23 Love Lessons

I just turned 23. I celebrated with friends, and with ice cream by the sea, and it was lovely. But I was a little deflated that even on my birthday, the blues and the worries of the last few months still found me.

A year ago, I wrote about 22 lessons learnt before turning 22. I was full of hope and the certainty of growth then, clinging onto God and goodness even in the face of heartache, fear, and final-year stress.

I don’t feel like that person right now. I quit my internship at the start of January. The thing that I was so certain would be right for me, that would protect me from post-grad blues, ended up bruising me in the busyness; stress that I couldn’t handle with a healthy dose of adrenaline. My mind started to hurt more than I could manage so I quit, I chose rest, and now I’m here in the big empty sea of post-graduate, unemployed life.

I like to think that these experiences are never wasted, but that’s hard to believe sometimes.

In the midst of this season, there is something I’m learning about. I’m discovering what it is to be loved, even in the face of my failures and weaknesses. I’ve spent the last 8 months with a man who is far more than I deserve, who holds me together on the bad days, and who is my daily reminder that I am not empty of life, or of growth.

I don’t want to tell you that being in a relationship is better than being single, or add to the lies that you are not fulfilled, loved, or good enough without a partner. But I want to share the things I’m learning from this mysterious love thing, 23 things that have shaped me before my 23rd birthday.

Love is… realistic.

1. Love does not protect you from depression, or anxiety, or insecurity, or loneliness. It is not a magic shield; it doesn’t fight all your battles for you.

2. But it does stand beside you in the battle. When I feel low or insecure, I can lean on his hope, faith, and strength. He reminds me of goodness when I can’t see it for myself.

3. Love is a feeling. I spent last summer always counting down the minutes to our next date; I thought I was going insane. Falling in love is fun and terrifying and mysterious.

4. Love is more than a feeling. I don’t have all those crazy feelings all the time—life would be exhausting if they carried on! Honestly, there are weeks where it feels hard to enjoy anything or anyone; those weeks scare me. But he’s patient and comforts me. And I stick with it even in those times, because we’ve already proven that we’re a good team.

5. Sometimes I miss being single. I wouldn’t give up this relationship for the world—but there was something in being single that drew me closer to my girlfriends, that led me to rely on God in my loneliness. Being in a relationship means a lot of my encouragement comes from one person. This is a gem, but it requires more effort and prioritising on my part to not shrink my world down to just him.

Love is… goodness.

6. Love shows me God. I’ve been blown away countless times at the grace, patience, and kindness I’m shown. We forgive, we show grace, stick it out through the hard weeks. Each time, it points me towards God’s endless grace and mercy for me. That I can be SO rubbish and still loved—it rebuilds me every day.

7. Love is safe. It just is. If you don’t feel safe, it’s not love.

8. Character is key. Don’t accept anyone who’s less than good, really good at heart. Everyone has flaws, of course, but you can tell who the good ones are.

9. It feels as good to give love as it does to get it. To be the one giving reassurance, holding them when they’re sad, making the effort; it’s a gift.

10. Love means you don’t have to second guess. You know where you stand; you know you’re secure.

Love is… healing.

11. Love shows you how undeserving, and how deserving, you are, all at once. It sees all your flaws and ugliness and stays anyway; and it sees all your loveliness, more than you’ve ever been able to see for yourself. It softens you to see it too.

12. Love seeks growth. It doesn’t just ignore the ugly bits; it seeks to gently heal our broken parts.

13. The people you love will change you (low-key Moana reference…)—our relationships shape us. Learning to love and be loved is an identity-solidifying process.

14. You don’t have to love yourself perfectly first. I love this post from Ally Fallon—I’ve often cringed at advice to love yourself first, be complete and whole before getting into a relationship. I agree that we shouldn’t be seeking our worth in another person, but we learn to love ourselves by being shown love. We’re reminded of our worth when we see how someone else sees it.

Love is… effort.

15. You pretty much make it up as you go along. No one really tells you what to do, so you learn along the way.

16. Sometimes love means giving space, putting boundaries in, making hard decisions to create and protect balance and health.

17. Love is honest; it doesn’t avoid conflict. It owns up to hurt, to mistakes, to ugliness. It’s honest about jealousy, about the past, about fear. Love listens and understands and forgives.

18. Love isn’t always 50/50. Sure, it’s about compromise and sacrifice, but it’s not I’ll do this for you if you do that for me. Sometimes the load isn’t shared equally because someone’s not up for that. Sometimes you do all the receiving for a while, but there’ll come a time when you do more than your share of the giving. Love doesn’t keep score.

19. It requires risk. Before we started dating, I wasn’t sure how I felt. Sometimes my emotions are hard to work out and I was terrified of starting something and not being able to see it through; the thought of hurting him was unbearable. But after a while, the not knowing was worse. I took a risk; I guess dating is always a risk; all kinds of love are a risk, not knowing whether people will hurt you, if life will take you in the same direction. It’s risky but when it pays off, it’s worth it.

Love is… surprising.

20. Love can creep up on you. It sneaks up on long summer evenings, until you’re hooked.

21. Sometimes you don’t know what your needs are until you find one that’s unmet. Sometimes love looks like a hug, a hand on my shoulder; sometimes it’s being prompted to talk until you open up, even if I don’t want to; sometimes it’s having dinner cooked for me and the washing up done.

22. Love is serious and silly all at once. It’s singing in the car and crying in their arms; it’s bickering and confronting, confessing and forgiving, healing and laughing.

23. Love is hopeful and it’s life-giving. This season of my life is a wide-open, frightening void right now, and sometimes it feels like I’m not capable of growing, or achieving anything. But I’m reminded that I’m in the middle of something mysterious; I’m cultivating something that is good and wholesome and real. It’s not perfect, but it is shaping me and improving me.

[Photo by Julie Bloom.]

ANNOUNCEMENT: Windrose Magazine issue 2 is almost finished!

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"On Heartbreak and Healing"
"The Poison of Perfectionism"
"In Defense of Loneliness"
"How Corporate Killed My Creativity And How I Got It Back"
"On What It Means to Matter: An Interview with Author Hannah Brencher"

And so much more—all real life stories to assure you that you’re not alone as you navigate life in your twenties.

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The End of An Era: Saying Goodbye to Windrose

Hi friends,

Announcement (sounds so formal, doesn’t it?):

It's the end of an era.

I’ve decided that, after nearly 8 years of telling stories of navigating life, this season of Windrose is drawing to a close.

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When I was 22 years old, I visited the desert for the first time.

A metaphorical desert, if we’re getting technical.

I was fresh out of college, starry-eyed and eager to begin my post-grad life. I had big ‘ole me-centered dreams: a shiny, brag-worthy PR job in the music industry! An apartment with an exposed brick wall that (somehow) would fit an upright piano! A committed relationship with a kind, goofy man!

I got exactly none of those things.

To summarize an entire year’s worth of emotion: I was devastated.

When Life Feels Small

I hit a car in a parking garage once.

Nothing bad, really, just a ding in the door from a turn cut just a little too tight.

Truthfully, my car suffered the brunt of the bunt. But the other car was a nice one. I don’t remember the make or model—I’m not really a car person—but I do remember it was a convertible. Someone dropped a lotta dollars on this depreciating piece of metal, and I had just chipped paint off the gleaming door. Big yikes.

All because I was in a rush to get to my doctor’s appointment.

Practicing (and Failing at) Grace on the Road

Last week, I got stuck in a traffic jam on the interstate.

I was in a line of cars needing to merge into the bedlam of backed-up vehicles. We had an organized system in place, me and the cars in front of me: a car merged, then the car behind that car merged, and so on. I made my way into a gap between two 18-wheelers, neatly following the rules like the good girl I am.

But then—l'horreur!—what did the cars behind me do? Speed down the on-ramp in an effort to get ahead by usurping the follow-the-leader system of merging we had all tacitly agreed upon.

Teacher, they’re cutting!

I was… not happy.

Anne Lamott writes, “Sometimes the movement of grace looks like letting other people go first.”

That’s nice.

Here’s what I did instead.

Developing Community: Moving Towards a Space of Vulnerability, Intentionality, and Diversity

My parents moved me in and helped me explore this new city for a few days, but eventually this new place had to become my own. I tried out the coffeeshops (which didn’t compare to the ones back home) and became acquainted with people at my seminary. I found interest in what I was learning and “plugged in” wherever I could.

Quickly, however, I began to realize a need in myself for deeper community. I longed to be around people with similar mindsets. Mindsets that didn’t just recognize but acted on vulnerability, intentionality, and diversity. These types of mindsets had been prevalent in the community I was around at my undergrad, so I was puzzled as to why I was overlooking them here.

No Man Is An Island: An Ode to Our Neediness

The last few years of my life—so basically my Full Grown Adult Years—have been a reinforced lesson in this one simple yet slightly-jarring fact: we need each other. I mean, need-NEED each other.

“No man is an island,” says Thomas Merton, and my bae C.S. Lewis backs this up further by writing, “We need others physically, emotionally, intellectually; we need them if we are to know anything, even ourselves.”

We’re meant to be needy, but why is it so hard to acknowledge and accept this?

Say What You Need

Now maybe it wasn’t your family or your upbringing that made you neglect voicing your needs. Maybe it was a toxic relationship or a difficult work environment. Maybe it was someone who told you that your needs were selfish or that the desires of your heart didn’t matter.

Whatever it was, I urge you to identify those people or experiences or situations and start using that knowledge to change.

New Things, Better Things (A Reprise): Words for When You're Stuck in the Past

But while I’ve tried to convince myself that I am looking forward, staring straight at the wide open interstate ahead, I spent so many months still sneaking peeks into the rearview mirror every few seconds, not quite accepting that the road behind me is, in fact, behind me.

But this story isn’t the whole of my story, only a minor plotline amongst the greater. Even so, ignoring it won’t erase it like the stroke of the delete key. It may be a minor plotline, but it is a plotline woven tight around the greater story of my life for several years now.

I can’t ignore it.

A Beginner's Guide to the Enneagram

Maybe you, like me, have become curious about the Enneagram because it is popping up everywhere in conversations and on your social media timeline. Maybe you know everything there is to know and have become quite fluent in Ennea-lingo (you even know that there are sub-types!).

Maybe this is the first time you’re ever hearing about this weird test and you’ve spent the last four paragraphs trying to figure out how to even pronounce the word “Enneagram” (In-ee-a-gram, for the record).

No matter where you’re at, we can all use some guidelines when it comes to personality tests, because none of us are immune to over-identifying, self-shaming, and becoming a walking personality-test-fulfilling prophesy. So, without further ado, here are my dos and don’ts of Enneagram-ing.

The Battle to Overcome Your Rejection

Rejection is an issue I’ve had to wrestle hard with over the last three years. Every time Rejection and I had to face off in the boxing arena, I would always end up slammed and pinned down. In boxing, you have ten seconds to get yourself up before the game is over. For me, it took months before I could even peel my head off the floor.

How to Respond to Someone Else's Grief

But this post isn't about my own grief. It's not about the tears I've cried, or the questions I've asked. It’s not about my own days where getting out of bed felt too hard.

It's about a different side of the fight. It's about your mom's grief when she loses her college roommate. And your best friend after she has a miscarriage. It’s about all the people you encounter, telling you about their grief.

So Lonely I Could Die: What I Have Learned About Loneliness

The night it happens I’m alone. Afternoon slides into darkness, a day gone without notice. I put on a rom-com. I paint my nails. I wait.

I’m jonesing for junk food, so I walk up over the hill and get fries and a shake at the Park Street McDonald’s. On my way home through the Common, it starts to pour. My sandals take on water like a sponge. I squelch up to the third floor and towel off. The fries are cold and the milkshake is cloyingly sweet. I regret ever wanting them. I am still alone.

RelationshipsIssy DaviesMarch 4, 2018FeaturedComment