Be Kind. All the time.

Dear people of the world,

I know you recently watched a movie with a line that tugged at your heartstrings. It went something like this:

You is kind

You is smart

You is important

I saw your eyes tear up in the theater. Those words resonated with you for some reason. Maybe you need someone to tell you more often that you are infinitely important. That your ideas are intelligent and worthwhile.

They are and you are. 

But, please don't gloss over the magic of those first words. 

You is kind.

Are you, actually, kind?

Do you give a heartfelt thank you to your partner or your assistant for the innumerable things they do for you on a daily basis?

Do you pause a moment to give a sincere compliment before providing feedback on an important work project?

Do you think about the way you speak to your child before responding to their questions?

Do you ooze love from your entire being?

My honest answer? 

Nope.

I just scanned through my recent outgoing emails and text messages and found very little kindness. I thought back to my recent interactions with the people I love most and didn't find a lot of true kindness. I considered a recent email from my boss with valid and necessary feedback on work I poured my heart and soul into. Her email stung because it wasn't enveloped in kindness. 

I know we can do better. 

Afterall, 

We are kind 

We are smart

We are important

and I think it's high time we started acting that way. 

This is my motto:

Will you join me in making it yours?

Michelle 

I'm choosing joy

Trust me, I hate the phrase "choose joy" as much as you do.

I've always been puzzled by it, really. I mean, if it's just a matter of choice, then why the hell is there such a thing as clinical depression?

Why do we go through the hullabaloo of sadness if there's some sort of magical switch we can find inside ourselves to flick on for 24/7 happiness?

Those were my questions.

Unfortunately I still don't have any answers. What I do know is this: it really sucks to duck out of your office at work to walk around the block and cry your eyes out. I also blows to see your boyfriend after work and have the poor guy scared to even talk to you.

I've written before about how I'm struggling with situational depression right now. Basically, I hate my job. I used to hate where I live, but I fixed that last weekend. I'm working on the job situation, but I'm going to be here until at least April 15th.

I was in crazy town yesterday afternoon because I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that April 15th is about sixty days away.  Sixty days seems like an awfully long time to spend alone in my  office.

On my way to work this morning, I decided that the next two months will be another life lesson for me in finding joy and contentment even when I'm not happy. It's no secret life is hard, but I want to package and bring happiness with me wherever I go. I want to be kind and loving and happy even when life isn't going the way I want. 

To do that, I need to find a way to shine my light. I know I have one buried under all my negativity of late. And so from here on out, I'm going to let that thing shine like a mo fo.

If you grew up in the church like I did, my light analogy might remind you of a little song that went something like:

this little light of mine
I'm going to let it shine
let it shine
let it shine
let it shine
let it shine

Look at me shine:

Boyfriend of the year

I think the true litmus test of a relationship is how well a couple copes with stress. In my previous [v. unhealthy] relationship, anything remotely stressful like taking an afternoon trip to a nearby village almost always involved a fight. 

This weekend, my man helped me move back to Modesto. I think it was the least stressful move in my personal history. We practically skipped into the UHaul office at 8am and finished the entire process (including the final deep cleaning of the old place) by 1pm Saturday. 

He even endured my new landlord's racist question of whether or not he was "The Help" with a dignity and grace I can only imagine. 

He was crazy enough to join me for a seven-mile long run Sunday afternoon with very little training. Having someone on the trail with me was nothing short of amazing. While running, I reached out to pinch his cute little booty, not realizing that my actions were witnessed by a little girl and her mother behind us.

 

I'm sure it wasn't the best thing for young eyes, but I just couldn't resist. Sometimes there's nothing else you can do when you're in the presence of boyfriend of the year. 

Coming out of my depression

On two separate occasions, my sisters approached me with the d word.

"It's not that you're showing the typical signs of depression," she said. "It's just that you have so many highs and lows. I noticed that especially when you lived with me. Obviously, you were going through a lot at that time, but I still worried."

"You know grandma struggled with depression her entire life," the other said. "It's not something to be ashamed of, but it's definitely something you should think about. We just want you to be happy."

Though I appeared receptive, my blood boiled inside. How can you ask me if I'm depressed and then leave me to go on with my lonely life day after day? How can I tell you that I am unhappy with my work and in the same breath hear you encourage me to stick it out because the economy is tough (while still asking me if I'm depressed)? How can I go through a devastating divorce at 24 and not experience highs and lows? Is that even possible?

I continued on with my life, sinking lower every day.

I'd go home on my lunch break and cry big alligator tears, asking myself


"what the hell is wrong with you? You have a good job, a great apartment, a [nice] new boyfriend. You've made a new life for yourself and yet you still can't find the resolve to be happy? You ungrateful wench."

I'm sure you know this, but self-deprecation only propels the spiral of depression. Soon, you're trapped in the bottom of that tunnel. Surrounded by four walls that don't let an ounce of light in.

Escapism Saved Me


I'd sit behind my desk and couple an hour of intense productivity with an hour of blissful escapism into the blog world. Their stories showed me examples of people living their passion, proving to me that it is possible to dearly love the work you put into this world. Blogs encouraged me to live off my passion, to value travel above material possessions, to pursue my dreams even if they seemed crazy.

They encouraged me to do something every day to make my dreams a reality. Never wait for the right time to make a move. To contact editors even when I was almost sure of rejection. To start another blog.

They gave me hope.

Hope gave me action.

Action gave me a way out.

I'm not sure what my future will bring, but I know without a doubt that I am moving resolutely in the direction of my dreams.

And, thankfully, I'm not taking that depression with me.

Imagine that

My life and my emotions are like a giant wave, easily cascading from giant swells to the murkiest bottoms in an instant. One day, I can be bawling my eyes out over the misery of my not-at-all miserable life. The next, I can be praying aloud while driving down the highway, thanking Jesus for beautiful life he's given me.

I don't really understand it. Believe me, I've tried. I've had my hormones checked out. I've been to therapy. I've posted motivational notes around my apartment to remind me to count my blessings. Nothing really works, unfortunately.

I'm finally realizing that it may be situational. I'm a creative, emotional, perfectionist, loving kind of person. While I don't need glitter and rainbows all the time, the fact that I dislike my job (where I spend the majority of my time) wears me down. It makes me irritable and miserable and though I'm looking like a fiend, I have had trouble believing that I'll be able to escape.

Until this week.

It's a great story...

I started freelancing a few months ago for a local magazine. During my interview, I was told that my work may be able to expand someday because the publisher is starting a group of related magazines in the nearby communities.

Yeah, right, I thought. I realize that makes me sound like the world's biggest pessimist, but whatever. I didn't believe her.

Until this week.

She calls me to give me my upcoming assignments and tells me that she's looking to hire a fulltime staff writer in the next year.

Wha????


Can you say ecstatic?

I'm cautiously optimistic about the opportunity. I understand that ish happens and it might not work out. Then, again, it just might.

I might be able to write fulltime for a living. Never mind that I'll probably have to get a job as a waitress or barista to make the ends meet. I don't care at all.

I can't imagine living off my writing. I can't imagine all the doors it will open up for me to pursue other writing opportunities, expand my  blog, become a Zumba fitness instructor. I can't imagine taking my laptop to Starbucks on my own damn time and working on my writing. I can't imagine being able to work late into the night on something that actually matters to me.

It gives me chills just to think about it.

It makes me happy. 

Imagine that.