Why I'm saying #metoo

For the last week, all of my social media has been filled with heartbreaking stories and a simple hashtag, and the number of posts I've seen doesn't even scratch the surface of the number of events that prompted them.

Every girl has one. I don't mean that we all have a big, scary, horrific story like so many do. I mean we all have something that is the reason we're scared to be in places like parking garages alone or why we remind ourselves to fill up our cars during the day if we know we'll be out late. The ones that make me grateful for friends that stand between me and strangers on the D.C. metro when they see the stares, or stories that make me walk three paces faster than normal to keep up with my boyfriend while exploring the strip.

It's every comment I got as a waitress about how the girls on staff should unbutton their shirts a little bit more or wear tighter pants on big game nights to "please the crowd" because "it will pay off, I promise."
It's every remark at every house party in college about not being slutty enough and how girls shouldn't be so afraid to "have fun."
It's every guy who's wanted a kiss he thinks he deserves after the first date.
It's the cook at the restaurant I worked at in college that every girl was warned to never be alone with and to always bring somebody else along if he asked for a ride home--the same one who kept his job even after one of the girls filed a sexual assault report because "he's our best cook and we couldn't do the morning shift without him."
It's every whistle out of a car that makes your skin crawl.
It's every time I heard a friend or sorority sister tell another "who was it, I'll fight him" after hearing a recap of the weekend.
It's pretending to be on a phone call when you walk down the street by someone who looks off.
It's the leers and the cat-calls and the "you know you want to's" that every girl can bring to mind without more than a few seconds thought.
It's making your gay best friend pretend to be your boyfriend for the night because that's 100x easier than explaining to someone that you're just not interested.
It's the client who refused to listen to me because I was a woman in a male-dominated industry and told me I "clearly didn't know what [I] was talking about" but listened to my male coworker repeat, word for word, what I said and respond enthusiastically that it was a great idea.


I'm lucky that I haven't experienced anything traumatic or devastating like so many have. And that's not because I dress differently or lead people on any less but purely because I'm lucky. And it makes me a little sick to think that it's such an ever present thing that the only way to avoid it is to be lucky.

So while I don't have a story to add to the scores of them we've all seen, I say #metoo because I know what it's like to be uncomfortable or scared. Like Kirsten King said, "these are not just two words or one instance - this is the world [we] have been conditioned to live in, and it needed to change yesterday."

Little love letters: Friday the 13th.

Dear Love, Taza,

Thank you for being the inspiration behind these love letters and my latest blogger crush. 

Dear email drafts folder, 

Thank you for holding all my thoughts and ramblings in a (somewhat, okay not really at all) secure place so that nobody's ears have to. 

Dear Hydroflask, 

I don't care if you're trendy, you are pretty close to the top of my most prized possessions list and I don't care what people say about you. 

Dear This Is Us, 

You break my heart in the purest way. I want a love like Dr. K loves his wife, or a husband that loves me like Jack loves Rebecca even when she forgets his birthday. 

Dear Diet Coke, 

You aren't as bad as I've made you out to be for the last 10 years and I hope you'll forgive me. 

Dear fall, 

I haven't been warm in three weeks, but I'm seriously crushing on the view I walk out to every morning, so it's okay. 

Dear  "old-fashioned," paper desk calendar, 

Well, this. 

Dear rice pudding, 
I don't care if it makes me sound like I'm 80 years old, I'd be perfectly content if there was a bowl of you in my fridge every single night. 

Dear Hendrickson fam, 
There are a million reasons why I'm dating Riley, but 8 of them are nieces and nephews. 

April: Be more forgiving.

[I'm not going to lie, this one sat in my drafts for a lot longer than I thought it would. I guess I thought that after singing Let it Go for the last couple years this would come a little bit more easily--but that couldn't be further from the truth. Lucky for me, we're all constantly a work in progress, and I'm better today than I was yesterday, or last week, or last year (I hope), and this is my way of keeping myself accountable.]

Normally, I'm a very trusting person.
I'd rather trust somebody completely from the get-go and give everybody the benefit of the doubt than have loads of reservations about who I could trust with what....

but if anybody does anything that makes it hard to trust them, it's basically game over.

Giving somebody a chance to earn that trust back is something that I've always struggled with.
I have a hard time getting over things that hurt or disappointed me and an even harder time not letting those feelings affect my judgement of that person or situation.

A couple of weeks ago, I was talking to a friend about something that had been bugging me for a while. After several minutes of ranting, I wrapped it all up with a nice little "but I'm not a bitter."
She looked at me and said, "Well, yeah actually, you are." I argued that no, I wasn't, I was just annoyed and couldn't believe that this thing was happening, blah blah blah. She rolled her eyes and let it go (probably because she knows me and realized it was fruitless), but that night I was reading a talk by Kevin R. Duncan and realized that she was right.

I was bitter. I was still upset. I was letting this situation (and a dozen other ones), things I had essentially no control over, affect how I was feeling and it wasn't doing anyone any good.
Being upset about these things wasn't making me a better person, it wasn't solving the problem, and I can pretty much guarantee that it wasn't causing the other people involved any grief.

Elder Duncan says, "I am convinced that most of us want to forgive, but we find it very hard to do. When we have experienced an injustice, we may be quick to say, "That person did wrong. They deserve punishment. Where is the justice?" We mistakenly think that if we forgive, somehow justice will not be served and punishments will be avoided." 

I put my computer down, opened up my journal, and started making a "let it go" list; a list of everything that was making me a little more bitter, a little less peaceful, and was wasting my time to be worrying about.

I knew when I was done that some were going to be easier than others (duh, Ash).

Some were bugging me because I'm a stubborn person that struggles to admit when I'm wrong; some were on the list because there had never been any resolution to a conflict; some were there because they still hurt and affected me, and like Elder Duncan said, I felt as though there was a punishment or consequence that had not been divvied out.

But, as Elder Duncan also says, "none of us should be defined only by the worst thing we have ever done." 

When somebody does something that hurts you, disappoints you, or causes you to abandon your trust in them, it's hard. Forgiving somebody for those offenses is even harder. But shouldering those feelings when you don't have to is the hardest thing to do.

That's not to say it's easy. Or something that happens quickly (because believe me, there's still a lot of work to be done here, and it's a good thing these New Year's resolutions span 365 or I'd be really slacking), but I do know that even the small improvements I've made have made me a little less bitter and a little more peaceful.

So make like Anna and Elsa and let it go--I promise it will feel better if you do.

March: Be more grateful.

I know, I know. It's March. Not November. 

But this weekend is St. Patrick's Day, which is all about luck and I've got a lot of things I consider myself lucky to have--so this month I'm focusing on being grateful for everything I get to call mine.

I'm grateful for music and books and Netflix. 

I'm grateful for the gym and leggings and eyelash extensions. 

I'm grateful for Dr. Pepper and pebble ice and peppermint Chapstick. 

I'm grateful for nerdy podcasts and inspiring quotes and purple nail polish. 

I'm grateful for minky blankets and days with no alarms and the promise of a tan come summer. 

I'm grateful for rocky road ice cream and fireworks and boys that hold your hand in the car. 

I'm grateful for my job--and everything that comes with it. The proximity to my family and the people I care about. The flexibility that allows me to make up for the school programs and ballet recitals and football games I missed while I was at school. It's placement in an industry I know very little about, which gives me endless (challenging) learning opportunities. The coworkers that make every day entertaining and productive, and make me excited to go to work every day. 

I'm grateful for my people. For my family and the eternal cheerleaders they are. For my parents and their support and advice. For my sisters and the way they motivate me to be a better person. For my brother and our genuine friendship. For my grandparents and all the lessons they've taught me. For my aunts and uncles and cousins and all the love they give. 

I'm grateful for the most patient boyfriend--and all the things he does for me. For the time he spends with me, and getting to me. For the effort he puts into our relationship. For the way he makes me laugh (and roll my eyes). For letting me spend time with his family, and the way his nieces and nephews make me smile. For the way he challenges me and makes me a better person.

I'm grateful for the neighborhood I grew up in and all the people in it. For neighbors that have become family and for Sunday nights in the culdesac. For corner lemonade stands and family vacations.

I'm grateful for Utah State. For the things I learned in class (and not in class). For the best friends that little town gave me, and the people it let me cross paths with. For the growing and breaking and loving I did there. And especially for the way it prepared me for the real world as soon as I was ready to leave. 

I'm grateful to be a member of the Church.  For siblings that serve missions and teach the gospel all over the world. For temples that enable me to be with my family forever. For forgiveness and the Atonement. For the yearly Primary program. For a Heavenly Father that loves me. 

No one has an easy life--but I've been pretty blessed to have a life full of relatively smooth sailing, and I need to be more grateful for the things I am so lucky to have. What are you grateful for? 

Days of Love.

My sweet friend Shelby has been doing this series for a couple of years, and I was thrilled to be a part of it this year!

Here's what I had to say about love (but you should read the rest of the series as well because they'll make your heart all kinds of happy). 

February: Be more honest.

I know, I know, it's February. The "love" month. I should have picked "be more loving" or "be more sentimental" or even "teach yourself to like the color pink even though you've refused to for years." 

But I didn't--because I think being more honest kind of leads to being more of those things (not the pink thing. The loving and sentimental things).
I'm also a terrible liar--so why did I choose to work on being more honest for February?

I think we all like to hide from reality behind knee-jerk responses and carefully calculated subject changes.
I'm notoriously bad at letting people help me solve problems and even worse at showing my emotions.
Being vulnerable isn't one of my strengths--but I'm working on it.
That's why this month, I'm trying to be more honest; more honest about my feelings, more honest with the people around me, and more honest with myself especially.

I think I've always equated feelings with weakness. Being vulnerable about anything meant that I wasn't capable of handling something on my own, whether it was an essay I was struggling to write, an event I was planning where I may have bitten off more than I could chew, or coming to that point in a relationship where I realized that this was good but acknowledging that would mean I had something to lose and losing is one of those things I hate.
I'm one hundred times better at helping people fix their problems then fixing my own--or heaven forbid, making somebody help me figure mine out.
But (and this is huge for me), I've realized that I make things a million times more difficult for myself if I'm trying to keep everything inside and figure things out by myself.

We (or maybe just it's just me here) in this world filled with the idea that things have to be perfect to be good. Nothing is perfect, not everything is easy, and good grief, some of us have really really bad
days.
This month, I'm teaching myself that it's okay to have a bad day, it's okay to be emotional about things, and it's okay to really feel.
Maybe this love month will make me less heartless after all. ;)

January: Be more present.

I'll admit it, I'm absolutely terrible at keeping my New Year's resolutions--but I know I'm not the only one. By the end of January, they're more like really good ideas that would have been cool than things I'm actually working on to make myself a better human. 

That said, I wanted to go into this year with goals for myself, because #newyearnewme, right? But rather than making a list of things I was likely to forget or abandon in the next 31 days, I made a list of 12 things I wanted to work on, and assigned each one a month. 

Now, I'm sure that approximately 0% of you people reading this actually care, but this is my way of being accountable: my place to record what I'm doing, how I did it, and how it worked. So read away, or don't. You choose. ;) 

January: Be More Present

I'm a ridiculously sentimental person. I hate deleting photos and emails, I mark big events or my favorite memories in my planner (and then keep those planners forever), and I just barely (we're talking two weeks ago) threw away all  some of the notes and letters from when I was in JUNIOR HIGH. 

It's my way of remembering the "important" things, despite my terrible memory. 

As I was cleaning up my inbox + camera roll + messages over Christmas break however, I realized just how unnecessary all of that was. 

I'm going to remember the truly important things, even if I don't have 15 screenshots of texts about it saved on my phone. 

And then Dumbledore reminded me that "it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live" and I realized that daydreams fell into that category and dwelling on the past wasn't helping my future. 

So for January, I'm going to work on being more present. More appreciative of the here & now rather than ultra-nostalgic for the then & there. 

For me, that meant deleting the dozens of screenshots of texts that weren't important + 4-year-old text conversations with people I haven't spoken to in months because "there's some good stuff in there," clearing my inbox of two years worth of emails that I poured my Monday mornings into, and getting rid of things that had meant a lot to me once upon a time but were nothing more than trinkets with a touch of nostalgia that were cluttering my desk + the top of my dresser. 

The important things will always be there--and that's true for every part of life. 

There's just so much good happening right now that I don't want to miss a single second of it because I was caught up in what was instead of what is.

Master Oogway said it best. "Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift; that is why it is called the present." 

The One Where I Get on an Election Soapbox.

For starters, I am not thrilled about the way this election played out. I would not have been thrilled if it had gone the other way. I couldn't vote for either of the candidates in good conscience, for a variety of reasons that, frankly, are completely irrelevant now, as the future looms in front of us.

Elections, particularly those of a presidential nature, bring out the worst in everybody.

"Everybody is entitled to their own opinion," we say, with a muttered "but your's is wrong and I'm right" following closely behind it. 

Insults are thrown left and right in an attempt to "agree to disagree" and "explore the other side!" 

Here's the thing. 

Anger-fueled remarks are less than likely to convince somebody to see things your way. 

Removing people from your social media feed because you don't agree with them makes you as closed to their viewpoints as you accuse them of being to yours. 

To those of you that are "scared," this is not the first time a leader who doesn't support your personal beliefs has been elected, and it certainly won't be the last. 

To those of you that are "angry," you can't win them all. If you were happy with election results all of the time, someone would feel like you do all of the time. Think about it. 

To those of you wondering "how will I teach my kids about hatred, racism, bigotry, after this election," you should do it as you would if things had gone differently. You have a more direct influence over your children than anyone in the White House will--so change your house. 

To those of you that are "ashamed," you should be, of yourselves. Yes, this was an ugly race, and (at least in my eyes) neither of the candidates were good options--but that should not make you ashamed to be an American. Just because you don't agree with something does not make it shameful. Our country was built on innovation, progress, and change--and this presidential term will be a continuation of those. Change is not easy. It's not comfortable. And it's not something we agree with all of the time. But your reaction to this change says more about you than it does about the change itself. 

The President of the United States does not have any easy job, and that's without factoring in the reality that half of the country, and maybe more, hates them and everything they stand for. 

You may not agree with who is in office, but the office deserves your respect, as long as you are an American citizen enjoying the freedoms and liberties that come along with it. 

I may not be thrilled with the way things turned out--but I am grateful I have the ability to speak my frustrations, enact change, and live how I wish...and I'm still proud to be an American. 

Personal time machine.

*shuffle songs*

A couple chords, the all too familiar "oh, her eyes, her eyes" and it's junior year all over again, from the front seat of a blue Mazda listening to the boy you like talk about hockey and tease you about failing AP Biology on our way to another hockey game.

*skip*

"Some songs will always be better live," you think as What if You Don't comes on and you and your best friend are hearing it for played live for the first time and you get the same goosebumps you did then.

*skip*

It's the one you played on repeat the night he broke your heart.

*skip*

It's the middle of August, but Jay Z and JT will always feel like the Fourth of July and pulling into Huntsville with Nan and Hillary after Holy Grail played on the radio for the first time.

*skip*

Jon Mclaughlin sings "You're in my arms, and all the world is calm" and that same boy is dancing you around the parking lot in the rain and those three minutes and 52 seconds are the sweetest thing your 17-year-old self has ever seen and six years later you hope he's happy.

*skip*

"Tonight! Tonight! There's a party on the rooftop, top of the world" and you crack a smile that's partially a wince because this one feels like running 11 miles and you'd like to get it over with.

*skip*

A foreign rhythm starts playing and now it's 3 am on the Devil's Backbone and you and your best friends have your Pussycat Dolls parts down cold and can perform them on demand months later even though you still don't really know what "Jai ho" or "Baila baila" mean.

*skip*

You laugh out loud when Enrique tells you he can be your hero because you remember the boy who sang this one to you over the phone when you were in ninth grade.

*skip*

It's the one you played the night you broke his heart.

*skip*

Your hidden love for Avril Lavigne doesn't hide very well while you yell about how you still think you would have been a better girlfriend, despite the fact that you were in 8th grade then and being his girlfriend probably would have made it hard for him to still be your friend after almost 15 years.

*skip*

You catch your breath as the Dirty Guv'nahs sing about meeting her halfway to Birmingham because those words feel like leaving what you love, and when Spotify put it on your Year in Review as a "You ventured into the unknown with this track," you couldn't help but think that's exactly what it had felt like when you met the boy who showed it to you.

*skip*

A new favorite comes on, with lyrics you can't sing all the way yet and key changes you don't quite know and you let this one play through, because right now, it's just a song, not yet a part of the time machine.

The highlight reel.

Four years ago, walking across the stage with 980 other students in brown and gold was the biggest thing I'd ever done.
Four years, and what seems like a lifetime later, I'm beginning to realize how incredibly wrong I was.
Since the second I set foot in my dorm-room apartment in Snow Hall my freshman year,  I've heard echoes of neighbors and friends and family members telling me how I was "doing college right," and just how fun everything looked.
They're right.
Some days, it was the worst and I just wanted to go home to my mom and I won't deny that, but for most of the last four years I've been spinning in this state of wonder at the things that were happening.

Tomorrow when we wake up, everything is going to be pretty much exactly how it was today and completely different at the same time. Today, we're part of a special group of people, a community, an Aggie family if you will. In Marina Keegan's speech/essay "The Opposite of Loneliness," she puts into words the feelings I can't quite wrap my head around. "[USU] is full of tiny circles we pull around ourselves. Acapella groups, sports teams, houses, societies, clubs. These tiny groups that make us feel loved and safe and part of something even on our loneliest nights when we stumble home to our computers--partnerless, tired, awake. We won't have those next year. We won't live on the same block as all our friends. We won't have a bunch of group texts. This scares me. More than finding the right job or city or spouse, I'm scared of losing this web we're in. This elusive, indefinable, opposite of loneliness. This feeling I feel right now." 

For the last three years, I've hated being the one that got left behind. Now, I'm scared to be the one leaving people behind. 
I'm that nervous kind of excited that twists your stomach in knots and makes you bounce up and down with anticipation, but I'm equally as terrified. I'm walking into a new house, a new job, and a new city, and leaving behind a place that holds four years worth of magic and memories and heartbreak and love and a large part of who I am. 

Because college for me was a dream, but it was so many other things too.

It was all-night study sessions and endless amounts of brownie batter and popcorn with "Call Your Girlfriend" playing in the background.
It was saying goodbye to the first boy I really loved, and watching his truck pull out of my driveway while the realization that I didn't know if the goodbye's we'd just said were for two years or forever.
It was sending my best friends on missions, holding down the Single Snitch fort, and watching old friends meet new friends.
It was the sound of the Sweetheart song, the sound of Logan Canyon's wind, and the smell of Charlie's seven minutes before close. 

It was countless ice cream runs when things didn't work out, and dancing like fools at wedding receptions when they did.
It was ethnic hair care products, Nutella Banana Bread, and heading to the Lonely Bench with the Snitches when things got overwhelming. 
It was waiting for P-Day, waking up for pre-meeting, and Monday's pin attire.
It was jumping--not just stepping--out of my comfort zone and trying something everything new: kissing a boy in front of 200 freshmen in the name of student orientation, putting stereotypes on hold for sorority recruitment, and giving a thousand new friends a chance.

It was a boy I fell in love with, a girl I learned to live with, a professor who changed my mind, and several dozen people who changed my life.
It was giving up old dreams and setting out after new ones.
It was refusing to join a sorority, and not being able to stop the tears three years later as I said goodbye to the house that had become home.
It was moving in with strangers, saying "yes" to everything, and dyeing my hair purple.
It was breaking rules and making rules and speed-walking away from hot-tub-rule-enforcing landlords in the middle of the night.

It was paint-fight Twister, Tuesday Tacos, and $1 movie theater popcorn without the movie.
It was watching my best friends fall in love, fraternity formals, and being the only real winners during the world's longest game of hide and seek.
It was midnight drives through the canyon and more spoken word poetry than I can fit on a single playlist.

It was peachy dews and peachy penguins and not nearly enough dollar nug nights. 

It was "family dinner," and Strata [almost] all-nighters and mission farewells and wedding receptions.
It was Snow 102, Pineview 35, and everything that happened in Room 22. 
It was SOAR days and burrito truck runs and falling in love with a little town with bad air and too much snow.
It was worlds colliding, and hearts breaking, and new beginnings. 

Today, we walked into a new chapter of who we are, but I found a lot of who I am in this little town.
I fell in love with a place where the sagebrush grows because of the things that happened here.
I discovered a sense of adventure in it's nooks and crannys and all of your canyons. 
I found my best friends, an education I'm passionate about, and a real idea of who I am within this little valley. 
I made it through eight hellish finals weeks, two dramatic breakups, three incredible summers, and four of the most challenging but rewarding years of my life. 

Here's to you, USU. Thanks for everything. 

The highlight reel.

Four years ago, walking across the stage with 980 other students in brown and gold was the biggest thing I'd ever done.
Four years, and what seems like a lifetime later, I'm beginning to realize how incredibly wrong I was.
Since the second I set foot in my dorm-room apartment in Snow Hall my freshman year,  I've heard echoes of neighbors and friends and family members telling me how I was "doing college right," and just how fun everything looked.
They're right.
Some days, it was the worst and I just wanted to go home to my mom and I won't deny that, but for most of the last four years I've been spinning in this state of wonder at the things that were happening.

Tomorrow when we wake up, everything is going to be pretty much exactly how it was today and completely different at the same time. Today, we're part of a special group of people, a community, an Aggie family if you will. In Marina Keegan's speech/essay "The Opposite of Loneliness," she puts into words the feelings I can't quite wrap my head around. "[USU] is full of tiny circles we pull around ourselves. Acapella groups, sports teams, houses, societies, clubs. These tiny groups that make us feel loved and safe and part of something even on our loneliest nights when we stumble home to our computers--partnerless, tired, awake. We won't have those next year. We won't live on the same block as all our friends. We won't have a bunch of group texts. This scares me. More than finding the right job or city or spouse, I'm scared of losing this web we're in. This elusive, indefinable, opposite of loneliness. This feeling I feel right now." 

For the last three years, I've hated being the one that got left behind. Now, I'm scared to be the one leaving people behind. 
I'm that nervous kind of excited that twists your stomach in knots and makes you bounce up and down with anticipation, but I'm equally as terrified. I'm walking into a new house, a new job, and a new city, and leaving behind a place that holds four years worth of magic and memories and heartbreak and love and a large part of who I am. 

Because college for me was a dream, but it was so many other things too.

It was all-night study sessions and endless amounts of brownie batter and popcorn with "Call Your Girlfriend" playing in the background.
It was saying goodbye to the first boy I really loved, and watching his truck pull out of my driveway while the realization that I didn't know if the goodbye's we'd just said were for two years or forever.
It was sending my best friends on missions, holding down the Single Snitch fort, and watching old friends meet new friends.
It was the sound of the Sweetheart song, the sound of Logan Canyon's wind, and the smell of Charlie's seven minutes before close. 

It was countless ice cream runs when things didn't work out, and dancing like fools at wedding receptions when they did.
It was ethnic hair care products, Nutella Banana Bread, and heading to the Lonely Bench with the Snitches when things got overwhelming. 
It was waiting for P-Day, waking up for pre-meeting, and Monday's pin attire.
It was jumping--not just stepping--out of my comfort zone and trying something everything new: kissing a boy in front of 200 freshmen in the name of student orientation, putting stereotypes on hold for sorority recruitment, and giving a thousand new friends a chance.

It was a boy I fell in love with, a girl I learned to live with, a professor who changed my mind, and several dozen people who changed my life.
It was giving up old dreams and setting out after new ones.
It was refusing to join a sorority, and not being able to stop the tears three years later as I said goodbye to the house that had become home.
It was moving in with strangers, saying "yes" to everything, and dyeing my hair purple.
It was breaking rules and making rules and speed-walking away from hot-tub-rule-enforcing landlords in the middle of the night.

It was paint-fight Twister, Tuesday Tacos, and $1 movie theater popcorn without the movie.
It was watching my best friends fall in love, fraternity formals, and being the only real winners during the world's longest game of hide and seek.
It was midnight drives through the canyon and more spoken word poetry than I can fit on a single playlist.

It was peachy dews and peachy penguins and not nearly enough dollar nug nights. 

It was "family dinner," and Strata [almost] all-nighters and mission farewells and wedding receptions.
It was Snow 102, Pineview 35, and everything that happened in Room 22. 
It was SOAR days and burrito truck runs and falling in love with a little town with bad air and too much snow.
It was worlds colliding, and hearts breaking, and new beginnings. 

Today, we walked into a new chapter of who we are, but I found a lot of who I am in this little town.
I fell in love with a place where the sagebrush grows because of the things that happened here.
I discovered a sense of adventure in it's nooks and crannys and all of your canyons. 
I found my best friends, an education I'm passionate about, and a real idea of who I am within this little valley. 
I made it through eight hellish finals weeks, two dramatic breakups, three incredible summers, and four of the most challenging but rewarding years of my life. 

Here's to you, USU. Thanks for everything. 

As the sand of the sea.

I just spent the most magical 10 days in Hawaii. 

I could go on for hours about the waterfall we hiked, the ruins we visited, the incredible food we ate, and the places we explored, but honestly the most amazing thing I experienced was when I was sitting on the beach, watching waves crash around me. 

I'd been talking to one of my best friends about the reality of how quickly life was coming at us, and I was feeling more than a little bit overwhelmed with everything that was going to be happening in the next 55 days. 

Rather than dealing with it in an adult fashion, I turned off my phone and sat on the beach watching the water and squishing sand between my fingers and toes and tried to think about anything other than reality. 

It's easy to get lost in your thoughts when you're listening to the waves, and the ocean has always been something awe-inspiring to me. 

Genesis 32:12 came to mind, and provided a much needed change of thought. 

"And thou saidst, I will surely do thee good, and make thy seed as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude."

Do me a favor, and just try to think about that for a second. 

Think about how many grains of sand fit into a single handful, or on a single beach, and then process just how much sand there is around this Earth. 

Makes you feel pretty small, doesn't it? 

Then start to think about all the hundreds of times we've heard how individually and completely we are loved and try to wrap your head around loving more people than there are grains of sands or stars in the sky that much. 

Pretty freaking incredible, if you ask me. 

So yes. I could go on for hours about the things we did and the pictures we took, or the food we ate. But instead, I'm going to think a little bit longer about how incredible this world we've been given is, and how immensely we are blessed and loved, because there's more wonder in that knowledge than I could ever put into words. 

[if you've got 20 minutes to spare, listen to this. When things get overwhelming, it's the perfect reminder that you're not alone--and who doesn't need that sometimes?]

#InternationalWomensDay

Real quick, I'm not some ultra feminist. I don't think that men are overbearing [usually], and I don't want [all of] the responsibilities society has given them. Honestly, I think that a lot of the so-called feminist movement is entirely out of hand and people have lost sight of their original purpose. 

That's not to say I don't think women are pretty freaking incredible and celebrating us is something I can totally get behind. 

I think it's important to celebrate women because we're pretty cool, not because we're better than men. 

And most importantly, because I think the important women in my life need to be recognized. 

Like my mom, for standing behind me in everything I do even when I want to stand on my own. 

Or my grandma, for being my biggest hero. 

My sisters,  for being both my role models and the reason behind me trying to be better every day. 

My aunts, for being some of my biggest influences.

My best friends for testing me, loving me, and making it through life with me. 

Strong women are important because they can make or break a person, and I'm so glad the ones I know have made me into the person I am today.

"Here's to strong women. May we know them. May we be them. May we raise them." 

Lost and found.

It's February, and y'all should be able to guess which word is my favorite to define--but it's also still the hardest thing for me to wrap my head around [and in the spirit of transparency, I'm about to get real personal. don't say you weren't warned].

When I was little, there was a day where my little sister Brittany decided that she wanted to take matters into her six-year-old hands and ask my grandparents why they didn't speak to us. One quick search through the phonebook and a sneaky phone call from my great-grandma's guest bedroom later, we found ourselves at my grandparents house for the first time in years. I listened to the adults make small talk around the kids, while I absorbed the feeling in the house [in awe that even after three moves and half a dozen years, grandma's house still smelled just the same], and everybody avoided the elephant in the room. My grandma took this opportunity to show us around their house, and while most of us were in the kitchen, my mom lingered behind and was talking to my grandpa. I don't know the entirety of the conversation, but I distinctly remember hearing him say "I have lost a lot of love for a lot of people."
In the moment, I didn't think much of it. Now, it stings a bit--but then it was mostly confusing.
How do you lose love? It wasn't something tangible that you could simply set down and forget about, and since it wasn't an object the odds of you misplacing it or it walking away were incredibly low.
And even if it wasn't tangible, how on earth do you lose it? What was love if it could be lost like that?

Fast forward roughly 10 years, and I think I'm finally starting to be able to answer my own questions.
Not because I know what love is, but because I know what love is not.
In middle school, you learn about the types of nouns: concrete, collective, compound and abstract.
Abstract nouns were always the most interesting to me, because I remember laughing at my teacher trying to explain to us how to define something that wasn't definitive--and that's a fascination that has never changed.
[try it: ask one of my coworkers how one would define liberty, or ask a panel of parents how they define "grounding," the possibilities are truly endless]
Abstract nouns and concepts have become even more interesting as I've grown up, if only because my definitions are changing faster than I can comprehend them.

Love is forgiveness, and second chances, and apologies and compromise. 

Love is not walking away, no matter how tired or how frustrated you are.

Love is "see you soon," "drive safe," and a quick squeeze when you're about to lose it. 

Love [for me] is pebble ice, tacos, peppermint tea, and a cozy blanket. 

Love [for them] is chocolate donuts, Skittles, spoken-word poetry, long drives, or movie nights. 

Love is not giving up, because quitters never win and everything is worth a little bit more of a fight.

Love is not easy. 

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Nothing about any kind of love is easy. It takes a lot of work, more patience than I have on a regular basis, and lots of compromise. If it were easy, I'd argue with my parents less, they'd roll their eyes at me less, my siblings and I would be less annoyed with each other, I wouldn't feel the need to throw tantrums about boys all the time, and I'd never argue with my best friends.

Love is both the most mind-boggling thing I've ever tried to wrap my head around, and the simplest thing in the world to understand. 

Subconsciously, I think that overheard comment from my grandpa taught me a lot.
I'm 21 years old and I still get emotional pulling out of my culdesac on my way back to Logan, and I have a healthy sense of nostalgia that can be a real problem sometimes.
Some people say I have a hard time letting things/people go [they're right], and I've never been a fan of goodbyes. When I love, I love hard and I love big--and I think that has a lot to do with the idea that I never want to lose love for somebody else, or vice versa. I want to give it my all and do everything possible to make love work before walking away. I'm not about to let my love for anyone get lost.
A year ago, I posted this. 
Love was synonymous with a roller coaster of emotions and confusion. But even then, it wasn't something I felt like I'd truly lost.
It took a lot of work, a couple thousand more tears, and more talk about my feelings that I'd ever like to do again, but a year later,  love has simply changed forms--and I am oh so grateful for the endless amounts of love around me everyday.
Love is only really lost if you let it be--and it's something worth finding again if it goes away.

Nostalgia.

For someone who hates emotions as much as I do, I'm entirely too sentimental.
I'm the one that gets a weird little twinge of nostalgia on days when something important happened.
I could tell you exactly what I was wearing the day my first boyfriend first brought me flowers.
I can quote the note my best friend from elementary school wrote me the day she moved and switched schools in the middle of 8th grade.
I could tell you the exact time and place of every first kiss I've ever had.
I keep movie tickets, concert tickets, notes and letters, and every picture my siblings have ever made for me in a box under my bed.

I'm a firm believer in the fact that our memories make up most of the person that we are, and while these memories are mostly magical, sometimes they hurt a lot.
Because as sentimental as I am, I'm also a huge planner.
I know what I want, when I want it, and how I want it to go.
Sometimes things don't go the way you planned, and sometimes the way you planned isn't the way you want things to go.

The people you think will never leave are the ones just out of reach, and the ones you never thought you'd be able to keep close are the ones talking to you at 2 am and calming your crazy. 

Sometimes what your heart wants isn't what your heart gets and what you get is what your heart never knew it wanted.

I'm 900% content with my life right now. I'm surrounded by wonderful people who love me (and even when people are dumb, there's a dozen more who make sure I don't go crazy), I'm 106 days away from graduating from a university I love more than just about anything, and I have a family that has me convinced my life is actually made of magic.
But it's in these minutes of tender nostalgia that I wonder what else could have happened. In a world where I still blush every time Just The Way You Are plays, I can't help but sing So Close when it rains, and I still believe in the magic of Miracle--what could have happened? What if I had gone to a different school, or said "no" to this, and "yes" to that,  and done a dozen different things instead of doing what put me right here?
If anything, these moments add proof to the belief that everything happens for a reason. I wouldn't change where I am now for anything in the world...but tonight, that doesn't mean I'm not thinking about dozens of Wednesday night hockey games and two years worth of letters with the sweetest kind of "I miss you" feeling and feeling incredibly grateful for the people I was lucky enough to call mine, even if just for a minute. 

Recognize goodness.

Do you ever have those days where a lesson just hits home and seems to be just for you? 

Today was one of those days.

Our lesson today was on President Howard W. Hunter, and talked about how Jesus Christ is the only way to true joy and hope. 

Then we watched this video, and if you haven't watched it yet, you need to. But have some tissues ready. 

"Evil did not win that day." 

That statement hit me and made me look differently at things. 

It's been a weird couple of months. 

I've seen marriages end, watched friends leave the church, cried over the death of family members, and dealt with my own struggles. 

I've watched the news and shuddered at the things happening all over the world that bring people to describe things as evil and terrible. 

The world is a scary place. It's exhausting, terrifying, and stressful. 

The negative things are so much easier to count than the blessings.

It's so easy to get caught up in the evils that surround us and feel overwhelmed with our inability to do something about it. 

This video helped me breathe a little better when I started thinking about these things. 

In the face of such a tragedy, and amidst so much heartbreak, this mother was able to look at the spirit her little girl had brought into the world and recognize the presence of goodness in the world. 

If they could recognize it, why can't we? 

Because if evil didn't win that day, don't let it win today. 

So there's my New Year's resolution. Recognize more goodness. 

[If you want something else to read/watch/listen to, go here]

It's been real.

The new year always makes us victim to a dozen cliches, but this year taught me a lot about the world, life, and myself. 

The first one is the worst one, but that doesn't mean it is isn't survivable. 

You can't please everyone, and you can't solve every problem. Every once in a while, do what makes you happy.

Growing up means watching your heroes turn human in front of your eyes.

It's okay to walk away from people...but second [or third, or sometimes fifteenth] chances are okay too. 

Enjoy the little things. On the days when nothing is going right, it's going to be the midnight drink runs and canyon drives that keep you sane. 

I've watched hearts break and things fall apart. I've made new friends and reconnected with old ones. I've watched my siblings grow up more this year than I think they ever have. I've changed jobs and discovered all sorts of new opportunities. I figured out what makes me the most happy, and learned to listen to what I want. 

This year has been hard, there's no denying that. But it has also been a pretty magical one. 

Cheers to 2015, and here's to 2016. I can't wait to see what the next 365 have in store.

The magic is real.

I don't know if it's the excess snow, or the Christmas music constantly in the background, but life has been a little more than magical lately. 

It may be the lack of responsibility or the fact that I actually survived this semester, but I put away my planner for a minute and zeroed in on the little things rather than focusing on the "big picture." 

That's when the magic hits. 

When you're on yet another drink run with your roommates, and you get caught up in the backseat karaoke performance of some song that will never make it big—but right now, Allie and Riley are the stars of the show and no one can tell them otherwise. 

When you're at the dinner table, celebrating graduation and big kid jobs, and you know things will never be just like they are now because Boise feels like a lifetime away and next semester is as uncertain as the weather—but right now, the four of you have found a second to  celebrate and plan dinners just like this one with husbands and babies and the same kind of feeling. 

When you're laying in front of a fireplace, watching your best friend get mad about the stupid log that won't light and you're avoiding homework and finals like the plague—but right now, the Christmas tree gives just enough light that you can see him pull another face at the fire and you laugh before scooting just a little closer. 

When you're listening to the 20th Christmas story of the week, most of which you know by heart—but right now, you're home, it's snowing outside, and you're never too old for Christmas picture books. 

I believe in magic. The magic of friendship, the magic of words, the magic of memory...and most importantly, the magic of Christmas. 

It truly is about the little things. Because the most important gift we've ever received was the simplest of them all. 

Beyond blessed.

You know the saying, "you don't know what you have til it's gone?"
Well it's 12:30 am on Thanksgiving, and I'm alone in the Kappa Delta house with Lynette, and I'm missing the chaos that is my house before any major holiday. I hate that I'll be serving 1300 people all day tomorrow. But it's made me extra grateful for things this holiday--and even more excited to get home tomorrow night.

That being said, it's about time for a gratitude post. This year has been the roller coaster of all roller coasters, and I've been humbled on more than one occasion...and I've realized just how lucky I am, even when I don't know what on earth I'm doing.

I'm grateful not only for my mom and my dad, but for their marriage. They support me in everything I do, keep my head screwed on straight, give me advice on everything under the sun, and their support of each other is my ultimate #relationship goals.
I'm grateful for my siblings. A few nights ago, we were talking about the havoc we'd wreaked as kids, and I couldn't stop laughing at all the things the six of us had done. From Britt and I sleeping in the same bed til we were 12, to Ryan using me for my separate iTunes account and everything in between, I could not have gotten more lucky with the five monkeys I call mine.
I'm grateful for my extended family--and I mean the friends that have become family too. Our family group message is the highlight of my day, and driving into our culdesac feels like coming home to a piece of heaven. I've lived a charmed life, and these people are half the magic.
I'm grateful for my education--and the freedom I have to study what I'm passionate about. Mock it all you want, but the fact that I can nerd out about British Literature and Gothic writers AND get a degree out of it is something I take for granted. And someday, I hope I can instill that love of literature in the kids I teach, and I'm grateful for that dream too.
I'm grateful for my BFF's. Nettie and Em and Riley have taught me more about unconditional love in the last year than I could have ever imagined. They know when I'm being stupid, but still come to me for help--and know when to help me find my footing again. Liz and Zoe keep me sane and know me better than I know myself, and you don't get rid of friends like that.
I'm grateful for friends that never leave. Brian and I have been through hell and back the last three years and everybody has told us to walk away--but some people cause this sigh of relief to come over you, no matter how long it's been, and I'm glad that sense of comfort never leaves. Same goes for my freshman roommates: we've been through weddings, missions, and we've moved on to babies, but we get together and nothing has changed. They still know me better than anybody else and they will forever and always be my best and closest friends.
I'm grateful for my sisters. Everybody needs the kind of support that comes from 100+ women with the same ideals and goals. If I could put into words how it feels to stand in front of such a powerful group, or how it feels to stand next to them, behind them, or with them, I would. It's an experience that changes who you are--and I'm lucky to be a part of it.
I'm grateful for my trials. It sounds cliche, I know. But if I've learned anything this last year, it's that the things you experience shape who you become, and I like the person I'm becoming. It hasn't been easy, and I wish it involved half as many tears, but you don't appreciate the sunshine without a little rain.
Finally, I'm grateful for this gospel. This year has brought me to my knees more times than I count, and I don't know where I would be without the foundation that this gospel provides. Every heartbreak I've endured, every ounce of joy I've experienced, every desire I've felt, every blessing I've recognized...they've all been a direct product of the Savior and his presence in my life. As I've watched loved ones pass away, marriages fall apart, and especially as I've watched my little sister prepare for her mission, I've grown to appreciate my eternal family more than I can describe. The power of the Atonement is real. Our Heavenly Father is real, and he loves us--so much. He knows every pain and joy and doubt we're feeling, and I am so grateful for the knowledge I have of that truth.
My life is by no means perfect. But it is truly wonderful--and I know I take a lot of what I have for granted, when I'm really blessed beyond measure.
Happy Thanksgiving, y'all.

To my little.

This week is better than Christmas for Kappa Delta, and I wish I could bottle this excitement and excess love and use it on everybody I know.
Now little, I don't know a whole lot about you. I know your favorite color, your favorite treat, your major....all those basics, but I don't know you. But I've watched you embrace KD these last few weeks and I couldn't be more excited to add you to our little family [because only the best get to join the House of Dimes] and get to know what an incredible person you are.
Two years ago, I went through my own big/little week with absolutely no idea who I was going to find waiting for me Thursday night, and I'm sure you're feeling the same way. All I knew was that I wanted somebody to look up to, somebody to shop, study, relax, cry, and laugh with, and somebody that could be the big sister I never had. My big is everything I wanted, and everything I didn't even know I needed; and I hope I can be the same for you. As wonderful as my big was my first year in Kappa Delta, I didn't truly appreciate her until I had littles of my own to mentor, look after, and become friends with. It's truly a new kind of love, one that I am excited to share with you.
I'm going to do my best to be what you need. Whether it's somebody to study with you in the library, somebody to try a thousand formal dresses on for, somebody to hold you when the boys are being mean, or someone's bed to sleep in when you're alone in your apartment, I'm here. If you need a friend to go with you to an awkward party, an emergency plan to get out of a bad date, or somebody to binge watch all of Grey's Anatomy with, I'm your girl. I'll probably smother you with a lot of love, ask a lot of questions and seem a little needy, and mother you more than you want....but it's all out of love. We may not always get along, and I'm not perfect. But I will always, always, always have your back.
But most importantly, I am here to help you find a love for this organization and everything that comes along with it. Kappa Delta has shaped my college experience, and I could not be more excited to watch you experience this sisterhood--and to experience it alongside you.
Happy guessing--I'll see you Thursday!!
I love you already, little one.
XOXO, Big.