Beautiful Lengths Part 2

For those of you who read my blog and read my post about Beautiful Lengths a few months ago, this is a part 2 of that post......

I did it! And it felt AWESOME!
Canvas Hair Studio in Gainesville, GA made the whole experience so much fun and I love my new 'do. Ultimately, I was able to donate between 10 and 11 inches.
Having not had short hair in awhile (and hair this short maybe never), I'm really enjoying how fun and easy it is to style. It feels great and sassy and retro. Here are some pics.

Before

After....

For those of you who are thinking about doing this, I definitely recommend it!

Here's my favorite thing about being able to do such simple thing for someone.

Sure it makes a difference for a woman in a physical way, but also makes a difference in an emotional way. Stepping out of your comfort zone to do something completely voluntary for a stranger makes a statement about our interconnectedness as people. A statement that shows us what we all have in common.

It says, "Yeah, life sucks sometimes. But Love doesn't suck. Love is there for you. Life is going to be awful sometimes, really really awful-that's the Fall.  In the midst of those times, Love is going to be the thing that pulls you out of the gutter-that's the Redemption."

Those are two things that I believe every person has or will experience. 

Therefore, anything, even something small, that we can do to love others is the best possible use of our time.

I want to be better about that. It has made a world of difference for me to be blessed by the love of others during this last year of pain and grief. 

That love, that healing love in the midst of the sorrow,  is what I'm thankful for on this week of Thanksgiving.

John Green and Scarlett O'Hara: Grief and breakdowns

I love John Green's video blogs on YouTube. If you haven't watched any of them, you really should check them out-a glorious mixture of deep, nerdy and hilariously random.
 I also enjoy the ramblings of  Hank (his brother), but not nearly as much.

Having read all of John books, I have concluded the likelihood that his inner world, like mine, is an oddly cohesive balance:  joyful, romantic optimism with a melancholic twist- the grim, ever-present awareness of life's inevitable tragedy.

Most people probably wouldn't know about that second part for me, or at least they wouldn't have a year ago. It's always been there, but is not often percieved.  You wouldn't know this side of John Green either, from  most of his happy/hyper videos. If you read his books though, there it is.


I don't know if John is an INFP like I am, or if the link between this sort of personality is something else. Most people seem to be able to put the awareness of tragedy on the back burner, but I just can't. I never really have been able to, but since I lost my mom it has become impossible. It's makes you love people harder, and it's also harder to love people.

The balancing  act seems to lie in the establishment of small  "forevers"  in little moments and acceptance  that others will inevitably make a big impact on us.
 "Some infinities are bigger than other infinities" are the words spoken by Augustus Waters in Green's The Fault in Our Stars.  Words from one child cancer patient to the girl that he loves, whose diagnosis is terminal.

I know. I know. It sounds too morbid, but really, it's not. The Fault in Our Stars had me crying on one page and laughing hysterically on another page. It's really just all about that balance that you have to find. That balance  between joy and tragedy. It is a balance which screams at my psyche all the time. It's a balance which was turned into a beautiful story by John Green, and that's part of why I like him so much.

Ok, ok, so all of that is to say that I like John Green. I relate to him. Sure, he's smarter than me, wittier, more eloquent, more productive, but we share a personality with a similar dichotomy . Hey, I guess that's how a lot of people pick their heroes- "You are like me, but way cooler!"

Here's where I am going to be selfish and whiny. Forgive me.

 Talking about John Green- I just watched one of his videos called "Perspective" which made some really important comments about how future you can' t always see how negative things in your past would come impact you positively. John talks about how, when he was 24, he had a breakdown after his girlfriend left and he was searching for meaning and everything. He lived on a diet of Sprite until he got really sick and he went home to his parents to get his head on straight. He started writing the book, Looking for Alaska (which resulted ultimately in his current success).

However, the more I got to thinking about it, the more this one little detail started nagging me. John was 24. I am currently 24. John got sad, and stopped taking care of himself. Others took care of him. He got to quit the real world for awhile, because it was too hard, and he couldn't go anymore.He was too tired.

I've seen this happen a lot.

I am kind of jealous because I can't do that.

Here's the thing: I know a great deal people who have had breakdowns in their twenties: people I respect and love. I've never judged them for it, because life is rough. I've been close myself. I was close once in highschool when I experienced my first breakup. I was close once during my extremely challenging senior year, when I was taking 23 credit hours, working on my senior thesis, and missing my wonderful long-distance boyfriend. I saw others quit for awhile, go home. While I didn't blame them, I was always proud that I never had to use my "get out of jail" card. I could have quit, you see. I would have been ok. I wouldn't have starved or died or been shunned if I had.
In the back of my mind, I always knew that if I did ever crash and burn, my parents (like John's did) would pick up the pieces and help me get back together again. I knew that, but I didn't crash. The twenties are for exploration, a lot of people say. Young adulthood, where it's ok to mess up.

I made it through a challenging college in four years with honors. I  made it through over a year of long distance heartache and married the man of my dreams. I found a satisfying job right after college. All before the age of 23. I was happy. And yes, a bit proud. I felt so successful at life. But definitely not done-so much more to do.

Then the past year: a whirlwind of love, stress, pain, grief and sorrow. I miss my mom, one of my best friends, so much. I am left with so many new questions and dreams and pains. I am so tired, and  I ache with a very personal kind of sadness that it seems no one else can understand.
  ("There are many kinds of love, but never the same love twice."-F.Scott Fitzgerald).  Often, I think that mom would understand, because she's most like me of any person that I ever met. But then she's not here to understand, which makes it all the harder.

I get up every morning and go to work. I act happy. I teach. I am happy sometimes. I push all these feelings aside so I can function. I run errands, cook, talk to friends, hang out with Dane and my dad, read, watch TV.   I am exhausted from life. But even more, I am so exhausted from holding it in-the grief that sneaks into quiet moments and makes my hurt. Hard to breath.

Night-time is the worst. Every night the images keep coming and my heart seems to break all over again.

If ever there was a time when I would breakdown, it would be now. I'm a feeler. Always have been. I feel things in such a big way that it would be easy to let them take me over. So easy. A breakdown would be so easy.

But if I ever had a "break down" card, it is gone now. It went away with my acceptance of all the responsibilities of which I was so proud. I have an education, a job, bills to pay, a loving family who needs me to be ok. If this is the time to explore and make mistakes, I wonder why I am not allowed to be a mistake for a little while.  Inside, I am the opposite of okay. How do I keep seeming okay to people? Why do I have to? The jealous teenager in me sees others getting a break over other things and is crying out, "This is so not fair!"


I don't have a back up plan. We don't have money to fall back on if I couldn't get up and work in the morning. I don't have my mom to hug me or say,  "Just always know that you can come home if you need to."  It seems that being screwed up or having a breakdown is not a luxury that everyone can afford. I mean I wish I could. I really really do. Because inside that's how it is sometimes, and keeping up the facade is wearing me out.

It was like at the memorial service for mom. So many people came. I didn't want to talk to all those people. It was actually the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to be alone and scream and cry. But the people came to share their hearts and it was my responsibility to hear them for my mom.


Then I think about Scarlett O' Hara, (about whom I have very mixed feelings). Southern icon of charm, beauty and guile, Scarlett is not the kind of girl I would want to hang out with. She's always flattering her way into the most advantageous heart that she can, and she doesn't really care who she takes out in the process.

However, she went through some tough shit.
She was raised in all the luxury that the South could afford, wanting for nothing. You would expect that coming home to Tera to find her home mutilated, mother gone, and father crazy would have made her give up, but it didn't. She knew she was the only one who could keep things going, so she just kept going. She never rested, never stopped.

I don't necessarily want to be like Scarlett O'Hara, because for the most part I find her quite disturbing, but I do admire her endurance. It is encouraging to the position I find myself in right now, where having a breakdown is not a luxury I can afford.

Then I think about people who have problems which are not first-world, and I feel ashamed of my petty longing for a break.
.... People who have lost almost entire families to starvation or disease and are just trying to survive from day to day. It's a whole new perspective entirely.

I'm sorry for the tremendous length and rambling nature of this post, and I don't really expect many people to read it. I was just going to journal it, but I thought that others sure have had similar thoughts at some point and maybe it would do some good to post it.
 I'm just feeling kind of run-down lately. And I'm thinking of all the times I could have broken down but didn't- how proud I felt. Now I'm not to proud to admit that I am seriously struggling, but the breakdown card is gone. Again, first world problems.

A Word About Coconut Oil

A Word about Coconut Oil

By: Kathryn Gustafson

“Put some Windex on it.” Is a classic line from one of my favorite romantic comedies, “My Big, Fat Greek Wedding.”  In the movie, the bumbling and lovable father of the film’s protagonist is a firm believer that Windex can treat any ailment, no matter how pesky or obscure. Well, since my husband and I started using coconut oil, we have said, “Put some coconut oil on it,” more times than I care to count.

            According to research presented by leading health-man, Dr. Oz, coconut oil is a miracle food which aids the body in a multitude of ways, from cholesterol reduction to increased metabolism to the prevention of Alzheimer’s  Disease.  There is also evidence to support coconut oil’s ability to reduce the risk of seizures, moisturize hair and skin, and reduce fat-especially the dangerous and hard-to-target belly fat! (authoritynutrition.com)

Did I mention, it’s delicious? One of our favorite meals to cook, which uses a great deal of coconut oil, is coconut-curry tilapia with coconut, lime and kale salad. Delicious!  Dane also likes to slow cook chicken in it.  The result is tender, meaty, and slightly tropical.  Homemade French fries cooked in coconut oil are also incredible. Plus, imagine eating French fries that actually reduce your cholesterol instead of raising it!

The flavor is slightly coconut-y, but not overbearingly so.  If you can’t stand coconut, but want the health benefits of this powerhouse oil, you can mix coconut oil with olive oil to lose the slightly sweet flavor. 

I love concocting homemade cosmetics, so one of my favorite things about this oil is its ability to be used in a variety of spa-like applications.  A tablespoon of coconut oil diluted with water makes an effective and inexpensive make-up remover.  Added to honey, it is an incredibly moisturizing face mask. Heat up the leftovers from your face mask, and you have an excellent warm-oil hair treatment (I am currently treating my breaking hair with this once a week and can tell a huge difference after each treatment). You can mix it with sugar or Epson salt and have an awesome body scrub. I love experimenting with this oil as a beauty product. 

Dane and I are currently working on a cookbook to record, in greater detail, the many ways we have been learning to incorporate this seemingly miraculous oil into our everyday lives. In the meanwhile, I hope that you are encouraged to go get some and try it out for yourself. 

LoGiudice, Pina, ND, Siobhan Bleakney, ND, and Peter Bongiorno, ND. "The Surprising Health Benefits of Coconut Oil." The Dr. Oz Show. N.p., n.d. Web. 21 Sept. 2013

Gunnars, Kris, "Top 10 Evidence-Based Health Benefits of Coconut Oil." Authority Nutrition. N.p., n.d. Web. 28 Sept. 2013.

Broken Strings

"All the strings inside him broke," is how author John Green describes  death through the voice of his character, Margo Roth Spiegelman, in Paper Towns.

I found Green's comparison to be quite striking actually, but I thought it to be more befitting when applied to the broken-hearted rather than those who are already gone. 

If you, like me, believe in eternal life, you know that the suffering is greater on the earth-end than it is for those who have found Christ. 

For those who must go on everyday without someone we have loved and lost, it is a constant pulling and detaching of strings....

......wanting to hug that person who was always there with the warm, tender hug that seemed to fix anything, wanting to call them on the phone to chat, or go shop together, or ask for advice about a situation that no one but that person would understand, or just to sit on the couch and be close to them because they are one of the best things in your life.....

Each of these things becomes a pulled and broken string when your thoughts automatically reach out in anticipation of them.  When you realize that you will never be able to do those things in your whole life again..... it does feel like you are being ripped apart inside. 

You feel like you are an instrument that is malfunctioning  in places  no one can see. You try to keep working and playing and just hope that no one will notice that you are broken and can't make the same music anymore. What else can you do? An instrument or machine does not have another function. People, likewise, are ultimately left with the only options of A. just-keep-on-going or B. give-up-and-die.

In the car this morning, I was thinking about the different ways I have reacted to the pain of my mom's death over the past few months. 
The first thing was screaming, just screaming and crying.
Then the crying, several times a day, almost on the hour.
The crying still happens a lot. The screaming happens less. When I scream I do it in the car. I try to cry in private. I couldn't control that at all before.

Now there is always this deadweight in my stomach, a panicked feeling, and a constant sensation that my heart is being pulled to pieces. This is why I liked the strings analogy. That's what it feels like: what once held you together is being pulled apart, and you are snapping as all the strings inside you are pulled to an extreme tension point until they inevitably break.

Grief is so weird, because everyone seems to think it gets better over time, but  it has hurt more the longer I go without her. The more time passes, the more I miss her as I really start to realize that she won't be there when Dane and I have kids, she won't see this or that happen, we won't take those family trips together. When I run into people at the grocery store that I haven't seen in awhile, I run away because I don't want to have to explain it.

Maybe I seem better, because the crying and screaming are more under control.

But here's what I am thinking:


The tears and external reactions were events outside of my body, physical, observable responses to something horrible. They had not become part of me yet, so my body rejected them...regurgitating the sadness it was forced to swallow.
Now "myself" has given up. I have been saturated by a sorrow that is inside now, doing damage to the strings and breaking many of them totally. The broken aspect of the strings is as much a part of me as the strings themselves.

Before, the pain was something I was experiencing from the outside in. Now it is inside, and it does its damage there, leaving its mark on who I am. It is not a damage that could be confined to an experience, it is a damage that is identity-defining.

So what do we do, us damaged instrument people who try to keep trying to make music?

I am not there yet, but my mind says this: 

Acknowledge that we have suffered damage, and will never be the quite the same. I think we can also hope that our Maker will give us some new strings one day.

Pantene Beautiful Lengths

My hair is getting long, which is what happens when I get busy. The past year has been crazy and I kind of forgot about my hair and let it do its own thing. As my fellow curly-headed girls might understand, curly hair is probably most low maintenance when it is medium-long. Also, long is probably the way that I like it best: versatile and feminine, it suits my personality.

However, I am not one of those people that freaks out about getting their haircut, either. I don't mind mixing it up sometimes.

I recently heard about how Pantene has joined with the American Cancer Association and is taking hair donations to provide free wigs for women suffering from hair loss due to chemotherapy.
I know that there are a lot of organizations like this (Locks of Love, Children with Hair Loss, ect), but here is what I like about the Pantene Beautiful Lengths:

1. There are several organizations which provide wigs for children, but this one provides wigs for adult women. I have known several women who have lost their hair due to chemotherapy and were unable to afford a wig made out real hair. My mom anticipated losing hers when she started chemo (she was the only patient her doctor ever saw not to lose all of her hair on that particular type of chemo) and I know that it was an uncomfortable prospect for her to face.  Even though I think that it is wonderful that there are several large organizations which focus on providing wigs for children, I like that Pantene is focused on women specifically. I think that hair loss from chemo is especially sensitve for women who want to feel strong and beautiful while they are fighting cancer.

2. Beautiful Lengths accepts donations of 8", unlike many other hair donation companies which require 10" or 12". This makes it a little more feasible for some.

3. Beautiful Lengths has a good reputation for using donations and  is clear about the kind of condition hair needs to be in to be an acceptable donation. They don't want for someone make a donation that can't be used. Some similar organizations are not so squeaky clean when it comes to what happens with their product.

4. Cancer sucks. This is something easy that women can do to give back to other women who are going through something horrible. If you are reading this, I very sincerely hope that you never have to go through the Hell that is cancer. I hope you never have to have it affect you at all through anyone you care about. But the truth is, I've realized, that you never know who it will affect. I think that Pantene Beautiful Lengths is a unique way for women to help other women.


So you're probably wondering, "She's hyping it up so much, is she going to do this?"

Absolutely! Unfortunately, my hair is not in awesome condition at the moment due to its year-long neglect. I dyed my hair about a month ago which is taboo according the the guidelines. I will have to talk to my hairstylist about what do to about that.  I also need to work on getting more regular trims, and am planning to grow my bangs out a bit more before making the cut.  That's something also: if you want to do this, make sure your hair is in the right condition because otherwise your generous intentions could be for nothing. While it may take me a few months to get my hair in right condition to donate it, I am excited about doing this!

My point in writing this post is to make other women aware of what is going on with Pantene Beautiful Lengths and explain why I think it is special and unique. I don't want to pressure anyone, merely to encourage other long-haired girls out there to consider making a change and making someone's battle with cancer a little easier.

Here is a link to the site which includes the requirements and other info:
http://www.pantene.com/en-us/pantenebeautifullengths/details/beautiful-lengths-make-the-cut.aspx

Agape

 I don't know how most of the world works. From the outside, I suppose my life is rather small.

I have a very small family. I teach at a small school. I have a small group of close friends, many of whom don't live close.

But I have always thought that my small life was much bigger on the inside because of love.
I may not know a vast array of people, but those I know, I know to the bone.
 I may be a little quiet and introverted, but when I love you, I promise to love you always.

I have loved so hard and so deep and so through-and-through that once I was convinced  that love could and would save a life.

It did not work. I tried, so hard, to hang on. But when things got truly horrible, there at the end,  love told me it wouldn't work that way. Love is not selfish, and it was selfish to keep trying to hang on.
 So I said, "You can go, it's okay, it's okay. I love you."  They are the hardest words I have ever said.

And even though I know that was the right thing to do, I have had some trouble with love since that day.

I have a lot of thoughts on this (she said after she typed two paragraphs and deleted them). Ultimately, I hope to come back to where Jack (C.S. Lewis) was coming from  when he discussed this topic in The Four Loves.
Funny, I've written more than one paper on The Four Loves. My mind understood it before, but I don't think my heart truly did.

“To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.” 

 

From the Grieving Heart to the Concerned Friend

Dear friend,

As the words "How are you doing?"  or  "Are you okay?" spill out of your mouth, I know that you are only asking because you care.  You are trying to help by showing me that yes, you remembered, you understand, you know it's been hard.

Sometimes maybe you ask because you feel like you have to before we can discuss anything else. You want to get it over with.

A lot of times you just ask because you think it's probably the only thing you can do.

Actually, there is nothing you can do.

And even as you ask me the question, out of good intentions no less, I am frustrated.
I have learned that this question is one that I hate. It may help you to feel like you have helped, but to me it is a command performance.

Once you ask it, you are through. You've done well, fufilled your obligations, the ball is in my court.

 For me, it is a difficult decision which I have to make quickly. Do I tell the truth (to precious few, only in the appropriate situations) or do I have to lie...again?

Mostly it is the latter.

"I'm fine."
"I'm doing okay."
"Alright."

Some of you would be fine with the truth, I know. But if I want a normal conversation with you, relationship with you, a normal interaction, then I have to lie. I don't want to go there every time I talk to somebody. You would get tired of it pretty fast if I did. I guarantee it.

To you, it was a very sad thing that happened a few weeks ago.
To me, it is constant. It is every minute. It is every memory. It is a whole reality which has been broken and I am scrambling for debris.

"I'm fine."

The tight, little smile which I hate accompanies those two words, and I know I am the world's worst actor.

If you're especially thoughtful, you might say, "Well, if there is anything you need, be sure to ask."

To fix this? I doubt it. Can you cure cancer? Time travel? Can you fix my heart? My family's hearts? Can you? No, you can't. So,

"No, I'll be okay. I can't think of anything."

I can tell that you think I'm better. But I'm just better at hiding it.

When I cry, I go somewhere private. I make sure my eyes aren't swollen before I come out. When I scream, I do so with no noise, a howling fish out of water. I wrap my arms around myself and breath very quickly. In. Out. In. Out.

I can talk about things, other things. I can even joke around a little.

I do these things for you, so you won't see that life is so fragile and that I am so broken and we are so helpless. I don't want you to feel badly because you cannot make me okay.

I do these things for me, too. I don't want to lose you, or overstay my welcome as "sad friend". I want you to like me. I don't want you to get frustrated and give up on me. I need you, even if there's nothing you can do to fix me.

I get so exhausted from pretending. My introvertism has been so magnified by this that every successful social interaction has become a marathon. I crawl back wearily into my shell, and maybe that is where I belong.

No, I'm not fine. My heart is full of sorrow and you cannot fix it.

But maybe you can do some things to help me survive.
Don't try to fix me. Don't expect me to be okay. Don't give up on me. Give me space, but don't  forget about me. Understand if I am not up for it, and please don't be offended. Keep trying. Know that I am broken, and love me anyway.
We're all just broken people after all.

Your friend,

The Grieving Heart

Terminus

[ˈtɜːmɪnəs]n pl -ni [-naɪ], -nuses

1. the last or final part or point

2. (Transport / Railways) either end of a railway, bus route, etc., or a station or town at such a point

3. a goal aimed for

4. a boundary or boundary marker

(Raw/unedited)

Life is gravity

As we fall. We are stretching 

Our arms towards anything

Worth grasping as we go.

We breath the fear, the blur

The rush of excitement, of experience.

We can never forget

That there is something coming-

an end to all this.

It's there even now: dragging us down

Hair and teeth, noses, ears, our flesh folds

Over itself to brace for impact.

It's slowing the inside, as the outside 

Speeds up. 

Traveling to something we've not before met.

Not yet.