Advocate

 SOTD: Clean  (The Clean Speech)

"Rain came pouring down//When I was drowning, that's when I could finally breathe"

I started a new job this week. I'm going to be a sexual assault advocate. If you have no idea what that means, you are in good company. I thought I knew. Turns out, I had no idea. 

The first thing you should know about my job is that I am not in the business of rescuing or helping. I'm also not in the business of judging. No, my primary objective is to provide emotional support while giving victims informed options to make the best decisions for themselves during a time of crisis. By nature, my job is listening to crisis after crisis, all day long. Not just any crisis, but crisis that is centered around sexual assault -- of anyone, at any age. 

I've written about my past traumas related to sexual assaults. This week has definitely brought a lot of those feelings back to the surface. I've also been processing emotions related to a trauma a friend is currently experiencing. I know that walking into this job, I already have some pretty heavy vicarious trauma happening in my life. How that changes over the next few months will determine if I am cut out to do this long term. 

The office culture is maybe my favorite thing so far. The women who work there are real characters. They say what they think and drop f bombs without hesitation. You can tell they genuinely like each other. My bosses are the coolest and I already want all three of them as mentors. 

I feel like I want to say a million more things, but I will be brief and just say, I think there is some kind of greater power because the timing of this job and all the other things going on in my life is completely uncanny. I am in the perfect place at the perfect time and it feels... perfect. 

Mind Your Business

 SOTD: None Of Your Business 

"Now who do you think you are//Puttin' your cheap two cents in?//Don't you got nothin' to do//Than worry 'bout my friends?//Check it"

I saw a meme the other day that said, "What other people think of you is none of your business." I've been thinking about this for days now. 

I'm the kind of person who needs constant validation. My therapist would say it stems from years of being told that I am not worthy or good enough and eventually allowing that to become my reality no matter how untrue it is. But I can't help it, I care what people think of me. 

You might be reading this and thinking, I am the exact same way. If so, I wish I could tell you how much you matter -- especially if you're one of the three people who consistently reads and supports my blog. 

I remember when I first joined Pinterest. I was one of the first 10,000 users. I remember seeing this gorgeous feather dress on a model in front of the Eiffel Tower. I wanted to repost it, but I was afraid the original poster would think I was weird. In hindsight, that might be the stupidest example of how I let others control me, but it's honest. There is a vulnerability to all of our true encounters. If we aren't being vulnerable, then what's the point? It's how we make real connections. 

I start a new job in a little over a week. My greatest fear isn't the difficult work I will do as a sexual assault advocate. No. It's making new friends at work and working with strangers in my community. I want everyone to like me, but I also want to be myself and I hope that's enough. Making friends at work is always so tricky. We spend so much time there that we naturally become close, but boundaries are necessary to keep the work from following you home. 

I remember when I lost my job in TV. As I wiped tears from my eyes after hearing the news that my job had been eliminated, my first words were: "I'm going to have to work with new people" and I was genuinely anxious about that. 

I'm going to keep reminding myself that it's none of my business, but I know I will still get anxious. How do you handle this? I'm very curious. 

It

SOTD: Lover

“Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?”

It’s that feeling when you know you’re safe. 

It’s the way time almost stands still. 

It’s the laughter after a thousand tears. 

It’s the warm on your face after days of rain. 

It’s the safety of what you know in the face of endless doubt. 

It’s finishing the book without ever putting it down. 

It’s enough to be known, but dying to be seen. 

It’s being reckless even after you promised to be careful. 

It’s being overly aware of any changes in the current. 

It’s the conversation you never wanted to have, through a microphone you never held. 

It’s saying I’m sorry, when you know you’ve done nothing wrong. 

It’s counting the hours instead of the days. 

It’s fearless and terrifying — one and the same. 

It’s pretending you haven’t noticed when it’s all that you see. 

It’s pricking your finger and watching it bleed. 

It’s knowing what you want and never giving in. 

It’s unconditional, inconsequential, and unwavering. 

It’s not being okay, but doing it anyway. 

It’s secret and quiet. 

It’s the distance between where you are and where you should be. 

It keeps me awake with its relentless possibilities. 

It keeps me at bay, too afraid to make a wave. 

It’s gorgeous in its simplistic existence. 

It hurts just enough to remind me to breathe. 

It’s the gasp between a sob and a cry. 

It’s the beat of my heart when I stopped asking why. 

Goodbyes

SOTD: How Can I Help You Say Goodbye

One of my favorite teachers from high school died unexpectedly in a car accident two nights ago. It’s the fifth loss I’ve experienced this year. To say that death is on my mind would be an understatement. 

They say you die twice. Once when you take your last breath, and again, a while later when someone says your name for the last time. I find great comfort in this because as long as I’m alive, I know those I’ve lost will continue to live on in stories and memories shared. 

What really gets me is the overwhelming amount of love and adoration that is shared publicly after someone dies. It’s always so beautiful, but my heart breaks a little that the person most in need of these kind words and thoughts can no longer receive them. I guess I feel like it matters more to say those things while our loved ones are still alive and not just when we are processing our grief. And I think I’ve always felt this way. 

With my teacher, I had the serendipitous opportunity to reconnect in real life about a month ago while spending time with another friend on the patio of our favorite Mexican restaurant. After about an hour of glances and overheard drink orders, Marty got up and walked over to me; he said “I know you, don’t I?” And of course I said, “Yes you do.” He had forgotten my name, but not my face or my time in his classroom. He was also aware that we were Facebook friends who shared a mutual world view. We acknowledged that we appreciated our shared roles as good liberals; something that mattered a great deal to us both. We chatted for a moment and then he returned to his friend. A few minutes later we were all enjoying shots of Don Julio. There was great music (courtesy of Marty) and lots of laughter. And I’ll tell you something, my first thought when I heard the news was how incredibly grateful I was to have shared that afternoon with him and our friends. 

I’ll continue to send hand written notes to people I care about. I’ll continue to support friends on social media. But in the next year, I want to become the friend with whom you always know how important and treasured you are. I want more face time and less screen time. I want more phone calls and less text messages. I want to be known as the friend who shows up. 

When I die, I want people to say nice things, but more than anything, I want to know your favorite memories, and to make a million more, while I can still appreciate the feelings that go with those things.

Do you know your worth?

 SOTD: No Such Thing

"When a good thing changes//When the change is staying//Only thing to find is//What to hold on 'til there's something else to hold on to//Hold on 'til there's something else to hold on to"

I have been thinking a lot about personal worth. Not net worth -- but actual emotional and societal value. There are so many things that happen in a single day that can make you question your worth. And a more secure person might not question at all. But I am not that girl. 

When we are born, we are assigned a race, a gender, a religion, and a nationality. From before we are even aware of what those things are, we are made to think that these things define us. The truth is, we can change the narrative at any time. We might not have control over our race or nationality, but we can choose how much of those things we assign to our identity. 

We get to choose who we allow into our lives and how we let them influence us. We have the choice to reinvent ourselves at any given moment. What we can't do is create our own reality. Denying the truth is a dangerous path. No matter how much we hate the reality, we have to accept it before we can change it. 

I'm interviewing for a job that I really want tomorrow. It would be a dream job of sorts because it's entire focus is helping women who are going through the worst events of their lives. I have experienced so much tragedy and heartbreak, I want to be part of the solution for someone else. I want to sit with them in their grief until they know they aren't alone. I want to be the light that I had when I thought the darkness would last forever. 

But I'm really nervous. I struggle to find my own value and make others believe I am worth their time. I think it happens naturally with those I spend time with but being asked to discuss those qualities is terrifying. I just don't like to talk about myself in that way, and I'm starting to think it might be because I don't know my own worth. 

I told an ex once that I am fine eating alone because I know what I bring to the table. While that might be one of my best pithy comebacks, it's certainly nowhere near the truth. I'm working on it. I see it in others. I surround myself with people who truly know the value of things and I believe it makes my friendships deeper and more beneficial. I just can't see it for myself.