?"  It's been a couple years since I've been on the other side of the interview table.  Not to mention the fact that I used to spend a LOT of time with sweet little, cute little kiddos in my college nanny life, and I miss their energy, spunk, and sense of humor!  There is a lot to be learned from the innocent, imaginative, unashamed mind of a child, and I find so much energy and inspiration in the adorable hilarity that comes from mouths of babes.

So it didn't take much brainstorming for me to figure out how I wanted to spend my volunteer time.  As a kid I was in and out of the hospital a few more times than my parents would like to remember (nothing life-threatening and by the grace of God I am fine today!), and one thing that made my stay(s) much more comfortable and eased the worries of my family was the presence of a Child Life department.  Certified Child Life Specialists and volunteers exist to make life easier for children and parents of children admitted to the hospital.  Whether it's for a few days after an appendectomy or for multiple rounds of chemotherapy, parents and children find so much comfort in a friendly face who will bring crayons and coloring books to Susie (why is it always Susie?) on a particularly rough day.  Soooo... duh.  I says to myself, "Self!  This is what you're doing."  And it's already changing my life.  I have witnessed and/or experienced astonishing strength, deep despair, quite a few sobs, and plenty of uncontrollable laughter (mostly my own).  It's a roller coaster every single day, but what gets me through is knowing that even if for only 5 minutes, perhaps I was able to distract a sweet little kiddo from his/her ever-present pain and fear.  And that's good enough for me.

This video was introduced to me a couple weeks ago and it might as well take place in the very hospital where I serve.  It's beautiful and powerful and adorable and you'll love it.

Giving is a powerful thing.  And the best part is, we can ALL do it!  Find what floats your boat and dive in!  Bringing joy and relief and comfort to people who need it is amazing and profound and so, so easy.  

And "through this having and giving and sharing and receiving,
we too can share... and love... and have... and receive."
- Joey Tribbiani 

Today's jam: "Here with Me" by Susie Suh x Robot Koch

Road Rage.

[THREE posts in one month???  I'M ON FIRE!!!!!]

Alright.  This is a funny and random topic.  Road rage.  We've all been there (RIGHT?!  It's not just me???)  Believe it or not, I can be a MAJOR road rager.  Like, it's not pretty.  Granted I'm not one to get out of my car or flip anyone off (ever!) or roll down the window to scream obscenities.  Ok so maybe I'm not that bad!  That's good to know.  But it happens.  Some of my most notable/embarrassing/pathetic quotes include, "GET A LIFE!", "I FREAKING HATE YOU!", and "MAKE IT HAPPEN, IDIOT!"  Not to mention the fact that certain words that NEVER make it into my day-to-day conversations tend to make their way into the mix.  Uh oh!  

I'm not proud of it.  And on the rare occasions when I think the people at whom my anger is targeted have seen me, I immediately feel terrible.  Just awful.  I've shared this with friends before and many responses are the same... "You seem pretty even-keel, I never would have thought!" or "I don't think I've ever seen you mad at someone.  I bet it isn't as bad as you think."  To you doubters I say: Ohhhhh bless your generous hearts.  If only that were true.  But you're right, I don't think I've ever made my anger too obvious to the drivers I temporarily loathe.  

Here's the thing:  Losing your head in a weak moment can really impact someone in a big, BIG way.  Just like a simple smile can save the lives of people on the brink of life-threatening depression, a simple dirty look or expletive can leave a lasting, negative impression.  Take for example what happened to me this evening:  I had a bit of a rough day.  Tough meeting with a volunteer, things just not quite going my way, blah blah blah.  I'm over it.  Nothing a little pumpkin brew and tomato basil soup from Metropolitan Market can't fix!  But on my way home from Met Market, I passed a driver who was NOT my biggest fan.  We were on opposite sides of a 4-way stop and he forgot to signal that he wanted to turn left in front of me until the last second, so I started to move at the same time he did and I guess accidentally cut him off.  No harm done.  I stopped, he went, and all was well.  But not for him!  SHEESH, you'd think I had totaled his car.  As he turned to pass me, he very clearly, intentionally and distinctly yelled "B*TCH!!" and went on his not-so-merry way.  Ouch.  I realize this isn't a big deal, and I realize his opinion of me matters NOT AT ALL.  But after a long tough day, when all I wanted was to get home to my cold beer and hot soup, this wasn't very fun.  

I have heard a few stories of random acts of kindness lately, particularly in drive-thrus and coffee shops, and I LOVE EVERYTHING ABOUT THEM.  What a novel idea!  Share some kindness and love without expecting any credit or gestures in return.  So the moral of the story is this:  Every day we have choices.  Jeans or capris?  Heels or flats?  Bagel or cereal?  Hot or iced?

Next time I'm throwing a road rage hissy fit, I'm going to find the nearest drive-thru and buy a treat for a stranger.  I really am!  Because it's just as easy to make a day as it is to ruin one, and I think acts of kindness hold the power to make two days at once.

The choice is ours.

Today's Jam: "Joy of Nothing" by Foy Vance

Bad-itude to Gratitude.

Hey y'all.  I have a little somethin-somethin to share today.  And rather than spending a chunk of your day reading another one of my too-wordy posts, I hope you'll spend 7-ish minutes watching this video.  Because who among us couldn't use another tool to conquer the nasty, ugly, and inevitable BAD-ITUDES we all wear from time to time??  Trust me.  This is good stuff.

(if you have a hard time getting the video above to load, then Click Here)

Have a good one, my nerds!

Oh and Today's Jam is an extra special treat:
"Tonight You Belong to Me"

Where my girls at?

[DISCLAIMER FOR THE FELLAS: This post doesn't apply to you in a direct sort of way.  But that doesn't mean it doesn't apply to you at all.  So read on if you dare.  Just don't say I didn't warn you.  Because you might feel a little uncomfy.  And for that I am very, sincerely, not-at-all sorry.]

Hey ladies.

It's me, Andie.

Duh.

I'm comin' to you live from my favorite Starbucks (when am I not?), sipping on this masterpiece...

... and getting ready to talk to you about something pretty serious.  And not to be taken lightly.  Because I think you can perhaps relate.

Do you find yourself struggling with...

... chronic fatigue?

... headaches?

... backaches?

... muscle tension?

... changes in appetite?

... loss of focus?

... lack of interest in usual activities?

... intense shift in mood?

... rapid change in weight?

... overall malaise?

... inexplicable sadness?

... nearly unbearable abdominal pain?

... observable psychosis?

Then visit your doctor couch ASAP, because you may be experiencing imminent death WOMANHOOD.

Or more specifically, your friend and mine, that unwelcome B!@#% Aunt Flow.

Never invited.  Always imposing.  The Queen of overstayed welcomes.

Yikes, yikes, yikes.

Why must we go there?  You might ask.  Well here's why:  Because this is a blog about anxiety and reality and struggles and this is a real-life, anxiety-producing, monthly mega-struggle!  That's why!!!  What kind of a question is that anyway???  WHEW.  Sorry.  But you see, I have strong feelings about this.  Because she-who-must-not-be-named (the uterus... call it what you want...  Voldemort aka Slytherin aka Bellatrix aka Death Eater aka Horcrux aka WhoreCrux... too much on that last one?) puts us through a lot of misery.  Every.  Single.  Month.  And I know this whole process is sometimes taken as a joke or described as "gross" or just generally taboo to talk openly about, but I think that's stupid.  Well I don't just THINK it's stupid.  It IS stupid.  Because we don't deserve to feel like a joke or gross or taboo.  I didn't choose to be a female.  It chose me.  And I sure as H-E-double-tampons didn't choose to have a period.  Because absolutely no woman in her right mind would.  But here's the thing:  Without these hellacious processes, absolutely none of us would exist.  So I mean, you're welcome.  Ok, ok, that's taking it a bit too far.  I didn't invent it.  But I think you know what I'm saying.  I'm not a leper.  I'm not gross.  I'm not psychotic (though it's debatable... more on that in a sec).  But every month, I feel as though I am.  I feel sick.  I feel sad.  I feel zitty.  I feel like I've gained 30lbs over night.  I feel awful.  Does this sound familiar, ladies?  This ain't no joke!  

Without fail, every single month - let me repeat... EVERY SINGLE MONTH - I feel like a crazy person.  We've all been there.  Guys too.  Just feeling a little off.  More irritable than usual.  Perceiving everything as a big deal or worthy of a melt-down.  For some people (like me) it happens when we haven't eaten recently enough.  Hangry, as we've talked about before.  But this is a different brand.  Here's the usual timeline:  One week before Aunt Flow comes a-knockin' - TIRED.  MUSCLES HURT.  WHY DO I FEEL LIKE I NEED A NAP EVERY HOUR??  A few days before - TEARS ON TEARS ON TEARS.  God help me and anyone around me if something upsetting happens about 48ish hours before the eagle has landed.  Things are gonna get teary.  And why is everyone so annoying??  How dare that woman at the grocery store cut me off?!  How dare my coworker ask me if I'm crabby today?!  Why is that man driving 25 miles per hour on a busy arterial?!  But more importantly, WHY DO I WANT TO KILL ALL OF THEM?!  And then the anxiety sets in.  "Oh my gosh I was so mean to that woman at the grocery store.  What if she was really hurt by that face I gave her?" "My coworker was just joking and I totally bit her head off... she's going to hate me now!" "That poor man was just being cautious.  Why did I wave my hands at him in obvious road rage?  I feel terrible."  Tears on tears on tears.  Touching Hallmark commercial - tears.  Nice email from a volunteer - tears.  I AM CRAZY!  And the most remarkable part of it is, when all of this madness sets in every month, I never EVER think, "Hey Andie, go easy on yourself.  You know what's right around the corner... all of this is to be expected.  Now go take a walk.  A nap.  A Xanax [kidding]."  The point is, never underestimate the power of she-who-must-not-be-named.  She means well.  She's just doing her job.  But the havoc she wreaks is enough to transform an ordinary woman into Cruella DeVil in no time flat.  And it doesn't mean we're crazy.  Or gross.  Or over the cuckoo's nest.  It just means we're healthy.  That our bodies are functioning properly.  That someday we might be able to bring new life into the world.  Holy smokes, that's awesome.  So next time you're a big mess of anxiety and tears and inexplicable sadness and feeling obese and disgusting and zitty, don't forget to check yourself before you wreck yourself (or your car/computer/someone around you) and think about whether Aunt Flow might be to blame.

Also, don't mess around with abnormalities.  With any of your lady parts.  Get regular exams, don't ignore strange symptoms, and remember you have nothing to be ashamed of.  Ok, PSA over.  Not to be confused with PMS.  BA-DUM-CHHHHHHH!

And another thing:  Speaking of PMS, here's a word to the wise.  Nobody - and I mean nobody - is allowed to blame my moodiness/sensitivity/anger/emotions on PMS but ME.  Asking a woman if she's PMSing is a first class ticket on the RAGE EXPRESS.  For me anyway.  I can't speak for anyone else.  I'm just trying to help you avoid the wrath.

And finally, there's this:

Hilarious!  Except don't order your period care packages from Hello Flo.  Instead visit www.ThePeriodStore.com and order your monthly dose of sanity-savers from them!  One of the founders is a dear friend of my dear friend Russanne, and their genius deserves your business!  Your lady business... I'm on a roll!  

And now I leave you with three simple words of advice:  ThermaCare heat wraps.  You can thank me later.

Seeya!

Today's Jam:  "Latch" by Disclosure

Because there are few ailments that a dance break can't cure.

Work-iversary.

Last week marked two years at my job.  The job that scared the living daylights out of me.  The job that tore me out of Bellingham and away from everything I knew and loved in college.  The job at which I cried in the bathroom a handful of times during the first few months.  The job I thought I'd be lucky to survive for even a year.  The job I HATED.  Needless to say, two years is a big deal to me.  A big, BIG deal.  I remember having some casual conversations with people older and wiser than me when I started this job.  They said, "Oh wow, what a great opportunity!" and, "Good for you, that sounds terrific!" and one conversation in particular in which I was told, "That will look so great on your resume - especially if you stay for at least two years.  They say you need to be there at least two years."  Simple thoughts.  No-brainers.  Nothing to freak about.  But I freaked.  DUH!  I'm a freaker.  Especially then, when my resident Mood Monsters were just picking up steam in their pursuit of my sanity.  Pit in stomach.  Fight the tears.  Keep up the poker face, this is nothing to cry about.  "Two years" doesn't sound like a death sentence to most people.  But for me, right then, the thought that I would stick it out for TWO YEARS at this job sounded INSANE.  Impossible.  Laughable (cryable).   

During the "Dark Time" (the details of which I will spare you, since you need only to read previous posts to learn more than enough about that...), it was hard to tell whether my job was making me hate my life or my life was making me hate my job.  But it was neither.  Because there's just nothing wrong with my life.  I mean is it perfect?  Clearly, no.  And thank God for that.  There's not a lot of growth in perfection.  And a job is a JOB.  And only that, really.  Yes, ideally we would all love our jobs.  But we don't.  And that doesn't have to mean we don't love our lives either.  But since the job is what made me move and the job is what took up most of my time and the job is what everyone wanted to talk about and the job was MISERABLE for reasons I still don't quite understand, I confused that with my life being miserable as well.  I was miserable because I was anxious and figuring out that it's really hard to fit into the Big Girl Panties we're handed when we enter the working world.  But this job is incredible.  The more I've thought about it lately, the more I can't believe it, really.  I landed a full-time, full benefits, Monday-Friday day job.  Two months out of college.  I mean what?  I should have been thanking my lucky stars, not crying myself to sleep under them.  But it just wasn't that easy.

Day 1 at my job began at 7am, after a nearly sleepless night following an awful/tearful/cruel-and-unusual goodbye to my home and friends in Bellingham the previous evening.  In a deserted parking lot in south Tacoma.  With a bunch of 80-somethings wearing sun visors and light jackets and excited smiles, waiting to find out who their new fearless leader would be.  Well folks, their leader wasn't fearless.  She was me.  And I was the opposite of fearless.  And I was sleep deprived, and feeling sadder than I had ever remembered feeling, and having a hard time masking the dark circles and bloodshot eyes caused by crying all the way between Bellingham and Tacoma.  But I plastered on a smile that probably looked something like this:

When in reality my true emotions went a little something like this:

... and after a few introductions and a chorus of "just-HOW-old-are-you-anyway???"s and a check to make sure everyone was present, we boarded a bus for Long Beach, WA to attend the kite festival - a field trip planned by my predecessor.  A four hour bus ride.  A four hour tour of the city.  A four hour bus ride home.  That's right folks, you crunched those numbers correctly!  A 12-HOUR FIRST DAY ON THE JOB!  And I cried in the bus bathroom on the way home.  And I had to FORCE my lips into a smile.  And in that one measly day, I had to decline no less than 5 offers to MOVE IN with a kind-hearted volunteer with the best of intentions.  She wanted me to move in.  With her.  After knowing me 12 hours.  It was day 1 and my mind was already reeling with tidbits from college courses in "Maintaining Boundaries" and "Professional Relationships."  [Note: that same woman has asked me to live with her every single time I have seen her since then... sooooo that's 1 meeting per month x 24 months + at least 5 occasions outside of our monthly meetings, for a grand total of nearly 30 asks.  Explaining that I already have a place to live is NOT an effective deterrent, apparently].  Annnnnnnyyyway, after that hellacious day, I was sure there would be NO POSSIBLE WAY I'd make it even a month on the job, let alone TWO YEARS.  

And thank the good Lord above for my dear friend Megan and her lovely parents, Anne and Kevin.  Who let me stay with them before I had a Tacoma home.  Who were the people I got to come home to after that hellacious day.  I called Megan on my way home, said, "I'm pulling up outside.  Let's go to Metropolitan Market," and really didn't explain much more than that.  But she knows me well enough to hear the pain in my voice and see the dew in my eyes, and didn't ask any questions.  She was just there.  And when I thought I could speak without bursting into tears (partially because I think I actually cried out every bit of moisture in my body on the phone to my mom), I explained the situation and she and her parents were there for me every step of the way!  And I could never thank them enough.

The change I was experiencing was wayyyyy more than a long day at a Kite Festival.  And wayyyyy more overwhelming than I ever could have predicted.  And I'm just not very good with change.  Big change, anyway.  I can hang with changing my drink order at Starbucks from time to time.  In fact sometimes you gotta!  And in fact I LOVE exploring new places, trying new restaurants, redecorating rooms, etc.  Those changes are fine.  But significant life changes like moving to a new town and finding a new job and things like that are just really really hard for me.  

But you know what?  This last week has been so very very cool.  Two years at this job has caused me to reflect a LOT.  And in the healthiest way!  I am feeling nostalgia, but it's joyful nostalgia.  It's satisfied nostalgia.  It's nostalgia bursting with pride.  I did it.  I. Freaking. Did. It.  With the help of wise counsel and modern medicine and MY BADASSINESS, I made it here and I am happy.  Not every day, but a lot of the days.  And that's a mega improvement. 

And if I can prove my Mood Monsters wrong in this way, I can't wait to see what I'll be able to do next.

Today's jame: "Towers" by Bon Iver.

(because I listened to it on repeat when I left Bellingham, thus transforming it into my Moving On Song)

Bucket list, schmucket list.

Whoa.  Hi.  Remember me?  It's been a long time.  Oops!  Oh well.   I'm baaaaccckkkkk!  I don't have a good reason for how long it's taken me to post, so I won't try to make one up.  Let's just get right into the reason I feel inspired today, shall we??

A couple weeks ago I was honored to attend a beautiful memorial service for Grace, a woman who used to work in the International Foster Care department of my office.  She had worked for Catholic Community Services for over 30 years, dedicating her life to loving and serving children and families.  Needless to say, she was an incredible woman with an incredible spirit.  You can read more about her here.  I can't even begin to describe the atmosphere at Grace's memorial.  There are no words.  The air was thick with a combination of love, joy, and deep despair all at once.  It was as heartwarming as it was heartbreaking.  And it was beautiful.  As her loved ones spoke in turn about the incredible life she lived and mind-boggling 20 YEAR battle with cancer that eventually took her life, I can safely say there was not a dry eye in the house.  Truly.  I did not even know Grace that well, but she was one of those people who just had a little something extra special about her.  One of those people who you didn't have to know well to know that she would probably be happy to drop just about anything she was doing in order to help just about anyone who needed it.  She is special.  

The moments my eyes were the least dry were while listening to her daughters speak about the life their mom lived.  I was particularly touched when her youngest daughter spoke about the fact that Grace didn't have a Bucket List, and preferred to live her life without one.  This surprised me at first, because I had learned that Grace was quite the adventurer.  She loved to travel, try new things, drink wine and lots of it, and I just would have thought of her as the Bucket-List-writing type.  And one who would accomplish every single thing on the list.  But as her daughter explained it, Grace wasn't into Bucket Lists because she lived her life as though every moment was a Bucket List Moment.  She treated every new experience - every new sight, smell, taste, sound, feeling, person - as though that very instance had been on her bucket list all along.  Why focus all your energy on reaching some far-off goal and miss the little noteworthy moments that happen around us every day?  Her daughter summarized this point by expressing to us, "My sister and I were my mom's bucket list.  Our children - her grandchildren - were her bucket list.  YOU were her bucket list."

WOW.  This changes things, doesn't it?  What if we all lived this way?  Feeling that every moment is worth something.  Holy smokes.  Now don't get me wrong.  I see nothing wrong with Bucket Lists.  And while I don't have a formal, written-out list myself, there are certainly times when I take a mental note and think, "Ooooo I want to do that.  I'm adding that to the list."  I'm just saying our lists don't have to consist only of sipping espresso in Italy, road tripping across the country, and sunset wine tasting  on a vineyard in Napa Valley (all of which are on mine, in case you were wondering).  They can also include, "Make someone laugh," "compliment a stranger ," and "sing Whitney Houston karaoke solos."  I tend to get really caught up in reaching a goal FAST.  Everything helping me along the path is just a means to an end and makes me anxious and I want to breeze through it fast.  I used to do it all the time in high school choir.  We'd get a new song and while I really enjoyed practices with the rest of the ladies in our small choir, I LOOAATHED the first couple rehearsals when we got the music.  I was way behind many of the girls when it came to reading music so I had to learn most of the pieces by ear, and I was anxious, anxious, ANXIOUS until I knew them all by heart.  For me, the fun part was only after I felt completely comfortable and could start pouring my heart into perfecting each note, beat, and crescendo until it was a beautiful work of art.  This ridiculousness made me learn the music really fast, which was cool or whatever, but I completely missed out on the fact that learning is fun too!  And it was hard to learn sometimes, and I didn't want it to be hard for me.  Because I compared myself to everyone else and felt self-conscious about the fact that I thought I was fooling everyone into thinking I knew enough music theory to be accepted into the group.  Well let me tell you folks, that was DUMB.  Why?  There are many reasons.  A) I was soooo not the only one who didn't know how to read music.  WE WERE SEVENTEEN.  Yikes.  We were pretty good, yes, but not a bunch of freakin prodigies.  B) Nobody cared that I couldn't read the music.  Not a bit.  C) If I would have just stopped to smell the sheet music every once in a while, maybe I would have realized that messing up on notes is kinda funny and working really hard with the group to get it right feels SO GOOD.  

Anyway, that was too long of a story.  I just wanted to offer a small example of what I'm trying to say.  If we get too caught up in a far-off goal or outcome, we miss out on a lot of fun and learning and growth in the process.  We live each day with an illogical and unnecessary sense of urgency which blinds us to everything in the periphery of the task at hand.  And at the same time, there does not always have to be a task at hand!  Last week I was starting to get a little worried about myself and the fact that all I wanted to do was catch up on Grey's Anatomy.  Ok it wasn't ALL I wanted to do, but it was most.  "Shouldn't I be doing laundry or going grocery shopping or catching up with a friend or going to a baseball game or reading or blogging or SOMETHING??"  "All I want to do right now is sit on the couch and watch Grey's Anatomy... am I depressed?!"  Ummm HELLO, no I wasn't depressed.  I was still going to work.  I was still seeing friends.  I was still going to the gym and making meals and being myself.  I think what made me anxious is I wasn't used to the feeling that doing nothing was OK.  That I don't always have to be working on some project or accomplishing a goal, every second of every day.

You can only cross so many trips to Italy off your bucket list in one day, so why try?  Simmer down now.  Not every moment should be a means to an end.  Life is short.  Money is limited.  Take the night off and watch Grey's Anatomy.

There are bucket list moments to be found everywhere.

So to my dear friends, loved ones, and the many places I call home - please know:

YOU ARE MY BUCKET LIST.

Today's jam:  "Summertime Sadness" by Lana Del Rey

(or anything by Lana Del Rey, because I'm obsessed as of late)

Byyyeeeeee! :)

A Series of Unfortunate Events

The last couple weeks have been the pits.  Maybe even slightly pittier than the pits.  Not good.  I don't want to bore you with (or relive) ALL the details, but I probably will anyway.  Buckle your seat belts friends, because this is going to be a long one.  The breakdown goes a little something like this:

Tuesday, April 23rd

2pm-ish:  A very difficult meeting with one of my volunteers in her mid-80s results in her revealing that she would pretty much see no reason to live without this program.  And she is not the first to express this sentiment.  Yes this means she loves the program but it also means it's the only bright spot in an otherwise pretty unhappy life and I can't get her face out of my head, because I know that there are millions of older adults just like her.  Oy.

Friday, April 26th

12pm-ish:  Find out that someone very special, near and dear to me, my Tacoma mom-away-from-home in fact, had come down with bacterial meningitis.  Bad.  Bad bad bad.  She was miserable and hurting and it was terrible [Update: she is back at home and on the mend, folks! PTL (praise the lord... keep up)].

11pm-ish:  My car's clutch goes out on the freeway on the way to Bellingham for a long-awaited weekend of fun.  Good God, Dolly! Don't fail me now!  Dolly is my car.  Keep up.  Of course this happened at 11pm and of course the nearest exit was Seneca Street, landing me in the middle of downtown Seattle.  With a slipping clutch.  This terrain ain't flat, folks!  Made a few difficult circles around the block until I found a safe spot to pull over and waited for AAA to pick me up.  Towed back to Tacoma.

Tuesday, April 30th

9am-ish:  Find out my clutch is going to cost around $1,100.  Make an appointment to bring it in the following Friday because what choice do I have?

11am-ish:  Drop my iPhone in a parking lot.  Shatters.  Want to know how many times I've dropped my phone in its two years of existence?  I don't even know.  That's how many times.  Has it ever even been so much as scratched?  Nope.  But this time, it SHATTERED.  And it was a good shatter, let me tell ya.  Cool.  Things were getting comical at that point, so I actually laughed out loud.  I mean what else was there to do?

Wednesday, May 1st

8am-ish:  Fail to properly fasten the lid on my super cool coffee sipper cup and therefore spill coffee alllllllllllll down the front of me, mostly concentrated on my crotch!  Awesome.  Very minor in the grand scheme of things, but just adds to the comedy of it all so I find it worth sharing.

4pm-ish:  Fork over $100 for a new iPhone.  Siri is a funny sassy gal, but it doesn't sweeten the deal enough to make the transaction anywhere near fun or exciting.

Thursday, May 2nd

8pm-ish:  Much-anticipated weekend getaway plans fall through, leaving me carless in Seattle (ok Tacoma - close enough) while mine is getting fixed.  This is where I really start thinking, "Ok Ashton, you can come out now.  I know I'm being Punk'd."  But Ashton never came.  Because it was real life.  But hey, a girl can dream.

Friday, May 3rd

5pm-ish:  Decide to use my unintentionally free night to make a delicious dinner, kickback, relax, and watch some Say Yes to the Dress.  Yep.  That's what I did on Friday night.  And fell asleep on the couch at about 8:30pm, only to wake up at 10ish with a killer sore throat and the achey, fluey, yucks.  YA KIDDIN ME??  So I hit the Emergen-C hard and went to bed.

Saturday, May 4th

ALL DAY LONG:  My achey-fluey-yucks went from bad to worse.  And worse.  And worse.  And worse.  By about 8pm I was absolutely miserable, aching everywhere there is to ache, and shivering cold even though my apartment is an INFERNO any time the weather reaches 70 degrees.  Took my temperature and my eyes bugged out of my head as the numbers went flying through the 98s and 99s (it could also be because I still do that thing we all used to do as kids where you try to cross your eyes and focus on the numbers even though you really might as well wait til it's all done but WHO CAN WAIT??)  Anyway, those pesky little numbers just kept on tickin' until they reached an ungodly 103.  One hundred and three degrees.  That's pretty much not good.  I tried calling a consulting nurse to ask for cold/flu medication recommendations, but as soon as she asked me, "Has anyone around you been sick lately?" I knew that things were gonna get ugly.  "Wellllll... yes, actually, a close friend of mine was recently hospitalized for bacterial meningitis."  Well people, nurses don't mess around with high fevers and even POSSIBLE exposure to meningitis.  And even though I knew the chances were incredibly slim that I could have contracted it from my sweet TacomaMama, I didn't want to mess around either.  "I think you need to go get checked out," said the concerned nurse.  "Ok, so I'll find an Urgent Care," I said nonchalantly.  To which she replied, "Well, those are all closed so I need you to go to the Emergency room.  I know that sounds extreme but meningitis can take your life, so I really think it's important."  Yes Ma'am.  

9pm-ish to 12:30am-ish:  Admitted to ER.  Gowned up.  Poked.  Prodded.  Poked some more.  Prodded some more.  Draw blood here. More blood there.  IV won't connect.  Bring in the specialists.  Poke.  Bring in the bigger specialists.  Another poke.  Pee in this cup.  I need to swab your nose and throat.  More blood, please.  Poke.  Poke.  Poke.  Needle.  Needle.  Needle.  The nurse called me a pincushion for gosh sakes!  Her "nicest pincushion," I might add.  Things weren't fun.  Blood-curdling screams down the hall.  Crying baby here.  Gurneys being whisked away there.  The Emergency Room isn't fun.  After a LOT of boring and hunger-inducing waiting... the verdict is in:  EAR INFECTION.  Ear infection???  I haven't had an ear infection since I was 8 years old!  How in the &%*! did I get an ear infection?  Dunno.  But I did.  Here are some antibiotics.  Rest up!

Shareables.

Hi!  It's been a long time.  Oops.  Not sure how that happened. 

Guess it was kind of a busy couple weeks.  Anyway, today I just have a few little shareable things to, well... share.  These past couple weeks, as you most likely already know, have been ROUGH.  Lots of tragic, horrid, awful, terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad things have happened.  I am not going to go any further into the details or offer any ideas or opinions about them other than to say - stuff like this makes me VERY anxious and upset.  Maybe that's another reason why I took a little blog breather.  It just gets to be too much.  I wish I was the kind of person who could hear about tragedies and separate myself from the pain and realize that I have no control over the situation or the fact that these things happen.  I mean, I think everyone feels pain and connection to tragedy like this.  I'm not saying I wish I didn't care.  That's not true at all and sympathy is part of what makes us human.  It's just that sometimes I simply can't shake the despair, empathetic pain, sorrow, and fear that comes along with weeks like this one.  It is certainly nothing compared to the agony felt by victims and their families during times of tragedy.  I cannot possibly imagine how they feel.  But I just wanted to touch on the fact that I know what it's like to be a bit debilitated by fear and anxiety during these times, and it's OKAY.  Even if you weren't physically hurt or don't know anyone who was physically hurt, it's ok that we are affected.  It's good that we are affected.  It's ok to take some time to process events like this.  It's good to take some time to process things like this.  You're not weird, you're not ridiculous, you're not selfish, and you have the right to be really upset.  Be kind to yourself.  And I wholeheartedly believe in doing this from time to time...

... in fact I would lose my sanity if I didn't unplug myself from bad news on a regular basis.  Being informed is important, but so is the ability to function and relax and live your life.

Enough about that!  Here's another incredibly powerful idea to ponder.  I'm sure you've already seen it, but if not PLEASE take a moment.  I have a weird thing about resisting youtube videos that people recommend to me - as in, I either never watch them or it takes me a week and constant pestering to finally give in.  I have no idea why this is.  No idea.  It's just a weird thing.  So sue me.  The point is, I was hesitant to hop on this bandwagon until enough people whose opinions I really value and can generally relate with had recommended it and said such amazing things about it.  And they were right.  IT. IS. AMAZING.  So beautiful.  Watch it.  Just watch it.  If you've already seen it, watch it again.  It made me cry (but what doesn't??).  But seriously.  Watch this right now:

Dove Real Beauty Sketches

And while we're on the subject of viral links you've probably already seen, I'd also like to share "Instagram's Envy Effect," an article that quite a few of my friends have referenced recently.  Wow.  The ideas mentioned in this article pretty much sum up the reason I started this blog.  Life ain't perfect.  No matter how many photos I/we post on our various avenues of social networking about canoe adventures, trips to Thailand, or beautiful experiences with friends (yeah, sorry, I know I do that a lot), it's NOT FAIR to assume that these instagrammers are perfect and content and perfectly content!  It's not fair to them and it's not fair to you!  You really think trips and great weather and nice friends and good food makes your life perfect?  I wish!  These things can make life good-fortune-filled and nice, but wow, they're not everything.  So just keep that in mind.  I hope I've been transparent enough about the fact that the fun things I do and adventures I seek and photos I take are in an effort to make the best of each day and not to give you the false impression that I never have bad ones.

Also I can't get enough of this song:  "Turning Page," by Sleeping at Last.  Holy smokes.  It's gorgeous.  If you're feeling some Springtime, love-is-in-the-air, driving with the windows down twitterpation, it's perfect.  In my experience, anyway.  Goosebump CENTRAL.  Was it in a Twilight movie?  Yes.  I'm just going to be honest about that.  Look beyond it, people.

Today's jam:  "Little Numbers" by Boy

Peace be da journey (ever seen Cool Runnings? I sure hope so)!

We're only human.

So here's something funny.  I had a whole different idea for this week's post than what I'm about to share.  I've been thinking about it all weekend, in fact.  Crafting it in my head and thinking of all the hilarious and insightful things I'm going to say.  But then here's what happened:

(1)  I woke up at 9am this morning, you know, a good Sunday-Sleep-In.  Sometimes you gotta!  But this time I took it to the next level and thought, "I'll jusy lay here for a minute with my eyes closed before I actually get up."  Folks, that never works.  For me anyway.  There's no such thing as, "I'll just close my eyes and lay here for a minute and then get up."  No sirree.  So after my quick 10-more-minutes, I rolled over to look at my phone again and saw that it hadn't been 10 minutes.  It had in fact been TWO HOURS.  It was 11am.  WHAT THE?!  That doesn't happen to me very often anymore.  When I was a young high school student whippersnapper, I could sleep in until 11am on the weekends, no problem.  Make that noon.  Nothin to it!  But not lately!  So I HATED this.  Even though my body really needed it, most likely.  As I mentioned in my last post, I was sick this week.  And I'm pretty sure I'm experiencing allergies for the first time.  Wowsers am I ever sorry for you chronic allergy-sufferers out there, because this ain't right!  Anyway, it's probably good that I got a little more sleep.  But Anxious Andie didn't like that she had accidentally let a good chunk of a perfectly usable day go by.  So she was NOT amused.  Logical and sense-of-humor Andie kinda was though... 

(2)  Due to the accidental sleep-in, I woke up reallllly hungry and had breakfast (brunch) at 11am.  No problem.  That's fine.  Lounged around for a bit, cleaned, talked to Russ on the phone, ran some errands, you know.  Sunday stuff.

(3)  Decided to sit down and really dig into this new budgeting software that my parents told me about.  YIKES.  I mean it's great and the geeky part of me (so almost all of me) really likes stuff like that and crunching numbers and filling in forms and the like.  I know, CALM DOWN, right??  I can't be tamed.  But then I had a question and called my dad and he started to help me.  Like the great dad that he is.  But an interesting thing happened:  About 2 seconds into the call, I became incredibly, illogically, and SERIOUSLY impatient and annoyed.  And the thing is, my dad wasn't being annoying.  Nope.  He was being extremely helpful and patient, while I was being a beezy.  I mean I think I reined it in before things got too ugly, and my dad didn't seem to notice or think too much of it (probably because he's been the only male in a household of all women for 25 years, sooooo... this wasn't the first time).  But still, I was baffled by this!  Why is my blood boiling with impatience???  Why do I want to throw my hazelnut macchiato across the room??  What is wrong with meeeeeee?!

So here's what I realized.  First of all, my day started a little wonky when I slept so much later than I had planned.  Second, I haven't eaten since that 11am brunch.  WHOA.  That's bad news bears.  For me, there's "I could eat," "I'm hungry," "I'm really hungry," and "I'M HANGRY" (Thank you Kent Silver for introducing me to that term).  HANGRY.  Hungry + Angry.  And 8 hours without food is not a pretty sight for this girl.  It's really ugly in fact.  

And this realization got me thinking.  I've been reflecting a lot lately on all the things that I used to underestimate before I started getting control of my anxiety.  Meaning all the things that really impact me and my moods and anxiety levels that I always either tried to ignore or thought couldn't possibly be affecting me.  Well y'all, these things MATTER.  Getting enough sleep, eating healthy foods and enough of them, drinking water, getting exercise - these are not only for people who are trying to look like Jillian Michaels or training for a marathon.  These are things we all need!  And ladies, Aunt Flow is a nasty little minx.  She will curse you with mood swings and zits and what feels like 200 extra pounds and try to break you down and if you're feeling like crap, blame HER, not yourself.  I don't mean use her as an excuse to be a horrid awful moody beezy to everyone you know, but just realize that our bodies work in mysterious ways and if you're feeling extra anxious and upset and fat and zitty and gross, don't be too hard on yourself.  In a week or so you'll feel like a gorgeous goddess again (HA ok probably not, unfortunately, but just go with it) and all will be well again.

So the moral of the story is:  Don't underestimate the power of simple little daily needs and occurrences.  They can turn any kind, normal, even-tempered individual into the Incredible Hulk in no time flat.  Happens to the best of us.

Today's jam:  "Tonight I'm Getting Over You" by Carly Rae Jepsen

 (... you have your coping mechanisms; I have mine...) 

Enjoy the rest of your Sunday evening, everyone.