I Cried Today

I was laying on the couch with Ellie when I got this text…

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My heart sank and my eyes filled with tears as I read those words.

Someone that I love was hating the body they were in. Feeling disgusted and discouraged because of numbers on a scale.

I’ve written before about my experience with disordered eating here, and am all too familiar with the ways these unhealthy patterns can creep up on you and overtake your life. So as I read this text all I could think was where these thoughts could lead. In short…..it was no where good.

This person is a mother. A daughter. A friend. A counselor. A dream-chaser. An entrepreneur. A homemaker. A wish-granter. A caretaker. A trip-planner. And so much more than that number on the scale.

But when you’re surrounded by fat burners, detoxes, cleanses, wraps, and every other quick fix/skinny solution/your life is incomplete without this product, how can you expect to focus on anything else?

It’s hard to look past your imperfect physical appearance, which everyone and their brother is trying to sell you a “fix” for, and appreciate all of the things your body can do perfectly.

Like climb out of bed each day, fix lunches for your children, get them off to their activities, go to work, buy groceries, cook dinner, provide comfort for tears and cheers for celebrations, and celebrate another day of living.

When you have 800 other things on your plate, sometimes eating healthy, exercising regularly, and maintaining your weight all get pushed to the back burner.

I’m not advocating for or promoting pursuing an unhealthy lifestyle. I majored in Dietetics, and I’m working on a Master’s in Nutrition.

Obviously, I’m passionate about healthy living.

But what I’m more passionate about is living. Really, truly, LIVING.

And when you’re so caught up in how much weight you’ve gained, how little you’ve exercised, or how disgusted you are with your body, you have less time to enjoy all of the wonderful things your body continues to allow you to do.

I recently dug up these pictures to show someone as I was sharing with them about my experience with an eating disorder.

Do you know what I remember most about each of these moments?

Who I was with, what we did, the fun I had…..none of those things are among my most prominent memories.

What I do remember is how much I weighed and the things I ate. Not kidding.

How sad is that? My most prominent memories of a two year span of my life is the number on a scale and the amount of calories I ate each day.

I don’t want anyone else to live like that, especially not those who are close to me.

So mommas, daddies, college kids, grandparents, retired folks……whoever you are and whatever stage of life you’re in, please, please, please keep everything in perspective when it comes to weight and body image.

Should you try to eat healthy and get some type of activity everyday? Absolutely. Those things will help you live a full, happy, healthy life.

But should you let the weight you’ve gained dictate how you view your life? No.

Whether you weigh 120lb or 210lb, you have the power to enjoy your life. Soak up every moment. Give yourself grace. And keep everything in perspective.

Don’t waste valuable time you could be happily spending with your family on hating your body and loathing that number on a scale. Let it go.

You won’t look back and regret sharing that sundae with your son, but you might look back and regret skipping the moment all together.

Even if Your Knees Shake

As I began getting things ready for my move to Birmingham and my start at UAB, I had to take a minute to catch my breath. I was overwhelmed by the surrealness of the moment.

Four months earlier I desperately wanted to withdraw my application. Not because I decided dietetics wasn’t for me, nor was it because I didn’t want to complete a Dietetic Internship.

I wanted to withdraw my application because I was scared to death of the possible rejection I was facing. From the time I submitted my application on February 14th to finding out I got accepted at UAB on April 2nd, I was a nervous wreck. I must have told Preston at least 1,000 times that “the national match rate is LESS THAN 50%! There’s no way I’m getting in”.

Honestly, I was absolutely horrified each and every time I said those words out loud. I wanted to believe I would get in despite my predictions, part of me still had a glimmer of hope, but the larger part of me wanted to avoid any possible disappointment and just withdraw. I asked myself almost daily if I really wanted to be a Dietitian.

I tried to think of 800 different paths I could take to avoid this whole ordeal, but something inside just wouldn’t let go. Still, I faced everyday during those 2 months with severe anxiety over what was to come in the next few months. My whole life, it seemed, was resting on whether this worked out the way I planned or not.

My professors, friends, family, and classmates all looked at me, each mentally reviewing my resume, and wondered why I was freaking out. It seemed like I was a shew in for each of them. I had good work experience, decent extracurricular, several volunteer hours, an above average GRE score, and a GPA that could rival most.

But to me, it still seemed like everyone else was so much better in comparison to what I had to offer.

Four months later, as I sat corresponding with my Internship Director, I couldn’t help but think about all of the things in the past I’ve been scared to do, but pressed on anyways.

In sixth grade, I looked at Scott’s pre-algebra textbook and almost started crying. I didn’t think there was anyway I could ever understand all of that. I had never seen letters mixed with my math problems before?! But, 2 years later, there I was understanding pre-algebra everyday.

At the end of eighth grade, I was scared I wouldn’t be smart enough to handle high school. I was convinced the work load would be so heavy I would never keep up……. Four years later I graduated Valedictorian.

Senior year of high school our teachers told us all kinds of things to “prepare” us for college. Like how professors would never put notes on the board for us to copy (false). How we would have to write everything in pen for it to be accepted (this really messed with my OCD/perfectionism and I literally cried thinking about having to scribble out things everyday) (also false). And college would be intensely harder than high school ever was and we would probably not succeed in the same ways we did in high school (mostly false). Before I ever even started college, I truly believed I was going to flunk out. Yes, a high school Valedictorian worried sick about flunking out of college.

If you can’t tell, I’ve always had a small problem with imagining my “mole hill” challenges as Mt. Everest and deciding I will never be successful at making it through.

Luckily, I’ve had family and friends throughout my life that have refused to let me quit. So, with each challenge I faced with tears in my eyes, I would continue pressing through until the challenge was conquered. And each time, the challenge was, in fact, conquered.

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This blue slide is a little thing called “The Kamikaze”. Every year that we went to Gulf Shores, from the time I was a tiny tot, we would go to Waterville, home of that blue slide.

For years, I would watch people come flying down this “free fall” slide and dream about going down it. But each year, I would start up the steps and decide my knees were shaking too bad for me to do it. “I’ll do it next year I promise” became my famous line. As each year came and passed, I was still waiting on “next year.”

Finally, I worked up enough courage to climb the steps to the top and wait my turn. As I walked to the edge of the slide and looked down, tears immediately filled my eyes. I had intense regret for what I had just decided to do, but I was also too shy to get up and make a spectacle of myself chickening out. So, I went with my only other option.

I clinched my teary eyes shut, took a deep breath, and let myself fall.

At the end of that slide, my only regret was that I had waited so long to try it out. It was terrifying the whole way, but it was exhilarating and insanely fun.

As I’ve gone through this application process for the next step in my career, I’ve started to look at the different opportunities I’ve been given in life the same way I look back at “The Kamikaze”.

I don’t want to realize one day that I spent half my life putting off the adventure of a lifetime because I was scared of what could happen. So I’ve made a commitment to myself to do more of saying “yes” when opportunities are thrown my way.

With every chance I get, I want to be able to climb those stairs and take that leap of faith. I have a feeling that a full life truly begins at the edge of that slide.

So keep climbing, friends, and get ready for adventure……….even if your knees shake.

He Gives More Grace

As it became known that Preston and I were dating, a lot of family and friends were left shocked and utterly confused.

Why? It’s simple, really.

When comparing track records of the four years prior to our relationship, things didn’t quite match up.

I moved to Nashville, attended university, stayed involved in church, and, for the most part, did what was expected of me. Meanwhile, Preston’s life took a little different path.

For people that knew both of our stories, the match-up was puzzling. I knew it would be, and I had already anticipated the questioning and comments I would receive. In fact, before we decided to pursue a relationship, we discussed many of these things.

“What would people say? How would they react? Did it matter what everyone else thought? How will that effect us? How do we respond? Do we have to respond? What’s their business and what isn’t?”

We spent a lot of time in prayer and pursuing a deeper friendship before attempting to navigate a relationship. Ultimately, we decided our relationship was between us and God, and that was enough.

But I won’t lie and say it was easy. Making a decision against the status quo is hard. Really hard. Especially for a gal whose life is rooted in people-pleasing.

But what hurt the most wasn’t defending my choice 400 times or enduring lectures on the potential repercussions of this decision or navigating everyone’s “what if” scenarios or even the damaged relationships.

What hurt the most was seeing the hurt and disappointment in his face every time he looked at me and said “I made stupid choices. A lot of choices I would take back in a heart beat, but I’ve made that right with God and I’m doing my best to do better. Why doesn’t that count for anything?”

“Why doesn’t that count for anything?”

I wanted to scream and shout IT DOES! IT DOES! KEEP GOING! IT MATTERS!

But I knew why it seemed as though it didn’t matter. Regardless of what decisions he made presently, his life was repeatedly painted with the choices of his past by those looking in. And even more, with the tendency of people to subconsciously label sins as “big” or “little”, we also label those who have “bigger” sins as more of a lost cause. For those looking in, they never saw past his “big” sins. (As if one sin is more worthy of punishment than another.)

For a group of people who preach forgiveness, we have a lousy way of showing it.

We forgive in words, but continue to press charges with our actions. We preach grace, but shout the details of their past. We ask them to come, but judge them for how they came.

We say we believe in the changing power of Christ, but do we really?

I can tell you this, most of us don’t live a life claiming the changing power of Christ. We see people who have made bad choices, and all but put a timer on them for when they’ll fall away again. We wait and watch, knowing this change won’t last.

What lousy proclaimers of the Gospel we become when we ignore the power of Christ to change lives. Every life. The good, the bad, and the ugly.

So why do we stand so far away from those who have ugly pasts? I offered him two thoughts.

For one, the temptation to exhibit spiritual pride, just as the Corinthians experienced. Those who haven’t committed those “big sins” feel superior to those who have. Like their white robes are less tainted, more deserving of cleansing, more worthy of the forgiveness of Christ.

And the second, the temptation to live out the life of the older brother in the story of the prodigal son. Those who have never wasted time on prodigal living feel like they are more deserving of God’s reward. Even more so, those who have wasted time on prodigal living don’t deserve the same reward. There’s a sense of jealousy and perceived unfairness that goes along with someone who hasn’t been as “obedient” as you receiving the same level of reward. If we truly forgive, and look past the person someone used to be, we have to recognize that they are the same “level” of Christian that we are, and, likewise, they deserve the same eternal reward.

For a lot of people, this is a hard pill to swallow. It certainly was for the older brother of the prodigal son. He didn’t want his father throwing a party for his brother who had come back. Instead, he thought he deserved punishment for his choices. But the father, just as Christ does, ran to meet his son, embraced him for who he was, and celebrated his return home.

He didn’t require him to work in order to make up for the bad choices he had made. He didn’t put him on probation for him to prove he was a changed person. And he didn’t look at him with skepticism, wondering if he was really back for good or not.

He ran to meet him. Threw him a party for coming home. And embraced him as the same son he had always loved.

The lessons we could learn from this parable in regards to embracing sinners who come home are invaluable.

We run to meet them where they are. We celebrate their return home. We love them despite their past choices. And we continue to encourage them, love them, and embrace them in the days to come.

After explaining the thoughts I imagined some of these people might be having, I reminded him of what really matters.

God is a good, good Father. He’s the same Father presented in the parable. He loves you. He ran to meet you when you turned back and came home. He embraced you for who you are and who you are becoming. And he showered you with grace, forgiveness, and mercy.

Even though Christians might be lousy at affirming the forgiveness found in Christ and the changing power of His Word, He provided reassurance for us.

“But HE gives MORE GRACE.” -James 4:6

He gives more grace. Over. And over. And over again.

He gives. More. Grace.

I’m thankful that on our darkest day, Christ meets us in the despair, offers a hand to pull us out, forgiveness to wash our sins away, and grace to try again.

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She’s a Runner

She’s a runner.

No, not the athletic kind. Far from it, actually. But a runner in the hypothetical sense.

A runner from problems. From conflicts. From the unknown. From confrontation. From hurt. From anything big and dressed in scary clothes.

Why? Because it’s easier.

Or….

So she thought.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been obsessed with things being perfect.

I always had to have an A for every subject on every report card growing up. I VIVIDLY remember being in 7th grade history and being on the verge of a “B” on my report card. I was worried sick for weeks just thinking about it. I just “couldn’t handle” having a B.

Really, I would have lived to tell the tale all the same, but it felt impossible to cope with. So, I did everything I could do to make sure I didn’t have a B on that report card.

Senior year, I thought about running cross country to spend more time with my friends, but I knew I was a terrible runner. Like really, really, really slow. I also knew I wasn’t joining the team to win any medals, I just wanted to be with my friends and have fun.

But the thought of finishing a race last was paralyzing. I could barely stand the thought of doing something that I wasn’t great at….but doing something I was bad at? That was a foreign concept I absolutely didn’t plan on getting comfortable with.

So I went as a spectator instead. Safely saving myself the embarrassment of failing.

Because, naturally, when things start getting a little dicey, it’s time to bail, right?

Or when it starts getting time to make tough decisions or take a leap of faith or put yourself out there to possibly be rejected. When you’re paralyzed by the idea of failure, it seems easier to run away than to attempt something you might publicly fail at.

But as a perfectionist who also experienced a wide array of emotions, life got even more confusing.

Somehow crying in public, facing failure head on, admitting I can’t do it on my own, talking about my problems, verbalizing my fears…..all of these things felt like accepting defeat and admitting I wasn’t perfect for everyone to see.

I felt all of these emotions so strongly, but I couldn’t figure out how to deal with them without looking like I couldn’t handle everything on my own. So, instead of dealing with problems or emotions or conflicts, I ran.

Ironically, that’s how I ended up in Nashville.

After a senior year full of different hurts and, what I perceived as failures, I was ready to get as far away as I could. If I could just run far enough and fast enough and long enough, eventually the problems would dissipate and I wouldn’t have to deal with them.

Right?

Wrong. That’s not how it works. That’s not how it will ever work. But sometimes, it feels like it works.

It feels like if you can just get far enough away you can start over without dealing with any old problems or hurts.

But really, those problems just pile up for you to deal with later.

As I was talking to one of my oldest friends about everything going on in life from friendships to relationships to work to grad school to everything in between, he asked me what I was going to do.

I just stared blankly at him and didn’t give much of an answer.

He looked at me with a smirk and said, “You’re going to wait until you find out where you’re going to grad school to make any decisions aren’t you?”

I sheepishly replied, “That was kinda my plan. That way I’ll know where I’m running to.”

He chuckled because he knows me well. But I think we both knew that wasn’t my best plan.

I’m a runner. I’ve always been a runner.

I hate confrontation. I hate disappointment. I hate failure. I hate conflict. And I hate dealing with anything that doesn’t look like a big package of success wrapped nicely with happiness and perfection.

So I run from it.

But I’ve realized recently that eventually, you can’t run anymore. One day, you’ll run out of places to run to. And on that day, you’ll have to sit down and deal with all of the hurt, disappointment, conflict, and failures you’ve been running from.

And that day will hurt. Man, it will hurt like crazy. And you might feel like the biggest failure.

But that day brings with it new life. It brings the freedom to apply to that dream job you were too scared to go after. Or the grad school you didn’t think you were good enough for. Or the move you were too scared to make.

It brings the freedom for you to put yourself out there and deal with the outcome without feeling like  you have to run away before you can get hurt.

And after you let go of the hurt, you have room in your luggage to refill that space with happiness, success, healed relationships, hopes, dreams, and a future you don’t want to escape from.

Life is hard. Failures are inevitable. But running is a choice. And its a choice that’s labors have proved unfruitful.

 

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What if Doing Nothing…Cost You Everything

As I get older, I’ve noticed that most people who are familiar with the Bible have at least one story they have problems with. Generally, it’s because they sympathize with the character in the story who is being reprimanded or disciplined.

For me, the Parable of the Talents in Matthew 25 has always been one that didn’t sit well. As the story goes, the master gives talents to three different servants. To the first he gives 5, the second 2, and the third 1. The servants were suppose to take these talents, go out and make more talents.

A lot of people struggle with the idea that one servant gets 5 talents while the other gets 1, but that’s not my issue. I can deal with the idea that life isn’t fair and we’re all dealt different hands. However, what I’ve never been able to get past is the reaction of the master to the 1 talent man.

The 5 talent man and the 2 talent man both went out and doubled their talents, meaning they earned 5 more talents and 2 more talents, respectively, for their master. But when the master asked the 1 talent man what he did with his, he responded with: “I was afraid, and I went and hid your talent in the ground. Here, you have what is yours.”

I was afraid. I hid your talent in the ground. Here, you have what is yours.

I see myself written all over this character. I am not a gambler, a risk taker, or a faith jumper. I do not thrive on spontaneity. And I hate the unknown. I’ve written, extensively, about that here.

So when the servant, in all his vulnerability, tells the master he hid the talent in the ground because he was scared, essentially, of losing the talent, my heart sympathizes with him. I think, “Hey, man, that’s exactly what I would do. Look at us liking the security of the certain.”

But the master doesn’t respond with sympathy, not even with light reprimand. Oh no. The master calls him a “wicked and lazy servant!” and instructs them to “cast the worthless servant into the outer darkness. In that place where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.”

Woah. I understand rewarding the 5 talent man for producing 5 more talents. I unerstand equally rewarding the 2 talent man for producing 2 more talents. I would even understand the lack of reward for the 1 talent man, because, we can all agree, he didn’t do anything to be rewarded for.

But what gets me is the punishment the servant receives for not growing his 1 talent. I would understand the punishment if the servant lost the talent or wasted it on riotous living, but all he did was bury it safely in the ground.

He settled for safe, because he was scared.

I feel like my whole life relates to this servant.

My family and friends often joke about, and get annoyed by, my inability to make decisions. But like the 1 talent man, burying my head and letting others make decisions is much more appealing.

I’m the girl who was sick for 3 days after picking out a couch for my apartment because, “What if we get it inside and it doesn’t look good?” or “What if I decide it’s not as comfortable as I thought it was?” or “What if I get tired of looking at it and want something else?” or “What if it’s not worth what we paid for it?” or or or….

Literally. Sick. For Three. Days. OVER A COUCH!!

Is it ridiculous? Absolutely. And it’s equally annoying that I go through that much anxiety trying to make a decision about anything over the fear that it won’t work out.

So I related to this 1 talent man. And every time I read this story I think, “that poor guy.” Because I see myself being that guy. And I don’t want to be punished for my lack of action due to paralyzing fear. I want to be excused.

But God doesn’t make excuses for our lack of action no matter what our reasoning is. And sometimes, that’s a really hard pill to swallow.

Instead, He CALLS us to action…

“Be doers of the Word and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves.” -James 1:22

“Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven.” Matthew 7:21

“Whatever you do, work heartily, as for the Lord and not for men, knowing that from the Lord you will receive the inheritance as your reward. You are serving the Lord Christ.” Colossians 3:23-24

“So whoever knows the right thing to do and fails to do it, for him it is sin.” James 4:17

“Little children, let us not love in word or talk but in deed and in truth.” 1 John 3:18

So, it’s time for us (me) to stop taking after the 1 talent man, and instead use our talents to produce more for our Father.

It’s time to take risks, get out of our comfort zones, push ourselves to achieve more, and rest in the knowledge that His strength is made perfect in our weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9-11).

For the days when you don’t feel smart enough, brave enough, good enough, or strong enough, maybe this song will help.

Go out and be great, friends. The armies of the Lord are behind you.

 

Finding Joy in Normal

As Toria and I were discussing our NYE plans, we both commented on how uneventful our nights were probably going to be. The idea of spending a night at home doing nothing was rather appealing after a busy holiday week.

But then…

I started to see pictures all over Facebook of all the fun events everyone else was attending. Suddenly my night at home seemed less than appealing. I wasn’t really satisfied with a “normal” night when it looked like everyone else was enjoying something more extravagant.

As we were both discussing the dissatisfaction with our “normal” nights, I realized how less than excited I seem to be with “normal” life. Not to say that I’m unhappy with my life, because I’m not.

But those ear-to-ear smiling, can’t contain my joy, overly excited to experience life moments seem to be few and far between. It’s as if I’m waiting for something to happen to spark that excitement. As if the mundane day-to-day living isn’t worth being excited over.

For a lot of us in this weird, post-grad stage, it feels like we’re constantly in a stage of waiting. Waiting to start our dream career. Waiting to be engaged. Waiting for the next big trip we can post about. Waiting to plan a wedding. Waiting to start a family. Waiting for anything to be more exciting than where we’re stuck now.

Because somehow we’ve convinced ourselves that our lives are stagnant if we aren’t actively passing through each of these stages. And with stagnation comes mundane. And who finds overly ecstatic joy in the mundane?

Maybe waiting for “big things” to spark happiness is only a problem I have. Or maybe I’m right in thinking others struggle with that too.

But one thing was certain, I didn’t want to keep waiting for “big things” to experience that bubbling over happiness they seem to bring with them. Because those big things seem to occur few and far between. And with each big thing, comes a long period of waiting after the moment fades.

It’s true that happiness is a fleeting emotion, but that’s all the more reason to search for that happiness every day.

I don’t want to be thrilled with life just when I’m skiing down the mountains of Colorado or lying on the beaches in Jamaica.

I want to be thrilled with life when I wake up to Ellie running around the bed, when I walk into work and get to hear about other people’s lives, when I go to the grocery store and find mangoes on sale.

I want that ear-to-ear smiling, can’t contain my joy, overly excited to experience life feeling to be present in my daily life.

Why?

Because I’m tired of waiting for “life” to impress me enough to feel that. It’s too great of a feeling to only experience a few times a year. That’s ridiculous.

Life is so cool when you choose to see it. And there are so many things daily that should spark our excitement to be alive.

So my goal for 2017 is simple:

I want to experience joy in everything. And find happiness in the small things.

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Will you join me? Let’s make everyday the next best day of our lives.

My Sister’s Shoes

Several nights ago, as I was taking Ellie outside at my apartment, I heard footsteps coming down the stairs behind me. I looked up and saw a guy walking down the stairs towards us.

As he got closer, he looked up and remarked, “Uhh this was a bad idea.”

I assumed he was referring to the Labrador puppy without a leash he was holding in his arms. Everyone else but you, sir, understands that dogs should be leashed when you take them outside at an apartment complex…

But, to my surprise, his unleashed puppy was of no concern to him.

Instead, he looked down at his feet and said, “These are my sisters shoes. I just grabbed the closest ones I could find. I don’t normally wear these.”

So, of course, my eyes went directly towards his feet to see what he was talking about. Sure enough, his feet were sporting some sparkly gold, strappy sandals.

I tried not to chuckle, since it was obvious he was already embarrassed, but I assured him I hadn’t even noticed until he said something. And I probably never would have noticed.

And then it got me thinking.

So what if I did notice? What would that have meant to a stranger who didn’t even know my name?

How many times do we stress about something because of what what we think other people might say or think about it?

How many times do we notice the pimple that just popped up on our face and feel as if it’s the only noticeable thing about us? Or how many times do we avoid buying an outfit because somebody might think it looks weird or its not in style? How often do we avoid going somewhere we really want to go because someone might question if that was a good use of our money or not?

Daily, most of us, make decisions with the thoughts of what someone might say or think in the back of our heads. We don’t always wear or eat or go or say what we really want to, because we have to think about how that looks or sounds or appears to other people.

What if they think I’m weird? What if they think I’m uneducated? What if they think I’m lazy? Poor? Selfish?

So, what if? No, really.

What happens if they think any of those things?

Does it change who you are? Does it change what you stand for? Does it change what you know to be true?

It doesn’t. Other than causing anxiety for yourself, the opinions of others don’t really affect you on a grand level.

Sure, your reputation matters. Your name matters.

But what doesn’t matter is what so & so thought of you for eating 2 cupcakes when you should have eaten just one. Or what he thought of you for spending money on a vacation instead of investing in a 401k. Or what she thought of you for buying a floral dress to go with fluorescent patterned leggings. Or what they thought of you for taking a lower paying job to spend more time with your family.

And what matters even less, is the assumptions that they draw about you based on your actions.

My neighbor knew why he was wearing those shoes. I didn’t.

So what if I did notice them, and then wondered why he was wearing those shoes? Or what if I decided he was weird for it? Who’s in the wrong?

Me. For making an assumption based on actions I knew nothing about.

People might see what you did, but they don’t know why you did it. And, honestly, your “why” is none of their business.

So let them talk. Let them draw their own conclusions and form their own opinions. But let them do that completely absent of you. Don’t waste your time and energy wondering what their opinions are. Make decisions that will better your life, and actually work to better your life by unapologetically making those decisions.

Because in the grand scheme of things, what other people think about you doesn’t hold much water.

And lastly, as my mom always told me, don’t be so arrogant to think people are always talking about you, thinking about you, or noticing you. When everyone else is just as worried about what other people think, they don’t have time to worry about judging you.

So wear your sister’s shoes proudly if that’s what you decide to do. But don’t go pointing it out and explaining yourself to people out of fear of what they may think.

Live your life boldly. Be true to yourself. Be you. Wholly, completely, unapologetically you.

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