Fix the tude, dude

I know some seriously great people. I really always have. I've been blessed to be continually surrounded by seriously wonderful individuals in a multitude of ways. 

And yet, I am often throwing myself a pity party around how these people that I know do not always know me. I have given these people the collective power of being the ones to contact me and read my mind about wanting to get to know them better.

I was recently chatting with a friend over winter break and we agreed that we both "suck at reaching out." I do not blame this friend for anything. However, after the conversation, I realized that I don't suck at reaching out. What sucks is my attitude surrounding me reaching out to my friends. 

That is why I have decided to listen to one of my words (or phrases) for 2025- Smile and Reach Out. Instead of feeling grumpy that I "have to be the one" to reach out, I want to make a goal of finding the joy of knowing fabulous people that I want to spend time with. I will be working on changing my mindset to "I get to reach out and get to know my people better."

I am excited to truly get to know the people surrounding me. 

I also love how this goal (or resolution since this feels basic) coincides with last year's goal to leave my apartment or bring someone into it each and every day (and I did it!). 2024 was all about making sure I wasn't letting myself stay stuck. This year I will add to this by making sure I am also fueling my love for people and distaste for being alone. Because I GET to have inspirational and excellent company around me when I let them be. 

Texts rarely go unanswered and people love talking about themselves. So why would I put these opportunities in a box with a frown? I love learning about people's stories! 

I am not going to make this a quantifiable goal because the whole intent is to make genuine connections and not dread these encounters. I found in 2024 that I had to get creative about how to leave the apartment and would not look forward to going out in frigid temps or rainy weather. When I reach out, I want to put on an unforced smile and just enjoy it. 

My second phrase for 2025 builds on what God has been teaching me as I have been growing closer with Josh. "Let yourself be loved." I have found that I overthink things in my relationship based on previous heartbreak. I am beyond thankful that Josh loves me with patience and understanding. I am lucky to have him and I am looking forward to allowing my barriers to be broken and show a bit more vulnerability. 

I know it won't be easy, but it will be worth it. 

So here's to 2025. Politically, yes I am nervous. Personally, I'm excited about what God is going to do.

A Bad Hair Day

 When I woke up yesterday with cramps that could kill a man, I knew it wasn't really going to be my favorite day that's every dayed. I got up, albeit slower than should have been allowed. 

I took my ibuprofen, I got ready for the day, and I let myself wear slippers to my dermatologist appointment. 

Oh, and I took an anxiety pill to make sure if my doctor wanted my blood, I could give it with less tears. 

Turns out, there were plenty of tears but no blood was drawn.

Instead, I left with what my doctor described as "bad news" and a diagnosis of Female Pattern Hair Loss, which is the female equivalent to Male Pattern Baldness. It is also believed that there is something in me making my hair fall out too quickly. 

So I cried and googled what my hair could look like. 

Turns out, it is rare to lose all of my hair. So that's cool. 

But it is also not common for this hair loss to start at 26 without having also had a baby.

My doctor told me I could start a topical minoxidil. The nurse warned me that if I started this, it would be a daily application... for the rest of my life.

If you have noticed, I am not married or engaged. Thank you, Josh, for being forgiving. The word "forever" just does not sit well with me. I am simply not great with things that feel too permanent. 

So believing I would be starting something that would be forever scared me. 

My mom called after I stopped crying and we came up with a plan. I can order the minoxidil whenever. I have a follow up appointment for the dermatologist to see how my hair is doing on Aug. 21. I also know that the minoxidil will likely make my hair shed more for about 2 months. So I have some time to explore other options.

Because my derm also believed I had outside factors speeding up my hair loss, I am also making more appointments to see what's going on inside me. The options were numerous. COVID from October and before? Maybe. Graduating from that super fun master's program? Likely. Accutane side effects/ Possible. Starting a new job? Could be. Low iron? Not sure! Thyroid issues? Maybe. Not enough protein? All of these options are on the table and it's damn near impossible to know which or what combination are impacting my hair. It can be hard to tell also because it takes your hair roughly 3 months to feel the stress you encounter (oh the things I have learned!).

So now I get to ask lots of doctors lost of questions. If you know me, you know this is my hell.

But how did I get here? I have always had great hair.

I remember having to tell hair stylists that they would need extra dye to cover all of my hair. 

I was the girl with deceptively thick hair. 

And now I'm not. In comparison to just a year to 18 months ago, I have a tiny pony tail and what look and feel like bald spots. 

You probably haven't noticed, but I rarely wear a pony tail or messy bun anymore. This is both because they look very small and because I have seen online that ponytails can pull your hair more than my weak hair can handle. 

I asked a very smart hair stylist about this. She was guessing I had contact dermatitis and I would be able reverse this hair loss. She sold me a brush that was nicer to my weak hair. She saw lots of regrowth that gave us both hope.

Unfortunately, the dermatologist disagreed. 

While it was heartbreaking and scary to learn that the doctor thinks I will be dealing with this much longer than I planned, I was not all that surprised. Which is what hurt the most. 

I have been losing my hair since last summer. This is when I started asking questions at my annual physical. My PA believed it was just stress since my grad program had been... less than stellar.

I first noticed it when I was vacuuming and had to empty the bin at least twice when cleaning my apartment. I also purchased a rubber broom to get the hair out of my carpet. 

I then noticed it in my shower. I cleaned out the drain and purchased wire netting to cover the drain so I wouldn't have to as often.

The hair was everywhere. 

I started tracking just how much hair would fall out in one shower. I started noticing the hair in my brush. I started feeling it in my fingers when I would run my hand through my hair.

To put it simply, I knew there was a problem.

I still don't know what's coming. I don't know if I'll be able to fix this with vitamins, rosemary oil, and extra protein in my diet. 

I don't know if I will wear wigs in my future. I don't know if I should take a daily medication for my mental health so that the stress can be contained. I don't know if my hair will "Christmas tree." I don't know if my thyroid will become an issue to watch. I don't know if I'll wear a wig on my wedding day or have to take fertility tests.

But I do know I'll be okay. I know this is all a part of God's plan for me. I know that I can rely on Him and His goodness. 

Ever since grad school, I have been relying on the verse Philippians 4:7 which tells me that the peace from the Lord surpasses all understanding. However, recently, I have also been latching to Nehemiah 8:10 which promises the joy of the Lord is my strength.

I don't have to be happy about this. I don't have to stop crying. I can be tired. It's just hair, but it's also my hair. 

But I will not falter in my faith. 

Burnt Out to a Crisp

 Hi, it's me, Christa!

I haven't written in a while. In all reality, that tends to mean I am doing so well in life that I don't feel the need to put words on the internet for strangers. 

Well, that ended. 

If you've had a conversation with me about my classwork in the past few months (or really the past year or so), you know my program is not my favorite thing in the whole world. But it's definitely teaching me how to be strong and how to adapt to challenges and environments that I was not ready for. It's taught me how much I tend to take for granted in education. 

And, praise God, I'll be done and walking across a stage in 59 days. 

This last semester has been so hard. We are halfway through the last semester I will ever be a master's student and I am literally crying happy tears thinking about never having to write my thesis or edit my thesis or work through my newfound procrastination around my thesis again. Everything is due May 5 and that will be the best Cinco de Mayo of my life. 

But this week? This week I just can't do a damn thing. 

I open my laptop to fix the remaining two and a half chapters of my (so far) 77-page thesis document and just cry instead. Overwhelmed is an understatement. As much as I want it to be over and done with, I just can't get to that point. The edits are numerous. Don't let yourself think I wrote it perfectly the first time. Hell no. And some of the comments make sense and some of them leave me with more questions than answers. So that sucks. 

So I switch and decide to work on the paper I have due next week for another class that is only allowed to be 5 pages and honestly quite few sources. Nope. Not a possibility. Instant nausea. 

This shit ain't me. Ya know, to put it bluntly. 

I wish I could say that there is an easy fix to this and all of the nasty feelings went away with one quick Taylor Swift jam session. But that doesn't give burn out the credit and awareness it deserves. 

Yes, I turned on the Reputation Concert Movie on Netflix. And it made me smile. But I've only gotten as far as writing about how I can't write. 

This semester has been one of my hardest... Not ever. I graduated undergrad at the start of a global pandemic. But it's definitely in second place. 

In January, I came back from Winter Break (full of thesis interviews) ready to get everything done. I honestly did not know I would still be working on my thesis until May. I started this project last March or April and I have been ready to put it to bed for months. I eventually learned that I would be working on this paper for the rest of eternity. 

So I decided then and there that I would get so much thesis done in February that it would freak out my advisor. It would be incredible. It would be done and beautiful. 

Lol. 

Instead, in February, I started the month excited about a gala and ended that gala's evening in the ER. Yes, I fainted at the American Heart Association Fundraiser. It was incredibly mortifying and equally scary. 

After that, I had a few follow-up cardiologist appointments. Between those experiences, I found myself supporting a loved one in the ER for severe panic attacks. Between those episodes, I managed to contract the worst strep of my life. Once my throat healed, I was convinced I had bedbugs due to some (turns out) larder beetles and (what looked like) bites in a line down my arms. After this, my family lost a dear friend- my mom's good friend. I attended the funeral and found myself extra hurt. I realized it is incredibly hard to see someone being laid to rest who is barely older than my own mom. It broke my heart for her children and made me scared for my own mother (regardless of her current health and our friend's hard-fought battle with cancer). 

When I hung out with my friend on March 1, she literally said, "Christa, you did it! You made it to March!"

I explained this to my advisor and she told me that I would need to "stop doing things I enjoy and make my thesis a priority." That stung. That didn't help anything. 

But, to prove the world and February wrong, I had a full rough draft done and emailed on February 28th.  And the very next day my advisor skipped our meeting and barely apologized. 

So, what I am trying to say through all of this is that grad school can seriously suck, but I know I'm not alone in this experience. But, I will do everything in my power to make sure future students never feel how I am feeling. 

I will fight on their behalf so that they don't get sick from the stress of life. They shouldn't have to wake up dreading their classes. They shouldn't be so over it that they're calculating if they can graduate without doing their assignments (I can't). 

This last semester has been hell, but I won't let this keep me from helping people in my position. It's not meant to be like this. Education isn't supposed to make me hate everything. 

I love my assistantship and yet today I just did not have the patience or energy to work with the 60 visitors we had at our Tea for Two Tuesday event. This honestly scared me. I am known for being the energetic extrovert that flourishes on working with larger-scale events. And yet, today after I got off, I went straight to Domino's for a gluten-free pizza and a nap. 

This threw off my productivity schedule for the week, but things haven't been going according to schedule in quite a while anyway. 

This is burnout. 

This is feeling like anyone but myself. 

This is binging Netflix instead of chasing checkmarks in my planner. 

This is getting overly frustrated by small work tasks.

This is waking up before my alarm knowing I should get things done today- but not. 

This is craving the energy to do assignments. 

This is constantly needing a nap. 

This is losing all critical thinking abilities.

This is anxiety and depression. 

This is waking up at 2:50 a.m. thinking my mom was dead. 

This is crying when I can't think of a gluten-free snack that sounds good. 

This is staying in bed until the very last minute. 

This is thinking everything will be better when the sun comes out. 

This is avoiding anything and everything that could add more stress to my life. 

This is saying no to plans I know I would enjoy. 

This is knowing I should talk about it but being overwhelmed by the process.

This is grad school. 

This is wishing my advisor walked the walk they preach in class. 

This is always having more to do. 

This is watching the clock as I type this as I have a Zoom at 7.

This is commiserating with my cohort while none of us feel fulfilled or supported. 

This is wishing things were better.

This is trying to learn from texts that say too little or too much.

This is stress dreams and graduation countdowns. 

This is wanting to be done even though it means saying goodbye to great friends. 

But it shouldn't stay like this. And I promise I will do everything I can to change it. 

I'm Learning in Grad School

 If I told you I was a 23-year-old woman in her first year of grad school and I was learning a lot, you’d probably think I meant in classes. And you wouldn’t be wrong. But I’m learning so much more than that this week.

This week I’m learning how to relax and take care of myself. It’s a weird thing to learn, relaxation. But I’m working on it as I attempt to learn the balance between school, studying, work, a social life, and life to myself.

This week I hit rock bottom. Think hyperventilating after class, thinking I’m going to die, and needing to take a very important pill and call my mom. I haven’t had an anxiety attack like that… ever, so it really spooked me.

But in a way, I’m grateful for it. I’m grateful for the reset and the reliance on God to keep me above water. I realized I’ve been much too focused on the things of me and right now. And that’s only healthy to a point.

What’s ironic is I was complimented on Friday for being able to keep everything together so well. I thanked her but in my head, I knew it was all an act.

I knew that I have cried over and over this week because I just need connections and I thought creating those would be easier. I knew that I have a system that will hopefully last me two years but could easily fall apart. I know that I go to work, study before class or go straight to it, come home, do homework, maybe see one friend a week, and repeat each day Monday through Thursday. Friday I work, come home, and finish homework. This is all lovely and working well but I know I’ll burn out if I don’t control it.

So I’m learning to relax. I’ve noticed lately that the moment I feel content, I feel the need to be done. As if I’m checking “be happy” off a to-do list. And that’s not how it’s supposed to go.

If you know me, you know I dedicate my Saturdays to Husker football and Sundays are for chores and recovering from either a celebration or a drowning of sorrows. I also run 3-5 miles every day.

So it looks like I’m rocking this grad school thing. And by some definitions, I really am. I get my homework done and so far it's gone well. I go on dates to meet people. I work my assistantship to the best of my ability every day. But I know I need to improve things if I’m going to continue this program. I know I need to connect myself to a church in person instead of staying comfortable watching Reality online.

I need to let myself bask in the calm when it comes because it isn’t always there. Even right at this moment, I was unable to just sit and enjoy the sun on a beautiful day next to a gorgeous lake. I had to work on this post for a blog and align my bills on my phone.

So this is me being fearlessly authentic with you all- I know it’s been a while. And before I have people critique that I overshare online, let me leave you with why I post these things.

On the outside, I often look like a super positive, outgoing, completely capable, sturdy young woman. And that lady is inside of me. But that me is in constant battle with mental illness that has been diagnosed with the name of Anxiety but likely has a sister named Depression on her side as well.

And the battle is invisible. The battle has a stigma it doesn’t deserve. The battle is seen as weak when in reality I know it makes me strong. I’m not a token girl with anxiety and I don’t claim to know everyone’s experience with these awful invisible beasts.

But I do know that I love sitting by the lake with my headphones in playing nothing and listening to the softball game across the street. And I know that the evil sisters in my brain tried to tell me I wasn’t worth sitting and enjoying these things. I know they tried to convince me that I wasn’t doing enough if I was just happy.

I know that the sisters tell me how everyone around me has a million friends and I don’t. I know they spread rumors through my own brain cavities about how each person I encounter hates me or knows something about me that I don’t that leads them to being just kind enough to me. I know these sisters are vicious and they cut me where it hurts the most. I know they seem just believable enough to leave a scar.

And I know that these sisters are all over in people’s brains and they win a lot of battles because the brain holder feels alone. I know what it’s like to feel like nobody understands and so you shut down because explaining things that don't make sense is not easy or fun or rewarding most of the time.

I’m here to tell you that if those battles are in your mind, they are real and however you react to them is valid. You are stronger than you know. Soldiers train for battles and then get rest in between- I know you are fighting likely without training and without rest between bouts. That’s incredible. You’re incredible. And you’re worth relaxing for. So do it. And shut the voices off. Because you’re worth it.

Slip and Try Not to Slide

 I can feel the slip. 

I feel it in my chest. 

I feel it in my head. 

I feel the slip 

when I get mean.

I feel the slip 

when I lose all interest.

I feel the slip

when I snap back.

I feel the slip

I recognize the slip

I cannot control the slip.

I feel the slip 

when coworkers are too much

when customers are too much 

when my schedule is too much

when boys are too much 

when everything is too much.

But nothing is too much.

Everything is the same as it was yesterday.

Everything will be the same tomorrow.

And then it's just enough.

But as I slip, 

it's too much. 

Inside I know I can carry it.

A shallow thought says that's a lie.

Dig deeper, there is hope. 

It is not too much.

It is a slip.

Slips hurt.

They scrape.

They bleed.

They take others down with me.

But we will be okay.

Slipping is allowed.

Sliding is not.

My Demon's Name is Lonely

 My demon's name is Lonely.

He only comes out to play when it hurts the most.

Lonely reminds me of all my flaws. 

All the reasons people may dislike me. 

All the people who have fallen away.

My demon's name is Lonely 

and he's quite the attention whore. 

Lonely whispers in my ear 

but it's never things I like to hear.

I've heard these things before-

Lonely likes to repeat himself. 

But that doesn't make it hurt less.

My demon's name is Lonely

and he's honestly quite rude.

He treats me like a child with an awful attitude.

My demon makes me mean

he makes me hurt my friends.

My demon takes me to the dark

which I never knew was a where 

and not a what. 

My demon's name is Lonely

but I know he's not in charge.

My demon's name is Lonely

but my savior's name is Friend.

It's a Monster

 Anxiety is the monster that hides in your closet.

Yes, you know it's there 

but you know it won't attack until you stop expecting it

until you are weak 

until you are vulnerable.

Positive thinking is the flickering of a trick candle

never knowing when it will finally go dim. 

You don't want it to

but you aren't in control.

Anxiety is the knowledge of all that could go wrong

but it won't-

That's what the naive will tell you. 

Anxiety is knowing you're at a breaking point 

but not knowing how long you can stand there.

Hours?

Days?

Weeks?

Months?

Everyone finds out at the same time you do. 

Anxiety is the "everything's great" smile in the hall

when things are scary inside. 

It's the "I've got this"'

as you try to convince both sides of the mirror.

Anxiety is the success of hearing about your confidence

knowing you won the acting game. 

It's being just a tad too self-aware.

It's being laughed at-

This came out of nowhere-

when you didn't plan on breaking either. 

It's fake "I'm there for you"s

met with ignorance when you hold them to their word.

It's "You're not the first"

when you didn't want the attention anyway.

It's holding yourself to perfection and watching it crumble. 

Anxiety doesn't take an easy route

or anything predictable. 

It just punches and steals and destroys. 

It's a monster only you can see

It's a monster repeating lies in just one ear. 

It's a monster who only comes out to play when it knows it can win.