breaking the glass ceiling, career, June 2017, life lessons, my life

Career advice: “Chill the f*** out.”

My sister sent me this with the simple comment of “This is so spot on.” And as an ”up & coming career woman,” I couldn’t agree more. 

Reposted from Huffington Post.


Below is an excerpt from Weird in a World That’s Not: A Career Guide for Misfits, F*ckups, and Failures by Jennifer Romolini, Chief Content Officer at

You’ll Suck at Everything the First Time You Do It

That thing you did sucks, but it doesn’t matter: with effort, you can become great at almost anything except maybe (at this point) professional sports. Accept this as reality, stop getting so mad, stop being so mean to yourself, and start working to make it good.

There Will Never Be a Positive Consensus about You

Sometimes people just won’t like the cut of your jib. Sometimes you will say or do the wrong thing, put your foot in your mouth, and cause irreparable harm. You’re human, you fuck up. Don’t fixate on this. Don’t clap back. Learn from the situation and move on.

Stop Vacillating between “I Am Garbage” and “I Am God”

Ground yourself so you don’t crave constant validation, so that every accomplishment or positive reinforcement, every negative comment or rejection, doesn’t redefine who you are. Call your grandma. Do something kind. Think about someone else for a while. That will help.

Chill the Fuck Out

You’re taking work too personally and too seriously, you’re confronting people too much with too much hostility, you’re letting every tiny facet of work get under your skin, and you’re freaking people out.

Stop Treating Your Career Like a Race to the Death Sprint

When all else fails, do a face mask. It’s going to be OK. You’re weird, sure, but you’re better than you think. Sometimes you’re even great.



hamburg 2015, life updates, my life

Hamburg Happenings. // Winter 2015

Winter in northern Europe is no joke.

While the sun manages to rise by 9:00am, it packs up and heads home for the day around 4:00pm. That lazy sun. But the clouds, the clouds seem to work overtime, so should the sun even make an appearance, the clouds make sure to block out an ray to possibly come our way. It’s hard. So when I get out of work around 6:00pm, I typically find myself in a pattern of going home, cooking, showering, TV. No more, no less. I create a rut, and I find comfort in building a home there…

But… BUT (!) now the sun is staying out longer, and the clouds are taking some time off, (and this metaphor is ridiculous, I know), and this changes everything.

So farewell, Hamburg winter… and hello, Mr. Sun. I’ve missed you. I really have.

And I’ve missed this blog.

Blogs are tricky in that unless it’s your bread and butter, it’s hard to stay motivated to write after you write all day to earn aforementioned bread and butter. Now that the sun stays out longer, and there’s a bit of light still when I get home, I feel like I have been gifted a few hours of the day, making me so much happier and optimistic. I suddenly want to jump back in to all of my beloved hobbies.

There for a while, I never knew if my desire to write for fun would return.

But it has, and for that, I am oh, so thankful.

happiness, joy that little things bring, memories, Munich II., my life, photos, september 2013, writing from the heart

Undeniable happiness.

Munich. Oktoberfest 2013

The night this photo was taken was one of utter and complete happiness. I feel joy so often, daily, but this happiness, this happiness was accompanied by no underlying anxieties or jumbled thoughts rolling around in my head like a bunch of marbles in the background. It was one of the rare moments in my life where I felt I was where I belonged.

Midway through the tent’s brass band rendition of “Bohemian Rhapsody,” –singing along at the top of our lungs, swaying back and forth with arms locked together–I could feel happiness that reached deep into my bones.

“This,” I thought, “is a happiness I will always remember. This is a moment that will change everything.”

And it did. It truly did.

So stumbling upon this photo last week on Facebook brought it all back.

But most of all, it immediately made me think of this post from the ever-so-enlightening Laura at Little Things and Curiosities...

“And then her heart changed, or at least she understood it; and the winter passed, and the sun shone upon her.” -J. R. R. Tolkien

2013, faith, hope, my life, new years

Bidding 2013 farewell.

Dear 2013,

My go-to look for 2013. Acne and all.

You were a real doozy, you know that? I’m not even going to sugarcoat it because you didn’t sugarcoat any experience that you threw my way. In fact, I’m rather suspicious that your whole goal wasn’t to try and break my spirit. (Spoiler alert: you didn’t.)

Days spent with my Munich Munchkins were full of Love.

January brought with it snow. Lots and lots of snow. And then a handsome Frenchman whose presence hit me like a hurricane. And whose damage after it ran its course left considerable damage. But during the whirlwind of a romance I had setup camp on cloud nine. Nearly breaking ground on a foundation. (Seriously, the concrete was ordered, ready to lay.)

I’ll truly never forget this Karnival. Holding hands and running around this day was perfect.

February was nearly perfect. In hindsight, much better for other reasons than noticed at the time.

This day was a milestone. Unknown at the time.

March. March was a real mess. Most spent in tears. Crippling sadness spent in bed, a million miles from home.

My mom came to visit!

But April rolled around and somehow, little by little, I was able to pull myself together.

I visited my friends + family in Northern Germany and it was perfect.
And snuggled my nieces and nephews.

May and June were spent coddling my tender heart back home.

Koenigsee with new dear friends.

July was an absolute shit show. In the greatest of ways. So many friends were made. An incredible amount of adventures were had. Even though it brought with the theft of my cell phone and a chipped tooth, it was a monumental month for the year. My whole energy shifted, a new mood settled in the air, and being independent felt incredible.

I had both the world’s greatest roommates, and the world’s greatest balcony. Le sigh.

August came with one of the most devastating blows in regards to dreams go. But I learned that a career does not define you, and your dreams are not set in stone. Everything is perpetually changing. And so are God’s plans for us.

Too many beers were drunken with new friends from all over the world. (Danes above.)

September was absolutely perfect. After coming to terms with what the rest of the year held (moving back to the States) and taking time to relish in my new friendships, the unknown became less scary to me. I met it halfway, grabbed its hand and said “Alright then, let’s go!”

I bid Munich farewell in fashion.
October threw me for a loop, with many perks, as well as many nights of tears. But I survived. We always do.
And a few school programs to attend.

November was riddled with anxiety, more so than usual, and I had to come to terms with it. Taking things hour by hour is sometimes how you get by. And it saved me in so many ways.

Never enough laughs with friends.
December. Oh, December. You’re always a box of surprises. You weren’t terrible. You weren’t great though by any means. You have this way of magnifying the hurt while everything around you glows with hope, quite literally. 
Babies make Christmas so much more fun.

2013, we made it. You tried your best to keep me down, but here I am. Ready and feisty as ever to jump into 2014 with nothing but hope.

You’ve made your presence known. That things can change in an instant and the world owes you nothing. You’ve made lessons hard, and tests harder. But you’re done here.

But before we bid adieu, there’s one last thing:

Thank you. For the times of utter bliss, the times of adventure, and, even the times you walked right over me while I was down. I got up. And now I’m stronger, smarter, and ready for whatever 2014 throws my way.

And you know what, it’s going to be so good. Everything that brought me here will be worth it. Every single sadness.

Love ya, but I won’t miss ya,
see this .gif.


Breathe, my friend. You are not old, you are young. You are not a mess, you are normal. Extraordinary, perhaps. In the blink of an eye your life will change. And it will continue to change for decades to come. Enjoy it, embrace it… be grateful for the ride. You are not old, you are young. And faith will get you everywhere. Just you wait. — Abby Larson

a list of sorts, growing up, joy that little things bring, life lesson, missing you, my life, november 2013, poetry, write it out, writing from the heart

A cure for restlessness.

November 1, 2013. Kansas City.

I fear I’ve no proper title for this post. “Cure” is a bit too promising. Maybe “ways to help” would be more fitting. But I like it. And so there’s that.

Getting on with it…

Of course, as expected, coming back from Munich has left me with a sense of restlessness. It’s hard to go from everyday being an absolute adventure, full of new words and people, to something a little bit more routine. But it’s all about perspective. Because a few weeks ago I found myself lost in downtown Kansas City and I could have very well been in a foreign city, I was so lost. But it was beautiful, and I stopped and took a picture. Because this was the Kansas City I grew up in. There’s so much of it I have yet to see. Isn’t that kind of amazing? My whole life, and yet, this little block I’d never registered in my memory. Or maybe, living abroad for two years is what it took for me to notice these things. It’s as if you have to leave in order to come home and see what’s really there.

But, as per usual, I have a soul that’s always longing to wander. One of my very favorite songs — Anchor by Mindy Gledhill — has a line that says “I am nearly world renowned / As a restless soul who always skips town” and the first time I heard that line it struck a chord deep within my heart. It definitely spoke to me. As cheesy, and pun-ny as it sounds. I am a restless soul. That’s the truth.

I am, however, in a Season of transition, a time of learning and growing and preparation. I’m not sure what for exactly, but I just know that this is a vital time during which is so important for me to be patient and learn what fuels my soul.

So far I have learned the following:

A “cure for restlessness”
if you will:

Tea. Even if you have to microwave the water because you don’t have a kettle nor the desire to buy one… yet. 

Books. All kinds. All topics. All the books. 

Frasier. Or whatever happens to be your TV fix as of late. On repeat. Every night as you fall asleep. 

Gratitude. And expressing it. 

Writing letters. The good, old-fashioned, stick a stamp on it, push it through the mail slot kind. 

Water. Lots. I prefer sparkly now because Germany was bound to get me hooked, and that it did. 

Music. As often as you can. As loud as plausible. Singing along. (This mix is wonderful.)

(And: I’m trying to memorize my favorite poems. This is one.) 

by Mary Oliver

May I never not be frisky,
May I never not be risque,

May my ashes, when you have them, friend,
and give them to the ocean,

leap and froth of the waves,
still loving movement,

still ready, beyond all else,
to dance for the world.

“The only way that we can live, is if we grow. The only way that we can grow is if we change. The only way that we can change is if we learn. The only way we can learn is if we are exposed. And the only way that we can become exposed is if we throw ourselves out into the open. Do it. Throw yourself.” ― C. JoyBell C.

Munich II., my life, september 2013, write it out

A simple stretch of sidewalk in Munich.

There’s a stretch of street that I walk daily to get to the U-Bahn or the grocery store or what have you, and it’s this stretch of street, right at this certain jut in the sidewalk, where ideas for blog posts always pop into my head. Maybe it’s coincidence, maybe it’s fate…or maybe, just maybe, there’s something special about this spot that does that to people.

I like to think the latter. I like to think that one day, long ago, someone was walking that exact route, and stepped on that exact spot, and the realized something life changing: like a secret ingredient for spaghetti sauce that made them millions; or perhaps that they should take up painting and now have works in museums all over the world; or they realized they were in love and, in that moment, decided they must tell the person whom they loved. It’s a silly, romanticized notion, this idea that a sidewalk could have the memories of the past imprinted onto it forever, imparting inspiration to all those who walk it. But who are we to be sure it’s not possible?

I will take a photo of the spot. Someday.

You see, I am not so good with cameras and upon getting mine out last week someone asked if I had ever heard of smartphones or newer cameras and I got upset because I did have an iPhone, and because I can’t afford anything better than this camera and I can’t afford to replace my beloved iPhone (r.i.p.).

Naturally–as it so often goes with anxiety and obsessing–I thought about how terrible it is that I can’t properly document these moments, this amazing city and how I haven’t Instagrammed in a month or so and how people probably roll their eyes when they see my shabby photos.

In order to put these thoughts to rest, as best one can when battling an OCD-riddled mind, I decided I will try and get my camera out a little more often to practice, and I will remind myself that this is my life.

I don’t have to prove it to anyone with photos or the like.

Plus, photography was not the gift I was blessed with.
I have my words.


food for thought:

We can’t jump off bridges anymore because our iPhones will get ruined. We can’t take skinny dips in the ocean, because there’s no service on the beach and adventures aren’t real unless they’re on Instagram. Technology has doomed the spontaneity of adventure and we’re helping destroy it every time we Google, check-in, and hashtag.
Jeremy Glass, We Can’t Get Lost Anymore
I hope you are all both understanding yet skeptical of this quote.  There is both good and bad that comes of social media, but you must decide what extent of sharing feels right for you and what brings you true happiness.  I must confess that I hope your phone does not dictate your life.  I hope that when you are out exploring and when you are out with friends, it stays in your pocket.  Just remember that the best moments can’t be captured by a status update, and that no one knowing about your most amazing experiences does not invalidate such moments.