You Raise Me Up

Always there to catch me. And because no post is complete without a picture.

There’s a hundred different things I could say about college and what it does to you. But let me put it simply:

It. Is. Hard.

I don’t say this to scare any high schoolers or to break any parents hearts. It’s just a simple fact that I think is often overlooked when you look at the grand idea of college. It’s easy to overlook that it is indeed school, and it’s school you choose to go to, unlike high school, which is required by law (sorta I think?)

The whole process of getting to college is its own challenge. Applying, waiting to hear back, deciding. Freshman year is it’s own special blur. There’s so much confusion, but also so much understanding. You grow and truly enter adulthood but the transition is what seems to be all consuming. 

Then comes sophomore year. Oh how wonderful it has been. I love that I HAVE my friends, I love living off campus in an apartment with my best friend, I love the increased freedom and independence. But there is an even bigger slap in the face with adulthood. The real world is getting closer and closer, scarier and scarier. The amount of pressure you suddenly are under to figure out everything about your life is unfathomable. You need to building a beautiful resume with internships and jobs, getting good grades in your classes, participating in extracurriculars, all with the the finest of precision and balance, to (eventually) guarantee a spot in a prestigious graduate program or excellent position at a strong company.  You need to know what you are doing with your life and have the detailed plan of how you're going to do it. 

And then you break. Like I did last Wednesday.

My TA and fellow anatomy lab students began to talk about how difficult classes were that I know I will eventually take, how hard it is to get into many graduate programs, how there is such a strong need to excel and be the best. I was already feeling overwhelmed by my anatomy lecture exam that was the next day, and stressing about building my semester for the next semester. The second I left the building, I started crying, and spent the rest of the afternoon crying. Crying while talking to my parents and friends, crying as I studied, crying as I made a cup of tea. It rained all throughout the day, ironically enough, and I couldn’t dig myself out of the hole I had created. I was crippled with anxiety and feelings of inferiority. 

I tend to carry the weight of the world on my shoulders and have ridiculously high expectations for myself. I don’t really give myself a lot of room for error. I have my own plan and am truly working on accepting that it isn’t going to necessarily happen how I want it to. The whole afternoon, in the back of my mind, I knew I simply needed to surrender and just breathe. Isn’t it funny how we always ignore our true thoughts. Inner demons, I tell you.

As I went about crying and freaking out, those around me took me under their wings. Mackenzie went and got me Starbucks. Emma sent me the kindest words. Christine and Luke encouraged me during chemistry. My parents called me, offering to drive to Boulder to help me study. The next morning, I received good luck texts from Caroline, Emma, Mackenzie, and my parents. 

I took my anatomy exam (and did tremendously better than the first time) and headed to Starbucks to finish a chemistry lab writeup and get a warm drink. I put my headphones, scanning my Spotify for a song to listen to, and stumbled on “You Raise Me Up” but Josh Groban. They lyrics spoke to me, as I thought about how blessed I was to have my tribe. 

They raise me up. As independent as I might believe I am, I really can’t do it alone. So today, I give thanks for my people. I wouldn't be here without you all. xoxo

xo

Hannah

Unveiling Truth

For a while now, I've felt stumped when it comes to blogging. I've got so much to say and so much I want to preserve, but have a difficult time choosing the right words to convey it all.

Back when I first started blogging, it was a part of my daily routine. I wrote something everyday, no matter how short or long the piece. I'm really happy I was so dedicated to it because it has provided me a great online journal/scrapbook of sorts to look back on. But now, blogging has really taken the back burner, and I associate that mostly with feeling of inferiority. In the last three years, the use of social media has greatly increased. With this, there is more pressure.

I find myself comparing my life/blog/social media to other people, who according to their two-dimensional pictures and webpages, are perfectly put together and always happy. From their online profiles, they don't seem bogged down by school/work, confused about the future, worried about their appearance, they've got it all together.

And then there's me and my online life...

My pictures are not carefully edited, and very amateur.
My writing is rarely proofread.
My thoughts are usually ramblings that don't make a lot of sense.

My blog is the furthest thing for aesthetically perfect, and so am I. I am flawed.

But I'm coming to terms that that is ok. I want my blog to be a testament of me, of my life, of my heart, of the hard truths, of the joyful spirits. I realized that it's less about how things on this small part of my life look and it's more about what I'm saying and what that means to me.

My mom is one of the most authentic people in my life. She doesn't do what is popular, she does what is right for her. She isn't shy to point out her imperfections and laugh and celebrate them.  The other day, she sent me this article. It was pretty intriguing and it really made me think about my role on social media.

I think it's pretty normal to not share the not so pretty parts of life on social media because, well, they're not pretty. Society has slanted to using rose-colored glasses. But I think there's no need to hide the rough realness.

So let's get real real, real fast:

so cliche but necessary. This was taken on a Saturday, spent studying chemistry, wearing my comfiest, ugliest sweats. No makeup, just my cute little zits and blemishes and dry skin. Hair drying from a shower, kinky because of a bun I had just taken it out of. Real life, people. 

-Working out is not my jam. I love the idea of running but do not enjoy the actual act of running. I primarily work out so when I have kids, my body won't be complete crap.

-My life is pretty darn boring for the most part. Most of my day is made up of class, studying, food, and then an episode of some drama TV show if I'm not up too late. But honestly, I'm really happy with my life and don't feel the need to be always doing something crazy to have my life be exciting.

-I have major control issues.

-Self-doubt is my biggest inner demon.

-There's a lot of times I wish I wanted to do something besides medicine. I wish my dream wasn't so intense and time consuming and so freaking cutthroat.

-I am quick to see what I'm bad at and dwell on that. I have a hard time acknowledging when I'm good at things.

-As much as I love to dress up and create stylish outfits, the first thing I do everyday when I get home from class is take off my pants and put on running shorts.

-I am a chronic overthinker. Of everything.

So here's to more real life here and there and everywhere. Here's to truth behind the 2D things we see and share. It's time to get back to just blogging for the heck of it (insert fistbump emoji)

xo
Hannah

To Grace

The way I operate is probably not the healthiest.

I am dangerously intense, goal driven, structured, organized, and a perfectionist to the bone. I push myself beyond the limit.

And it's really not ok.

I expect the impossible from myself and completely berate myself for any mistake I make.

I compare.

I am riddled with self doubt.

And I have reached a breaking point.

About a year ago, I wrote an essay for my writing class titled "accepting imperfect" (you can read it here)

The essay describes my path to learning how to just live and not be so damn hard on myself. But you know what? It's a lie.

Because I haven't accepted imperfect.

Technically, yes, I have accepted the fact that I am not perfect by society's definition, but I have not accepted that I am not the perfect I have created in my head.

I have this dreamed up perfect Hannah. One that never gets anything less than an A. One that has a boyfriend. One that has learning difficult things come easily. One that never feels tired or hungry. One that everyone loves.

My expectations for myself are not healthy or realistic. I am Hannah, and I'm doing my best, but my best isn't always what I consider to be the best.


Tuesday, I had my first chemistry exam of the semester. I studied and studied and studied. I felt more than prepared and didn't have too much nervousness/anxiety prior to the exam. As I got the exam and spent the next hour and half working on it, I felt quite confident in my answers. There was a few I was little shaky on but nothing that I had no clue had to do. I left feeling just fine. I got home, had some celebratory dessert, then decided to check my answers with the key.

The test did not go as well as I was hoping. My grade was nothing horrible, but it was less than I was desiring. As I went through the questions I missed, I realized I missed answers because of stupid mistakes. I read a question too quickly, I tried to outsmart a basic question. I called my mom, who talked me through my grief, took a shower, and felt ok. But then I just kept thinking of my score.

I was letting a number define me.

I couldn't stop thinking about it.

It's a slippery slope, a downward spiral.

And here I am now. In my tidy little about/bio, I note that I am a "seeker of grace".

Seeking, I am.

Grace is something that we have already been given, the most precious gift from our Heavenly Father. But it's something I so struggle to accept.

A favorite song of mine has lyrics that go "Freedom comes from letting go/Open up your heart". Oh how I am trying. I am laying it all out here, vulnerable, stripping it down to the bone.

Freeing myself from the guilt feels impossible. I feel like I am in shackles.

Here's the thing that I know but struggle to full acknowledge: this grade will not kill me. It did not harm anyone else. I am home, safe, healthy. I am completely able to attend class. My friends are still by my side.  I am focusing on a grade, one of the thousands I have earned. The one making this grade a burden is me. This a completely self-inflicted wound that I continue to pour salt on.

Last night, at YoungLife, our amazing leader, Paul, gave a great talk based on Luke 15:11-32.  My heart was heavy and pleading for grace. Then, in true fashion of divine intervention, Paul began to to talk about grace and how much we need to let it be a part of our lives.

Oh, grace. Slurring together the messy bits of life that I am learning to bask in.

I am still happy, my soul sings of joy. But I know that I am missing a piece of happiness...happiness with myself. I am absolutely my biggest critic. The doubt and loathing I feel diminish the brightness of hope, my goal for being better at loving myself.

So to put it simply, I am learning to surrender. To grace, to my Maker, to love, to real life, to pressing on.

xo

Hannah

{Giving Thanks} Memories

Dear current high school seniors,

This is one of those things you're going to be hearing a lot of this year. No, I'm not going to ask where you're going to school or what you're majoring in- trust me, I know that's the absolute worst thing to be asked right now. I'm not going to ask you anything. I'm going to tell you something and boy, I sure do hope you listen.

Life is busy right now. You are filling out college applications, trying to figure out a senior project, looking at scholarship opportunities, all while trying to manage school work. Everyone seems so concerned with this great unknown, the daunting future, that it's difficult to stay in the now. Oh but you must.

Drink it all in. Soak up every moment. Say yes. These days are some of the most wonderful days of your life.

I hope you are lucky enough to have found the best friends in the whole world. The people who you know way too much about, but still love. Those amazing people who you have no clue what you would do without. They are the best people ever and you know that you will always be best friends. But those best friends of yours will soon be miles and miles away and you will very much wish you had the luxury of seeing them everyday. Yes, you will make many, many new friends wherever the future may bring you, but there is a special bond you will always have with those friends from high school. They were there for you during some of the most awkward times. They're the ones with you as you prepare for this big change. They are your family. They are the usual, the familiar, the comfortable. And that, that is something that you will learn never to take for granted.

While life may seem so complex right now, you will only remember how simple it really was.

Dance the night away at every school dance. Root on the football team at every game. Attend all theater performances. Partake in spirit weeks. Thank your teachers. Go on long drives, listening to good music. Hang out with your friends every weekend. Laugh until you cry. Cry until you laugh. Make the most of the time that moves far too swiftly... before you know it, you'll be holding your diploma.

Hang out with your family. No matter how annoying they are, you will really miss them. You will miss having dinner with them every night and watching your younger siblings grow up. The best news is they will be there for you when you need them, and home is always waiting. For now though, take advantage of the sweet time you have together.

Cherish your grades being composed of a lot of boosters. In college, the majority of your grade is exams. There are no worksheets or homework assignments or participation points to fluff up that grade.

When second semester comes and the senioritis hits hard, that's ok. But still try. Finish strong. Know it's not the end. But it's happening. Instead of mindlessly walking from class to class, really look around you. The halls around you have housed you for the past four years. They're where you grew. Notice all the little things, the things you never noticed before. Leave your mark. 

Cast away any anxiety that the future may bring. Right now, live in each day. Along the way, you will fall into the most wonderful place, exactly where you belong.

What is about to come is amazing. You will have so many new opportunities, new adventures, and incredible memories. But never forget your roots. They have influenced where you are today. There will be days where you miss what was. You will miss listening to Paisley's lectures, and constructing ecocolumns in APES, and running cross country. But you will love your new friends, independence, and discovering your passions. You will love awakening parts of you that you did not know exist. It is thrilling and scary and the best thing ever. And it will come when it's time.

You know you're going to miss all of this, but you don't know yet just how much. So find peace, find joy, and love where you are. You'll never be there again.

-Hannah

//

Today, I am incredibly thankful for memories, specifically those of high school. I was so lucky to have the most amazing tight knit group of friends in high school.  Because of those amazing friends, I came out of high school with some of the most fantastic memories. Every day, I find myself recalling a specific event, smiling and wishing I was there to share a moment like it again. I think that memories, good and bad, are one of the most precious gifts of life. Time spent together is certainly invaluable.



My favorite way to reminisce of those good ol' high school days.

xo
Hannah

Accepting Imperfect

This picture has zero relevance to the post, I just liked it because I miss snow, winter, and holiday happiness. And because I always feel the need to have a picture with a post.

Recently, I had to write a personal narrative for me writing course. It could be about anything, which was difficult for me because I don't like not having direction. However, I'm beginning to appreciate this and use this type of writing as reflection. My professor is extremely flexible and let's us change our writing whenever. My first draft was about something completely different than what I ended up turning in. In the end, I was really proud of my narrative. I was able to express things that I had always thought about and pour out my heart. I feel like it's sort of cheating when I blog something that I already wrote it, but hey, it's your first time reading this! 

The first draft was basically an elaboration of my college essay and I really was sick of the topic, so I changed things up a bit. I thought about a paper I wrote my senior year for Ms. Joyner. We had to read a chapter from the book, "The Things They Carried" and then write about the things we carried. As I was thinking about it, I realized we as human beings carry so much. A lot of what we carry is internal and since we deal with it daily, we forget about it, as it becomes a part of us. The issue is, we need to deal with it, especially when it derails us at times. I focused on a part of me that I have never analyzed before and the end result was a therapeutic release. The final draft ended up being about 6 pages long, so I will share a condensed version. So here's a piece of me, that maybe you share too. //

    One winter day when I was in third grade, my brother slipped on a patch of ice. We were getting off the school bus and walking towards the kindergarten line, where I dropped him off everyday before heading to my own grade level line near the bus loop.  He was an especially small boy, just skin and bones my mom always joked, and his large backpack seemed to eat him up.  I saw the large sheet of ice and began to cautiously walk over it, but my brother kept walking with the excitement and energy only a kindergartner has when headed to school.  That gusto, however, resulted in him slipping and falling backwards.  The massive backpack provided cushioning, but the fall was still hard.  After a second, he began to cry as the impact overcame his small body.  I searched frantically for any adult to help, tears in my eyes.  A friendly aide came over, helped my brother up and brought him to his line.  It was not my brother that was crying anymore though, it was me.
 
I am the carrier of many burdens.  They fester inside of me like parasites, eating away until there is nothing left. These burdens though, are completely self inflicted.  They are never my own problems or responsibilities, but those of whom I care most about. I unintentionally choose to take them on, even though I am never asked to.  It is a complete curse that feels impossible to break.
  
I blame it on the root of all evil: perfectionism.  For as long as I can remember I have been a perfectionist, the poster child for Type A personality.  When I was younger, I recall seeing books on my mom’s nightstand all about raising a perfectionist child and how to help them accept imperfection.  It’s something that I have worked hard and long on, trying to be happy with life as it is.  I can confidentially say that I have accepted imperfect for me.  I am as far from perfection as you can get; I didn’t get straight As throughout high school, I’ve lost friends, I’m not very good at sports, I get zits, I spill food on my clothes, I have a habit of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. The list goes on and on, and I am okay with that.  But I have this burning desire inside of me to make the people I love most’s lives perfect.  They never ask for me to do this, I simply feel the need to do this.  If I don’t, I am plagued with regret. I’m a pleaser. Even though I have come to terms with an imperfect life for myself, I cannot fathom that for my loved ones.
  
 My love is something fierce and deep. I associate this with being the oldest child, the natural caretaker. At any occasion in which someone I care about is worried, stressed, or in pain, I take it on with them.  I can’t seem to simply care and be there; I consume the same emotion.  There is the constant feeling of a brick in my stomach, weighing me down. When my brother gets a bad math grade, I feel the despair he feels and think of how I could make it better.  When my mom is upset, I feel the same sadness and the responsibility to make her feel better.  When my dad is stressed about work, I am stressed out over his stress. When my sister didn’t make the varsity dance team, I felt her sorrow.  I have been able to find so much joy in my own life, so shouldn’t I help others do the same?
   
I think back to the day my brother slipped on the ice.  I felt that it was my fault he fell because I did not warn him to walk slowly and carefully.  I am filled with remorse when I know that I am the cause a twist of fate in someone else’s life. There’s a special kind of anxiety I carry because of this.  I’m beginning to realize that while I’m no longer seeking perfection in my own life, I am still a perfectionist in my urge to control the little details that might make someone else’s life seem perfect.  I struggle as I feel subject to making sure others are happy, putting this inessential task before my own happiness.  What is this pathological need to carry others’ problems and why do I have it?  Sometimes I can’t help but think there’s something in my family’s genes that makes us tend to worry more about others than ourselves.  I come from a long line of caretakers of others’ needs. My grandma once was sliced off a chunk of her finger in preparation for my aunt’s baby shower and had to be dragged to the hospital to get stitches; she didn’t want to cause an issue and take the attention off of my expectant aunt. My mom sacrifices so much for other people that sometimes she forgets to take care of herself.  The problem is, I see why this is ultimately bad for me but I don’t want to stop. I feel selfish if I only think about me and my needs.  Are we not supposed to put others before ourselves?  Does that not go against what many of us are taught at a young age?  This desire is like a drug that is destroying me on the inside but I cannot stop using.  Who doesn’t need another person to care and be there for them?  Don’t the messy parts of life feel a little bit better when you don’t feel alone? The internal battle wages on.
   
For one of my best friend’s fifteenth birthday, I planned a surprise party.  It would have all of her favorite people wearing special shirts designed just for the party, all of her favorite activities including a piñata filled with her favorite candies, and all of her favorite foods, featuring her favorite type of cake, spice cake, made from scratch.  Everything was going swimmingly; she didn’t have a clue about the party, everyone was getting there early, and there were several helping hands.  Her arrival time was slowly creeping up as I had just pulled the cake out of the oven. It had risen perfectly and smelled like heaven.  All that was left was for me to flip the cake out of the bundt pan, add a simple glaze, and then everything would be ready!  I got the special cake plate ready and flipped the pan over.  It was then that I learned that you should not try to remove a cake from its pan when it is hot out of the oven.  I lifted the pan and  a crumby pile of cake was exposed.  Half of the cake survived the removal intact, but the other half was a mess.  I began to cry because the cake was ruined and obviously so was the party.  I fled the scene, while my mom and friends fixed the cake up.  The party went on, my friend was beyond surprised, and she didn’t even notice my messy cake.
   
This was a pivotal moment on my conquest of taking care of other’s happiness.  There was a series of “aha moments” that made me see life with a little more clarity. My friend’s birthday was not ruined because her cake wasn’t in perfect bundt form, while instead it was one of her favorite birthdays because of the gesture of kindness itself.  There was this light in my friend’s eyes the whole night, illuminated by the delight of the party.  There was never ending laughter and smiling that evening, as everyone enjoyed not the little details, like the hats that had letters painted on to spell out “happy birthday” or the homemade fortune cookies with clever, unique fortunes for each guest, but the presence of good friends.  I realized that I could chase perfection for the rest of my life and I would never catch it. While it was a bitter pill to swallow, with it came sweet relief that I could make mistakes and still bring my loved ones happiness. Bad things happen to everyone but we can’t blame ourselves for everything. It is not what happens, but how we react, how we choose to go, how we take what the universe hands us. Over time, I have been able to detach myself from situations that are not my own, but still be supportive. This unattainable, big dream that we call “perfection” has been planted in our heads and we feel responsible to take it on for not only ourselves, but others. In reality though, it’s quite simple; perfection is the overwhelming joy that we can live with imperfection. We can make mistakes and life will still merrily go on.  There will always be a part of me that wants to play a role in creating others’ happiness and I will always care a little bit too much, but I know now that the weight of others’ worlds does not rest solely on my shoulders. //

xo
Hannah

Sorry for such a long post. I am very impressed if you stuck with me and read it all! Thanks if you did :) 

Shooting in Raw

Today, I was talking to a girl about blogging. We're close friends and she's followed my blog from the start. She asked me, "But don't you worry about putting stuff about your life on the Internet for anyone to see?"

You see the answer to that may change one day, but for now it is a whole hearted no. I know I have blog readers around the world, so many I won't ever meet. I also know I have blog readers from my own school, some friends, some people who found my blog through ways I do not know. Regardless, I don't really care who knows about my life. I recall the day I heard someone from school say they had read my blog. I was more than anything shocked because I've tried for myself, and it is no easy feat to find my blog. While I was very curious as to how they found my blog, I also feared that soon, my life would be like the older Disney Channel movie "Read It and Weep". While my thoughts were processing, one thing stuck out to me-- the people from school who were reading this actually had an interest in my life, they were nosy like about everyone else in the world. So while I could be mad or embarrassed, I instead smile and type away, because I know that someone, whether I like them or not, will read this, just dying to know my life details. Hello to all of you!

Anyways, back to the question. How I see my blog is like a journal of my life, with some pictures, and easy access to look at things in the past. It is my life, unedited. As I have been learning about using my new camera, a common suggestion is learning how to shoot in RAW as soon as possible. Photographers describe RAW as “what is right in front of you, right now”.  That’s what I like to think of my blog as. I take what I see, and how I see it, and put it here. Because really, as amazing as some of those processed, photoshopped pictures can be, there is nothing as genuinely beautiful as the original photo.

So to my all my readers out there, known, unknown, friends, or not, I hope you enjoy life as it is.

My very first picture in RAW// there's just something about the peace snow brings

xo
Hannah