Reframing

When I was a kid and my parents realized I needed glasses, they took me to the eye doctor, and I picked out the tackiest, most ostentatious frames a twelve year-old had ever dreamed of.  Those glasses were hella ugly, y’all, like blue and yellow and pink zigzags and dots with lenses the size of tea saucers. And I wore those ugly things for the next several years, completely oblivious to my optical faux pas.

High school called for some new frames, and the ones I ended up with weren’t much better than those hideous glasses of my preteen years.

Finally, at 35 years, I’ve reached glasses Nirvana with a pair of black wayfarers that embody my nerdy, vintage style perfectly. 

The point of this long winded trip down memory lane is to talk about the importance of reframing your outlook throughout your life. Just like I found myself new frames for my glasses for different periods of my life, so have I found new frames and perspectives as I have grown and developed as a human.

I read an amazing blog this morning that reminded me how important this reframing process is in life.  The article challenged its readers to reflect on the insecurities of their youth that they now look at as strengths. This process of reframing was so poignant and powerful to me, particularly since I’ve always struggled with overcoming my insecurities. Growing up, I hated many things about myself. My freckles. My sensitivity. My height. Nowadays, having traveled at least partway down the road to self-love, these are some of my favorite things about myself. My freckles are the constellations of my skin, charting the course of a childhood spent in the woods and in the sun. My sensitivity helps me connect with people and forge strong ties built upon empathy and trust. My height makes me feel powerful and beautiful, if not still a little awkward sometimes.

From this reflection on how my view of the insecurities of my youth have changed, it occurs to me that many, many things in life are truly about how we look at them and what lens or frame we look at them through.

We all have different frames we look through and different lens coloring our world. These frames and lens change as we grow, as we have new experiences, as we meet new people. We are lucky to be complex, evolving creatures who can embrace a variety of experiences and perspectives; we are lucky to be able to change, because change is growth.

This recent election and many of my current challenges in my own journey have made me happy that I am a fluid, open-minded creature, who can embrace many perspectives. Because here’s the thing. None of us are completely right. None of us have all the answers. None of us can be the one true ring. But together, with all of our many lens and frames and experiences and beliefs, we create this kaleidoscope of humanity that is truly something to see, something to embrace, something to learn from.

So next time you’re feeling particularly sure about an ugly pair of glasses, maybe take a moment, practice the pause, and see what other options life has in store. You just might find the wayfarers you always dreamed of.

As a kid, I loved those stupid glasses with the bright frames and huge lens. Looking back, as an adult, I completely hate them. But that’s the beauty of growing up, we can change our minds, we can be better people, and we can learn to fully love ourselves. Freckles and all.

Mirror, Mirror

Perception. Such a tricky thing. There’s how others perceive me:

Shy.

Nervous.

Malleable.

Weak.

Since I was a child, people have made similar snap judgments about me, as people are wont to do.

Oh, she’s quiet? She must be shy.

Oh, she’s blushing? She must be nervous.

Oh, she wants to please people? She must be malleable.

Oh, she avoids confrontation? She must be weak.

And maybe I am all of those things. But I’m not just those things. I’m not just a neurotic introvert with tendencies of being a pushover. And I’d prefer if people didn’t boil me down to that. Because I am so much more.

Would you ever guess that this shy girl loves to argue? Would you ever guess that when she’s driving she cusses like a sailor? In your skewed and narrow-minded view of me, would you imagine that I’m crazy competitive? Did you know that I have a quick Irish temper? The soul of a poet? The heart of a fighter?

Funny, while in high school, everyone said I was shy. They would say it with a twinge of sympathy coloring their voices: “Oh, Katie? Well, she’s shy.” In the South, we add “bless her heart” to the end of things like that, and all the sudden, insulting someone or talking about them behind their back suddenly becomes okay. At least that’s what we tell ourselves.

To be fair, being called shy wasn’t particularly insulting. I’ve been called much worse. But as a child, I remember perceiving that three-letter-word as the nastiest of insults. Hearing it would make me cringe, because I knew it minimalized me and my abilities; I knew that as long as that word hovered over my head, I would be held back by it.

In middle school and high school, I was help back by it. I was held back by it, because I started believing it. It was the word used most often to describe Katie, the word that popped out of nearly anyone’s mouth when asked about me.

I was Katie. I was the shy girl. I was boiled down to nothing more than a label.

I think that’s what happens to many of us in high school. We get labeled. We’re jocks. Or nerds. Or outsiders. Or shy girls. We’re square pegs forced into round holes. Never mind about how we perceive ourselves. In high school, it’s all about how others perceive us.

I realized today that life hasn’t changed much from high school.

Even though I turn twenty-nine in two days, I’m still allowing myself to be defined by others. I’m still letting someone else tell me that I’m shy or a pushover or not true to myself. I’m still letting someone else tell me what’s wrong with me, why I don’t quite fit.

Source: business-beware.tumblr.com via Ashley on Pinterest

Today, something broke inside me. A flood of feelings, a barrage of pent-up frustrations, each one assaulting both heart and head and leaving me exposed and sure of nothing. Afterward the dam broke, I sat in front of my computer for nearly two hours, the day’s events replaying shot-by-shot in my head, regrets and confusion bubbling to the surface.

And I wrote this post, then made this vow:

My last year of my twenties will not be defined by friends or enemies. My last year of my twenties will be about me: the good, the bad, and the ugly. I will be myself. I will be kind, caring, goofy, and strange. I will worry about everything. I will laugh about nothing.  I won’t let the negativity of others drag me down. I won’t let the opinions others have of me define me. I won’t let their misconceptions rule the day. I will be me, and I will love that person, flaws and all.

Have you ever been defined by a label? Do certain people in your life have misconceptions about who you are?


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Confessions of a Gleek, or the Anatomy of an Obsession

To those who know me best, it's no secret that I have a tendency to obsess about the things I love. That's probably the understatement of the century. God love my parents and my husband for putting up with me and all of my obsessions. Especially my parents. They've lived with 28 years of me and my "loves," including but not limited to: horses, Johnny Depp, Alfred Hitchcock movies, Jimmy Stewart, Dave Matthews Band, musicals, writing, reading, William Faulkner, Jane Austen, Wuthering Heights, James Dean, Ireland, anything and everything Irish, cooking, gardening, cats, animals, owls, black birds, birds in general, The Beatles, Counting Crows, history, ghosts, zoos, scary movies, love stories, food, anything Southern...I should probably stop. Before I seem crazy crazier. I tend to be passionate over everything my heart loves, and I mean passionate. That's who I am, and what follows is a look inside my overly-passionate, obsessive heart.

I purposely left off one of my major obsessions from the list above because it may actually be the mother of all obsessions and is the subject of my post. This obsession came to life the moment I heard a rumor that the show might have been a twinkle in its creator's eye. Then I saw the preview for it and fell head over heels.

When the Glee pilot originally aired in May 2009, I thought I might die between its airing and the airing of episode 1 in September 2009. Thankfully, I didn't, but I'm pretty sure Jeremy was sick of hearing about Glee THEN.  Poor guy. Yep, I'm a total Gleek. Nope, I'm not a 12-year old tween with braces and glasses, singing Celine Dion's "All By Myself" at the top of my lungs in my purple, horse-decorated bedroom...but I once was. And my 12-year old self loves Glee. Loves it. Heck, I won't lie so does my 28-year old self.

But with all of my obsessions, there's usually some kind of reason or logic behind my reason for obsessing, and Glee is no different. Which brings me to: The Anatomy of an Obsession.

The Underdog, Anti-Hero, Dreamer Lady

Let's start with the Glee's heroine: Rachel Berry, a character most people love to hate, but one that I absolutely adore. She's not neat. She's not easy-to-love. She's sometimes obnoxious, has questionable judgment, and is pushy and opinionated. But she's just the kind of character I love the most: the anti-hero(ine). Look, people aren't simple. None of us fit into easy categories, and if we do, then we probably need to re-evaluate our depth and sense of self but that's another post for another day. Rachel reflects (an exaggerated version) of real life. She dreams and chases those dreams shamelessly, and the dreamer in me respects that tenacity. Plus, she's an underdog, and I am a complete sucker for an underdog, also another post for another day.

Unrequited Love

Ah, unrequited love. Could there be a single person on the planet who doesn't relate in some way to unrequited love? Then again, I'm sure there are some people who have never longed for someone they can't have, but Glee's probably not the type of show those people could relate to anyway. I'm getting off-track. The unrequited (mostly) love between the Glee's main characters, our favorite underdog Rachel and popular yet awkward football player guy Finn Hudson, is definitely a key component to my obsession. Love stories that begin with unrequited love and end with happily ever after thrill me! And while happily ever after is yet to be determined on Glee, the "getting there" with Finn and Rachel's story has me hanging on and enjoying every minute of the ride.

Random Outbursts of Song


Music makes the people come together. Madonna knows what she's singing about, for real. And music, although I don't have any talent for it myself, moves me. I sing songs at the top of my lungs. I analyze lyrics and composition and the way songs make me feel. And because of a deep love and appreciation for music, I've always adored musicals. The random outbursts of song fill my heart with joy. When I was a teenager, I used to wish life could be a musical. If I could only sing about my love and heartbreak, it would make it so much easier to handle! Or so I thought. But, really, what is Glee but a musical? A never-ending musical and that's even better!

The Message

To wrap up this unnecessarily long post (see? I told you I'm obsessive), I'd like to touch on the final and perhaps most important reason behind my obsession with Glee: the message. Glee tells the story of misfits and underdogs, and it teaches viewers about acceptance. The gist of the show? We're all different, but we're all worth loving, whether we're weird, gay, black, white, purple, gothic, self-conscious, curvy, OCD....or a tiny bit obsessive by nature. And to me, that's a message worth obsessing over.

Do you have an obsessive personality? If so, what's your obsession? 

Oh, and PS - Are you a Gleek? Glee lovers unite! :)

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HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!