Why didn’t I get a real job after graduation? Where the heck has my style gone? And why are my boobs getting SO BIG?! These are questions I hadn’t asked myself in two years… but now I suddenly find myself sitting around, staring off into space, and contemplating these very things. Like, throughout my entire day. Okay, obviously, the boob thing has to do with pregnancy. But knowing that doesn’t make fitting into my shirts any easier. The other questions? I have to wonder if other creatives across the world ponder the same things.

Have you ever had a crisis of self? You may be somewhere in your life that you know is totally right. Your friends and family are great, you’re making (mostly) responsible decisions, and you just have a lot to be happy about. Yet you have those nagging feelings of discontentment, the desire for change, and perhaps a little frustration with what you can accomplish with where you are at financially.

I think I’ve finally pinned down the source of my crisis. And I know you all can relate to this- because I’m 99% sure it’s a cultural thing. Maybe some lean more towards the antsy I-need-new-things personality [raises her hand and says, “Oooh, oooh, me! That’s me!”], but isn’t it a cultural epidimeic of boredom? The need for new, exciting, and better things. And the need for them to be here right NOW? I see so many things that appeal to me, especially with being such an avid blog reader, whether it be a style of decorating, personal wardrobe style, hair-do…. but I just can’t have it all. I can’t go out and buy all of the things I need to fill out my home and decorate a nursery, but that’s all I can think about. I can’t have minimalism and maximalism at once, but they both appeal to me. I can’t keep my weight in check AND make all of those cookie recipes I discovered on Pinterest. And I can’t have the job I want now, and the budget that would supposedly make all of my dreams come true. My home will never look as awesome as all of those pretty pictures on my Pinterest board. I just can’t have it all, gosh darn it! And not having these things isn’t what’s causing my crisis- My crisis is caused by dwelling on what I do not have, instead of ejoying what is right in front of me!

You see, what I do makes me happy. Saving money will give me security. Debt is an evil, scary monster. And those six eighty-dollar curtain panels for my windows might make my living room prettier, but most likely will not make my life any more worth living than going outside and enjoying this beautiful weather, spending time with my loving husband, growing my faith, and cherishing the ones I love.

So I keep telling myself- saving a little money every month for new curtains will be so rewarding when they finally arrive! And maybe someday before I am a grandmother, I will be able to afford to do it up right on a roadtrip out west. But in the meantime, I’m happy to have time to enjoy my life where I’m at. I just might forget about it every now and then…

photos from this 2010 post

Note to readers: It’s become my desire to share more of my heart with you dear readers! Starting with my miscarriage last December, and my thoughts on self-confidence, I’ve really enjoyed connecting with your hearts, and hope that you will be happy to see when these wordier posts pop up amongst the other content you see at Here’s Looking at Me, Kid!

Surrounded by a sea of Old Navy wearing, jeans and t-shirt sporting family members and acquaintances, it’s no surprise that I’m sort of known as the eccentric “artsy one” who often hears, “Oh, you look so nice! I could never pull that off!” Oh yeah? Why not? It’s not as if I have the corner on the market of confidence. So where do I get all that confidence to wear what I wish, figure and opinions be dashed? It’s something I’ve been considering for a while, and something I’ve been dying to discuss with you. I think today I’m ready.

I see so many articles online and in magazines about attaining self confidence. Looking good shouldn’t be the ability to fit into a certain size, they say. And I agree. But I’m not so sure I subscribe to the mentality that in order to be a confident person, you have to love the way you look and embrace every detail of your body. Love your thighs! Love the shape of your arms! The size of your breasts, the proportions of your body… I just don’t know, you guys. I will never look in the mirror and like everything I see. Though I’m still comfortable in my body. I do not like my big boobs, I wish I didn’t carry so much weight in my middle, and boy wouldn’t it be nice if I weighed a little less. But guess what? Though I don’t like everything about my body, I don’t let its shape or my misgivings dictate what I am and am not “allowed to wear.” Dressing creatively is so much fun, and if I stuck to what made me look thin and young, it sure would be boring, and I certainly wouldn’t be very happy. So no, I don’t like everything about my body, but I still like being me, I don’t mind what people think about my body, and I find no purpose in putting a lot of time and energy into trying to hide it or change much about it.

I’ve learned through the years that insecurities stem from an absorption in self. Insecurities about what to say to people, how to behave around new acquaintances, and what sort of clothing to put on my body. How will people react toward me? What will they think of me? Me, me, meeee! Insecurities are all about me and how I am viewed. These fears quickly turn life into a narcissistic quandary. And boy if our culture isn’t great at cranking out narcissists who are subliminally taught daily to look out for yourself, to love yourself above all, and to believe that you are capable of anything as long as you believe in yourself. This mentality places the security of your happiness and confidence completely in yourself, what you are capable of, and how much you are able to love yourself. Love is an awfully unstable emotion to bear the weight of my self assurance. And love of self is all the more fickle. I might love my body today, but will I love my body tomorrow? If I don’t, then will my whole day be ruined because I just don’t love myself so much or feel that others love me either? It’s a self-absorbed and extremely precarious position to maintain as a human being trying to make it in the world.

Please understand, I think it is important to accept and love yourself, and it’s also helpful to examine yourself to see ways you need or want to change and try to be better. But brain washing yourself into happiness or flogging your body into obedience isn’t something I’ve ever found works for me. There came a point in my life when I realized I needed to have grace with myself. I might not like these double d mamma jammas, but they are mine, and I will accept them because they are just a fact of life. I will not convince myself that they make me undyingly happy, and I will not daydream about growing a brand new set of boobs. Instead, I will learn how to dress them appropriately to make me comfortable, and I will walk with confidence. You can tell me maybe this neckline isn’t the most flattering for my chest, but I probably already know that, and I probably like this outfit just fine, thank you very much. Otherwise I wouldn’t be wearing it.

Dressing creatively is fun, but I will not be absorbed by it, worry about it, or let it define who I am. I will not agonize over whether an outfit is perfect, and I also will not be scared to try something that might be rather unconventional. I am unconventional, so why be afraid to dress that way? I will not cry defeat when someone leaves a blog comment telling me that this outfit totally doesn’t work or makes me look five years older or ten pounds heavier (because let’s be real- people just don’t say those things to your face!). I’m sorry, but that is just not a priority to me. Since when does weight and age define what looks good, anyway? Okay, well, I guess it does for a lot of people, but once I start thinking that way, my confidence begins to slip away.

So how do you get that kind of confidence? How do you just not care? The idea is that you do care. Care lots and lots. But care about the things that matter. Care about your integrity, about your passions, about the well-being of those around you, and about how you are loving others and contributing to the world. Once your life begins to fill with grace for yourself and others, it will seem awfully silly when someone says to you, “You are really going to regret wearing that ten years from now.” And yes, I’ve actually had someone write that, among other really terrible things, about me. What was my response? I said, “Ten years from now I certainly won’t regret wearing something silly or fun one day, but ten years from now I really hope you regret saying hurtful things to me.”

So do I still worry about how I appear to others? Do I have days where I just feel ugly and wish I could jump out of my body? Sure! I’m human, after all. But as long as I remember the truth that living out love for others is more satisfying and lasting than obsessing over loving myself, I can keep the right perspective and I can be free to enjoy life and feel enjoyed by those around me.

For the record, I believe that living with love and grace is the key to happiness and I have found the ability to do so through my faith in Jesus Christ and the gift of the Holy Spirit. I know a lot of people think that’s awfully silly, but it’s very real to me, and I would feel remiss if I didn’t share that with you today! Also, people who wear Old Navy can be stylish too! Ha! Don’t take offense, it’s just a lot of people in Canton, Ohio wear the same kind of clothes, often from places like Old Navy.

After eagerly waiting to share the responsibilities of parenting for the first time, Phil and I took the first bitter steps on Friday when with our first act as as a father and mother, we each signed burial papers for our 8-week-old child. Ten days earlier, I was excitedly staring at maternity sewing patterns when my body began to change in some pretty terrifying ways. My fears began controlling my mind, and I was unable to think about anything else. I searched for hope, but morbidly wondered if I should be coming to terms with the idea that this pregnancy might be ending sooner than either Phil and I were prepared for.

The week leading up to my miscarriage was the worst part of it all. As much as friends tried to encourage me with hope for a healthy baby, each day I was bleeding more and more, and when the cramping started, I began grieving for the child that hadn’t even developed into a fetus. I searched my heart for the source of my grieving. Was I upset because my plans had been thwarted? Was I being selfish in my feelings? Was I considering God’s plan for my life and Phil’s feelings as much as my own? I tried reminding myself that it was better for this to happen now than to experience complications later on. I remembered that 20% of pregnant women experience similar feelings of loss. But I felt so alone.

Dealing with the unexpected loss of a friend the very same day I began the physically and emotionally painful miscarriage, I was experiencing conflicting and compounding feelings of loss and grief. It was difficult to sort through my feelings on both of these situations, so I just stayed in bed alone for days until finally calling my mom to tell her what we feared was probably happening. She took me to the doctor where they diagnosed an incomplete miscarriage and told me that my body was having difficulty letting go of the dead embryo. During the next few days I would be in for much more pain and bleeding. I didn’t know if I could emotionally deal with this, but what was worrying me even more is that in twenty-four hours I was supposed to be donning a bridesmaid dress and standing up with my best friend for her marriage vows.

Enter a whole new wave of emotional distress. I envisioned myself doubling over and dripping blood at the front of the church, ruining Dani’s perfect wedding day. I felt like I was letting people down and throwing a wrench into the spokes of everyone else’s lives. I guess these feelings aren’t exactly healthy, but I think they are natural for people-pleasers like myself. So, my doctor advised me that if I wanted to move on with my life, the best option would be to have a D&C at the hospital that same day. By 3 o’clock I was laying in a hospital bed, cramping and agitated with the IV in my arm. Phil was by my side, and I think this was the first moment it really hit him that we we losing the baby. I felt worse for him than myself at that moment. For me? I was just relieved that I could quit wondering and questioning every feeling in my body. Dani was finding someone else to wear my bridesmaid dress and assured me that I shouldn’t worry about missing the wedding. I felt like I could finally move on.

But another shock came when the hospital’s doctor warned me that 8% of women who receive D&C procedures develop Ashermna’s and suffer from infertility. I was all ready for this surgery and thought this would be the best way to move on. But infertility? The prospect brought on a a whole new wave of fears. I didn’t know this was a possible outcome. But I went on with the D&C anyway. Now I wonder if this was the right decision or not. But only time will tell.

Before this week, I never knew so many of my family and friends have been grieving privately for their very personal loss. Women don’t talk about miscarriage for many reasons. For me, I don’t think I will be able to phsyically talk about this experience because of the tears that choke my voice- which is why I feel the need to write about it here. I felt so alone during this process. Like there was nobody I could talk to about my fears. And I also felt the pressure to keep this a secret, like there’s some kind of rule that women who have miscarriages ought to keep quiet about it so that nobody around them is made to feel uncomfortable. Many women wait until they make it into their first trimester before even sharing the news of their pregnancy. However, I was so excited, I told a lot of my family and friends when I was around 5 weeks along. This is something I don’t regret doing, as they might not even slightly understand the loss I am feeling if they hadn’t shared in the joy of our pregnancy. And for my healing, I need to let go of feelings of guilt for just resting physically and emotionally. I have withdrawn socially, and always feel this weird guilt when I do that. But knowing that my friends are aware of what is going on makes me feel like I can finally rest without worrying right now.

Today is the calling hours for my friend who took her life last Thursday. I don’t know if I will even be able to go, and this saddens me too. When will I be able to get back to day-to-day life? I’m scared of complicating my recovery and losing the ability to carry children in the future. I’m worried about socially reintegrating after dealing with so much grief in one week.

As far as how Phil and I are doing emotionally, we are very sad, but also hopeful. We believe that God has a plan for our lives and that he will work through whatever comes our way. I told Phil, “We are stronger today than we were yesterday.” I suppose losing friends and children is a part of adult life. I just didn’t think it would start so soon. So, right now I’m just figuring out how to get back to life and reengage with the things and people I love.

I’m hoping that sharing this with you readers will help ease some of my anxiety with feeling the need to do too much too soon. I’m hoping sharing this will help someone else who is dealing with similar loss with suicide and miscarriage. I hope that women who miscarry don’t feel like they have to hide in shame and grieve silently.

Thank you for all of your e-mails and messages. I’m sorry for the loss you have also experienced, and know that sharing our stories will help us grow stronger and move on.