Love Potion No. 9

“How can we be loved if we are always in hiding?”
-Donald Miller

Vases

Romantic love is the stuff of endless, brilliant art forms: song, poetry, film, fashion, story, sculpture, and much more. It’s been known to spark wars and sculpt history.  We all have relational histories that form us into the creatures we are today. Some of that history is redemptive and life-giving, some reminds us more of a once exquisite vase, crushed and broken into hundreds of pieces on the kitchen floor. The mess and heartache is so big, we sweep it  into a pile and dispose of it. We shop around for weeks, sometimes months, until we find a replacement; something perhaps with a sturdier base and more color. Just the thing that will complete our once cold, bare room.

Me

My own love story has been a winding, quizzical one at best. However, from where I sit with the soft, forgiving lens of perspective and time, I’m grateful. It’s been imperfect, yet without regret. It’s also been a complete surprise, as the one I’d really been looking for all along was right there, yet forgotten and out of reach. She was me, and she desperately longed for the affection and acceptance I heaped on other imposters, who I mistook for my heart’s final answer.

One

This week I celebrate my first wedding anniversary. I am humbled and beyond grateful for the gift of my marriage, and for Daniel, my incredible husband whom I deeply love and respect. So, in part, today’s post is a celebration of redemption and synchronicity, as our complex stories converged into one in a most peculiar and lovely way. However, it’s also a desperate plea; a wakeup call for anyone out there who’s holding out on hope and happiness, saving it all up for that magical day when they will find “the one.”

Vault

This is a vulnerable post, one that I  share with caution a healthy sense of fear. Yet I’m convinced our stories kept locked up in a hidden vault only rob weary hearts of those who are famished–so hungry for hope.

Magnify

Marriage—companionship is a magical thing. It brings a security and knowing that we’ve got a partner in this journey of longing, as Donald Miller puts it in his book Scary Close. It also serves as a high-powered magnifying glass to all the insecurities and faults we’ve had all along, yet managed to mask with makeup, a charming personality, and some self preservation. In my experience, it has forced me to do some pretty hard core personal work.

First Love

Here is the heavy-hitting truth I’ve been pummeled by lately: If we’re not convinced of our first love, our secondary love will surely disappoint. By this I mean, unless we truly see, partner with, and lovingly care for our true selves, our “me,” the pursuit of outside relationships to fill that void will crash and burn, leaving the lonely remains of a shattered hope.

37

In essence, this year I’ve learned I’m celebrating two milestones: my first wedding anniversary, yet perhaps more importantly, a full-circle, loving anniversary with that little Katie whose been desperately trying to get my attention and total acceptance for 37 years. Sure, I’ve done tons and tons of deep personal and spiritual work and have experienced some incredible breakthrough, however, I’ve never had to put all of my baggage through that glorious filter of marriage. It’s hard, it’s heartbreaking, it’s highly unflattering, and it’s absolutely worth every it because it leads us  home. Our true home, our birthright, is connection and belonging with self: that bold, honest, open little six-year-old who doesn’t give a ripwhat other people think. I found that curious little girl in a new way this past year, and the unfolding of life’s story around me has taken on a more gracious, loving tone.

Math

I’ve learned when we go “out there” looking for someone to fix what’s broken “in here” and find it, we’ve fallen in love with how they love us as opposed to the actual heart of that person. We cannot fathom and grasp true love if we are disconnected and at odds with ourselves. The math doesn’t work. I can’t give you something I don’t have. Sure, I can try, however, I’m acting at best.

Recover

Comparison with others, harsh self-criticism, low self-worth—these are all signs that there is work to be done and vibrant healing to be had. Guess what? It’s an ongoing process. We never simply “arrive”. Today, I invite you deeper into this work with me. There is no magic potion or pill (sorry for the misleading title), but there is a whole lot of grace and opportunity. We grow in relationship, not isolation. Let’s recover the little ones we left behind so long ago, abandoning them to the needs and wants of others we sought approval and safe harbor with time and time again. The safety of home is right here, right now. When we become love rather than searching to find love, we step into a pure, radiant power.  Love is always waiting, and someone very special, very innocent, desperately wants to hold your hand. 

Love & Gratitude,

Katie
xoxo

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Confessions of a Bride: The Joy Hunt

I woke up super early this morning, early for me anyway. It was one of those mornings where the clock read 5:30am the first time I glanced at it and then seemed to chuckle at me as I rolled over to try and fall back asleep. It’s Sunday after all, and I didn’t have anywhere to be for several hours. Determined to sleep a little longer, I closed my eyes and tried to think of nothing while convincing myself I was dozing off again. Nope. Not happening…

5:30am won and I slowly scooted out of bed, surprised by my not too terrible attitude.

Now, if you know me, you probably know I have a wedding coming up, exactly seven days from now (by the time you read this, it will be more like four.) If we’ve ever worked together on a professional level either in therapy or otherwise, you probably know I am a big believer in a relational approach to work, and well, everything! I don’t quite see how trusting relationships of any kind are built without some higher-level awareness of what our personal journeys look like. That being said, I always like to bring honest, if not sometimes unflattering, experiences to the table so they might be helpful learning opportunities for someone else out there. I suppose Brené ruined me with all that talk and research on shame and vulnerability. Permission slip to tastefully self-disclose: granted.

Here is what I’ve learned about the whole wedding planning journey in a laser phrase: don’t do it!! (Ha! Just kidding…I had to.)

Seriously, here we go: protect your joy. What an incredibly joyous occasion and reason for celebration! Yet I have managed to let myself overwhelmingly stress over details I will definitely not remember ten years from now, completely derailing my joy. (Well, besides the fact that my wedding dress alterations were totally botched and I had to start from scratch five days before getting on a plane to tie the knot. Different story. Different day.) Anyways, I pretty much lost it on my sweet, well-meaning wedding planner yesterday and picked a fight with my fiancé over furniture placement post wedding. Really? Despite sleep deprivation and procrastination payback, I needed a healthy dose of perspective or a time-out, whichever came first.

This morning it struck me that I might miss out on the joy of this glorious anticipation if I don’t stay present and grateful for each passing moment. This was both sobering and a relief! Between grinding coffee beans and fumbling through Instagram in the haze of waking up, I caught a glimpse of the most stunning, pillowy fog resting in a valley off in the distance through the back window. I dropped everything to go sit outside and behold this moment. The soft colors of morning began to rise as the symphony of Sunday started it’s warm up. The crisp, chilly air felt clean and waves of leafy green trees stood tall and proud, as if to say, “Finally, she notices what is true and beautiful.”

This present moment is the truest gift we have. You will never be in the exact space reading these words on this same passing day EVER.

I have no way of knowing if the flowers will arrive on time, if our family members all get along and enjoy themselves, if the photographs turn out as beautifully as I hope they do, and if the mascara I bought is as waterproof as it boasts. As far as I know, the groom is still in despite my new appointed position as Mayor of Crazy Town; I found a killer replacement wedding dress on the fly; and there will be tiny, sacred ceremony on a beach in Southern California that will usher in a new appointment of life called marriage.

Life is made up of zillions of moments. As T. S. Eliot so coolly writes, “We must be still, and still moving.” We also must not be afraid to experience our joy fully, without hesitation and cynicism. Let’s find those pockets of joy this week and revel in them, as if to brand them in our beings. If there is a favorite saying I have come to live by and cling to throughout the years, especially these last few months, it is surely this one:

“All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of things shall be well.”

St. Julian of Norwich