Girl, Stop It.

I love Rachel Hollis. I’ve read both of her books, follow her blog, and regularly see what she’s up to on Instagram. She’s a powerhouse of female empowerment, and an inspiration for woman whose lives are/are heading towards the “working mother” position.

So, to honor her new book, “Girl, Stop Apologizing”, a sequel to “Girl, Wash Your Face”, I decided to write a list of Rachel Hollis book titles that specifically apply to my many shortcomings, and the things I just need to straight up stop doing.

Girl, pick your towel up off the floor. That shit is gross, you can’t wipe your body with that.

Girl, stop eating cereal for dinner. That’s not a meal.

Girl, put your blinker on! Stop being reckless. Yeah, I know no one’s around but you should just make it a habit.

Girl, wash your sheets. You sweat in your sleep.

Girl, get off Instagram. That shit is toxic and bad for your eyes.

Girl, stop buying more clothes. Abandon cart.

Girl, don’t cut your own bangs. Wait for a life tragedy like everyone else.

Girl, is that hummus? Actually, yeah okay go for it.

Girl, change your underwear. Just ‘cus it’s not visibly dirty doesn’t mean it’s clean. Also, gross.

Girl, iced coffee is not breakfast.

Girl, brush your teeth. Seriously, stop getting lazy with that shit.

Girl, stop eating all your meals on a paper towel. You own plates, just use them.

Girl, stop drinking Diet Coke. Your body is literally begging for water.

Girl, your jeans are not a napkin.

GIRL c’mon get back to work.

Mall Haikus

Paying for parking

Don’t forget your space number

Fuck. Not a great start.

 

Oh no, what’s that smell?

Six bucks for just a pretzel?

Don’t mind if I do.

 

Okay, now we shop.

Where is the directory?

This should be an app.

 

Let’s start at Macy’s.

Oh my god, there’s seven floors?

That’s overwhelming.

 

So many children.

Why did you bring them all here?

Seems very stressful.

 

Please don’t talk to me

I don’t want your cream sample

I have my own cream.

 

Piercing Pagoda.

Should I go be impulsive?

Not today, Satan.

 

A Radio Shack.

That’s been closed, for like, a year

Is now just a shack.

 

Why won’t these jeans fit?

They’re in my regular size…

It’s probs the pretzel.

 

Walks into a store

“Hi! Do you need any help?”

No thanks, just looking.

Alright, time to go.

Walks through the Barnes & Noble.

Spends $200 bucks.

Crying: The Seven Types

I have been crying as long as I’ve been living. I came into this world crying and I plan to leave it that way, too. I love crying. It’s cathartic, it helps me process my surroundings, and understand myself better.

Nothing about this listicle is based in science whatsoever. However, in my experience crying roughly once a week for 22 years, these are the main categories for my favorite emotional activity.

 

Sad Crying

This is the most universally accepted form of crying. Often demonstrated at funerals, the death of a pet, and any and all breakups. Sad Crying is traditionally the first step in the grieving process, and is a healthy expression of feeling blue.

  

Tired Crying

Often in combination with it’s twin sister “Hungry Crying”, Tired Crying is usually tipped off by something minor. A hole that tears open a grocery bag, unexpected traffic, a coffee stain on a sweater, or any variety of small bummers. These small bummers, compiled with not enough sleep, not enough food, or being overworked, cook up a perfect storm to bring on a good old-fashioned Tired Cry. This cry traditionally manifests itself in the knees and elbows, making your legs and arms feel wobbly and exhausted. The natural desire is to collapse to the ground, cry for a ‘lil bit, and then pick up your groceries, sniffling.

 

Stress Crying

Common among working professionals and parents, Stress Crying is a slow build of anxiety that peaks into sheer overwhelming emotional chaos. Similar to Tired Crying, Stress Crying is also set off by a small and rather insignificant bummer. The “tip of the yikesberg”, if you will. But unlike Tired Crying, it is coupled with hyperventilating and often targets another individual nearby to absorb the blow. Some people have never been the victim of another person’s stress cry. To help understand what it’s like, feel free to contact my fiancé at 912-224-7008.

The one on the receiving end of a Stress Cry might feel like they’re responsible for calming the Crier down, but the only thing that can stop a true Stress Cry is for the Crier to talk through what is stressing them out. There may not be any present or available solutions to what’s causing the stress, but naming them out loud often brings down the Stress Cry to a simmering Tired Cry, which is much easier to manage. It also stops the hyperventilating.

 

Silent Crying

Silent Crying is hard to categorize out of context. Someone in a movie theater might be Silent Crying at a sad movie. This can be confused with Sad Crying, but it’s in fact, very different. Sad Crying is the cry you have after the movie, in your car, in movie theater parking lot. Silent Crying is the crying you do for the courtesy to others in the actual movie theater. Silent Crying can take place on an airplane, on the bus, or at the Grand Canyon.

Happy Crying

The least threatening cry is the Happy Cry. It is also the most confusing cry. “Why am I crying? Crying is for sad!” No. Crying is for everything. The Happy Cry, while pleasant and nice, is often short lived. Because, well, you’re happy. Stop crying.

 

Scream Crying

Scream Crying is what happens when Stress Crying goes unaddressed for too long. It is often an expedited form of Stress Crying, since one can only scream for so long without tiring themselves out. Those living in apartment buildings should not perform Scream Crying unless 1. They are in danger, or 2. There are ample sound barriers (like pillows) available to cushion the scream soundwaves.

 

Drunk Crying

Drunk Crying is a fun game of Russian Roulette with all 6 of the previous types of crying. Sometimes it can even be a combination of two different types. It usually ends in binge eating or sleep.

Crying is a necessary part of being human. Every emotionally stable, smart, right-minded individual lets themselves cry. Jesus cried. Einstein cried. Barack Obama, Tom Brady, Matthew McConaughey, and Kendrick Lamar probably cry all the time. And if they don’t, they’re missing out. Because crying is one of the best ways to release anger, stress, sorrow, and joy. So if you haven’t cried in a little while, go ahead and put on that Sarah McLaughlin song and scroll through a couple pictures of puppies without homes. You deserve it.

These Gender Rolls Taste Disgusting

I grew up in a Christian home with two loving parents. I went to a good public school, got good grades, and had good friends. I was given positive reinforcement, words of affirmation, and plenty of praise for my accomplishments. I had all of the right ingredients to make perfect self-esteem.

But in the mix of all of these wonderful life components, there was one phrase repeated to me over and over again: be humble. “The LORD values humility,” my Dad would say. This is not a wild concept, right? No one likes a bragger.

However, being told repeatedly again and again to be humble as a child started to deplete my ability to self-advocate and value myself. If I did something I was proud of, I would bring it up carefully and casually. When I got great grades? I was silent. When I was accepted into my first-choice college early? I said nothing to my friends. My parents told me to keep it on the down low; to not come off as arrogant.

I understand the concept of arrogance. There has been, and always will be, a fine line between arrogance and high self-esteem. But there were two major factors that made this balancing act more complicated.

The first: graduating college and starting a professional job. Once you move to a new city and become a working professional, you are surrounded by people who are not there to cheer you on. It is not their job, nor their preference, to make you feel affirmed and confident in your abilities. It’s not their responsibility to make you feel emotionally secure. The praise and affirmation your family or teachers used to give you are gone.

In professional settings, there are no “A’s”. Success can be murky and jagged. It’s often not clear whether the work you’re doing is making a significant difference, and you’ll begin to realize that showing up to work and doing your best doesn’t actually equate to making more money and getting praise. It usually just means you’ll live to last the next round of personnel cuts.

It is in this setting that I realized I needed to be my own cheerleader. That the affirmation and praise I used to get from parents, teachers, and friends now needed to come from myself. I did some soul searching, self-evaluations, lots of therapy, and even some reflection to see how far I had come, and how well I had done despite the obstacles that were placed in front of me. But despite all of this effort, the statements I heard as a kid never went away: be proud of yourself, but not too proud. Be confident, but not cocky. Be successful, but don’t tell anyone.

This brings me to a second element: I’m a woman. Because of this, my success will always have my gender attached to it. Even if I become the next CEO of Amazon, the headline will read “Amazon selects woman CEO to lead online retail empire”. I will intentionally be made to sound too weak to handle the intensity of a job, or I will be patronized and pitched as a “brave decision”.

Women have had to balance being just the right amount of confident for centuries. We are made to feel ashamed for our success if comes across as “too confident” or “arrogant”. We so rarely are given the chance to succeed, like, actually succeed at things, and then we’re made to feel guilty for being proud. We have so little time to even celebrate our achievement until we’re told to sit down and be humble.

When women are made to feel like their success is a lucky fluke, it hurts our ability to self-advocate. When women are told they’re being too pushy or aggressive, it hurts our desire to ask for what’s rightfully ours (raises, promotions, more responsibility on projects). It discourages us from applying for leadership roles, taking initiatives, and promoting real change. And when that happens, humanity as a whole suffers.

Humility is a difficult balancing act. I struggle with deciding how I should feel every time I accomplish something. That’s a problem. I shouldn’t have to feel guilty for being good at things. Should I shout my success from the rooftops? Probably not. Should I feel comfortable sending an all-caps text to my family and friends? YES. I should. But I don’t.

The line between arrogance and high self-esteem is a blurry one, especially for professional women. If confidence is seen as the most “attractive” quality in a woman when you want to date her, then why do you categorize that same attitude as “arrogant” and “aggressive” when they apply for a job? Or land a business deal? Or become your boss?

I don’t have a solution for this problem. I don’t think it’s going to be easy to change the systematic belittling of female success both in and outside of the professional world. But if being proud of my accomplishments and celebrating my hard-earned success makes me come across as not-humble, don’t worry, I checked with God, and he’s actually proud of me too.

 

For I know the plans I have for you, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

On the Cusp

I was born on March 21st, 1997, three months after the millennial generation ended. As one of the very first living Gen Z babies, I was thrust into a culturally awkward transition stage, where OJ Simpson was old news but you could still get on a plane with someone else’s boarding pass.

The discomfort of living on the cusp became more of a reality as time passed. I often felt awkward during conversations some of my older friends would have when the subject turned to “where were you on 9/11?”. I was four when 9/11 happened. I don’t have a story. But 9/11 wasn’t the tragedy of my generation, the Sandy Hook Shooting was (and frankly every mass shooting that came after). I was living in Connecticut at the time when Sandy Hook happened, and we were on lockdown for almost 3 hours. It was terrifying.

As an adult “cusper”, I experience more or less the same amount of awkward cultural and social mismatching. I of course lean toward hanging out with millennials, since they tend to be older and make up the majority of my workplace. But I also love being placed in the generation that everyone is hoping will save the planet, end gun violence, and clean up the shit show government. I’m the first person to denounce myself when I hear someone complaining about “Ugh those whiny millennials!” but I also can’t picture myself hanging out with a bunch of teenagers who got addicted to mango flavored nicotine. It’s a conundrum.

All of this condenses down to feeling a sense of non-belonging. I’ve talked to other people who were born on the cusp, millennials, Gen Y’s, and even baby boomers. And while we all experience different cultural and social struggles, our common battle boils down to the truth that it’s hard to belong in a society that wants to clump you together. And it’s particularly harder now that modern day marketing and advertising isolates certain age groups for certain products, social platforms, and experiences. Older cuspers recall that when they were younger, they leaned toward hanging out with the older generation, but started embracing the younger generation they were actually a part of when they reached the middle of their life to stay young and relevant. They also felt wiser and more respected among those only a few years younger than them simply because they were able to pass for an older and more established generation of people.

All of this is not to say, “I’m a cool individual who can’t be categorized!” It’s more of an open acknowledgment that now more than ever I feel responsible to not view age or experience as a benchmark for relationship. That the generational gaps are opportunities for making connections, not for reinforcing our differences. And that regardless of age, unless you were in downtown New York City when the twin towers fell, your 9/11 story probably isn’t that interesting. I stand by that joke. It’s been 17 years. We can joke about it now.