Look what Elizabeth learned today

When I was a little girl, my mom kept a magnet on the fridge that said, “Look what Elizabeth learned today!” Sitting in the office at school earlier today, staring at the magnets on my desk, and making a mental list of all the ways I failed this week, I remembered that suddenly. And I thought how nice it was that that magnet never said, “Look what Elizabeth was perfect at today!” and better…”Look what Elizabeth totally screwed up today!” 

So in honor of my mom and that magnet, here are some things I learned (or re-learned) this week:

1. Sometimes it feels like the only thing keeping me upright are the breaths I take between things. Sometimes the breaths need to be extra-deep.

2. It can be difficult to reserve judgment about new things and new people. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t try.

3. I can look up to someone without having to become them.

4. It’s really important to be authentically, completely me.

5. I don’t have anything to prove. My worth is inherent.

6. So I can be transparent and flawed and transparent about being flawed because it’s okay for other people to see that.

7. I can give myself away without giving myself away. Know what I mean?

 

So share with me. What are you learning, re-learning, knowing in a new way as this week draws to a close?

love, elizabeth

no one is tiny

The other day I had an encounter with a younger student in my department. When she realized that the group of people around her were all PhD students, she looked embarrassed and immediately blurted out, “I feel so tiny. I’m just an undergrad.” It was a little moment but it touched me and it’s been lodged in my brain ever since.

I immediately blurted something back that made my friends at the table laugh and start teasing me about sounding like a greeting card.

“No one is tiny,” I said. “We’re all on a journey.”

And okay…yeah…Hallmark should just start paying me now. But I totally meant it. I think back to a year ago, two years, five years, ten years and I wonder what would have happened to me if the people I looked up to then had treated me like I was tiny. What if they hadn’t been so patient with me? What if they hadn’t given me the opportunity to grow and to change in my own way, in my own time? Would I be here? I am just so grateful for all the teachers and mentors and friends who have never made me feel tiny. It’s a good reminder for me. No one is tiny.

We’re all on a journey.

That’ll be 3.95 plus tax but you get the envelope for free.

 

I was going to kill two birds with one stone and tell you where I got my outfit but then I realize it’s all thrifted or vintage. So…that would be unhelpful to you.

And hey, Michelle from Making Sense of Cents won the giveaway from Katie for Thought! Michelle, I will be sending you an email later today. Congratulations! Want to check out more of Katie for Thought’s hand-painted creations? Go check out her Etsy shop here. And for a limited time, she is offering Love is the Adventure readers a 10% discount. Just enter the coupon code ADVENTURE1 at check-out.

Wishing you a good-luck Monday. You are not tiny.

love, elizabeth

The Paper That Wouldn’t Die

I don’t talk a whole lot about grad school on here because…well, because my blog is my happy, safe lala-land place where I don’t have to cite my primary sources or think too far ahead. But I thought I’d take a minute to talk about how thankful I am for school. I love my school. I love learning. I love teaching. I love my faculty. I love my students. I love my tiny mailbox in the corridor. I love my desk in the office. I love my stacks of library books and the bigger stacks of ungraded papers and my goofy student id photo. I even love the chilly early morning hike from the parking lot to my classrooms. School has been a great place for me to grow and figure out who I am, what I value, and how I can best serve my community and make art I care about at the same time.

But people…writing the modern drama paper I’m turning in today was like…well, it was kind of like this:

Every woman becomes a slave to…the paper that wouldn’t die.

love, elizabeth

Partners in PTSD

Here’s the third and final segment in our short series on Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. You can read more about our experiences surviving PTSD HERE and HERE.

Kyle said he wanted me to write about my experience as the wife of a child-abuse survivor who suffers from Complex PTSD. I decided to jot down a few things I have been learning. They’re good reminders for me and maybe for other care-givers/family/partners out there.

I need to remember that…

1. I can  identify/anticipate potential anxiety triggers like certain environments, sounds, smells, topics, or situations but it’s unrealistic (and unhealthy) to think I can avoid every trigger that could possibly affect Kyle.

2. Taking care of my partner means taking care of myself. Caregivers are notoriously bad at this but Secondary Trauma Syndrome is a real thing. I need give myself time to rest and heal, too, whatever that means for me today.

3. A partner, spouse, or loved one should be a crucial part of a support system not the ENTIRE support system. I am not Kyle’s therapist or doctor or paid professional. I’m his wife. And I don’t have to figure this out alone.

4. PTSD is not an excuse or waiver for bad behavior, rudeness, aggression or abuse. I will never keep myself in a situation where I am not emotionally or physically safe. This is also something Kyle has insisted we agree on.

5. I can help “ground” or re-focus Kyle by asking simple questions that deal with the immediate space and sensations (ie. where are we right now? what day is it? what city do we live in? what does this jacket feel like? what color is my shirt?). I’ve also discovered that sometimes familiar songs sung loudly can halt the progression of a panic attack. “I’m a Little Tea Pot” works really well (I do all the motions).

6. I can rely on God to continue to heal Kyle’s heart, little by little, day by day.

love, elizabeth

PS: One more day to enter to win the coziest, softest autumn scarf you ever did meet!

Mad for Madigan: How to Make Mistakes

 

Dear Readers,

Today I am blogging about forgiveness. As in, i-have-not-done-a-post-a-week-like-I-promised-forgive-me-please.

Forgiveness is big in this house, specially since the ‘rents have to ask for it so often. I swear, if I hear, “Oh, Madigan, I’m so sorry I didn’t share my bean burrito with you” or “Maddy, please forgive me for not telling you how incredibly beautiful you look today” ONE MORE TIME… I kid. I’m actually extremely underappreciated. But that’s another post.

It may surprise you to know that even I, Madigan, sometimes need forgiveness. Confession time: Sometimes…I pee in the house. I know I’m not supposed to. I know that if I let Dad know, he’ll take me outside. But sometimes, darn it, those stairs just look a little steep and those rain clouds look a little gray. And hey, carpet, grass, grass, carpet. It all feels the same to me. Terrible, I know. But I have learned to forgive myself. Accidents happen…or so I keep telling Mom.

And while I have pretty much mastered this, I’ve noticed people have a much more difficult time forgiving themselves. But here’s the deal-i-o, human companions, and I realize that for most of you, this is revolutionary: You. Are. Not. Perfect. You will never BE perfect. Start thinking about mistakes like Things You’ve Eaten From the Garbage; some of them tasted pretty gnarly but hey…now you know you don’t like soggy cornbread and leftover guacamole. Scarf up those mistakes. Swallow them without chewing! Gack ‘em up on the carpet if you feel like it!

I’ll forgive you if you comment.

Stay spectacular,

Mad

 

Seriously, who WOULDN’T forgive this face?

Love is in the learning...or study habits for lovers

I cannot honestly tell you when I fell in love with Kyle. Was it the day he complimented my gigantic walkman, circa 1989, in a dark empty theatre? The basement cast-party where he made me laugh so hard, I spit water out all over his face? Or the night I drove him home and he turned to me as he jumped out of my 1999 Astro mini-van and mumbled, "I love you," rain soaking through his grey hoodie and long hair? Was it that first rehearsal after his brother had died, unexpectedly, at the age of 29, when he stood on the stage across from me, looking lost? Or the July afternoon in the parking lot of the carwash, his face dark with sun, wearing that horrible dog-farting t-shirt I begged him to throw away? Or the night of our sophomore year of college when I smashed my finger in the door frame and began to cry and then noticed the tears running down Kyle's face...when I had asked him what was wrong, he replied, "You're hurt"...? Or the day he left for California when he freaked out about gum on the bottom of the flip-flops I had bought for him? Maybe it was the late night sitting on his kitchen floor where he flippantly proposed marriage (oh, if he only he had KNOWN what he was in for!)?

Honestly, I don't know when it happened. One second, I was just me and the next...I was me and Kyle, wrapped up in one impossibly big blanket of understanding that this, THIS was it. But even then...I didn't know what it meant. I didn't know how many nights I would spend sleepless, afraid and trembling, days I would spend fighting, falling, and getting up again, afternoons I would spend helplessly in love, beyond comprehension or thought or words.

I had a minor epiphany the other day, though...Because the Kyle I fell in love with is a new Kyle every day. Certainly, the Elizabeth he fell in love with is a new Elizabeth every half-hour! And I realized that I am falling in love with a brand new Kyle all the time.

Perhaps, most importantly, my idea of how to love is changing, growing. Expanding. I feel like I'm enrolled in a constant crash-course guide to my husband.

Falling in love might only take a moment. But loving someone is like...learning a foreign language. Somedays, I think my love gets lost in translation. I'm sure he feels that way with me, too. But now and then, like with my very limited French, I learn a new verb tense or a fantastic new adjective that gives me a chance to more adequately say: "I love you, Kyle, to the moon and back, and while my study habits need improving, I hope you'll give me an A...because I'm learning."