Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Friday, March 25, 2011
Life Update!
1. This is what Columbus has felt like lately.
2. Starting April 1st, I will be offering blog design services, on both Blogger & Wordpress platforms. Shoot me an email (laurennicolelove[at]gmail.com) if you're interested!
3. I just re-designed my blog a bit & did some serious spring cleaning. If you're reading this in Reader or your feeds, come poke around. :)
4. I will be taking a 7 day vacation from life starting today, so I'll see you all in April!
5. Want reading material in the meantime? Read my post for Deeper Story, "Love Was The Plan", the Good Woman's Guide to the 21st Century, or the lessons I learned from last time I took a sabbatical. And follow me on Twitter. ♥
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Love Was The Plan.
"The nights when your bedroom feels miles deep and miles wide, as you tear through your mind trying to even remember what God felt like last time? What you wouldn’t give to simply walk next to Him.
The mornings you climb out of your shower, pulling your eyes from the mirror, hoping to slip your bathrobe over your skin before he sees you? What you wouldn’t give to not even know what shame felt like.
The afternoons he’s absent and you numb a piece of your heart, resentment leaving a thick, bitter coating over your desire for him? What you wouldn’t give to feel like you were created from a piece of bone near his heart, wildly adoring who you are together. "
Read the rest of my post on DeeperStory.com today >>>
The mornings you climb out of your shower, pulling your eyes from the mirror, hoping to slip your bathrobe over your skin before he sees you? What you wouldn’t give to not even know what shame felt like.
The afternoons he’s absent and you numb a piece of your heart, resentment leaving a thick, bitter coating over your desire for him? What you wouldn’t give to feel like you were created from a piece of bone near his heart, wildly adoring who you are together. "
Read the rest of my post on DeeperStory.com today >>>
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Depression: A Stream of Consciousness. A Fight.
note. i wrote this a year ago or so, in the middle of severe depression & a mess of everything else. i stumbled on it a month ago and it won't stop bouncing around my head and heart. so i'm putting it here. chew the meat, spit out the bones. its a live stream of consciousness, and i like watching my train of thought, and the conclusion i came to. as wrecked as it was. pardon the language. this is what the inside looks like sometimes. and some days i cannot believe i am no longer here.
Truth. What the hell is the truth. Those god awful moments you have when you remember your first middle and last name all at once and who you are and what your past is and who you’re supposed to be. When you can completely remove yourself from the person that slept with those guys, smoked that shit, drank that alcohol, cussed out that girl, didn’t get out of bed for three days, hated everyone and everything at once, genuinely wanted to give up, was numb and on fire at the exact same time. Those moments when that person isn’t you, and you wonder why on earth you ever did, said, or felt any of those things because really, you’re perfectly fine and have all the hope and potential and clarity in the world. What the fuck are those moments. What is real and what is truth and who is me and who is not. Everything is easy to overcome in those fleeting seconds. I don’t care. It doesn’t have to make sense. I don’t have to make sense. I don’t have to be consistent. I don’t report to anyone and who gives a shit if for every hour that I fall apart I can pour myself into making something beautiful. I can’t avoid extremes. Extremes are what make life LIFE. But no more mutually exclusive extremes. No more blacks or whites. Blacks AND whites. I can admit that I have crutches. I’m not okay, I won’t be okay, no one is ever okay. Not the point. Pills. Doctor appointments. Nights at the hospital. Caffeine. Sex regretted. Reputations ruined. Alcohol. The addiction to anything that won’t leave you in the silence. I’ll keep all of them and be fine, so long as they remain admittedly crutches and not what defines who I am or what I do. They are secondary to who I am and what I am DOING. What are we doing. Those crutches exist so that I can keep doing what I want. They don’t stop me from doing what I want. Blacks AND whites, not blacks or whites, remember? Beautiful, beautiful things. If I inspire others, I will die happy. So what if I define myself by what I create? I love it. Isn’t that the god damn point. Not defining myself by what I create has left me creating nothing because I’ve renounced what it means to me and instead picked up loneliness, hurt, abandonment, worthlessness, confusion, indecision, and in turn, these crutches. Get yourself together, self. Blacks AND whites. Ups AND downs. Move move move move move. Stop STOP trying to fit with reality. Go back to your alternate universe. You’ll function out of habit enough to make it through life, but get your mind out of this, here, now, because this, THIS, is all just shit. Think about beautiful things, make beautiful things, create stories, novels, wishes, dreams, hopes, make-believe. Be over dramatic if that’s what you want. Stop boring the entire world with trying to get your shit together enough to be normal. I can’t, I try, it makes it worse. I want to NOT FIGHT the tendency to be addicted and STOP TRYING to do ‘all things in moderation.’ Be addicted. Be consumed. Just CHOOSE THE RIGHT ADDICTION. Choose what is beautiful. Choose what is worth it.
Truth. What the hell is the truth. Those god awful moments you have when you remember your first middle and last name all at once and who you are and what your past is and who you’re supposed to be. When you can completely remove yourself from the person that slept with those guys, smoked that shit, drank that alcohol, cussed out that girl, didn’t get out of bed for three days, hated everyone and everything at once, genuinely wanted to give up, was numb and on fire at the exact same time. Those moments when that person isn’t you, and you wonder why on earth you ever did, said, or felt any of those things because really, you’re perfectly fine and have all the hope and potential and clarity in the world. What the fuck are those moments. What is real and what is truth and who is me and who is not. Everything is easy to overcome in those fleeting seconds. I don’t care. It doesn’t have to make sense. I don’t have to make sense. I don’t have to be consistent. I don’t report to anyone and who gives a shit if for every hour that I fall apart I can pour myself into making something beautiful. I can’t avoid extremes. Extremes are what make life LIFE. But no more mutually exclusive extremes. No more blacks or whites. Blacks AND whites. I can admit that I have crutches. I’m not okay, I won’t be okay, no one is ever okay. Not the point. Pills. Doctor appointments. Nights at the hospital. Caffeine. Sex regretted. Reputations ruined. Alcohol. The addiction to anything that won’t leave you in the silence. I’ll keep all of them and be fine, so long as they remain admittedly crutches and not what defines who I am or what I do. They are secondary to who I am and what I am DOING. What are we doing. Those crutches exist so that I can keep doing what I want. They don’t stop me from doing what I want. Blacks AND whites, not blacks or whites, remember? Beautiful, beautiful things. If I inspire others, I will die happy. So what if I define myself by what I create? I love it. Isn’t that the god damn point. Not defining myself by what I create has left me creating nothing because I’ve renounced what it means to me and instead picked up loneliness, hurt, abandonment, worthlessness, confusion, indecision, and in turn, these crutches. Get yourself together, self. Blacks AND whites. Ups AND downs. Move move move move move. Stop STOP trying to fit with reality. Go back to your alternate universe. You’ll function out of habit enough to make it through life, but get your mind out of this, here, now, because this, THIS, is all just shit. Think about beautiful things, make beautiful things, create stories, novels, wishes, dreams, hopes, make-believe. Be over dramatic if that’s what you want. Stop boring the entire world with trying to get your shit together enough to be normal. I can’t, I try, it makes it worse. I want to NOT FIGHT the tendency to be addicted and STOP TRYING to do ‘all things in moderation.’ Be addicted. Be consumed. Just CHOOSE THE RIGHT ADDICTION. Choose what is beautiful. Choose what is worth it.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Thankful.
Hey everyone? I want to know what you are thankful for today.
I'm not going to waste words explaining why we should be more thankful, and what gratitude does to our hearts, and how easily we forget what we have when we are consumed with what we don't.
We know all this.
Even if this is like pulling teeth.
And then, once you write them down in the comments, go write them on your heart. Hold onto them. Remind yourself of them. Give them the weight they deserve. Combat your dissatisfaction and discontentment and hurt with them.
I want to read so many comments that I am overwhelmed.
- - -
Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken,
let us be thankful. - Hebrews 12:28
I'm not going to waste words explaining why we should be more thankful, and what gratitude does to our hearts, and how easily we forget what we have when we are consumed with what we don't.
We know all this.
so go ahead, leave it in the comments. i want to know 7 things you are thankful for today.
Even if this is like pulling teeth.
And then, once you write them down in the comments, go write them on your heart. Hold onto them. Remind yourself of them. Give them the weight they deserve. Combat your dissatisfaction and discontentment and hurt with them.
I want to read so many comments that I am overwhelmed.
Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken,
let us be thankful. - Hebrews 12:28
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Q & A with Lauren: How Do You Get Motivated?
Hey everyone! So, I decided today that I wanted to start opening my email inbox to you guys. One of girls I've been talking with lately gave me a shout out on Twitter this week and confessed she was really struggling with something, and I told her to shoot me an email. She gave me permission to share our conversation with everyone, and I hope that maybe you can dig something out of it and apply it to your own life.
Do you have more answers or advice for her? Leave them in the comments!! W ant to ask me a question? Send an email to me at laurennicolelove[at]gmail.com & I'll do my best to answer. Much love.
Note: This email exchange is 100% unedited. Cut and pasted. It's long. If you only have a minute, please skip to the bottom and read the 21 point list that ended up being the crux of my answer to her!
Question, Part One: I've just been having a hard time getting motivated lately. There are so many things I want to do, but I don't ever do them because I am so un-motivated. I know that you have gone through some of these kinds of places in your life, and so I was wondering how you got out of that "pit" because you've accomplished so much!
My Answer: Hey love! Man, that's so hard. I know exactly what you're talking about. Being unmotivated takes several forms for me, actually. Sometimes it's just the general, "I just want to do NOTHING" and sometimes it's "I want to do all these things but I don't have the energy to, or I just don't want to ENOUGH." You know? So I think it helps to be able to pinpoint which of those it is. There's also when you catch yourself starting to believe that nothing you want to do is truly worth doing, so you just start letting things slip out of your hands because you say things to yourself like, "well other people are already doing this," or "other people can do this better so there's no point in me doing it," etc etc. I've definitely been in all of those places, countless times.
Do you have more answers or advice for her? Leave them in the comments!! W ant to ask me a question? Send an email to me at laurennicolelove[at]gmail.com & I'll do my best to answer. Much love.
Note: This email exchange is 100% unedited. Cut and pasted. It's long. If you only have a minute, please skip to the bottom and read the 21 point list that ended up being the crux of my answer to her!
Question, Part One: I've just been having a hard time getting motivated lately. There are so many things I want to do, but I don't ever do them because I am so un-motivated. I know that you have gone through some of these kinds of places in your life, and so I was wondering how you got out of that "pit" because you've accomplished so much!
My Answer: Hey love! Man, that's so hard. I know exactly what you're talking about. Being unmotivated takes several forms for me, actually. Sometimes it's just the general, "I just want to do NOTHING" and sometimes it's "I want to do all these things but I don't have the energy to, or I just don't want to ENOUGH." You know? So I think it helps to be able to pinpoint which of those it is. There's also when you catch yourself starting to believe that nothing you want to do is truly worth doing, so you just start letting things slip out of your hands because you say things to yourself like, "well other people are already doing this," or "other people can do this better so there's no point in me doing it," etc etc. I've definitely been in all of those places, countless times.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
Car Accidents and Playing It Safe.
Last night, driving home in the dark, my mind blanked from the phone conversation I was having as I noticed a car's headlights do a complete U-turn in the middle of the eight lane highway. What in the world, you can't just do that, you're going to get hit. Cars were sliding off the entrance ramp on my right, to the shoulder with their hazards on. I strained to make out dark shapes yards ahead of me, wondering why there would be mis-matching headlights and tail lights on both my side of the highway and the other.
A blanket of glass and debris suddenly appeared in front of me, washed across every single lane, as well as three obliterated vehicles spun backwards and facing me. And even more cars on the other side. Oh, that's why. I tried to explain what I was seeing on the phone and ended it quickly, as soon as I realized I had to figure out how to come to a complete stop, back up, and cross a few lanes sideways before dozens of other cars behind me slammed into both myself and the wreck. In the dark.
I normally do 80mph right here, and now I'm doing -12. It's always an odd feeling, coming to a complete stop in a place that is never still.
I debated with myself for all of four seconds. I could keep going. I could. I probably should. Or I could park half on concrete, half on mud, and make my way through four lanes of the outerbelt in the complete dark with no guarantee of not being hit, and make sure the drivers of these crushed vehicles were alright.
Not like I could do anything if they weren't. But God smacked me in the face. Lauren, you do what I tell you. You stop. And you go. And you Be. And you pray.
The only thing more strange than driving backwards on the highway is running across it, glass crunching under your boots, as you try to explain to yourself the eerie silence and stillness of half a dozen men on the other side of the concrete wall, while a woman wrestles her body against a car seat, a twisted frame, a door that no longer exists, and an airbag, looking like someone tossed a bucket of blood at her face.
There are two cries I cannot bear. An infant who cries not to be heard but because he is alone, and a woman in pain who doesn't know who will come for her.
A blanket of glass and debris suddenly appeared in front of me, washed across every single lane, as well as three obliterated vehicles spun backwards and facing me. And even more cars on the other side. Oh, that's why. I tried to explain what I was seeing on the phone and ended it quickly, as soon as I realized I had to figure out how to come to a complete stop, back up, and cross a few lanes sideways before dozens of other cars behind me slammed into both myself and the wreck. In the dark.
I normally do 80mph right here, and now I'm doing -12. It's always an odd feeling, coming to a complete stop in a place that is never still.
I debated with myself for all of four seconds. I could keep going. I could. I probably should. Or I could park half on concrete, half on mud, and make my way through four lanes of the outerbelt in the complete dark with no guarantee of not being hit, and make sure the drivers of these crushed vehicles were alright.
Not like I could do anything if they weren't. But God smacked me in the face. Lauren, you do what I tell you. You stop. And you go. And you Be. And you pray.
The only thing more strange than driving backwards on the highway is running across it, glass crunching under your boots, as you try to explain to yourself the eerie silence and stillness of half a dozen men on the other side of the concrete wall, while a woman wrestles her body against a car seat, a twisted frame, a door that no longer exists, and an airbag, looking like someone tossed a bucket of blood at her face.
There are two cries I cannot bear. An infant who cries not to be heard but because he is alone, and a woman in pain who doesn't know who will come for her.
Monday, March 14, 2011
Redefining Trust: Who Has Your Heart?
I've noticed lately that our society is somewhat obsessed with talking about trust.
Every horoscope, every personality test, every 50-trillion-questions-about-yourself-survey tries to define you by your predisposition to either trust or not to trust.
Unfortunately for me, I'm evenly split on every personality test I've ever taken. I'm loud, I'm quiet. I'll spill my life in a flood of everything you didn't want to know about me, and I'll sit in the corner dreading having to speak more than 10 words. I can go two weeks without cleaning anything, and I can be an emotional and mental web of chaos because there are three pens too many on my desk.
There was a personality test I had to take in high school, the DISC test. My result? 25/25/25/25. Very funny, God. Oh well, I guess you can consider my DISC to be well-rounded. (The guy who made us take this test didn't find that joke very humorous, by the way. He told me with a very concerned expression on his face that I was a highly unusual person. No shit.)
"Do you trust people?" Come on. What kind of question is that.
I've realized that I'm one of those people who spills easily, but won't expect anyone to mop it up.
I will give everything, and count on nothing.
I'll show you the inside, outside, and wrong side of my heart, but won't commit you to it's care.
This is where everyone has looked at me and said, "you're the most trusting person I know." And I have to say back, "Yeah? Alright. If you say so."
But this has never sat right with me. I still feel like I trust everyone, yet no one, and I want to know why.
Every horoscope, every personality test, every 50-trillion-questions-about-yourself-survey tries to define you by your predisposition to either trust or not to trust.
Unfortunately for me, I'm evenly split on every personality test I've ever taken. I'm loud, I'm quiet. I'll spill my life in a flood of everything you didn't want to know about me, and I'll sit in the corner dreading having to speak more than 10 words. I can go two weeks without cleaning anything, and I can be an emotional and mental web of chaos because there are three pens too many on my desk.
There was a personality test I had to take in high school, the DISC test. My result? 25/25/25/25. Very funny, God. Oh well, I guess you can consider my DISC to be well-rounded. (The guy who made us take this test didn't find that joke very humorous, by the way. He told me with a very concerned expression on his face that I was a highly unusual person. No shit.)
"Do you trust people?" Come on. What kind of question is that.
I've realized that I'm one of those people who spills easily, but won't expect anyone to mop it up.
I will give everything, and count on nothing.
I'll show you the inside, outside, and wrong side of my heart, but won't commit you to it's care.
This is where everyone has looked at me and said, "you're the most trusting person I know." And I have to say back, "Yeah? Alright. If you say so."
But this has never sat right with me. I still feel like I trust everyone, yet no one, and I want to know why.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Pictures from a Rainy Day & Stubbornly Holding To Blind Belief.
It rained today. I'm tired of the rain, so very tired. But all things are pretty, and I have decided to see them as such. So I took pictures on my front porch.
Also, I realized today, yet again, that I'm only a child. But that I have the best Dad. And that when I revert back to the heart he originally placed in me, stripped bare of all questioning, fears, guilt, concerns, and a forever of et ceteras, life is a thousand times more beautiful. More thoughts on that below. 
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
Graceless Children.
Sifting through old things, I found this. I originally wrote it in 2007. I wanted to share.
- - -
watch two young children at play. content with themselves, content with each other, content with their toys and the few simple requests of yours while they sit at your feet. but left to one another for even ten minutes, and one will find two small monsters, focusing all of their once-innocent energies on making sure the other follows the rules as his or her tiny, young ears heard and their naive hearts interpreted. any outsider can watch from behind the invisible glass and see for himself that their adamant demands do not stem from a concern founded in what the best action is for the wisps of souls that they are, or in what the principle behind a command is and was. no - it becomes a miniature world in which perspective, reasoning, and purpose -and most certainly grace- is lost. there is an obsession with proving the other little one that he heard wrong and it was only 30 minutes, not 35. watching darkened eyes and hearing words that should never fall from lips as untouched as theirs greatly frustrates the observer. a disbelief towards the ever-growing childish fury raises silent questions in the heart. 'where did the child with simplicity in his calm eyes disappear to?' 'what wordless force turned her tiny palm into a pathetic fist?' and, 'how are their worlds so small and trite, yet have the capacity for a seemingly instant hatred on the shallowest grounds?' the observer who is wiser still will probe further:'how do you teach a child perspective? purpose? a concern for the rule he was given, but not for forcing it upon the other?'
how do you give a child eyes for himself but only his heart for others?
there is another question has not yet been asked that could change the grip on the observer's heart from one of frustration, anger, disbelief and near-disgust to one of quiet understanding and a compassion that washes over a fistful of sins.
'what if they never grow out of this? what if none of us have?'
- - -
watch two young children at play. content with themselves, content with each other, content with their toys and the few simple requests of yours while they sit at your feet. but left to one another for even ten minutes, and one will find two small monsters, focusing all of their once-innocent energies on making sure the other follows the rules as his or her tiny, young ears heard and their naive hearts interpreted. any outsider can watch from behind the invisible glass and see for himself that their adamant demands do not stem from a concern founded in what the best action is for the wisps of souls that they are, or in what the principle behind a command is and was. no - it becomes a miniature world in which perspective, reasoning, and purpose -and most certainly grace- is lost. there is an obsession with proving the other little one that he heard wrong and it was only 30 minutes, not 35. watching darkened eyes and hearing words that should never fall from lips as untouched as theirs greatly frustrates the observer. a disbelief towards the ever-growing childish fury raises silent questions in the heart. 'where did the child with simplicity in his calm eyes disappear to?' 'what wordless force turned her tiny palm into a pathetic fist?' and, 'how are their worlds so small and trite, yet have the capacity for a seemingly instant hatred on the shallowest grounds?' the observer who is wiser still will probe further:'how do you teach a child perspective? purpose? a concern for the rule he was given, but not for forcing it upon the other?'
how do you give a child eyes for himself but only his heart for others?
there is another question has not yet been asked that could change the grip on the observer's heart from one of frustration, anger, disbelief and near-disgust to one of quiet understanding and a compassion that washes over a fistful of sins.
'what if they never grow out of this? what if none of us have?'
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