I Have a Fever, and the Only Prescription is More Laughter

Right this second I am racking my brain, really searching my bank of experiences, to see if there is a better feeling than a good, hard laugh. I can't think of one.

Humor lightens everything - it lightens THE AIR.  Laughter breaks the ice, binds us together, and comprises our very best memories.  Our favorite days are the days we LAUGHED, hard.

When I am around my people it isn't vulnerability or intensity or prayer that bubbles up, it's silliness.

My best friends are my silly friends. My favorite people are people who laugh easy. My favorite authors make me laugh out loud. My favorite parents are parents that laugh at and with their kids - that find the whole thing entertaining.

You can't dislike a person who consistently makes you laugh, even if you disagree with every other thing they believe.   Every woman I know wants to be with someone who makes her laugh.  Aside from maybe kindness, that's at the tippy top of the list.

If you are a teacher, a parent, a husband, a wife, a boss, a pastor, or a political figure, I humbly request MORE HUMOR.  I'd like to see some wit, some silliness, maybe a dash of satire.   I believe that humor is tragically, woefully, underused in business, church, therapy, academia and EVERY OTHER PLACE.  It's so effective.

Also, humor is a survival tool, straight up.

A few months ago, I was all battered and beat up by life.  I was plum out of feelings and thoughts and words, and was wandering through my house like a zombie.  I was the undead, incapable of reading, writing, doing dishes, returning texts, or caring that new episodes of Scandal went up on Netflix.  It was bad.

One night, I was in need of a feeling.  Any feeling.  Anger, hope, compassion, conviction, accomplishment - any feeling would do.  I turned to the vast, vast internet.  I checked every single social media outlet that exists, and they all sucked.  I thought,

"WHY IS THE INTERNET SO BORING TODAY?"

It was so boring that I opened up Pinterest.  PINTEREST - the place of crafts and recipes and weight-loss scams disguised as before and after bathroom mirror selfies.  I pulled up my boards to see if there was anything I'd saved for later that I could build or create.  Working with  my hands is therapy: no abstract thinking, just reasoning and sweating and figuring stuff out.

In case you aren't familiar with Pinterest, it allows you to have up to 3 secret boards, where you can collect ideas and images that no one else can see.

My secret boards are called "Cornball," "Profane," and "Reclaiming my body."   They are filled with internet memes I'm embarrassed to love, profane pins that I can't pin publicly because some people are sensitive about that and I get it, and fistpiration stuff/tattoo ideas - respectively.   (I think that sums up a lot about me as a person.  Related thought:  if you are considering dating a person, check out their secret Pinterest boards.)

On this night of the living dead, I opened my "Cornball" board.   And do you know what happened?  I LAUGHED.

I laughed SO HARD.  It started as a giggle, which surprised me, and before long, I was sitting alone in my kitchen BUSTING A GUT and wiping away the tears.

I think this image was the turning point:

The longer I looked at it the harder I laughed, until I got the "church giggles" and I could. not. stop.

Here is what I know:  There is no hug, no prayer, no Bible verse, no hard rain that could have infused that kind of joy and hope back into my life.

I laughed and laughed, and with every stupid cat picture I remembered that I was a fun person.  That I could laugh easy, at stupid things.  I remembered what it felt like to be light, and to delight in things.  Not deep life-is-beautiful-and-I-am-blessed delight.  SILLY delight.

Laughter is sacred.  It's right up there with prayer.

A few weeks ago my friend Sara asked me kind of jokingly about how to survive being 24 and undergoing 15 major life transitions all at once.  I COMPLETELY UNJOKINGLY said, "Pray a lot.  Laugh and sleep as much as you can."

Humor is undervalued and underused and sometimes it can save you.  Laugh easy and often.  It really is the best medicine.

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If you do not yet have a corny, internet meme Pinterest board, I cannot recommend it highly enough.  Start today. In the meantime, you can borrow a few of mine:

The Survivor Series giveaway is still live!  Share a #survivorseries post for a chance to win $150+ in coffee, music, books, and other survival essentials.  Click here for details.

You guys, I wrote some books!  They’re really good and if you buy them and read them I will bake you cookies.*  You can get it on Amazon, from Barnes & Noble, and in bookstores August 1.  

*and eat them myself because you live too far away.

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Surviving Jealousy

I am friends with the most amazing people.  I don't mean they are amazing.  I mean they are THE MOST amazing.  I don't know how that happened, probably because it takes a certain caliber of person to put up with me. In keeping company with these amazing souls, I have learned a thing or two about jealousy.

For example,

I know that when a naturally thin and unfairly beautiful friend plans a visit, I can drop 15 pounds in two months.   I've done that.

I know that when a childless friend plans a surprise visit, I can clean, reorganize, and RE-PINTEREST my home in 48 hours.  I've done that.

I know how it feels to want to quit everything.  I have wanted to quit writing.  Quit blogging.  Quit shopping, quit cooking, quit eating, quit cleaning, quit marriage, quit parenting, and go live in a hut on the beach.  Because if you're going to feel like an embarrassment in EVERY SINGLE WAY A PERSON CAN FEEL LIKE AN EMBARRASSMENT, you might as well feel small in front of an ocean instead of in front of other people.

I know about that.

And I know about feeling guilty for resenting GOOD, AMAZING, WONDERFUL people just because your heart can't handle their wonderfulness.  I know how it feels to resent yourself for being so resentful.

Jealousy and insecurity go hand-in-hand.  It's very chicken-or-the-egg.  Am I jealous because I'm insecure?  Or am I insecure because I'm so jealous?  The answer is, "Yes."

They feed off of each other in a downward spiral, like a whirlpool, taking your confidence, joy, peace, friendships, and focus with them as they go.  Like an airplane stealing tree limbs on the way down.

Jealousy is not something you can just live with.  You can't allow it to occupy a little room in your heart, like it's paying rent, and try to get on with your life while it's sitting there on the sofa bed you made up for it.  Jealously will burn the place down.  Jealousy starts a slow burn that will eventually leave your whole heart in dead, white ashes.

A few years ago I decided to quit jealousy.

And that's what I did.  I quit, cold turkey.

And you know what?  It really wasn't that hard.

Here are the four things I do when I battle with jealousy and survive:

1. Connect.

The absolute fastest way to kill jealousy in its tracks is to look another person in the eye.  It breaks the trance.  Sit across the table from somebody, and listen to them talk.  People don't get to edit in real-time conversations, so when you talk to someone you normally interact with online, you'll be amazed at how ... NORMAL they sound.  If you are jealous of a real life friend, go to her house more than once.  You will notice that her baseboards aren't always clean, and this will free you.  She might even have ants.  I will never forget the day that I walked into the house of a childless person and saw an ant.  AN ANT!  It was one of the most validating, freeing experiences of my entire life.  It was like that ant said to me, "I do not condemn you, human.  Be free."   When you look somebody in the eyes, you remember that real life doesn't come with Instagram filters.  You might even see traces of hurt, struggle, fear.  You might see some of the weight that they carry.  You might notice that even the slenderest of people have thigh-meat, and that thigh-meat might set you free.

2. Celebrate.

Take their success before their success takes you.  This is public relations 101; he who breaks the story, writes the story.  He who makes the announcement, owns the announcement.   When someone has a success, celebrate it like it's yours.  The more you practice their joy, the more you'll feel  their joy.  Become a good celebrator.  You'll be surprised by how much you mean it.

3. Remember.

Remember that your life is yours to live.  Remember all the treasures with which YOU have been entrusted.  Remember that that THING, or that TRAIT, or that LIFE that you're so jealous of is not yours to live.

Amena Brown (who is a treasure and my favorite) said it this way in her poem How to Fly.

"You never carry dreams given to you by someone else. You figure out which things you gotta check and protect, And which dreams you hold close you to. You let go of everything that was sold to you as true. Too much hurt affects your wingspan.

You see flyin’ ain’t about provin’ to someone who is struggling to be somebody That you ‘gone be somebody too.   Flying is about taking what you got, being who you are, And doing what you do."

Know yourself, and dare to like yourself.  This is audacious gratitude and it will change everything.   Four years ago  I realized I was carrying dreams given to me by someone else.  I looked around, full of gratitude, and the most amazing thing happened: It dawned on me, like someone walking into a room and turning on the light, I like me.  I think I'm smart.  Maybe not book-smart, or street-smart, but some kind.  I think I'm funny, funny enough that I'm not bored by my own thoughts, so that's good.  I think that I'm cute.  I'm no physical specimen to behold or anything, but I think I'm cute and I'm okay with cute.  Mostly, I'M ME.  I am this whole collection of thoughts and experiences and values and beliefs and quirks and proclivities, and I LIKE ME.  I put down all the dreams given to me by someone else, and I gave up trying to prove things to people who weren't even watching.  Gratitude turns your eyes up to The Giver, and you can't behold The Giver of All Good Things and still be looking around feeling jealous about stuff.

4. Love.

When you love someone, jealousy gets edged out.  The love presses it out, occupying the space it used to hold, filling all the gaps.  When you love someone, you see their hurt and your heart grieves with them.  When you love someone, you see their joy and your heart leaps with them.  When you love someone, you want their best, their happiness.  You actually DESIRE their growth and maturation - you are on the edge of your seat, breathless to see what their lives could hold.  And you want to be on the sidelines, cheering them on, holding them up, because, LOVE.    Love causes us to lose sight of insecurity, competition, lust, idolatry, and entitlement because it causes us to lose sight of ourselves.

Kick jealousy out.  Stop taking his rent.  Quit him.

Connect, celebrate, remember, love - and breathe the free air.

 

The Survivor Series giveaway is still live!  Share a #survivorseries post for a chance to win $150+ in coffee, music, books, and other survival essentials.  Click here for details.

You guys, I wrote some books!  They’re really good and if you buy them and read them I will bake you cookies.*  You can get it on Amazon, from Barnes & Noble, and in bookstores August 1.  

*and eat them myself because you live too far away.

Happy Friday

(source)Talking about surviving the upside down, inside out, sacred, maddening, exhausting, BREAK-YOUR-WORLD-WIDE-OPEN-BEAUTIFUL journey of parenting is one of my very favorite things. You all have CRACKED ME UP and blessed my  heart this week.

Happy Friday to you and your crews.

See you on Monday as the #SurvivorSeries continues, talking about surviving jealousy, anger, insecurity, and the battlegrounds of our own minds and hearts.

Happy Friday!  Happy 4th!  God bless America. Kate

You Can Do Hard Things

My daughter was born blind. When she was three-years-old, it was hard for her to learn self-help skills that come more naturally to sighted children.  Putting on socks.  Using a fork.  As a sighted person, it was hard for me to know how to teach her, and as a parent, it was hard to watch.  If independence was my goal for her (it was and is), I had to insist she learn.  I had to hold her toes to the fire a little bit.  But I also had to acknowledge that it was hard.

Growing up is hard anyway; we ask children to try new things every. darn. day.  "How do you know you don't like it if you don't try?"  My brain would implode if I was asked to try half as many new things as the average four-year-old.  Do something that I haven't mastered?  BUT I MIGHT FAIL.  That's like asking me to play a team sport.  I break out in hives thinking about it.

Growing up is hard.  Learning to put on shoes is hard.  And it was hard for Madeline.

A phrase I used every day, was

"You can do hard things."

She wasn't allowed to say "can't."

She could say, "I need help." She could say, "This is hard." She could say, "I am frustrated," or "I am tired," or "I am sad." But she couldn't say "can't," and she couldn't quit.

(I hold myself to the same standard of language and toughness.  It's always okay to say, "This is REALLY HARD.  I am tired.  I need help."  But I try not to say can't.  I try to do the next right thing.  Gotta go through it.  Inch by inch.)

I call my girl Madeline the Brave.  Madeline the Tough.  Madeline the Helpful.  Madeline the Hope-Giver.

For her entire life, I have been telling her, "You can."

You can do hard things.  And here's the thing - she has.

I believe in the power of not quitting.  I believe in the power of "You can do hard things."  Thomas Edison said, "If we all did the things we were capable of, we would literally astound ourselves."  I believe that.  I believe that there is a divine spark in each of us, and that that spark can ignite courage and perseverance and creativity and great compassion.

Here is what I hope for Madeline (and for you and me and everyone):

I hope that I am not the only one telling her that she can.  I hope that a whole host of people rally around her and remind her that she has a divine spark in her, and that just because a thing is hard, doesn't mean it's wrong.

I saw these two commercials this week, and both of them made me cry.  I'm thankful for the little insurgence of messages like this in advertising.  Alone, they don't negate all of the terrible messages we get from the people that are trying to sell us things, but there is something inside of us that springs to life when it hears the truth.  Like there is a sleeping cat in our hearts, all drowsy and curled up - but when it hears TRUTH, it shoots its head up, the way cats do, like they are spring-loaded, and it locks eyes with that truth.  There's a knowing, isn't there?  My inner cat wakes up in church a lot of times - I'm sitting there listening when he shoots up, and I think, "This thing I'm hearing right now is THE REAL DEAL."

So I hope that when people - men and women alike - see commercials like these, their inner truth cats sit up.  I hope that in the constant stream of promotion and consumerism and materialism and idolization of beauty, sex, pleasure, and comfort, these messages ring so true that they are downright startling.

ALL THAT TO SAY:

Girls can. We can do hard things. Wake up, little truth cats.

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjJQBjWYDTs[/youtube]

[youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sqbZrymH5Rg[/youtube]

The Survivor Series giveaway is still live!  Share a #survivorseries post for a chance to win $150+ in coffee, music, books, and other survival essentials.  Click here for details.

You guys, I wrote some books!  They’re really good and if you buy them and read them I will bake you cookies.*  You can get it on Amazon, from Barnes & Noble, and in bookstores August 1.  

*and eat them myself because you live too far away.

"Don't be delicate.  Be vast and brilliant." -Shinedown Kate

When Motherhood Hurts

Originally published September 21, 2012. Yesterday morning I was sitting on a long sheet of white paper, waiting for my OBGYN to come in and let me hear my tiny baby’s heartbeat for the very first time, when I got a text message from my friend:

“I’m either having a miscarriage or an ectopic pregnancy.  I’m sorry, I just couldn’t call.  Please pray for us this morning.”

Before I could respond, my doctor came in.

So I sat, listening to the strong, healthy heartbeat of the baby we didn’t plan – the baby we were trying not to have – while one of my best friends sat, hundreds of miles away, bleeding.

I scheduled an ultrasound to determine the sex of our third child; she went into surgery to have the ectopic pregnancy removed.

In that moment everything about motherhood seemed arbitrary and upside down and unfair.

Perhaps the most unfair thing of all is that my friend is not the exception.  Neither are my 6 friends that have miscarried in the last couple of years.  Neither are my 2 friends who are battling infertility.  Neither are my 3 friends who are waiting for adoptions to go through.  Neither is my friend who had an unplanned pregnancy, and just as she was getting through the fear and into the love, lost the baby.  Neither are my dozens of friends who have heard the words, “It’s anencephaly.”  ”It’s cerebral palsy.”  ”It’s autism.”

Neither am I – even I who have easy pregnancies, easy deliveries, and healthy babies.

Two unplanned pregnancies: two rounds of fear, and “I’m not ready,” and “My life will never be the same.”  And one veryhard day when a doctor told me, “There is no treatment; she will never see like you and I can see.”

Thinking about it all, I went back and re-read a chapter of Shauna Niequist’s Bittersweet, called “Eight for Eight.”  It is all I’ve been able to think about for the last twenty four hours.

Motherhood is the most beautiful, transformative, sacred thing I’ve ever done.  I would choose it again every single time, forever.  But some days – it sure does hurt.

“…And then I realize that as much as I want my friend Jenny’s abs, she wants a baby, and we’re all yearning for something.

When I take a step back, I’m surprised to realize that the topic of pregnancy and birth and mothering, for every single one of us, has been touched with pain or just a shade of heartache.  The odds of that surprise me.  Eight women, and eight stories of waiting or yearning, of brokenness mixed in with deep delight.  If we’re a microcosm, is this how it is?  We’re eight normal women, if normal exists in this or any realm.  And one by one, eight for eight, one or another aspect of motherhood has pricked us and made us bleed.

…As for my dear friends and me, our hearts are full, of course, but also a little tender, bruised, tired.  Motherhood, and the journey towards it, has battered us a little bit, each in our own ways.  From ambivalence to longing to loss, from the anger that our bodies won’t do what we want them to, to the consuming, crushing love for a baby that is just hanging on…Motherhood laughed at our plans, twisted up our expectations, and gave them back to us upside down, covered with blood and stretch marks and Goldfish cracker paste.

We are very thankful, and we adore our children and one another’s children.  But as much as it’s beautiful, the process is a little harrowing.  Who knew we could want something so badly and then not be able to just wrestle it into existence?  Who knew we could want to provide something so desperately for our children, to heal and protect them, but find ourselves profoundly unable?  The stakes have gone up in our lives, the way they do, it seems, every time you decide to love something.”

[Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet, 2010]

And oh, how we love them.

#SurvivorSeries  #SurvivingParenthood

The Survivor Series giveaway is still live!  Share a #survivorseries post for a chance to win $150+ in coffee, music, books, and other survival essentials.  Click here for details.

You guys, I wrote some books!  They’re really good and if you buy them and read them I will bake you cookies.*  You can get it on Amazon, from Barnes & Noble, and in bookstores August 1.  

*and eat them myself because you live too far away.