Sunscreen

    This summer I said I would be writing my last blog post for a while, but I guess I lied. When inspiration strikes, it strikes and more often than not, it's usually late at night. It's usually fall. I usually feel sentimental. 

    I'm someone who gets stuck on the past or the future more often than not. I've talked about that previously, so I won't go into too much detail there, but this summer has been an ACT of letting go. And it's been really good for me. I don't believe sentimentality and nostalgia are wrong, but it doesn't do anything to dwell on past events. It doesn't do anything to dwell on anything that's out of my control. But honoring emotions when you feel them and letting them go is an art that I haven't completely conquered yet, and I think that's something most people struggle with. 

    My absolute favorite song at the moment is "Quiet Light" by The National. Every single lyric in the song is so good. It's truthfully a song about that moment when you're moving on from someone - and it all still hurts, but you learn to live with the truth that life moves on. 

"I used to fall asleep to you talking to me
I don't listen to anything now
Nothing to do with us
I'm just so tired of thinking about everything
I'm not afraid of being alone
I just don't know what to do with my time
Between you and me
I thought it would all last a little while longer

But I'm learning to lie here in the quiet light
While I watch the sky go from black to gray
Learning how not to die inside a little
Every time I think about you and wonder if you are awake"

    This song HITS. It is so good. Anyone who knows me knows I can't let people go very easily. I genuinely believe there's just some people who have an easier time moving on, and there's others who take a little while longer to move on. Neither is wrong, it just is what it is. It takes me time. There is not one single person in my life that I can think of that I would refuse to ever be friends with again. 

    However, there is one thing I noticed about myself: Since the age of 15, I've been writing in a journal every night (or I try to write every night). During bad times in my life, I won't write for a month, sometimes I miss a day or two, but I usually write in it every night. 

    Anyone who knows me knows I journal a lot. 

    Anyone who knows me also knows I love nothing more than finding new music and going to concerts. 

    Every night, I'll write a "Song for the Day" with my journal entry. I don't really know why, it's just kind of a routine now. I usually just go through one of my mass Spotify playlists and just follow down the list of songs and write which one ever comes next. It's interesting! Sometimes sad songs correlate with bad days, or I'll hit a rough spot in a friendship and the "Song for the Day" will be a song that person showed me. I don't think there's probably much weight in it at all, it just gives me a sort of comfort and reminds me that I have a good music taste. 

    Each year, I'll make a Spotify playlist starting the day after my birthday (July 16) and I'll add the "Song for the Day" from days in my journal that were super significant for that year. Sometimes it's graduations; sometimes it's a first kiss with someone; sometimes it's a wedding; sometimes it's a funeral. It could be me moving to a new apartment, starting a new school year, a concert. Whatever it is, that song is significant for that year. (If you wanna know your song for your bday that I happened to write down in my journal, hit me up, I can tell you. Or! If you wanna know what I randomly wrote down for my college graduation song or the day my ex and I broke up. It's all very fascinating. Plus, I just like sharing music.)

    But, the other day, I realized I got it all wrong. These are significant days, and yes, they are important, and yes I am grateful for them. But there are so many days I missed. 

    It hit me during this moment: 

    My parents and two younger sisters recently moved to Kansas City. My 20yo sister and me decided to stay in Colorado. I started grad school!!! (Also, shoutout to my post in March about just wanting to get chai and walk to Stats class during the fall, because I did that yesterday and cue "Manifest" by Andrew Bird aka my song of the year). Anywho, we stayed. My parents ultimately decided to rent our house, so they're still looking around for people to rent it. But my sister and I will drive up to Estes from Denver usually every weekend to kind of slowly bring the rest of our stuff down to our apartment. The house is pretty empty in general. I have my bass guitar still up there and there's a few things we need to drop off at a thrift store, but this is all beside the point. 

    I was sitting on the floor in my childhood bedroom - like with the two twin sized beds in the room I lived in from the ages of 5-10. It's funny because I lived in nearly every bedroom in that house and I ended it all in the first room I lived in, and it's honestly pretty comforting to think about. But my sister and I were sitting on the floor and she looked at me and said, "You wanna rub this sunscreen into my face?" which in retrospect, I have no idea why she wanted me to, but I also agreed. And I agreed by saying, "Only if we listen to a specific song from the Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind soundtrack." So we listened to the song "Phone Call" on the soundtrack and sat on the hardwood floors and then I just rubbed the sunscreen into her face and then she rubbed the sunscreen into my face. The song is a little over a minute long, but we just closed our eyes and just sat on the ground in our childhood room in our empty house - just the two of us remainders of our family in the town we grew up in. It was peaceful. That's all it was. And I realized I've been adding the wrong songs to my playlists. 

    Don't get me wrong, I still remember when I kissed this guy for the first time. Early spring - it was dark outside. We were inside, but I could still hear people walking around outside even late into the night. The promise of summer was right around the corner. I remember walking out into the quiet light when I left. I still remember the smell of his house, I remember calling my friend and telling her about it. I remember the excitement. 

    Don't get me wrong, I still remember when my parents got their dog. She was just a tiny, little thing. She was kind of shivering when I picked her up. 

    Don't get me wrong, I still remember where I was when I realized my mom had cancer. Upstairs on the top level of my parents' house in Estes. It was the middle of the summer. I was hot. I felt that all so familiar feeling of my heart dropping into my stomach. 

    Don't get me wrong, I still remember when I got accepted into graduate school. I was working retail. It was right before COVID hit. I got a voicemail. I listened to it on my break and ran outside of the break room to my coworker and when I told her she started crying and I almost started crying. I ran outside to call my mom because I had really bad service in the break room. I remember a song from the La La Land soundtrack was stuck in my head. 

    Don't get me wrong, I remember when my ex broke up with me and I cried and put my head in his lap and wrapped my arms around his waist and cried, "Don't leave me, I don't know what to do." And I realized I had my own insecure attachment issues to work through. 

    But, I remember clear as day what it felt like to listen to "Phone Call" in my empty, cold, childhood home and feel my sister rub sunscreen into my face. Where is the song for that?

    I'm starting to realize now that there's so many more precious moments than I've even realized. Watching my friend paint her nails while we have the best talks I've ever had in my life with Trevor Hall playing in the background on her phone is life-giving. 

    Walking around the botanic gardens in Albuquerque with my friend right before the Death Cab concert and seeing a tarantula named after David Bowie. I think I posted it on my Snapchat and said, "We could be heroes." I thought I was a genius. 

    This past week when my friend knew I was having a crappy day and she brought over wine and I just lied on the couch and watched New Girl. I did the absolute bare minimum. But I was so honored to have her in my life. 

    And it is such an absolute honor to be in people's lives. 

    I want to go back. I want to go through all my old journals and re-write all my playlists on Spotify with a collection of songs from these seemingly insignificant moments that weren't insignificant at all. The collection of songs I've had were from moments that were so significant and precious to me, but I neglected all the moments that were equally precious, if not more so, yet insignificant. 

    Those quiet moments of peace. 

    The summer of 2019, I was watching Taylor Swift's Tiny Desk Concert downstairs in my parents' house waiting for my family to come back from Kansas City. I started tearing up because I think even then I knew I wouldn't get that moment back. The cool, summertime breeze floated through the window while I listened to "All Too Well" and I knew I'd never get that moment again. 

    Honoring the past is important. Honoring the significant moments are important. 

    But I know now that I'll never experience that breakup again or that acceptance into grad school again. I'll never experience that first kiss with the same person again and my dog will never be a puppy again. 

    But, I also know that the insignificant moments may linger longer. When I'm sad, I can go across the hall to my sister's room and ask her to rub sunscreen into my face. I can ask my friend if she wants to take a weekend trip to New Mexico again. I know my friend will bring me wine if I just called her and said, "Dammit, I'm sad." I know there's so many more conversations to be had with these people who are present in my life, right now. Right now, this moment is all we got. 

    I'm absolutely honored to have been chosen in these people's lives. I'm absolutely honored to have been in the lives of past people I don't talk to anymore. You all have been the most important part of my life. I put a lot of weight into my accomplishments, but at what cost really? I see nothing more purposeful than the relationships I have in my life. I see nothing more sacred. 

    At this moment, I'm just in my bed in my apartment in Denver, Colorado listening to Ray LaMontagne and typing this post up on my laptop. And I feel very honored to even be existing in this moment at all. I'm looking around my room at the Nirvana poster I have up; a poster for The Oh Hellos New Years Eve concert from 2013 crookedly hanging up right next to it. I'm excited to see what tomorrow brings. I'm excited to take it all a day at a time. I'm excited to leave the past in the past. 

    What a privilege it is to be alive. 

    

THE MASTERPOST (where I talk about moving on, organized religion, and starting grad school)

Helloooo from my birthday month. Incredible.
I always get so stoked during July because I just really love the summer, and I really love that I'm able to celebrate my birthday in the summer. Anywho, this might be my last post for a while unless I really feel like writing something, but I almost have the feeling my time on this blog is coming to a close for now. As you've probably noticed, I've been writing really infrequently over the past few years. Usually, I only post something once a year, so it's pretty wild I posted something back in March and now I'm posting again!
Obviously, I enjoy writing (definitely my strong suit in school), and if anyone knows me, they know I write in a journal nearly every night and have been for the past eight years. It's been very therapeutic if anyone wants to know. I'd highly recommend it. I've found it's especially useful for taking charge of my emotions and writing them down in a concise, conclusive way. I've also been thinking of taking on a new little project sometime in the near future, so maybe I'll post some updates about that here, but overall, I may not be posting as much here and I think that's okay. This blog has been good, but I'm also okay with retiring it for a little while.
If you've been reading these since the very beginning, let me know! I so enjoy seeing who takes the time to read these. It feels nice :) And if you have been reading these since like 2013 (?) when I started this, thank you for sticking with me all these years and reading my ramblings. And I hope you learned something/felt understood/resonated with something I said. Thank you for enjoying these posts in whatever way you enjoyed them.
1. I got accepted to the University of Denver!!! For their MA Forensic Psychology program. So, that post from a few months ago where I said I really just wanted to walk to my stats class in the snow while holding a hot cup of chai and then go home to my apartment with my sister in the city is actually going to come true (Cue "Manifest" by Andrew Bird). I feel very blessed to be able to start at DU in their program, whether that looks like the program may be online for a little while (thanks, COVID) or if it's not entirely what I expected. I truly feel like Denver is where I'm supposed to be for the next few years.
My whole entire interview process at DU was simultaneously one of the scariest and most exciting moments in my life so far. I really look back and see God's hand through it all - down to me feeling like I should pray for discernment so that the DU professors could see me for me and see if I was a good fit for the program. And I carried that on to my one-on-one interview - where I talked about my favorite album (Plans by Death Cab for Cutie) all the way to The Screwtape Letters. I barely mentioned anything about forensic psych, which is just so interesting in itself.
If you have questions concerning the GRE, applying for grad school, interviewing for a program, or just want more details on my whole experience there, please reach out.
2. I've recently been going through a whole new thing in my spiritual life. (And by recently, I mean, probably since the beginning of undergrad, but I only have a word for it now). I don't particularly like organized religion. Am I a Christian? Definitely. I think the root of this is that I don't do well in Christian groups. I find it extremely difficult to make friends in a setting where there is a large amount of Christian people. I find it all to be very exclusive and "cookie-cutter" and disingenuous. I always end up feeling isolated and left out and forgotten. I recognize I tend to label myself as a "black sheep" if I feel isolated by even a few people, but I think there's something deeper than that. I went from private Christian school for my first year of undergrad to working at a Christian summer camp to coming home to the church I grew up in and the feelings were all the same. In no way is this calling out any of these organizations, but I do think this is something to address. I grew up feeling very comfortable in my church in Estes, and I still feel a sense of familiarity whenever I go there. But, after hearing outside perspectives of other Christian people who did not grow up in that same environment, I've come to the conclusion that large Christian organizations can feel very isolating. I'm no theologian or scholar or pastor, but I don't believe the church is supposed to be isolating in any way. I've always been very attentive of groups that may feel isolated from churches, or even isolated from the "norm" or majority. The church needs to feel like a welcome, warm place for people who feel unwanted in other places. The church should make everyone feel wanted because God wants everyone to know Him. God does not favor one person over the other. God is love. So, it's been very hard for me as a young, white Christian female to feel excluded through various Christian groups. If I'm excluded, then what chance does the single mother have? What chance does the formerly incarcerated person have? What place do those struggling with mental illness have in the church? Where is the space for those struggling with an addiction? For a woman who has had an abortion? For the kid in the foster system? What space is there for them?
And this bugs me, too. A church could say, "Oh, this person is part of our congregation, they are part of this group." But, how does that individual person feel? Are we truly taking into account their individual experiences? Because my first college could say, "Oh, yes, Hannah is part of this because she goes here." That's not enough. That's a surface-level relationship at best. It shakes me that even if someone is a part of a church, they may feel looked down or isolated or like something is irreparably wrong with them. In many ways, we've failed the minority.
My relationship with God has waxed and waned in various ways throughout my undergrad, but I'm okay with it because it's a relationship. If I always felt I was on good terms with God, then how deeply do I know Him?
Struggles and struggling with my feelings toward the Christian population (at least from what I've observed in the USA) has made me rely on God more, so ultimately I feel like I'm in a pretty harmonious place with Him right now. I also recognize that people have different places in the church. We all have different callings. But, I'm becoming increasingly more aware this is more of my calling. I mean, I'm going into forensic psychology. I'm literally going to be working with the incarcerated population for my career. I also know I am extremely aware of people who may feel isolated and that's a blessing that came out of me constantly feeling rejected and like I was weird or quirky throughout my whole childhood and adolescence.
I'm open to conversation about this - wherever you stand with Christianity; whether you know God or you're an atheist or agnostic or you found Christ recently, I'm always open to conversation.
3. Moving on :) Recently, I've been going through a bit of a heartbreak, and I won't get into details here, but if you truly want to know, definitely reach out. I can talk about my feelings for ages. I've been praying a lot about it. I just care super deeply for people, so when a relationship ends, it always takes a huge toll on me. Moving on is no easy feat for me. In many ways, I feel like I've failed the relationship. I've had to remind myself God is sovereign and God can fix a relationship and He has many times. And I cannot save people. Only God can save them. So, truthfully, I think the best thing I could do is just pray. For myself, for them, for good things to come in their life. For me, it's interesting, because I don't really have any hard feelings toward the person, but I do feel hurt. And I'm still working through that. And it's okay if it takes time. Do I want the relationship to mend? I really would. But, I also know these things take time. And if the relationship doesn't ever mend, I have to trust it's for the best and that's also okay, too. But, I just have to give it up to God and let it go. (And if you're the person I'm talking about and you're reading this because there might be a chance you're reading this, heyyy what's good - listen to the Glass Animals' new song, I think you'll like it).
All this to say, I was testing God recently about some kinda new relationships in my life developing and the people in my life right now. To be completely vulnerable, I really didn't trust that God was fully there for me, until my friend pointed out that we always know God is with us even if we can't necessarily feel his presence. I mean, I look around during my runs around the lake and during my hikes with friends and I feel the cool wind on my face before a thunderstorm and I see the clouds that cover the mountains in the national park and I see the deer that take shelter underneath a tree during a hot, hot day and that's enough beauty in itself. That's enough for me.
And I started applying that to my relationships. The only relationship that truly matters in the scheme of things is my relationship with God - it takes the pressure off of feeling isolated by people, it takes the pressure off of mending relationships immediately, it provides a comfort and security. But these blessings of friends that I take for granted more often than not - friends I've had for years and years, friends that hold me accountable and are truthful and know my worth and value, I take for granted. More recently, I've been feeling an abundance of gratitude for the relationships in my life. I don't have a lot of friends. But, it all feels so fulfilling. If God is the only relationship that we need to feel fulfilled, he's sent these wonderful friends to me so we can be in each other's lives and enjoy each other's company. They're just little bonus relationships and that's pretty wholesome. And that's enough for me.
One of my favorite songs, "Old Friends" by Pinegrove has lyrics that say,
"Walking out in the night-time springtime
Needling my way home
I saw Leah on the bus a few months ago
I saw some old friends at her funeral

My steps keep splitting my grief
Through these solipsistic moods
I should call my parents when I think of them
Should tell my friends when I love them

Maybe I should have gone out a bit more
And you guys are still in town
I got too caught up in my own shit
It's how every outcome is such a comedown

I knew it when I saw it
I did just what I wanted
So I go through with this
I knew happiness when I saw it"

A couple months ago, I took a spontaneous trip to Mt. Rushmore with two of my sisters and my mom. We drove up through Wyoming and then to South Dakota, and overall, it was a fun, little day-trip. On the way back, we were on a county road traveling towards Cheyenne to merge onto I-25 and eventually make our way back through Fort Collins and then to Estes Park - to our house on Olympus Lane.
While I was driving on this road, "Heroes" by David Bowie started playing on my Spotify playlist and I was struck with a surge of memories. I looked up at the sunroof and then back at my sisters and said, "Does anyone want to sit outside the sunroof?"
You see, the last time I did that was in high school. I was with a few good friends of mine - a couple I don't talk to anymore, one of those ended in horrible heartbreak that took literal years for me to get over. We romanticized The Perks of Being A Wallflower and we'd drive through the canyons coming up Estes and play "Heroes" real loud and sit outside my friend's truck's sunroof. It felt good. It felt reckless and slightly illegal, but it felt good. We connected over that.
In the past five or so years, I haven't been able to do that - partly because it reminded me of a friendship that ended and left me feeling brokenhearted, but also partly because it felt like a memory of happiness that was shared with these people. It was like I couldn't experience that happiness again because the people that were in that memory were gone. And they are still gone.
But when my sisters took their turns sitting out that sunroof in the car we were driving on the road outside Cheyenne, I was struck with the feeling that I was also in those memories. To not equate me to any of those other people meant I did not equate myself with creating part of that happiness. I was much a part of that happiness, just like they are to me.
My mom asked if I wanted to sit outside the sunroof and I said, "Yes, why the heck not" and we turned "Heroes" up real loud and I realized I have all the friends I need. Even more so, this was my memory now. It didn't need to be shared. My sisters equated sitting out of the sunroof and listening to "Heroes" to me and me only. They didn't know my old friends.
They only knew me now. And I knew happiness when I saw it.

The Kind of Sad That Just Takes Time

To be completely honest, I've been itching to write a new post. It's been OVER a year since I've typed up one of these things. And I'll set the mood: It is 1AM in Estes Park, Colorado. I'm laying in bed next to my sleeping sister. My dog's feet are resting on my legs. I have From Indian Lakes on loops on my Spotify. It's cloudy outside and I can tell that it is because the moon is so big and bright and beautiful tonight.

I've mulled over a few topics to write about, and I know it's not smart to wait until a moment of inspiration gets you, but a moment of inspiration has come, folks. And here I am. 

I'm talking about full on gratitude tonight. Gratitude for the people in your life, gratitude for what is, gratitude for what isn't, and the hardest of all, gratitude for the stuff that you really don't feel like being grateful for. 

In a sense, I think gratitude is synonymous with hope. One of my favorite quotes of all time, and one that's been in my head recently is one from Stephen Chbosky's book The Perks of Being A Wallflower: "She wasn't bitter. She was sad, though. But it was a hopeful kind of sad. The kind of sad that just takes time."  

Friends, I have been sad. I've been sad for maybe almost a year now. And this is absolutely not a pity post or a cry for help (although when I write these, I do feel like a bit of a narcissist ?? IDK, if I am, call me out). I think the root of this sadness is just a lot of unrest and uneasiness in my own young adulthood life, in my family's lives, in the multitude of changes that have happened. 

I've made plenty of mistakes in the last year, or since I last posted. I've gone through a breakup. I graduated college (!!!). I've had two random people hit my car in my apartment parking lot and just run for it (like - is that truly necessary). I was going to go to Slovenia this summer. Decided against that. Now, I'm literally just waiting to see if I get into grad school in Denver at the THIRD best Forensic Psych program in the nation, and all I truly want to do is go to my stats classes and my counseling classes and walk around campus at DU while the snow is falling and I'm holding a good cup of chai. I want to live with my sister. I want to live in the city. I want to feel like I am accomplishing something and that I'm not sitting in this period of waiting. 

The older I've gotten, I've realized how much weight I put into my accomplishments. Just this morning, I had a GOOD cry in bed for about 15 minutes and remembered my worth and got ready and went to church and overall, I had a great day. 

Today honestly felt like a healthy balance between processing my emotions for a little and then saying, "You know what, DESPITE how I feel, I can keep living." 

I think I tend to live in extremes. But, I grew up seeing my dad's strong independence and my mom's wild sense of loyalty and I think I thought I had to be one or the other. So, there's some days (weeks, months, the past ~almost~ year where I've felt generally hopeless) where I brood and sit over my emotions. I give plenty of room for myself to process my emotions and then in maybe a sick sense, I kind of just like sitting in that sad feeling. I like the angst. I like the moodiness. 

Then, there's periods in my life where I don't feel like processing my emotions. I work and work - and I enjoy it! I don't think there's anything wrong with that. I feel accomplished and working on something that I think is worthwhile and purposeful to me - could be homework (I do love school :) ) or IDK, like going on runs or keeping up with my ~aesthetic~. 

But, I was PROUD of myself today, because it felt like I truly balanced the art of accomplishment and keeping space for my emotions. And it got me thinking about gratitude. I am so incredibly grateful for the people in my life. And I am grateful for those that chose to walk out. 

I am grateful for those that chose to walk out.

My fear of abandonment is strong. And honestly, I hate it. When I'm in romantic relationships, I tend to look for an open door - kind of a "grass is greener on the other side" complex. And even in platonic relationships, or even potential friendships, I tend to always think the relationship will end at some point. It goes back to a deep-seated fear that there's something wrong with me. So I run a thin line between almost putting on a show to appeal to certain people or rebelling for the sake of rebelling (aka essentially labeling myself as a black sheep). Being genuine and truthful is something I very much value. But, so often, I am not genuine to myself. And I don't want people to leave me, so I try desperately to fit in with the crowd. The age old question: Do I choose to be genuine and risk being alone, or do I choose to not be as genuine, but have relationships with others even if they are lowkey superficial?  

Another one of my favorite quotes is from the song "Rhode Island" by The Front Bottoms: "Everything you're feeling is common, even though you've never felt so alone." And I think this really applies here. I struggle with the back-and-forth of feeling genuine or feeling fake, but I think multitudes and multitudes of people also struggle with the same thing. No one likes feeling rejected. Everyone likes feeling chosen. 

I don't feel chosen a lot. I don't feel chosen in my romantic relationships especially. But this morning, I felt that sense of gratitude creeping in. And let me tell you, that gratitude felt a lot like hope. Like a soothing balm on my soul, it reminded me of all those who have been so good to me: One of my best friends (who is also my roommate) (a BLESSING) who consistently makes me laugh. We both have dark senses of humor and are into psychology and have spent multiple nights watching crime documentaries and drinking wine. My best friend who lives in Denver (she lives in CO, now, yay!) and how she holds me accountable and always, always hypes me up. In fact, all my best friends hype me up and they're very good at that. And they have been my best friends since elementary school. Incredible. Not only that, but my family is a blessing. I just sat in the bath tonight and my sister and I talked for, like, a whole hour about her boy problems and we hyped each other up. And there are countless others who choose me. They love me. They continue to choose me time and time again. 

And sometimes I'm not chosen. Someone is chosen instead of me, or no one is chosen, but "no one" is better than me. Or I'm rejected. Or I'm just not liked. 

But at the end of the day, that doesn't matter. I think I'm going to choose to be genuine. I'm going to run the risk of abandonment and say, "You know, I have people in my life who love me and think I'm great." And not worry about the rest of the people who don't like me. And that's enough. How freeing! A true blessing. 

So, yes. I'm starting to feel that hopeful kind of sad - the kind of sad that just takes time. I drove up the canyon tonight while the rain was falling and I listened to "Heroes" by David Bowie. 

I'm going to be okay, whether I get into grad school or not. Whether or not I feel heartache or angst or sadness or pain, I'm going to be okay because I am grateful. And because I have hope. 

I've started saying the phrase, "Less like scars, more like character." which I got from a Sara Groves song because I'm not that original although I wish I were. But I think it's been applicable to my life. I am grateful for the people who chose to walk out of my life, because even though it hurts bad, it builds character. It's forever intertwined with my story. And it creates room for new beginnings.