Struggling through

I didn’t post yesterday because I didn’t have a second of rest.

I kept thinking about it & was angry at myself for letting a day go by.

I’m realizing that I need to give myself a break. I’ve done really well within a month with this blog, in my personal opinion.

I’m about to be a part time student, I have a full time job as a nanny, and I’m a full time mother to a 4 month old.

Taking all of that on, I need to keep in mind that just because I have a set back, doesn’t mean I failed. I’m an aggressive go-getter who is extremely hard on herself.

Is anyone else a little too hard on themselves?

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Dear son

Dear Son,

It was a year ago today that I found out I would meet you in eight months.

I showed your father the pregnancy tests and I had never seen anyone in such awe. Truly. They say fathers don’t really become fathers until the baby is there in his hands, but your father fell in love with you as soon as he knew about you. He has been wanting to throw the football around with you & talk to you about how school has been going years before you were born.

You, son, are the scariest & most wonderful thing to ever happen to me. I have never felt so vulnerable, to love this little boy so much.

Your father and I have given up everything because that is what parents do, and we would give up everything ten times over if that meant having you.

So, please remember how unconditionally loved you are. When you are fighting with us about homework or chores, when you are having troubles, or when you are scared – please remember that we love you with such entirety & nothing will change that.

Wear that struggle

When you sweat profusely at the gym, don’t you feel like a total badass? You’re walking around looking tired as hell, clothes drenched, you’re glistening in the florescent gym lighting. You’re checking in on Facebook “puttin’ in work 💪🏻” and taking your gym selfie. You walk around with confidence that say “yep, I did that. I worked hard as hell, bettering myself.” Something that’s actually pretty gross, we wear with pride.

So tell me, why don’t we wear our dark undereyes with pride? Why don’t we walk into that local coffee shop looking tired as hell? Why don’t we walk around with a confidence that says “Hey, I just got done crying. But I got out of bed, so can I get a quad espresso?” Mamas aren’t wearing their breast milk drenched shirt around like a medal. Those who are going through divorce aren’t flaunting their tearful, red eyes.

You should wear your hard times with pride. They are called “hard times” for a reason – because it’s hard! You’re still getting out of bed, you’re handling your shit, and you are still here. “Oh well, everyone goes through hard times. It’s nothing to give attention to.” Uh, hell yeah it is. Let’s not sell ourselves short here! Let’s be proud of ourselves more often and say “I’m going through something right now, the stress is unbelievable, but I’m bettering myself and I’m still going.”

Stop hiding what you find to be a weakness, because it’s actually your strength being put to the test. You’re dealing with your problems and that is admirable. Leave the concealer alone, keep cold towels off of those red eyes, and stop trying to fit into those NONE-pregnancy jeans (just embrace the stretchy band). Be kind to yourself so you can be kind to others.

Let’s connect & let’s bond over how hard life is. So tell me, what are you going through? What struggle are you proud of?

Passion ain’t just for Nicolas Sparks novels

“Quality over quantity.” It’s a good saying for those of us who don’t have much, yeah? It is true, though. What would life be if you lived to be 100 years old, but you never once lived with intention. You survived, you stuck around, but you never lived. You were in a metaphorical coffin by the age of eighteen.

You learned the importance of money quickly & decided that being an artist will never pay the bills. You met a man who didn’t have anything to offer & left him for man with a bright future. He could give you what you needed. You soon learned that you needed love & he couldn’t put that on his credit card for you. You survived, but you didn’t live. You stepped into that coffin the second you told yourself “happiness won’t pay my bills.”

You learned the importance of money quickly & you learned the importance of happiness even quicker. You decided that life without passion is no life at all. You met a man who didn’t have anything to offer except for his love & support, but that was what you needed. You burned the metaphorical coffin the second you told yourself “life without passion is no life at all.”

I have caught myself just surviving, staying with jobs because they made enough money. I’ve put passions of mine aside, because they didn’t provide me with an income. Society’s idea of success can turn passionate people in slaves of survival. Do not lose your passion for life, for your art, for people. Without passion, we can only survive.

The news is depressing

I used to tell myself that I didn’t watch or read the news because it was depressing and out of my hands. I’m sure 80 percent of you agree with me, but I know you like to pretend like Buzzfeed counts. I admit it was pure ignorance. What I was really saying was “I’m not going to listen or read because it affects me, personally, in a negative way. It makes me sad, angry, and feel completely helpless.” Again, ignorance. I love to wear rose-colored glasses, watching happy little news stories on Facebook. And that’s it.

Yes, I do believe the news is depressing, but what makes me so important to where I can’t be inconvenienced by OTHER’S afflictions? How selfish can I get? Do I turn my back on the problems because it’s easier to forget or even deny that they exist? You may say, “Hannah, the news is all over my Facebook.” Did you know that Facebook only shows you what they think you will like? Not only are you filtering the truth with pure opinion thanks to Buzzfeed & Feminist Blogs, but also – you’re not exposed to what’s going on in it’s entirety. (I love Buzzfeed AND Feminist blogs, don’t attack me).

It is hard to believe that we can make a difference, purely by informing ourselves. As one person, it seems like we don’t have a lot of leverage. We have to plant one tree at a time, before we can have a thriving forest & self-sustaining ecosystem. We cannot change what we do not know and we cannot help our community while being un OR mis-informed.

Dear friends of new parents

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The transition to being a parent is a not a transition you can even begin to prepare for. Having a baby in your early twenties can be awfully challenging and probably not for the obvious reasons. Yes, we are sleep deprived, we are well-versed in nursery rhymes, and we have officially dedicated our entire life to this adorable tiny dictator. We have come into a generation of people who would rather have a dog and a career before a baby, leaving people in their 30’s before they settle down. We, new parents in our early 20’s, now have the struggle of watching our friends live their lives freely.

We feel guilty missing our time. We watch our friends travel, see great bands, and do practically whatever they feel like.. because they have time. I was watching Tom Segura today and he said that parents do not have time, they have moments. He explained that the difference between time and moments is that time is a Saturday morning where you have nothing to do & go back to sleep for the rest of the day. Moments are taking a sip of coffee and thinking “that’s good” and the moment is over. I constantly remind myself that these moments with my son are so sweet & worth more than all the time in the world. So..

Dear friends of new parents,
We are sorry that all we can talk about is our baby. We are sorry for not coming to hang out more often. We are so, so tired and we cannot come out like we used to. If you would like to hang out, you have to be okay with coming over, having a beer, watching nursery rhymes on Netflix, and having us intermittently changing diapers. If you text us or call us and we do not answer, it is because our baby is asleep on us, there’s a meltdown happening, or we are in the middle of a very serious diaper situation. We wish we could pick up the phone and not have to speak in hushed tones.
We apologize for being shitty friends, but it won’t always be like this. One day, we will be able to go to our bar and hang out for the night. One day, we will not cling to every minute of sleep we are able to. Be patient with us, because we miss having a life, but we have a little babe who needs us more right now. And one day, when you have a new baby, we will be there for you with a beer, watching nursery rhymes, and explaining to your why your baby projectile defecates.

Sincerely, your friends

Self-proclaimed beauty consultants are running rampant

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Why do we ask people how they think we should look? You’re probably thinking “Nope, I don’t. Sorry, Hannah, try again.” If you have never asked Facebook if you should cut your hair, if you have never asked a friend is that dress is too WOAH, or if you never posted a picture of yourself hoping for some thumbs up, then maybe you’re right. You don’t have to admit the last one – no one does. Now, let me ask you, why did you not trust yourself enough to make such a decision?

I, personally, am tired of hearing what people do and do not find attractive. I have seen women become self-proclaimed beauty consultants countless times. I love seeing “her eyebrows are an embarrassment.” You look severely petty and now that is the real embarrassment. I also really like “she would look so much better if she were skinnier.” You would look better if you incapable of speech, B. These S.P.B.C.’s (self-proclaimed beauty consultants) running rampant on Instagram and Facebook are the absolute worst because no one even asked Y O U.

Have you ever seen those videos on Facebook where they go through the decades of beauty? Maybe you have seen the post where they compared between countries the ideal woman? If you haven’t, you should. My reason for bringing this up, is that there is no unified ideal. Literally, there isn’t one. No woman, nor decade looked the same. Different strokes, for different folks.

So next time you ask someone’s opinion, you’re better off asking yourself instead. There will always be someone who doesn’t like the way you look. There will always be someone who can run off at the mouth, telling you what you could change to look better. Just be okay with yourself and don’t be a shitty person shedding light upon the “unfortunate” who don’t know how to properly contour. Please.