struggling.

This has been a trying week and I'm struggling.

Struggling, because I decided to take a different route out of my office yesterday.  My mom got a FitBit for Mother's Day (she asked for one - my family and I aren't completely terrible people) and I've been trying to turn up the heat on my own steps in hopes of encouraging her.  So instead of taking the escalator, I opted to take the stairs.

Only as I began my descent, the right heel of my shoe got caught in the cuff of my left pant leg and I instead of walking, I more or less pulled myself down - hard - on the steps falling toward the first landing.  My phone and water bottle went flying and my knee banging all the way.    

At work.

In front of people.

In front of coworkers.

I've taken quite a few spills in my day, so I actually have a strategy on how to handle them.  Maybe "strategy" is too strong - more like a response that involves, simply, get up, keep your head down, laugh it off and LEAVE THE SCENE AS QUICKLY AND INCONSPICUOUSLY AS POSSIBLE.

Unfortunately falling in my building is like falling at a hotel in Las Vegas.  Even if you want to run away and are physically capable of doing so, a swarm of company security guards will surround you and convince you otherwise.  I truly thought I was okay to keep walking out, but everyone asking me, "Are you surrrrre you're ok?" made me question if I really was.  Soon a guard with a first aid kit showed up with ice packs and an ace bandage wrap and I wanted to cry.  

In hindsight, stopping to take a seat on the stairs to collect myself as the security guard suggested was a good idea, but I could've done without all of the attention and fanfare.

By the grace of God, even at my 5:15 pm departure time, there were but a few people who saw what happened and I knew none of them.

That is, until television attorney Nancy Grace comes down the escalator to my left and shouts at me, "Girrrrrrl, are you ok?!" in her signature southern draw.  While extremely kind of her to ask me, a complete stranger, if I was alright, her question attracted the attention of what felt like everyone in the building ( I mean, she's Nancy Grace?!) and with all eyes on me, sitting in the middle of the stairs, I wanted the floor to swallow me immediately.

My left knee is in a lot of pain, and walking today is a bit of a challenge, but the realization that I may no longer be cut out for high heels and/or am probably turning into my accident-prone mother has also bruised my ego quite a bit.

Worse than the fall, which seems so small in comparison to other huge things happening right now, is the emotional struggle I'm having over a special woman facing a troubling diagnosis.

Julie was a senior at the University of Georgia the year I was a freshman.  Though we were in the same sorority and would see each other at chapter meetings and fraternity band parties, I did not know her well.  But I remember her sweet disposition and kind voice and I can't recall anyone every saying an unkind word about her.

Since 2013, Julie has bravely fought triple negative breast cancer that has spread into her lymph nodes.  After being diagnosed a week after giving birth to her second child - a reality that truly takes my breath away every time I think about it - she has been fighting.

I know sororities don't always get the best reputation, but the true "sisterhood" that I have experienced from AOIIs of all ages rallying around Julie's during this time has been nothing short of inspiring.  There have been fundraisers, prayer circles, offers to babysit and bring meals.  While undergoing an experimental trial in Texas, sisters have donated airline miles and hotel points all to make her battle a little less stressful.

I've participated when able, following from a distance her ups and downs of her health, never once believing that she would be anything but victorious in her fight.

This week, Julie's doctors advised that the "time for fighting and treatment has passed and it is time for her to focus on going home, on her comfort and on her family."  While I remain inspired by Julie's grace and bravery and what her sister-in-law described as, "an abundant concern for others," this news leaves me struggling.

Struggling with how I'm supposed to feel - that everything happens for a reason and that God is in charge - versus how I actually feel - that this is colossally unfair.  I thought God never made mistakes, but this all feels like a huge mistake - that He got it wrong, in choosing this young, vibrant wife and mother to suffer such a diagnosis.

For Julie and the many people that love her, I am heartsick.

I believe in miracles and I believe in one for Julie and her family, while wishing for them peace and as much togetherness as is allowed.  I believe in God and good vibes, so I pray and dedicate yoga practices to Julie and her children and husband, her parents and brother and extended family.

I also pray for those who are close to Julie, who like me, are trying to understand why things like this happen to good people.

This is a little heavy for a Friday, and for that I'm sorry, but I ask of you, if you could take a moment this weekend to send up to whatever higher power you believe in prayers of peace and healing to Julie and her family.

Peace and love and Nancy Grace shout outs,
SG

south africa, part two: cape town unfiltered.

Leaving Kruger Park after four days was bittersweet.

Bitter because Buhala Lodge was breathtaking and awe-inspiring and so much fun.  We'd seen and done so much in the short time we were there.  Sure, we'd checked, "See huge wild animals in their natural habitat," off our proverbial bucket lists, but leaving meant saying goodbye to these amazing views and that was sad.

But also sweet because we traded safari views for Cape Town views, and, well, those did not disappoint.

 

If going on safari with my co-workers was like going on a really extravagant field trip, then going to Cape Town with those same co-workers and meeting up with the other Americans going to Emily and Justin's wedding was a lot like the study abroad trip I took to Spain when I was in college - a few dozen people, all roughly the same age converging on the same foreign place at the same time.

I'd like to think it was a tad more sophisticated and grown up than the six of us laughing at animal dung.  Our days were filled with group tours and cultural experiences; our nights were filled with sunset cocktails, dinner parties, and OMG LOOK!!!!!! THIS BEER HAS MY NAME ON IT!!!!!!!

 

Ok, so maybe only slightly more sophisticated.

I'll have more on the cultural experiences in a separate post, but I called this essay, "cape town unfiltered" for a couple of reasons.

First, if there was any filtering happening while we were on safari, after several days of nonstop togetherness and now in our own house with our own fridge stocked with alcohol, we'd stopped being polite and started getting real.  We were a little less forgiving of one another's quirks and a lot more willing to call them out.  We stayed up late, our intimate peaceful conversations at Buhala turning into, "let's heal open wounds from five years ago" and "let's make each other laugh so hard we cry and pee our pants" conversations.

Also Cape Town is so very beautiful that there is no need for any kind of photo filter - each view, each sunset, was more spectacular than the last.

Every evening we'd gather on our porch and watch the sun sink lower, capturing its marvelousness with nearly every device possible - cameras, iPhones, GoPros.

It was a typical tourist move that could be expected by us first timers.  But one evening when they joined us for "sundowners" (aka Happy Hour in South Africa), I watched Emily, the bride, and her sister Helen taking as many pictures as the rest of us -  a place where they've watched a thousand sunsets in their lives still so grand, it warrants photographic evidence.

More than once during our trip, someone would ask Emily some version of the same question:  "Why did you ever move?,"  "How could you ever leave?" or "When are you moving back?"  I mean, her high school literally sits on a cliff overlooking the ocean in Camps Bay.

But besides the glorious landscape, I suspect Emily also views South Africa and these Cape Town sunsets through the lens of a "home filter."  The one that fills her with nostalgia and intense pride and gratefulness for her people and the place she is from, making these scenes even more beautiful to her than they are to us.

Filters often get a bad rap for misrepresenting reality and more and more we're calling each other to start keeping it real, but aren't we all guilty of viewing and presenting the world through a filter?  Are we kidding ourselves or just accentuating the positive?

I mean, I doubt I'll ever meet up with my Irmo friends at the Olive Garden on Harbison Blvd. and start snapping sunset pics, but every time I'm home, I'm filled with nostalgia and feel so very thankful for the place I grew up.  Thanks to my home filter, I don't remember how my undiagnosed depression and anxiety made high school such an unhappy time.  I don't remember how insecure I felt.

I'm equally thankful for a relationship filter, that helps me remember most of my exes fondly for the time we shared, instead of remembering the utter dysfunction or douchey things that they did.  Filtering out the bad makes it easy to chalk it up to a learning experience and move on.

Though likely not to the level that Emily feels about South Africa, I find myself often in a conundrum about returning to Charleston, South Carolina, a place I once lived for a short time.  I miss the beach, the history and the people and every time I return - which is as frequently as possible - I wonder why I ever left.  I seem to have forgotten how impossible it was for me to start a career, much less find a job that put me above the poverty line.  Perhaps to my detriment, I view Charleston through a "vacation filter," and have lost the ability to be impartial.

On the other hand,  Charleston is where my niece lives and I'm pretty sure the "aunt filter" is the strongest of them all.  Gray, like South Africa, needs no filter.

sorry not sorry

I've always loved Robert Fulghum's book, All I Really Need to Know I Learned in Kindergarten. 

Full of common sense, basic principles, Fulgham reminds us that being a decent human being is really elementary: play fair, don't hit people, say you're sorry when you hurt someone. 

All of the other stuff we learn in school and as we get older - is just extra.

Like learning to be grateful, I think I learned how to apologize long before I went to kindergarten, thanks to my parents who were quick to deescalate tensions over toys and television shows by demanding that my brother and I "say sorry" to one another. 

I'd like to think my apologies have grown more sincere and heartfelt since those kid-style "sorrys" that were usually mumbled under my breath and rarely included any eye contact.  And though I have my moments, I'm still as quick to apologize when I know I'm wrong, even if there isn't an adult telling me to.    

I never considered that saying "I'm sorry" was anything other than the right thing to do, until last year when Pantene came forward with a campaign encouraging women to STOP APOLOGIZING so much. 

"Wait, what?," I thought to myself when I saw an article about their efforts.

The video makes their point, brilliantly I think, portraying women in various scenarios apologizing for things they shouldn't be sorry for.  I immediately identified.  I've apologized for asking questions I thought might be stupid.  I've apologized for speaking up in a meeting at the same time as someone else.  I even apologized to some one who got in line behind me at the water cooler while I was filling up my large cup.  Letting these "sorrys" fly makes true apologies less impactful and undermines my desire to portray myself as the confident, intelligent, capable person that I am.

Last week at work, I was a part of a project that at the last minute fell a part.  I was frustrated.  A lot of my colleagues were frustrated.  Mistakes were made at several levels - not just mine - but because of my involvement in the project's failure, and because of what I learned in kindergarten, I immediately wanted to apologize.

And I started to, but then stopped myself, remembering the Pantene campaign.  I agonized over how to proceed in a way that satisfied both the kindergartener in me who learned to own up to her mistakes and apologize for them, and the career woman who doesn't want to roll over or appear weak and defensive.

The ability to take responsibility for my actions and sincerely apologize has served me well in personal relationships, yet I'm unsure how to translate that to my job.    

Is it ever okay to apologize in the workplace?