Seasons of (Self) Love

525,600 minutes. 

525,600 moments so dear. 

How do you measure a year? 

I log on to Facebook as I see my friends post tributes to their loved ones. I read the stories of the college freshmen who had their lives changed by their pledge class, girls who feel as though they have finally found their forever, and people who fought diseases or unemployment because they worked through it as a family.

As I reflect on this past year, I can't help but think of those who I shared these experiences with. I think of the precious little I added to my sorority family, and to the sorority sisters who went above and beyond to be there for me. I think of the time I spent cuddling with my sister after we cried happy tears because the cancer was finally gone. I think of the guy who had a bigger pride issue than myself but still helped me overcome my fear of feelings. 

Don't get me wrong--I had some great times with some great people this year, whether it was the National Lampoon-esque New Year's party, my first Mardi Gras, romantic nights that could have been the climax in a Nicholas Sparks's book, the countless weekends at the beach, the spontaneous trips that always seemed to lead to I65, and some nights that I'll never forget, but hope others don't remember.

 

But the times that really stuck with me? Getting up before sunrise to go running, working 12 hour shifts at minimum wage to save up money for my trip to Spain, hitting up last call (at Starbucks) and staying at the club (Sterne) until closing, and racing the clock to finish articles for my internship before my 8AM class. 

I think about the lonely nights and the quiet mornings. I think of all the time I've spent alone. I think about how much I've written and the dreams I've realized. I think of times I wasn't sure I could go on, but I persevered. I think of all the times I simply went through the motions because that was all I was left with. 

As I drove home from work today, I began to tear up. Why? Because I did it. I survived all the trials and tribulations that this year brought. I was the one who drug myself through the hard nights and worked hard to become the person I wanted to be. It's an ongoing process, but in 2013, I made the hardest choice--to take the first step.

Sometimes you need to remind yourself that you were the one who carried you through the heartache...You should be proud of that. Having the strength to take care of yourself is the strongest thing in the world. via tumblr

I think about how now I run miles for fun while before you couldn't get me to jog if a velociraptor was chasing me. I look at my itinerary for Spain and know that every hour at the God-forsaken Florence mall was worth it. Every time I said no to going to the Cheesecake Factory or a Sephora trip paid off. I see that my room is actually clean and not because my mom yelled at me or I knew I had a room inspection coming up or because I was expecting a male visitor. I think about how freeing it has been to not have a smart phone for the past seven months and even more freeing to have been completely phoneless this past week.

This year hasn't exactly been a piece of cake, but tonight I'm going to celebrate a successful year by having a slice of the decadent chocolate beauty that my mother purchased.

Tonight, I'm celebrating survival; I'm celebrating the sanctity and the fragility of life. Most of all, I'm celebrating me. 

I MADE IT!

Hard Doesn't Mean Impossible

"You know that's going to be really hard, right?"

I only nod. There's no point trying to justify my decision. There's no way I could make you understand why I want to do this. There's no point in trying to explain how I will go about accomplishing this. It may seem out of character for me, but then again, being unpredictable is my forte.

I'll be the first to admit that I am a total girl. I love all things pink and sparkly. I have days where I think only Taylor Swift understands me. I would monogram everything I have if I was given the opportunity. Chocolate is my favorite food group, and my go-to on a bad day. My yoga pants have never seen the inside of a yoga studio. I like Nicholas Sparks movies and Elle Woods inspires me. You can almost always find my sorority symbol somewhere on my person. I'm majoring in Communications. I bake when I'm stressed out. I'm even at terrible driver.

Needless to say, it was a shock to my friends when I casually mentioned that I am going to start training now for next year's Spartan Race.

I love running. I used to run three miles every morning (before my boyfriend Mervyn took over my life). The freedom, the invincibility I feel when I run compares to nothing else I've ever experienced. Naturally, I would want to do some sort of race. If the opportunity arose, I could do a normal 5K tomorrow, but where's the fun it that? A 5K with obstacles that have been compared to military training? Yeah, cool, sign me up.

Never mind that I have zero upper body strength. Or that I'm no Spiderman when it comes to scaling walls. And that I have the hand-eye coordination of Helen Keller. (I blame my parents for the last one--they never let me play video games as a child). 

So, yes, this is going to be hard for me, but I like it that way. I'm the kind of girl who likes a challenge whether it recruiting the best girls for your chapter or throwing a javelin across a football field. Good things take hard work and dedication, each and every day. I won't just wake up one day and show up at the race. I will have to take my bad days to the track instead of the dessert bar. I will wake up and go to the gym to find the strength I need to complete the most physically demanding task of my life. I will have to push myself further than I have ever pushed before because that is the only way to make a change.

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I feel like for months and even years, I've been craving something new, something a little scary, something that isn't handed over because of charm or connections. Even more so, I want to do something that even I was not sure I could accomplish. I'm done with excuses. I'm done waiting. I'm ready to work.

A little more discipline might be exactly what my shambly life needs.




*Image found on Tumblr