Accepting “Enough”

My entire life, I have struggled with enough-ness.  So many aspects of who we are comes from the acceptance and approval of others, and somewhere along the way, the little girl I once was started believing that that was the only truth.  It didn’t matter what I thought of myself — only how others defined me.

We’ll start at the beginning.

Skinny enough always comes to mind first.  Who the heck decided that in order to be beautiful, one had to first be a size 00?  The numbers in the tag of my jeans and dresses and on the shiny, platinum scale in the bathroom have haunted me for literal decades.  I remember the first time I noticed that size mattered.  I was in a fitting room at the mall, and a family member said to me, “you might not want to get that one… it makes you look, well, fat.”  I was probably nine or ten years old.  At the time, it didn’t really occur to me what those few words, forming a short and succinct sentence would mean for the rest of my life.  Now, in almost every fitting room I enter, I can hear those words.  If something doesn’t fit just right, it has nothing to do with anything other than me.  I’m not enough.

Smart enough is a close second.  I used to let academics be a competition with others, but these days, that competition is just with myself.  I’d like to say that’s a healthy improvement, but the reality is that today, I sat in my car and cried over a test grade most people would rejoice about.  Somewhere along the way, I told myself that if my self-worth wasn’t allowed to be tied up in what size pants I wore, it had to be tied up in how much knowledge my brain could hold (and metaphorically vomit onto an essay-style test).  If I couldn’t be skinny enough, I’d be smart enough.  And that would show ’em, dang it.

Pretty enough.  This one has been painful through the years, too.  Once upon a time, I was ridiculed for being different – for being a ginger – for not looking like everyone else.  Today, that’s what makes people stop me in the mall to find out what brand of hair colorant I use (note:  that color is a Heaven-mixed concoction).  I came back from summer vacation red, not tan, and that ached my soul.

Enough-ness is a cruel comparison.  We don’t judge ourselves by our own standards.  We take what we see in others and throw it up in a side-by-side powerpoint presentation to see how we match up.  If we’re five pounds heavier or not as tan or got a different, lower grade on the test last week… well, that’s enough to keep ya up at night.  We worry about others judging us on these qualities, but if we stop to consider that every single person is focused on the same worries about themselves, it might be a different story.  Plus, there’s grace.  At least, I believe there is.  I hope there is.  I desperately need there to be grace.  Why in the world are we judging ourselves on dress sizes when we don’t judge ourselves on shoe sizes?  Who told us that determined whether or not we’d be successful or happy or a good mom or daughter or friend?  There is so much more.

For 22 years – okay, maybe a little less than that, since I don’t think I was standing in the mirror silently shaming myself at three years old – I’ve been mean to myself.  I’ve found these standards of “enough-ness” that I believed were critical to my overall being.  Yet, when I look at others, those are not the things that I look at, at all.  Why then, am I telling myself that I have to look a certain way or weigh a certain weight in order to be enough?  It’s about time I start holding myself to the right standards.

Kind enough.  When I look at others, I see their kindness volume.  I see how they make others feel about themselves and about the world and about life… and I see how full of joy that makes people feel.  To be treated kindly is a gift.  I want to hold myself to that standard.

Joyful enough.  When I think of joyful, I think of people who are embracing life and all its possibilities, laughing loudly and not minding what others think, of people who embrace challenges and don’t let adversity keep them down.  People who make me laugh are the best kind of people.  I’m talking, hardcore, bellyache, deep in your soul kind of laughter.  To me, that’s joy.  I want to hold myself to a standard of joy and laugh lines and expression and embracing life – for the good and the bad.

Good enough.  I know – that sounds strange.  We always talking about whether or not we are “good enough” to do this or that thing.  However, I’ve come to realize that the issue isn’t being good enough, it’s being good enough.  When I look at others, I see the good that they throw into the world with reckless abandon.  The things they stand for and fight for and believe in, with all their heart.  I want my life to be held to a standard of goodness and grace, not of perfection and “good enough.”

I’ve spent hours upon hours of wishing I could see myself the way others do – of dreaming of loving myself the way other people love me.  I think a lot of us face this challenge, and it’s a challenge of our own creation.  We set the standards for ourselves.  We call the shots.  So, dear friends, as I’m approaching year twenty-two, I’m ready to change that “enough” meter in my head and tell it what categories it’s allowed to judge.  Kindness.  Goodness.  Joyfulness.

We have the power to change the narratives in our heads… after all, we’re the writers.  How will you change what enough looks like to you?  What words will be important, and which will no longer matter to you?  Here’s to the future – one full of laugh lines and kindness and goodness and no concern about the rest.

Working Hard

Of all the personality traits and qualities of character that I deem important, two top the list.  First, integrity.  I believe that the integrity of a person is critically important and can really shed light on everything you need to know about someone.  Secondly, I place huge emphasis on the importance of being hardworking.  To me, nothing says more about a person than his or her integrity, combined with his or her work ethic.  I’m not sure if I’m alone in this, but I imagine there are others reading this and nodding their heads, smiling in understanding.  This stuff matters, y’all.

I would define myself as someone with a strong work ethic.  I’m not a procrastinator; in fact, I’m quite the opposite.  The only time I have ever knowingly procrastinated was in the seventh grade; I waited until two days before a big science assignment (papers on every different system of the body — that sucker was going to take some hardcore thought, in 2007 or still today) was due to get started.  My parents were disappointed, and looking back, probably annoyed with my “poor me, please help me” 13 year old girl antics. My punishment?  I had to call my dance coach and tell her why I would not be attending practice for the next couple of nights, explaining the situation and that I’d be completing my homework assignment I had knowingly put off for weeks.  Needless to say, I was mortified.  More than that, I bet you can guess why now, I do assignments the day I find out of them — usually in their entirety — just in case I might have to call someone and tell them all about what I did if I decided to wait till the last second.

When I started The Redheaded Camel two years ago, it was easy for me to stay ahead of the ball.  Usually, if I was lucky, I had 3 orders a week.  So, I’d get them done, pack them up, and send them on their way.  Simple enough.  Then, things started speeding up.  Orders began coming in more frequently, and I, still, wanted to get them completed on the spot.  When three orders a week turns into three orders a day, that gets a little tricky.  Add in a full-time college schedule and a “real” job, and you’ve got yourself a dangerous little cocktail.  For quite some time, I managed it all pretty well.  I was juggling three flaming things at once, and I hadn’t gotten terribly burned.  Cue the month of June, 2016.

I was doing my thing — juggling summer school, the business, and working, and it was going okay.  Things were busy, but for me, busy is normal.  If I’m not busy, if I’m not writing a list or replying to a  customer or finishing a homework assignment, something is wrong.  Then one week — coincidentally, the week of The Redheaded Camel’s second birthday — was nuts.  I mean, “hey let’s order a bunch of stuff for our wedding seven days before the wedding… so we’ll need it in six days” — times two.  Yeah, that happened.  And it was awesome.  I had my nose to the ground and I was cranking out gorgeous stuff and dealing with vendors and customers and rocking it.  I had no clue I was working from sun up to sun down, but I was.

After the craziness died down a little, I was still in super girl boss mode.  Waking up at 6:30, answering emails before getting out of bed, eating breakfast and getting to work by 7:30… stopping for lunch, working till dinner, washing out paintbrushes around 8:30 each evening and then digitizing designs until I fell asleep.  If you’re wondering, that’s not a healthy business model.

About three weeks ago, I experienced what’s known as an “extended panic episode.”  I was dizzy, itchy, sleepless, irritable, and it was relentless.  I truly, absolutely, 100% would not wish that experience on anyone.  After some soul searching and discussions with the people closest to me, it was, not that surprisingly, determined that I’d run myself down.  I was working too much and too hard and not taking a break.  I was mentally and physically exhausted and not in a great place.  Something had to give.  So, off to the doctor I went (I have the best doctor, and for that, I am so grateful) and we’ve made some changes to help me get back on track, with the understanding that I have to give myself a break.

I’ve tried to write about all of this several times and I just couldn’t get the words to flow correctly.  This afternoon, my mom told me that people say I am one of the hardest-working people they know.  Don’t misunderstand — that’s not me tooting my own horn; it’s honest-to-goodness sheer and utter surprise that someone would say something so kind about me.  To me, that’s worth more than “pretty” or “smart.”  We don’t get to control everything in life, but we do get to control how hard we work to get what we want in this life.  I’ve always dreamed of being the kind of person who sees a vision and knocks down every barrier to get there.  Today, someone told me that people see me that way.  What a humbling, startling revelation.

I’ll be honest; the past few weeks have been exhausting.  The best way I know how to describe it is this — when you watch a movie or show with someone in rehab being detoxed from their drug or addiction, they are miserable.  I’ve been detoxing from work.  Prior to this incident, here’s how it worked:  I get an order, see it’s supposed to ship in two weeks (14 days), and tell myself to beat the clock and get it out as soon as I can.  In turn, the customer satisfaction goes through the roof, the five star reviews go up, and I get more orders.  Rinse and repeat.  Over and over and over until, boom, a carousel I couldn’t get off of and a mental exhaustion I cannot describe.

I’m working hard to get new systems in place to help me overcome this Type A, workaholic sense that I have to get every.single.thing done the minute it comes my way.  My mom is coming on board in a more prominent way as a bookkeeper and is helping keep me on track — reminding me of which orders are due when, and which ones need to come first.  Priorities to me are “put it all first and get it all done and rest later.”  Priorities to the rest of the world (apparently) are a little different.

I’m still painting; I’m still filling orders and I’m working hard.  I’m just giving myself time to work hard on all the things that matter, and that includes myself and my health.  In order to give the best I have to the world, I have to be the best I can be.  Right now, that means taking  a few extra minutes (or hours, depending on the day) each day to really focus on recharging and getting inspired to create products that inspire and lift others up.  I’ve designed lots of new things over the past couple of weeks that I am so excited about and I know all of my awesome customers are going to be, too!

I know this post is long, probably too detailed, and not very investing.  But, I hope if you get one thing out of it, it’s this.  Don’t get so busy working hard that you forget to take care of yourself.  It’s easy to do.  Life is busy and we are full of ideas and opportunities and things to do.  It’s easy to get caught up in all that and say “oh, I’ll rest later.”  Don’t do that.  Take ten minutes a day and breathe.  Laugh really hard or call your best friend or just close your eyes.  Read a good book and enjoy every second.  Don’t let the to-do list consume your life, because your life is so much more.  Get caught up in the fun stuff, so much so that you have to remind yourself that the to-do list is there.  You are important.  Your health is important.  Your life and your story and your hopes and fears and dreams — they’re important.  Never get so caught up in work and goals that you forget that you — just you, stripped down from what you own and what you do and who you know — are so valued and loved and wonderful.  Because you are.  Take care of yourself, friends.  That’s the best advice I have.

“But I’ve Never Even Had a Cavity…”

In January, I went for my annual dentist appointment and assumed everything would be just fine.  I’m a little OCD about my teeth; I floss every day and brush religiously.  I waltzed in the door right after getting home from our Christmas cruise (and being really, really sick after I got home) and figured it’d be a quick trip to the dentist.

However, my dentist saw something that concerned him and told me that I needed a consult from a  periodontist.  I was terrified; I’ve never even had a cavity and I had no idea what the heck was going to happen.  Basically, he told me that my lower gum was receding rather quickly in one area — perhaps due to my orthodontics work from many moons ago or just because.  I was really scared and left with a lot of unanswered questions and uncertainty about what was going to happen.

Over my Spring Break at the beginning of March, my mom and I made the hour and a half trip to the periodontist recommended by my dentist.  I was terrified.  My parents were convinced it wasn’t that bad and that he’d say it was just something to keep an eye on, but that I was totally fine and it was no big deal.  Instead, after some poking and prodding, taking x-rays and photos, and measuring my mouth for guards, Dr. Cooke said I needed surgery.  Cue the panic.  Everyone at his office was kinder than I could have imagined, but I was still so scared and confused about what the heck they were going to do and how it would feel and what it would look like and when it would happen.

As luck would have it, my surgeon was planning to take vacation in mid-May, which meant that I would have to have the surgery the day after I finished exams and went home for the summer.

In short, I had a soft-tissue gum graft.  Essentially, my gums in an area around one of my bottom front teeth had receded about 2.5 millimeters and, if left untreated, could cause serious damage.  So, Dr. Cooke would graft (cut) tissue from the roof of my mouth and attach it to the receding area.  With time (and stitches), the new tissue would begin to grow on its own with the surrounding area, covering the recession and making me good as new.  Sounds awesome, right?   Everyone at the surgeon’s office told me that it would feel like a “really bad pizza burn.”  Ironically, I had burned my mouth on pizza the day before my consult, so I thought I knew exactly what they were talking about.  In the words of the Grinch — Wrongo.

My procedure was yesterday morning at 9:30.  Because of my history of anxiety, the surgeon opted to operate with me under conscious oral sedation to help me not be so worked up about the whole thing (#thankgoodness).  I had to arrive an hour early to get that medicine in my system, and according to my mom, I was carefree as ever; I don’t really remember feeling loopy, but apparently I laughed a lot.  Keep in mind that until yesterday, the only oral procedures I have ever had are as follows:  dental cleanings, Invisalign measurements and implants that I wore for 1.5 years, orthodontic follow-ups, and sealants.  Until yesterday, I’d never had Novocain… and I was terrified.  Like, convinced a shot in the gums would hurt so bad I’d cry.  Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt, and more surprisingly, I didn’t cry.  Go me!  I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that the minute I realized I was completely and totally numb, I was so incredibly relieved that I didn’t even feel scared anymore.  Side note:  my surgeon literally walked me through it step by step and told me what I’d be feeling as the shots when in, meanwhile, his assistant held my hand.  They’re the sweetest people!

And then, for about two hours, I laid there with my mouth open while Dr. Cooke did his thing and I listened to music so as not hear any of the surgery-related sounds.  They gave me a super soft blanket so I’d be comfortable as possible during the procedure and made sure I had what I needed the whole time.  Dr. Cooke took breaks and told me that if I needed a break at any point to just tap him on the arm and we’d hold off.  Like I said, they’re the sweetest.  There were only a couple of uncomfortable things about the surgery itself.

1. Because I was under conscious sedation, I had to be hooked up to a bunch of stuff.  I had EKG readers, oxygen, a blood pressure cuff, and a pulse reader checking on me and giving me air.  I also got to wear a super cute hair net and goggles.  #flawless
2. If you didn’t know this, now you will — redheaded people are scientifically proven to bleed more.  I always tell doctors and surgeons and nurses this and they always think they can handle it.  Well, when the graft was cut, obviously I bled… enough that they had to go get more gauze pads and I had to put pressure on it with my tongue to help it clot.  I’m not saying, I’m just saying… I warned them.
3. Because the bleeding took so long to stop, by the time Dr. Cooke was ready to start with my stitches, the Novocain was wearing off, and I could feel it.  I was scared prior to surgery that if something like that happened I wouldn’t be brave enough to tell them… but let me tell you, when you can feel that happening, you say something.  It was an impulse.  So several shots later, I was numb again and good to go.

For the first couple of hours post-surgery, I was feeling great — Novocain was still in my system and I didn’t feel a thing.  I ate a Frosty and made it home with no problem (don’t worry, I wasn’t driving!), and when I woke up from a nap, I was feeling the pain.  Everyone had told me that the roof of my mouth would feel like a pizza burn.  Because of the dressing they’d attached to that area, I didn’t feel a thing; it was the area where the gum had been stitched up and attached that throbbed.  I was a little freaked out; no one bothered to tell me that part would hurt, so I thought I’d accidentally pulled out my stitches or something!  Luckily, after a phone call to the office, they told me pain there was normal and would continue for a few days, but pain meds should help.  And they did.

The dressing from the roof of my mouth came off in the night, and when I woke up I freaked out.  First, I could feel where the incisions where… and it did NOT feel like a pizza burn.  Second, I was afraid I would swallow the dressing (imagine dried play dough in the roof of your mouth).  So, I got up super quickly — bad idea — rinsed my mouth and quickly realized I was queasy and dizzy and really hot.  Note to self:  Don’t jump out of bed quickly after having surgery.

Thankfully, they provided a mouth guard similar to a retainer for when the dressing fell off.  Unlike a retainer, it has plastic all the way to the back of my mouth, so it covers the “pizza burn,” which does not feel like a pizza burn at all, which eased the pain almost immediately.  The more uncomfortable piece of the puzzle is my lower gums, which looks lovely in that I look like I have dip in my lip and I can’t really smile very well at the moment.  They said the swelling and bruising will subside in a few days, but currently it is sensitive to the touch to the point that I have to be careful about even laying on my side.

As far as food goes, I’ve eaten applesauce, oatmeal, homemade chocolate pudding, a little macaroni and cheese, and I’m sipping sweet tea.  Soda and hot drinks are off the table, as well as juices.  Next on the list of foods — for this weekend, hopefully — mashed potatoes, ice cream, and yogurt.  I’m not particularly hungry, but in order to take the antibiotics and pain medicines, I have to eat, so I’m doing my best.  I’ve found that snacking a little at a time is better than eating a whole entire bowl of something… except the applesauce, which I could probably eat three of in one sitting because it doesn’t hurt to eat at all.  Chewing is extremely uncomfortable, so anything soft or that slides down is my favorite right now.  Thankfully, I can eat with the mouth guard in place so that the “pizza burn that doesn’t feel like a pizza burn at all” is not exposed.  Truth be told, if it was, I probably wouldn’t be eating much at all.

So, in case you’re wondering why the heck I just wrote all of this in such detail, it’s for two reasons.  First of all, I would have really benefitted from an exhaustive explanation about how such a surgery would be and what the aftermath would be like.  I think it would have helped ease my mind significantly, so, on the off chance that any of you are facing something similar, now you know what to expect.  Secondly, I want to be able to look back on this the next time I have to have a procedure done (hopefully far, far, far away in the future) to remind myself that I survived and that it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.  I’m at a steady 4 – 6 on the pain scale, and I didn’t die or cry or toss my cookies.  If I can make it through this, I can make it through other things, too.  And so can you.

So, this is to remind you to be brave when you’re facing something scary and to know that it will all work out just fine, as long as you stay positive and don’t focus on the scary part.  It’s also to remind you that as long as you have awesome wonderful beautiful human beings by your side, you can get through anything.  Read:  My mama has taken the best care of me from beginning to end, and Franklin literally has not left my side.  My dad has sat and listened to me talk through things to work through it in my brain, and he even was brave enough to look at the incisions today.  And of course, though Q is in Boston, he is being kind and supportive and so sweet from a distance.

I hope if you’re facing something scary or are worried about the unknown, be brave.  Stay tough and don’t psych yourself out.  And surround yourself with wonderful people who will make sure you’re comfortable and make you mashed potatoes and pudding so you can take your medicine.

 

 

 

 

When You Love Someone

We live in a world that deems “love” as how many tagged photos you have together, whether or not he comments on your Facebook status update, or if you’re #MCM (or #WCW, respectively).  Love has become about the number of likes — the number of #relationshipgoals… when in reality, there is so much more.

Love is when you’re sitting together, eating mac and cheese for lunch and break down because the four months together are so quick, and the seven months apart drag on forever.  Love is the quiet voice that says “it’s okay to be sad” and wipes away the tears as they keep right on falling.  Love is being real enough to understand that distance sucks… and brave enough to talk about it.  Much as I would love to share those kinds of moments with the world… I don’t think anyone wants a selfie of me with mascara running down my face.  If you do, let me know.  I’ll try to capture the ugly-crying next time.

Love is being apart.  I’m not talking long-distance apart though — I’m talking about doing your own thing every now and then.  Taking time to do what you love and spend time with the people you love and then getting to share in the joy of hearing about one another’s day.  There are some days where all I want in the whole wide world is to sit together and watch Netflix or drag Q to Target with me, but after spending many months apart, I’ve learned so much about the importance of individuality and taking time to do what fuels your own soul.

Love is after a long day when he (or she) knows that you have a big test the next day, so while you’re in the shower, making sure everything is in its place and that your calculator has fresh batteries and that there’s a fresh bottle of water for you to take your medicine.  Love is patience when the day was really long and tomorrow might be longer.  Love is knowing what your person needs and how to make it happen… and making it happen.

There’s this myth that love is glamourous.  Sometimes, it is — when you have a fun photoshoot that edits out all the laughing so hard you snort photos, or when you get all dolled up for a fancy dinner.  For the most part, day to day, love is simple.  It’s when you let go of a hug and say just kidding hold me more, when there’s a surprise trip that involves ice cream, or just making sure the shoes are put away.  It’s when he gets up to refill my drink without asking or when I offer to help fold laundry because I know he hates it.  It’s driving to the doctor when he has a concussion (totally nothing to do with the fact that I didn’t have to go to class if I drove) 0r making sure there’s advil in my backpack when I’ve had a bad headache.

Love is what fills the gaps and makes us whole.  When you love someone… you realize that all the cracks and gaps that life has caused are fit perfectly with theirs, like a perfect little life puzzle that makes the whole world right.

 

 

What it’s Actually Like to be a #GirlBoss

Somewhere along the way (actually, it was June 25, 2014), I went from being “regular girl” to being “girl boss.”  The path has been long and winding, full of joy and a few trying times, and absolutely the best thing that has ever happened to me.  I get asked a lot about how I balance all the different things I have going on in my world, so here’s a sneak peek into what it’s actually like to be a #GirlBoss…as told by a girl who also happens to be a boss.

6:45-7:00am — Typically, this is when I wake up and my brain starts whirling around about what the day has in store… it’s also when I come up with some of my favorite/best ideas, so there’s that.

7:00am — Off to get ready.  I work better when my hair’s curled.  I’m not joking.

7:15am — While getting ready, I respond to emails, Etsy messages, and check assignments for school.  If you’ve ever seen someone try to type a coherent email while brushing her teeth… well you know how it looks.  If not, just imagine me with sleep still in my eyeballs, half brushing my teeth-half typing and when the toothpaste starts burning, I go back to brushing again.  It’s a true art form, y’all.

7:30am — When I have time before classes, I usually study and update listings in my shop.  I try to do the more tedious tasks in the morning, when I’m freshest… otherwise I just won’t get them done.

8:00-12:30 — School comes first for me, and the business is a close second – until I get my degree, The Redheaded Camel rides shotgun.  That’s not to say that I haven’t designed newsletters in my head during Quantitative Methods, because, well, I have.

1:00-4:00pm — I’ll be honest, I take a nap almost every day.  They say naps work for the people who take them regularly… and they actually really do help me function.  I wake up feeling refreshed, ready to tackle the rest of the day… and deal with the people at the USPS.  I typically ship packages and deliver canvases during this chunk of time, because I’m just not an afternoon person.  Oh, and Tuesday-Thursday, I work at my “big girl job.”

4:00-6:00pm —  Again with the honesty here:  people say they do their best thinking in the shower, but I’m so not that person.  So I try to get the shower out of the way and over with before I’m too sleepy and end up dropping full shampoo bottles on my foot (been there, done that), and then I work on more random stuff.

After I eat dinner and finish up any homework I have going on, my brain pretty much shuts down.  I’m a morning person.  I don’t stay up late at all — but I do get up early to make up for that lost time.  I can’t really block out certain parts of my day, because I do things like schedule social media posts, update customers on orders, and respond to emails while I am walking across campus throughout the day.  At any given time, I’m probably typing a message or post of some sort to use a week later just so that I’m ahead… especially on weeks when I have a lot on my plate for school!

If by some chance, The Redheaded Camel is ever big enough to constitute me being called a CEO, we’re gonna have to do some changing around y’all.  Chief Executive Officer sounds so boring.  I think I’d rather be Chief Sparkle Spreader or Expert Confetti Tosser or Most Likely to Have Paint in Her Hair.  Anyone can be a CEO.  It doesn’t take much magic, just a lot of hard work.  Girl bosses, on the other hand… we require magic.  We require early mornings and the occasional late night filled with getting the grunt work done so we can cherish every second of the awesome stuff.  We try to make the mundane fun and use shipping tape with colorful patterns just because we can.  And, most of the time, we use a lot of sparkles.
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It’s International Women’s Day, and this post was inspired by the idea that every single girl, no matter how young or how old, is a #GirlBoss in her own right.  She takes the bull by the horns and runs with the wind and changes the world in her own special way.  Every girl is special and deserves her best chance to put some magic in the world.  We live in a time where many women are entrepreneurs, dreamers, moms, teachers, doctors, and so much more, but there is still a ways to go.  Girls deserve education.  They deserve respect, dignity, opportunity, and the chance to leave a little sparkle wherever they go.  Here’s to the women who have gone before us and blazed trails so that we can be girl bosses and awesome human beings and let our light shine.  Let’s make them proud and leave our own legacy for the next generation of sugar and spice and everything nice.