From Stressed to Refreshed

Fit has hit the shan. My personal (not to mention academic) life is in shambles at this current moment, and I have absolutely no idea what to do about it. So, with a midterm in 46 minutes, 2 lectures left to review (for the first time), here I sit writing—in a different class, and not paying attention. #WellDoneMegan 

It seems illogical, irresponsible, and absolutely irrelevant to helping me solve this (seemingly) major life crisis that I’m having.

But it’s not; it’s completely relevant. In fact, it’s the solution to my problems. Writing soothes me. It grounds me and brings me back to the very core of me—the nature of who I am. And every once and a while, when life gets just a little way too crazy (so, everyday?), I bring myself back and center myself. I remember my purpose, I rediscover my passion, and I remind myself to exude positivity–regardless of situation or circumstance.

Life’s hard. No one said it was going to be easy. But when it gets too hard, that’s when you have to refocus and recreate your own little world of peace. Writing is my peace. It reminds me that I’m alive and that this world is filled with creativity and endless opportunity. I sit down to a keyboard of only 26 letters; throw in a few options for punctuation (just for style points), and the world is mine. So seize it.

Take a deep breath. Relax. It may only be Wednesday, but hell, it’s all downhill from here. And thank goodness.

Keep doing you, even when you’re on a time crunch and working towards those looming deadlines. T-35 minutes until my death by statistics.

And if you’re wondering, I don’t usually write my posts in 11 minutes (gosh, I wish). But the things your mind can do when you turn your world into a pressure cooker… But who doesn’t love rice?

Wish me luck.

-Megan

Look Back At It | Look Back At It

You’re busy. I’m busy (like so busy I don’t even have time to breathe). And everyone around you is busy (I promise that’s why he hasn’t called yet). We’re all busy, all the time. We’re so busy. So busy worrying about that midterm next week (true story) or that big meeting with our boss on Monday (good luck!) that we can’t wait to get through whatever it is that we’re doing (except reading this post, of course) so that we can move on to the next thing (unless it’s my next post, obvi). We go through our days just wishing it would be 5pm so we can go home, make a healthy dinner and get to bed early eat something out of the freezer that seems (halfway) edible and stay up way too late watching Netflix. And don’t even get me started on worrying about the distant future (AKA what am I currently doing with my life and how in the world am I ever going to amount to even a resemblance of someone “successful?” Eeeeek…). And although we’re constantly looking ahead and charging towards our (daunting) futures, we can’t forget to turn around every once and a while to see how far we’ve come.


3.7a

–your past does not destroy you, it strengthens you–


We tirelessly tell ourselves that we aren’t perfect; we aren’t pretty enough, smart enough, skinny enough, successful enough, and no matter what we do, we “could have done something different or better.” We’re so quick to criticize ourselves for our shortcomings that we forget to stop, glance back at our past and look at the successes—both major and minor—that we’ve had along the way.

I love blogging, but by no means is it paying the bills (#lifegoals). But if I think back through the times between now and when I started my blog last August, I’ve:

  1. Actually learned how to use the internet (No, I am not a functioning member of my “techy” generation)
  2. Become great better at taking criticism (Usually much needed–thank you, Steph)
  3. Pushed myself to be vulnerable (Recall: pubic library. Enough said)
  4. Created something that I am in love with and am so proud of (Yes, inanimate love is real)

Eight months ago, I was far less skilled, far more scared and completely inexperienced in the blogging world. And it’s easy to say that I’m insignificant; it’s easy to discount my (and my blog’s) value to the world—even to the (small, yet mighty) blogging community. But if I think of all the progress that I have made—the smiles and laughs that I’ve (hopefully) induced and the love and self-confidence that (I’m praying) I’ve spread—then how am I not successful? How am I not of value?

I used to think that impacting the world meant making changes that benefited millions of people (hence I’m studying Public Policy and Political Science). But the more I write and the more I let myself discover and be discovered, the more I realize that being impactful and having purpose isn’t about changing the world; it’s about changing someone’s world—even if that’s your own.

I just want to say thanks for stopping by and reading my blog. Whether it’s for first time (I hope you come back!) or you were my first reader (I’m talking to you, Mom), you make writing worth it for me; you’re the reason I sit down to my computer (not to mention stay up late) and frantically punch away at my keyboard. I hope it’s even half as delightful and fulfilling for you to read as it is for me to write. So much love and positive vibes being sent your way, from me to you, always.

Keep doing you, and keep pushing forward. But don’t forget to take a quick peek behind you along the way. The newest version of you is stunning and unbelievable, but the older versions of you aren’t so bad, either. Use them as milestones and always remember your successes and achievements along your #blessed and #beautiful journey of life.

-Megan

50 Shades of Gray (Hair)

I must be wise beyond my years (or at least that’s what I’m telling myself) because the amount of gray hair that has been surfacing itself on my scalp is appalling. Everyday I find new little stragglers that make their way to be seen along my hairline. Let me just remind you of the reason that this is freaking… me… out… I’M ONLY TWENTY!

According to Web MD (hypochondria is real), I have “premature graying” of my hair (thanks, Daddy). The listed solutions (directly quoted) are:

  1. Hide the gray
  2. Embrace the gray

Translation: there is absolutely no solution for the predicament that I’m currently in. So naturally (as natural as these grays) when I don’t know what to do, I do nothing. So here I sit, just letting my entire youth spiral into the abyss as far too many unwanted gray strands of keratin make their way through my follicles and into my personal (t)h(r)ead count. I apologize for the dramatization, but I want to make sure that we understand the seriousness and life-threatening nature of this issue. Ultimate literal travesty.

3.4.15

[insert devastation here]

Seriously, though, all exaggerated travesties aside: I am graying. And as much as I would like to say that it doesn’t bother me, that it doesn’t make me self-conscious and that it doesn’t stress me out (probably causing even more gray guys), it does. Do I think that my value lies in my hair? No, absolutely not. In fact, our hair is usually something that we don’t think too much about. It’s there everyday (unless you’re losing it, sorry Ry), and we don’t put much thought into its presence (besides the occasional up-do). But if I woke up bald one morning, would I see myself as beautiful? Would I still feel feminine? I would hope so, but I can’t make any promises. And I would love to be able to accept myself and my body for all of it’s weird (and sometimes annoying) habits and functions, but it’s really, really hard. But that doesn’t mean that it isn’t worth striving for.

I would love to be a 35-year-old with some salt and pepper patches who proudly decides not to color her hair . Or to be 50 and completely gray and not think twice about whether or not my lack of hair pigmentation affects my worth and beauty. But we don’t live in a world that allows us to do that; we don’t live in a place that lets us release our inhibitions (#throwback to Natasha Bedingfield). But we need to. We need to make efforts to be okay with who we are, exactly how we are. We need to embrace our imperfections and love the little quirks that make us different–the pieces (or strands) of you that make you, you. I am who I was created to be, gray hair and all. And it’s about time I realize that who I’ve become has been purposeful; I am intentional. Right down to the last little, gray hair that’s peeking its way through my epidermis.


two g(r)ay hairs walk into a bar

one asks: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever been through?

the other replies: the straightener


In better news: I almost spilled both coffee and tomato juice (obviously, on separate occasions) on my white pants today. Key word: almost. I think they call that good karma? And yes, I’m wearing white pants after Labor Day. #sueme

But Wednesdays are always laborious, so that’s basically the same thing, right? Now we’re just splitting (gray) hairs…

Personal confession (in the spirit of Lent and all): I have seen 50 Shades of Grey, and I’m still not sure why it has the title that it does. I’m about 100% confident that my head has more shades of Grey than the movie. But maybe you “had to read the book” to understand. However, I’m remaining optimistic as I (don’t) hold my breath for the next two movies. Oh the anticipation…

Keep doing you, even if it means dying your strands to give you a little extra confidence. Just know that without the bleach, you’re just as beautiful.

-Megan