I have often been told that I am a “nice girl”. And I am. Being a “nice girl” probably means different things to different people. Kindness is truly a trait that I value about myself and of others. I believe in this with every fiber of my being. It’s time that we all are reminded of the solid truth that being kind is one of the most badass things you can ever do in your life and I am about to tell you why.
First off, I was raised this way. I was blessed with parents that taught me basic manners, the values of my faith, and common courtesy. Also, a lot of people in my family are this way and treated me this way. Kindness, I feel, is showing another person, “Hey, I totally recognize that you are human too and we are here on this earth together, so let’s make the best of it! Hope you use all your talents and potential to be awesome and thanks for believing in me too”. I am not one to tell someone what they should believe or not believe, but this is a belief we need now, and now more than ever in the world. Traditionally, niceness is something that is celebrated or encouraged, and I would say the majority of the time it is, but not all the time. Being nice can sometimes be viewed as being “soft”, “weak”, “over-sensitive”, “Doormat”, “goody-two-shoes”, etc. In all honesty, I have been called all these things a time or another in my life and sure, maybe at times, I did fall into those categories. When people would say these things to me, I immediately felt shame or embarrassment, but on the outside, I would laugh it off, say something snarky, or be quick to drop some badass knowledge on something I know or did that would fall under the “tough” category. Do I still feel the sweet sting of shame when this happens? Yes. But not to the same degree as once before. When I feel those bad vibes coming my way or someone try’s to front to make themselves feel good, or makes a comment about someone being a “snowflake” (which in all honesty, has only happened to me once, and the look I gave that person was far from fluffy and snow-like, which, is not nice, but in the words take from Taylor Mali’s famous slam poem, What a Teacher Makes: “You see, I have a policy on honesty and ass-kicking, so when you ask for it, then I have to let you have it”.) Sometimes, you have to be blunt and upfront if someone is over stepping and being rude for the sake of being rude and gain some sort of power. Usually, people who are quick to throw out the “snowflake” slang, probably feel a little hurt that they may have gotten called on the carpet for not thinking before they spoke or had a belief of theirs challenged and did not like it. Hey, totally get it. But instead of bringing someone else down, take a second, and walk in their shoes. As a matter of fact, walk around the block a few times in them, or train for a marathon in them. Empathy and understanding gets things solved faster and is just overall better. You do not have to agree with their views, but you certainly do not have the right to throw shade or be rude because someone else believes something different than your or lives differently than you. Maybe if you had some of their experiences, you would feel the same way or maybe not. Bottom line is before the words come out, take a second, get grounded, and look at the big picture. Ask yourself, “Is this helpful? Or is this hurtful”? We teach this Kindergartners because its true and it works. We need reminders too. Now, just because I am nice does not mean being excused from getting fired up about certain things. (I got a little sassy in the paragraphs above, but sometimes things that fueled by passion can come out fiery, it happens to everyone and that does not mean you forfeit kindness completely). And from my past experiences and what I have learned from them, I would say 8 out of 10 times I handle these situations appropriately and then the world keeps a movin’ full steam ahead! Here are some things I think of when being kind is, like, the last thing I wanna do.
These are not the “nice” rules. These are just somethings that are on my mind and heart. If you want to discuss more, you know where to find me. Choose kind and stay badass, my friends. Thanks for reading.
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Hey! Happy Summer!
So here I am back on my blog. I am currently working on a few different entries and as some know, the writing process takes me a bit more time than the average bear. To keep my posting momentum going, I have thought about sharing some of the slam poetry I write from time to time. Sometimes I get the idea for a line and I will write it down or save it in the notes section of my phone. Then, as I think and process my ideas more, my poem forms. My favorite thing about slam style poetry is (a fabulous quote from the movie Grease), “The rules are there ain’t no rules”. Now, in Grease, they are referring to drag racing, but it is the perfect way to describe slam. Slam is the drag racing of poetry. It's raw, real, and at times dangerous, but always exciting. Slam has no rules. Slam poetry is written to be spoken. It can be interpreted in different ways. It may sound different in your head reading, than it does out loud. I know what my poems sound like to me, but the beauty of slam is the audience or reader, can hear it any way they want. Hopefully, they hear it in a way that makes sense to them best. So, screw grammar, Haiku line rules, sonnets, and specific rhymes. This is my poem. Written or spoken, I make the rules. And I would like to share this poem with you, dear reader. I wrote this poem in two parts. I got the idea while watching fireworks last year and saved a few lines in my phone while taking in the spectacle. I revisited my lines on July 12th of 2017 and titled the piece “Sparklers”. This poem serves as a time capsule for me. My grandpa was dying. It was a difficult time for my family. When I read this poem, I feel grateful and blessed for my family. Also, it literally takes me back to the exact moment of my sneakers to the concrete, head tilted back, watching the fireworks while being surrounded by the night sky and summer breeze. My slam and my singing are truly extensions of myself. This can be difficult for me to share because vulnerability is scary! But vulnerability is also what connects us deeply. So, I hope one day maybe to get behind the open poetry mic and this is a good first step. Sparklers (Written July 3rd and July 12th 2017) For Grandpa Wetzel By: Olivia Wetzel Fireworks burst before me, childhood memories, star-spangled film strips of what used to be. Another shell flares up in the night sky, tiny bits of fire flood natures dark canvas with brilliant color. Boom. My first birthday. Another shower of sparks, every graduation, every Christmas family photograph. I watch the bits of pyrotechnics dissolve before my eyes with a cold beer in my hand. Blue jeans, sun-kissed, summer hair, Wonder Woman T-shirt. I stand before this spectacle truly as myself. Boom. I think of sparklers. The ones you gave me, my brother, and cousins. Running around the backyard with lighting bugs, giggles ignited with the clean pop of sparks once its silver tip was lit. All of us, young, precious, little hooligans, writing our names on the nighttime wall for the world to see. Thank you, for loving me. Loving us. Loving this country, and this world. Why must you leave this way? I am going to miss you. The sparkler’s performance is dwindling to its silvery end, but not before it burns brightly at its core. Just like you. You burn brightest at your core. Your beautiful, brilliant, patriotic, heart that beats for everything that is good, loving, kind. You placed a sparkler in my hand on the 4th of July as a kid, but you placed so much more in my life. I stand, sneakers to the concrete, head tilted back to get the best view. I take in the grand finale’s splendor and it reminds me of you. Thanks for the sparks, love, and light. Goodnight. This is something I have been thinking about writing for a while now. At first, I was not sure how this would manifest. I am never sure how any of my blog posts will ever manifest and I have come to realize this process that I used to dread, is now one I have come to appreciate. So, without further ado, I present the first installment of the Guilt, Shame, and Unpopular Opinions series written by yours truly. In this series, I will be talking about specific topics and sharing some brain food on guilt and shame. Along with this, I will be sharing my own perspectives and experiences from my own life’s journey thus far. Some of my opinions may not be popular with the mainstream or even yours, but that is ok. This is how we learn, connect, and make things better, my friends.
A quick disclaimer: If you know me personally, you know that in the way I speak and the way I write, it is authentic and from the heart, always. However, something that is not always on display is me feeling angry. I do not like feeling angry, I hate how it feels physically in my body and soul. I feel one of the reasons for this is I felt angry for a significant period of time in my younger years and that was a lot for a little girl to carry, but where I am now, I now know how BA that little girl was. I see other BA little kids and I know of other BA little girls and boys who grew up into BA adults. A lot of them are my close friends. Now, being BA does not mean you are angry or aggressive. Being BA is owning your truth and part of that truth sometimes is anger. BA people continue to get a tighter grip on understanding themselves so they can share their gifts, talents, zest, and love to others. (If you do not know what BA stands for, google it). So, what I am saying is, I am going to challenge myself here in this series to really let it fly. You have been warned, sorry not sorry? Is that a good start? I don’t know. Spoiler Alert! I am not always a bucket of rainbows! Here we go! First, lets talk about the difference between guilt and shame. They are two different things. Brene’ Brown does a fantastic job talking about this in her published works and speaking on her TEDX. Check her out on YouTube. So, here it is. Guilt is where you feel bad because you made a mistake or did something wrong. Shame is where you feel bad because you made a mistake or did something wrong because you are wrong, you are a mistake, there is something wrong with you. Shame is a nasty beast. Shame is going to a kickboxing class, you tie on the gloves, and start taking swings. Then, you realize, the punching bag is yourself and you feel horrible. In the world of weight, fitness, and self-image, guilt can snowball into shame quickly. From the language we use and hear, to the images we see, to our personal experiences, the shame game is real. So, there is the difference between guilt and shame. Now, moving on along to another scary topic. Weight. I am going to start this introduction off as blunt as possible. I HATE TALKING ABOUT WEIGHT! There I said it, out loud, on the paper. The topic of weight has been on on-going narrative in my life. And it has been super annoying the majority of the time. I have never been the thin, skinny girl. I felt like I was always pretty average, but as I got older, the vocabulary around weight changed. I was “Thick”, “Curvy”, “a Woman’s Shape”, “Hourglass figure,” “Thunder Thighs”, “Could lose a few pounds”. Outside of my own experience identifying as a female, I know the vocabulary on weight changes for men as well. “Husky”, “Built like a linebacker”, “Big guy”, “Buddha Belly”, “Man-boobs”, “Beer Belly/Keg vs. 6 pack-abs”, “Dad-bod”. I also heard a man say once “I am sick of being the funny, fat guy at the party”. We are taught that words like “fat” are bad and is an ultimate insult. Words unfortunately get used as weapons sometimes by children, teenagers, and adults alike. I feel that all of us in some way, shape, or form have been constricted by the barriers of some of the quoted words above or a fickle stereotype. It is extremely difficult to break these chains once they are cast upon us. But, we can. It is remembering that the key to the cuffs is always in our pocket and through kindness and support, we can help someone else unlock a little bit as well. As a society, we focus a lot on physical appearance. And of course, looking at or even admiring someone’s physical appearance is natural and human nature. However, I feel the amount of merit and importance that is placed on how someone’s body looks, especially their weight, is straight up bogus. We are constantly bombarded with photoshopped images of “beautiful people”, fad diets, new exercise programs, no carb, low carb, keto, shakes, high protein, and so on. This gets overwhelming and frankly, can sometimes be a complete load of crap. The fitness and weight loss industry is a multi-billion dollar industry year to year. That is insane! Who feeds this industry? We do. Sometimes, in good ways, nothing wrong with getting a gym membership or trying out a fitness class or new foods, but also sometimes we feed this industry in bad ways. This industry wants your money just like any other business and will use tactics that play off unrealistic images and low self-esteem to sell a product or program that will “change your life” so they can make a buck. The bottom line is you are the best product out there. It is time kindness to ourselves and others fuels both our physical and mental health. So, where are you going with this, Liv? Well, here it is. Over the summer, I lost 15 pounds. This was my choice. I wanted to improve my health, learn more about lifting, and get back into Zumba (I was instructor for 2 years). Now, here comes the guilt, shame, and unpopular opinions part. Towards the end of the summer, it almost felt like everyone noticed all at once. I was told how great I looked, followed by a “Oh, not that you didn’t look good before”. Then came questions. “Did you lose weight, inches? How much?”, “What are you doing?”. Even when I would come home from college, I was asked mainly 2 questions: "You look good, what are you doing"? and "Do you have a boyfriend? Any boys at school"? and I would politely respond with the truth that I did Zumba, played tennis, and no, I do not have a boyfriend". However, there were times when what I really wanted to say was "NOPE, but wanna hear about the research project I am doing right now? Or wanna hear about the sweet shot I nailed playing beer-pong one time cuz that like never happens for me"?! (It was college ok? I am not saying it was right). Now, I am not writing this to make others feel guilty for saying something to me. I understand that these statements come from a good place and people were happy for me. This actually at times served as a segue of people sharing with me their own journeys and even struggles, which I was humbled by. I always feel honored and humbled when someone shares something with me that they may not always display publicly. Just know, dear reader, whatever you have to bring to the table, I am not afraid of it. Thanks for not being afraid of my stuff with me too. No one has any right to judge someone else because we all got stuff and we all have stories, baby! Here comes the shame part for me. Another disclaimer, I fully own and realize that some of this is my stuff that I continue to work through. When approached about my weight loss, instead of feeling happy or accomplished, I felt ashamed. I felt bad that this was the first thing people noticed about me when seeing me. The “not enough” monster moved in next door and his dog took a massive poo on my front lawn. Guess who has to clean that one up? Let me tell ya some of the turds that I had pick up in my brain; “I wonder what people thought about me before”, “I bet that’s why he left me”, “I wonder how I looked in my clothing before”. I was haunting myself with “What if’s” and “I wonder’s”. This sucks. And this is not the first time I have played this tortuous game with myself. Once an insecure thought is triggered, it can be easy to fall into this emotional, mind-boggling bear trap. For awhile in our culture, one of the nicest compliments you could give to a woman was “Oh, you lost weight”! A lot of the people who asked me about my weight loss were from a different generation than myself, so they truly were trying to give me a compliment. Some people may like this, but for me personally, I would prefer this to be addressed in a different way or even not at all because I hope others choose to see more than my appearance. And the funny thing is, my close friends did not say a thing. Maybe they noticed and maybe they did not. Bottom line is my friends love me no matter what, support me in good times and bad, and encourage me to go for it! Whatever it is! (Thank you from the bottom of my heart and you know who you are 😊). I have literally heard people talk about weight my whole life, it really has been exhausting. Now, one could say “Liv, don’t be so sensitive”. However, I could say “Sure, but maybe you should put a little more thought and compassion into what you say before you say it or ask because you don’t know someone’s history, journey they are on, or even a battle they are fighting”. Not only should you put yourself if someone else’s shoes, you should run around the block in them a few times. Just something to think about. We still live in a world where there is a lot of speaking before thinking or listening for that matter. Growing up, I had a lot of examples of strong, kind, powerful, compassionate, beautiful inside and out women, however, I did not know a woman who loved her body or was not self-conscious about their body in some way. This always made me feel sad because I love these women. This is part of the reason I love Wonder Woman so much. Her character was designed to represent all women. When I saw her on the cover of one of the New 52 DC comics, I thought she was gorgeous. She had big ol’ thighs, big ol’ red boots’, and she did not give a flying American flag what you thought about her! What must that be like?! I saw a glimpse of a body that resembled mine in some ways and I felt hope that I could been seen, strong, respected, and loved for exactly who I am. And that starts with loving me first. People lose or gain for what several different reasons. It could be medical, personal, someone could be training for an athletic event or just want to work on their health overall. The bottom line is you might approach me about my weight loss differently if you knew that I considered buying SlimFast shakes and hiding them from my parents in high school. Or that I thought about getting liposuction when I was 17 because I hated my thighs and the way I looked so much. Maybe you would approach someone’s weight loss or gain differently if you knew he or she struggles with an eating disorder. Maybe you would approach someone’s weight loss differently if you knew they were just starting a new medication or maybe they have experienced a loss and/or are dealing with high amounts of stress or is depressed. Weight loss does NOT equal automatic happiness. “Health isn’t just what you are eating, it’s what you are thinking and what you are saying”. It is not about fitting into a certain size or certain number on the scale. Let me say this more time, “Health isn’t just what you are eating, it’s what you are thinking and what you are saying”. It can be difficult to put yourself first, especially if you are person who is an empath by nature, a parent, or someone who takes care of others in their job or in life in general. In the words of the great Maya Angelou, “When you know better, you do better”. Get to know yourself. Both mental and physical health are important. Approach everything and everyone with unconditional love, including yourself. It’s ok to eat the cookie or drink a beer. Do what makes you happy. Support each other. Be seen being exactly you. That is the secret and that is not a secret that we should be keeping from ourselves. Be a person who knows better, so we all can do better. Please feel free to leave me a comment or if you would like to discuss something further, message me. Thanks for reading! Love and Light, Liv This is the most difficult piece I have ever written for my blog. I have been dragging my feet because I was scared to write this. Scared of what it would bring up for me, scared for what other people may think, and scared what this may bring up for them. And with those reasons stated and reflecting on them more, I realized, it was time to write this beast.
Grief. I hate it. Period. Missing someone has got to be one of, if not, the worst feeling in the world. One could be grieving because a loved one has passed, loss of a job, a break up, graduating, moving, etc. Grief is not just about death. Grief is about the feelings and process of loss. I have never been the biggest fan of the word “grief”. The word seems too nice and soft for what the feelings of loss all entail. The word grief to me is like you walk into this cute, little bakery and you tell the baker you are feeling terribly sad and down and would like a treat to help make you feel better. The baker suddenly says “Oh, our special today is our freshly baked cupcakes made with grief”. Grief is the new Vegan or Crossfit. Everybody is doing it in some way, some just talk about it more than others. Anyway, the baker hands you this nice, perfectly-sized cupcake with a perfect swirl of pink frosting on top with sprinkles (you know, for flair). You take the cupcake and think “Ok, I feel anywhere on the spectrum of ok, to little yucky to horrible at all different times, but grief has to go away at some point, right? I am eating this cupcake”. You take a bite of the adorably-crafted “grief” cupcake with its perfect pink frosting and you realize, it’s a bran muffin. The cupcake is a friggin’ bran muffin. And you are pretty sure that you are going to spend the rest of your life biting into what you think are perfectly good cupcakes, but they are ALL BRAN MUFFINS. Please excuse my comedic approach if it is not your cup of tea, but I had to think of something so out there to shed a little light on this grim topic for my own sake. I hate talking about loss and grief, and I talk about feelings all the time at my job and when deep conversation arises with friends or family. But when it comes to loss, I tend to hide out at the grief bakery, alone, biting into pseudo-cupcake bran muffins. This post was titled “Grief Monster” for a reason. Referring to grief as a monster is the best way I can describe it. What do you think of when you hear the word monster? You may think of a creature that is ugly, frightening, it is found in places people do not want to go, like dark closets and cages. My personal experiences with grief have been all over the board and have happened at different times in my life. From my personal journey, reading some research, and hearing others experiences with grief, these two things stick out the most for me. 1. There is no grief checklist of here is what you feel for first and it will be for this long and then you will feel this. Nope. There is not timeline or specific sequence of feelings. You could be doing great, then suddenly, three years later, you hear that song, or smell that smell, a special date or anniversary comes up and boom. Just like that. You get T-boned by the semi-truck of feels. And whatever you feel in that moment is truly ok and valid. You might cry, or you might not. Your body will do what it needs to do. The main take-away from this is, trust your process, go through your process (counselors say it all the time and we do because it. Is. TRUE.), and support others through their process. No matter how it looks or is. This may mean you have to set some boundaries and be open with your feelings and experiencing new ones. This is scary as all get out, but man, do you grow! 2. To put it bluntly, you gotta get in the cage with the monster and make it your camp, your turf. Instead of running from the bulls, walk side by side with them. From my own experiences, the more I tried to lock grief away and simply throw away the key with an “I’m ok” or shame myself by thinking “why am I not over this” or “why do I still feel this way”? the worse it is. I realized in my grief process, I have put band aids over bullet holes, hoping they would close. They didn’t. I do not necessarily believe in closure. However, I do believe that sometimes things live in your life differently than maybe they once were. For example, when my friend, Jarod, passed away 3 years ago, I will admit, I would come home from work or class and lay on my couch. I would cry on and off. I have never felt that numb and shocked in my life. This went on for about a solid week. As time went on and I kept going through my process (along with support from amazing family and friends), I got off my couch and things got better. Now, when I think about Jarod, I picture him sitting next me in my car, smiling, and sometimes I cry a little and sometimes I don’t. I think of all the magic that was our friendship and all the good times with all our friends. He lives on in my life, just in a different way now. We live in a go-go, busy-busy, instant gratification world. We want it now and if there is a bump in the road we want to get over it fast. I feel that this do more, be busy, get over it mentality is what is slowing us down and making us crappy, less connected humans. When feeling trapped in the grief monster’s cage, that is when it is time to slow down, get re-centered and remember the key to the monster’s cage is always in your pocket. You can come and go as you please. To all those out their grappling with their own grief monsters, big or small, you are not alone. The key is in your pocket. Own your truth and story. Do you and don’t be afraid to use it. And if you are afraid to use it, find a buddy, reach out to a church community, find a counselor, talk to your doctor, talk to a family, friend, neighbor, whoever. Reach out. If we are going to put as much life into our living, we gotta be brave together. I honestly do not know how to start this one, so this is how I will start. If you are looking for a gripping, catchy introduction, you will not find that here today. As the summer winds down, I feel the slight twinge of the blues (and not the good, jazzy kind). Don’t get me wrong, I love the fall, but this summer was special for me and I am finding it difficult to say farewell. This summer I dug deep, y’all. Coming into summer, I was feeling depleted and down-right lost. So, thus began the summer of Olivia. I used this summer to catapult myself back into my own orbit. I needed to look back into my own heart again and really get to know and love what is in there.
Nothing in my life is shallow and for that, I am grateful. Authenticity is the bold fabric I clothe myself in and I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve, I wear no sleeves with my heart tattooed on my right deltoid, proudly displayed with an arrow through it stating “yours”. Sensitivity can get a bad rap, but that is only because some people are afraid to go there. When we go to the places we do not want to go and do what scares us, this is when we learn, grow, heal, and get better. And as the great Maya Angelou said, “When you know better, you do better”. Sensitivity and compassion have always been how I connected with the world and other people. And what I realized about this is, it works. It is the gift of a lifetime to truly connect with people and get to know all that is around you. This summer, I jumped back into things I had put on the back burner. I enjoyed the sunshine and going to the lake. I spent time with my friends and family. The gym is now a safe place for me and I like to go. I picked up my tennis racket again (rusty does not even begin to cover it, but I had fun playing doubles with my Dad and it sure made me appreciate my collegiate career a lot more). Zumba, yoga, and singing are both back in my life and here to stay! It feels good to sing, dance, and practice. I have been doing the things that make me happy and heart full. This summer has truly been the breath of fresh air I needed. While in one of my Bodyflow classes (yoga and strength class), while breathing and posing, a conversation I had with a student popped into my head. We talked about thinking differently and how this student felt like they were not understood by other kids. This student is very bright, creative, inquisitive, and has some deeply profound thoughts for a 10-year-old. We discussed more about how we need people to think outside of the box so new things can be invented and different problems can be solved. The world is full of different people who have different life experiences! We have got to get creative here to help each other! Just then, this student said one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard someone say. They said, “Miss Wetzel, do you know what a box cutter is”? I replied “Yes, I do”. The student continued saying “Well, maybe I am like a box cutter. I can help people cut out of their boxes and maybe see things differently”. This statement from a 10-year-old absolutely took my breath away. I realized in that moment staying “in the box” is what separates us, closes us off from the world and keeps us from doing great things. Fast forward back to being in my Bodyflow class, in the middle of yoga back-bend, sweating from the own heat my body was creating, I thought about this conversation I had with this student and thought about how many times I have placed myself or how others have placed me in the box. This box’s cardboard walls are made up of expectation, stereotypes, misconceptions, and shame. I thought about how harsh I have been on myself throughout the year. I have shamed myself for some pretty silly reasons like I am still single and I am embarrassed I still drive a crappy car. As a school counselor, I help people get out of the box all the time, so why can’t I get out of my own sometimes? This summer I got the box cutter back out and, I have surrounded myself with people who are box cutters, who are honest, compassionate, and supportive. Moving into fall, and carrying the powerful advice of a 10-year-old, here is staying out of the box. And if it so happens, one finds themselves back in the box, it is time to find our box-cutting spirit again and reach out to the special people in our lives who help us cut down those fake walls. It will always be time to cut past that cheap layer of cardboard and open back up joy and what makes you who you are. Who are you? Certainly, someone too beautiful and original to be contained in box. I have been struggling to write a blog post, but tonight, this is exactly what I want to write about and share.
I do not 100% remember where I exactly heard this phrase before, but I believe this powerful tag line came out of an all-male acapella group that one of my best friends is a part of known as the Yale Spizzwinks(?). (Special shout out to Spizzwinks(?) ! Their words are “We ride. For ride we must”. Also, “Never not go”. These simple, but impactful phrases flooded my mind and soul today as reflected on my summer of 2017 so far. After some events that happened earlier in the year, I made a conscious decision to really take this summer for myself. I want to go into fall and frankly, the rest of my life the strongest I have ever been (mind, body, and soul) so I can be as present as possible with people and the world around me. I was being harsh on myself and was allowing shame to hold me prisoner. Since I was little, I have always been a sensitive, wonder-filled, deep, loving little human of the world. As I got older, there were times when this was not always accepted and my ability to feel and be empathetic seemed more like a curse than a gift. My journey through graduate school made me realize this is a gift (even though sometimes it still is pain in the butt to feel the feels and feel others feels, what the…I mean, really, really?!). This is where “Never not go” comes into play. Big time. I spent a great sum of my earlier years thinking something was wrong with me, but the bottom line is, we as human beings lack nothing. There is nothing wrong, everything we need is already inside. This summer, I have dug back deep into the artsy things I love like music and film. I have spent time with my amazing friends and family creating more memories and sharing both laughs and tears. The gym, a place I once feared, is becoming more and more of sanctuary each time I go. Inside of hating my body, I love feeling how each muscle moves and am inspired by other people who give it their all when they are there. Kind Heart, Fierce Mind, Brave Spirit. This is how I want to live my life. “Never not go”. Send the text message, be in the pictures no matter how you look, give big hugs, learn something new, go towards your fears, hold hands, stick together, sing to the songs you love, questions things, challenge yourself, let yourself be moved, use your gifts to help and inspire others, go on both big and small adventures, because guess what? They are all big adventures. Today, I reflected on specific moments that have happened to me so far in my life like looking at snapshots found in an old shoe box. The time I got to hold my grandpa’s hand during some of his final days. The time I got to hug one of my best friend’s goodbye after a fun night out at our favorite bar and saying, “Love you, see you soon” even though we both did not know at the time that would be the last time we saw each other. Laughing till it hurt with college roomates and friends. Family nights with my parents and brother. Hearing that first round of applause being on stage during a show. Feeling my Master’s hood hit my shoulders. First kisses and butterflys. Watching the people I love most support each other and accomplish things. Hugs. How many wonderful, amazing, different people I have gotten to embrace physically and embrace all their beauty as a person who becomes a friend. Never not go. Go. We are here for such a short while, lets write one hell of a story, shall we? O Captain! My Captain
Walt Whitman O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won, The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting, While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring; But O heart! heart! heart! O the bleeding drops of red, Where on the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells; Rise up—for you the flag is flung—for you the bugle trills, For you bouquets and ribbon’d wreaths—for you the shores a-crowding, For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning; Here Captain! dear father! This arm beneath your head! It is some dream that on the deck, You’ve fallen cold and dead. My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still, My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will, The ship is anchor’d safe and sound, its voyage closed and done, From fearful trip the victor ship comes in with object won; Exult O shores, and ring O bells! But I with mournful tread, Walk the deck my Captain lies, Fallen cold and dead. The above piece is a poem by Walt Whitman. Also, from this piece came a most memorable and heartwarming scene from the 1989 film Dead Poets Society. I have always been a Whitman fan and since this blog is on the subject of anchoring, I felt the need to reflect on this famous poem again. The concept of anchoring came to me in a super cool, enlightening way that I surely did not expect. I started to dig deep into this concept in the summer of 2016 during my final graduate class, which centered around AODA (Alcohol and Other Drug Abuse) counseling and additions. During this time I was searching for my first ever school counseling job. I was scared and I knew change was coming, and it was coming fast. With everything up in the air, I felt the farthest thing from being grounded or anchored. However, I grasped the great importance of anchoring when the true definition of the concept was explained to me by my younger brother. My brother was talking about his group of friends during their middle school years. Middle school is where constant change and awkwardness reign. He explained so eloquently that in a time like middle school where things were constantly changing, he always those 4 guys who sat at the same table in 7th grade homeroom. He said, “We were each other’s anchors, when everything was changing around us, that table in homeroom never changed. It was constant and we all needed that". This statement hit me like a ton of bricks. To be someone’s anchor is to be the support for that person as they take on whatever it is they are taking on or going through at the moment. Similar to an anchor that holds steadfast to its ship as they ride out choppy waves. It is truly an honor to be someone’s anchor. People do not always let each other into those intimate, sometimes dark places, so if we do receive the opportunity to be an anchor, it is important to respect that. However, it also extremely important that we recognize that we need to allow other people to anchor for us. If we are constantly always being the anchor for others, we eventually become a weathered, worn out anchor that can no longer be as present and as powerful as it once. We stifle our own growth, which in turn, does not help others and us live fully. Here is another anchoring example that is less nautical, but still has to do with water. Picture an Olympic swimming medley relay team. Usually, a medley relay team is composed of 4 swimmers. The final swimmer to enter the water is referred to as the anchor. The reason why is because this person keeps the team grounded and motivated while another swimmer is the water. Also, most importantly, this person is the one haulin’ ass at the end to finish the race. Right off the bat or in this case, the block, one may think the obvious choice would be to have the best, fastest swimmer be anchor. Michael Phelps should always swim anchor, but he does not. If Michael Phelps swam anchor in every relay race, he would burn out and not have enough stamina to compete in his own individual races and also do well in other relays. Michael Phelps would not be the champion swimmer he is today without teammates to both cheer him on and also to challenge him. It all boils down to this. If you want to be an anchor for someone, you have to let someone anchor for you. It is OK to take a step back, breathe, dig deeper into the things you love, and take care of that beautiful soul. Otherwise, the human alone cannot do it by themselves. What I have learned from anchoring is you have to take care of that human spirit and that soul. By doing this, we not only become the best anchors, but we can also be the strong, gusty winds that fill both our own ships sails and also the sails others. Here is to always becoming the mighty vessel that takes on all of life’s adventures. “O Captain! my Captain! our fearful trip is done, The ship has weather’d every rack, the prize we sought is won,” I stand with you, my fellow Captains. Stay steadfast. This past weekend I got to celebrate so much. Some bittersweet endings, but some amazing new beginnings. I went to the University of Wisconsin-Oshkosh Professional Counseling Program hooding ceremony. As a graduate of the program last year, I vividly remember the moment my Master's hood hit my shoulders. I truly cannot believe that was a year ago already. It was powerful to watch from my new seat as an alumni with close my first school counselor year complete. Once again, I felt inspired by my friends words and there accomplishments. My graduate program changed my life. It has truly been an honor to work and grow in the UWO program with the cohort ahead of me, my own cohort, and this years graduating cohort.
Also, I got to watch my baby brother graduate from college. As his sister and his friend, I am beyond proud of him. I know he will continue to spread his wings and soar. I wear a lot of different hats and serve in a variety of roles, but being a big sister is truly the privilege of a lifetime. It is truly something continue to learn and be inspired from. Way to go, Lukey! So proud of you, dude! Always remember, you got a friend in me. 2017 has proved to be a year of some friendly and not so friendly challenges for both myself and my family. I have been processing a lot of emotion and as much as I believe in "feelin' the feels", processing events and the emotions attached to them can really be a complete pain in the ass. Recently, I found myself feeling lost and fearing the unknown. However, I am also a believer that signs are given to you in different ways when you need them most. While going through some things in my parents basement, I found one of my first assignments from grad program. The class was asked to write a poem called "I Am From". This assignment gave everyone the opportunity to share pieces of themselves that they felt were important on life's journey thus far. Here is the kicker. We also had to read our poems aloud to the class. Cue the cold slap of vulnerability hitting me in the face. I remember sitting on the couch in 2013 writing my poem. It actually became a helpful tool that I could use to get grounded and reflect. When myself and my classmates shared our poems, something that initially was vulnerable and scary became a significant tool that connected us more, helped us grow, and opened up the door for inspiration and compassion. After stumbling across my poem in the basement, I re-read it and once again, felt that grounded feeling. I needed to hear my friends words and also revisit my own. Thanks universe for bringing this powerful tool back to me. My dear reader, I encourage you to dig deep and reflect where you are from. Your story is important and valuable. Continue to be the fierce protagonist you are on your own life's journey. Victories, celebrations, and even the dark times. I am certain that it surely inspires others as well. I Am From Olivia Wetzel I am from a place the world may never know until someday. I am from the spunky streets of Sicily and also the paved roads of Germany. I am from Ken and Dolly and Bob and Mary. Grandparents who have always me simply because I am the product of their original gift. I am from Dave who in a second became my biggest fan since I first came wrapped in pink. I am from Patti who has shown me the world by first giving me life and unconditional love. I am truly from her. I am from the land of Pink Power Rangers, taking strolls down Sesame Street, singing I love you, you love me. I am from a creative world where couches were made of hot lava and "underwear girl" strikes again! I am from Liv and Luke. Siblings who are always in it together. I am from family time, holiday parties, and gatherings centered around Green Bay Packer football. I am from preschool songs, primary colors, and livin' day to day out of the dress up box. I am from the rainbow rug and Mass on Fridays. I am from the same group of 24 kids who played on the snow pile in winter. I am from stomach aches, cursive letters, mixed-up multiplication tables, and IEPs. I am from special stickers on desks, sitting next to the teacher, and tear stained spelling tests. I am from Lisa Frank folders stating the words "I Hate Me". I am from a new path paved by some brave people for me. I am from the bottom of a ladder with broken rungs leading to self-esteem. I am from resource rooms and extra time on tests. I am from the detective school of finding my strengths. I am from tennis skirts and a two-handed forehand. I am from a raised platform of a stage, putting music and stories into the atmosphere, and bravos. I am from dancing in my living room, singing into the vacuum cleaner attachment and then sharing these songs along with my friends. I am from the same hooligans who have always been hooligans with me and I love them forever. I am from the colors of blue and white and a town represented by baby ducks. I am from an impossible dream come true. I am from another small town universe which became my new school and I turned red. I am from so many inside jokes, giggles, running around and workin' hard times. I am from the land of college kids. I am from the moments of sheer wonder and butterflies when meeting new people, especially a new boy. I am still from imagining and day dreaming. I am from laughin' till it hurts. I am from the strong foundation of love, loyalty, and friendship. I am from getting the black book with gold writing that I was never supposed to get. I am from not sure to taking my power back. I am from Wonder Woman and Aretha Franklin. I am from The Backstreet Boys to Bono. I am redefining the definition of the girl next door and making her sweet, but also a badass in her own way, so she thinks. I am from the luckiest of places and simple moments on earth. I am from still places of worry, but it gets better. I am from love and that is what fills my ships sails. I am from places I am not sure of, but will to be once I arrive. I am from the bold fabric of passion that I dress myself in with my heart on my sleeve. I am from a place the world may never know until someday. This particular post has been lingering somewhere in the back of my brain for quite some time and now here it is! First, I wear my nerd badge proudly. Harry Potter, Star Wars, DC and Marvel comics changed my life for the better. Some out there may view them as children's stories or something that someone simply made up to sell comics, books, or movies. Others may see a movie poster and think "oh, here comes another superhero movie, that looks cool". However, for the nerds out there who had their noses in books or their ear-buds in, we were never blessed with fickle magic of "cool". We were the kids who usually floated in the teenage purgatory known simply as the middle (Check out the Jimmy Eat World song "The Middle" for further explanation). Let's dig a little deeper, shall we? This is my personal expedition into nerddom. When I was little, my Dad had the original Adam West Batman on VHS. I remember watching and loving all the different characters. I also remember taking the VHS out of the VCR and putting into the tape re-winder that looked like a race car (the hood popped up to put the tape in) hoping the tape would spin backward faster so I could watch it again. My Mom even drew a little bat on the outside of tape so I always knew which one it was. That year she also made me a Batgirl costume for Halloween! This love for all things super grew as I grew up. I have fond memories of watching cartoons of The Adventures of Batman and Robin and The X-Men.
Now, meet a little 3rd grade Olivia. In the 3rd Grade, I was diagnosed with 2 learning disabilities and suddenly my school struggles came to light. Cue The Harry Potter series introduction in the United States. I suddenly found myself immersed in a story of a band of 3 friends who were lovable misfits that worked together to save their school and eventually, their world. I was introduced to the character Hermonie Granger, a bookish and clever young girl with brown wavy hair who worked side by side with the boys, but was also a true leader in her own right. Of course, I was also introduced to "the boy who lived" as well and how he had to walk through life with a lighting bolt on his forehead and a particularly large cross to bare (defeating Voldemort). My LD label was the lighting bolt scar on my forehead and I viewed Harry Potter not only as a hero, but also as friend who understood me. I saw myself in a book for the first time and when I had horrible days at school, I could always come home and escape to Hogwarts. Trust me, I would have much rather fought a giant snake in The Chamber of Secrets than take a math test and sit next to the teacher while doing so. Along with the Harry Potter days, also came the Star Wars days. I remember vividly watching Return of the Jedi and seeing a woman dressed in white with hair that resembled cinnamon buns be a total take charge, game changer badass. I am speaking of General Organa aka Princess Leia. Along with her brother Luke Skywalker, her snarky lover and Rebel Captain, Hon Solo, and one cannot forget about the loyal, furry friend, Chewbacca. I watched another band of misfit heroes save their galaxy. I remember going to see The Phantom Menace in theaters when THX sound was becoming more and more popular and the sound of pod racing literally had my sucked to my seat. Also, a double edged lightsaber blew my freakin' little mind. I was hooked. I am one with the force, the force is with me. Fast forward to my college years, I took a few history, psychology, and women's studies classes and tripped back into the DC universe. I started to scour the bookshelves in Lane Library at Ripon College wanting to know more about the thoughts and feelings of the heroes I grew up with. (I could write another post on Watchmen and Alan Moore, but that is a different day) I always deeply admired the darkness of Batman and how he took his greatest fear and made it his strength. However, there was especially one hero I wanted to know more about, her name is Diana Prince, better known as Wonder Woman. In my psychology of the media course, I did a project measuring the amount of violence in comic books. I specifically selected Superman and Wonder Woman comics to compare. I remember walking into the shop and looking at the cover art. I saw a woman with long, dark hair, a golden lasso on the side of her wide hips, thick thighs, and a pair of big red boots. She stood for truth, justice, honesty, loyalty, and compassion. I saw a fearless, thick, strong woman. I saw myself or at least, wanted to see myself. Learning more about the legacy and rich history of Wonder Woman as an American-Female icon and also the only female member of the Justice League, showed me just how important representation is. I wish I would have grown up with her more, but I discovered her when I needed her most. I certainly want my someday-daughter and/or son to grow up with that image and that starts with me being the strong, compassionate woman in their lives. And also, making sure they have some good comics to start out with. Jumping into the Marvel universe, I love concept of the X-men. Professor Charles Xavier holds a dear place in my nerdy heart. He saw the power and the true people behind the label "mutant". His character embodies what a profound leader is. Professor Charles Xavier taught me a crucial lesson, even though he is not a "real-life" teacher. It is not about what you cannot do well or what makes you different, it is your gifts, talents, and maybe those are the very same things that make you different! But, it is how you use them to better the world around you and for others that make you who you are. That is what makes you an X-Men. It is not about what you cannot do, it is what do you do better than everyone else? You are your own hero as well as for others, you just have to choose to be. I could go on so much more, but my dear reader, if you made it this far, you have truly fought valiantly to get to this paragraph and I will not drag on. If you would like to discuss more, I am always open for a cup of coffee or a cold brew to divulge more. The bottom line is, we are drawn to the stories, the films, the books, the comics, the music we like because we see pieces of our own life's puzzle within them. We see bits of ourselves and as we read or watch, we are given hope, laughs, tears, and inspiration in return. I truly look forward to the day when I sit down with my someday son and/daughter and crack open a book where the first chapter is "The Boy Who Lived" or I turn on the screen and the words that flash across are "A Long Time Ago, In a Galaxy Far, Far, Away". I hope they see a budding hero within themselves and I hope you do too. Hello out there! I apologize for my absence for awhile! My life seems to be packed with changes recently and I have been surfing through those changes as best I can. Some of these changes have been good and some have certainly presented themselves as challenging. This leads to my blog today. Originally, I was hoping to have my next blog be on the topic of anger, but there still is some more research I would like to do before publishing. So, hang on if you really want to talk about anger! What actually brings this post this evening is the spirit moved me to write tonight and I have been reflecting a lot on a conversation I recently had with a good friend about hope.
I openly admit, I sometimes grapple and struggle with hope. As much as I am a happy, smiley, spread the love and laughs person, I can truly be stuck in the trenches where the glass is always half empty. I work my ass off and things still don't get better, I put my love out there only to have it denied or not be enough. This hurts. Period. For anyone. And the last thing I want to do is talk about the silver lining because frankly, I am mad. Then for being mad and not hopeful, I guilt myself. This process, I realized, does not lead to hope, healing, or happiness, or even "okayness". This process leads straight to shame. Thankfully, shame and I do not have quite the intimate relationship we used to have. Shame still visits sometimes, but his stay is not long anymore. I have gotten a lot better at preparing my head and my heart when shame comes knockin' at my door. In reflecting on this process, this is what I have come to realize. Hope is going to look different for people. Hope for me, is not going to be magical fairy dust that sits in a jar and I can go open the jar and oooo! sparkly hope fills the air! I have seen the light! It will get better! Maybe the fairy dust jar is how someone else may look at hope and it inspires them and fills them up. Awesome! I hope it does. My version of hope is allowing myself to feel the anger, the disappointment, the hurt, and each day, beginning to see that glimmer of hope and do things. Do things that have either worked in the past or things that I have never done before. Hope for me is going to be reminding myself to breathe. Hope for me is going to be reminding myself that I am worthy of love no matter what. Hope for me is grounding. Hope for me is choosing to bloom where I am planted, no matter what that process looks like. What I have learned about hope this week, is that hope is not something that just happens. It is an active process. If you need someone to share your hope process with, you know how how to contact me. Thank you so much for allowing me to share mine. Here is to hope, love, and light. Olivia I thought I would know how to start this, but I still don't. I have been toying around with starting a blog for quite some time and for some reason, in this particular time and this particular space, I finally took the plunge. This blog is here for 2 reasons. One, it serves as a running record of the fun, inspiring, educational, enlightening, and down right cute stuff I experience working with students, other educators, and people. From being a daycare teacher to a school counselor, I have heard and seen things that have made me laugh, cry, gasp, and most importantly, they have changed my life. I want to share this because I want to and hope it helps, in some small way. Maybe, if you are reading this, you are a parent looking for some resources, maybe, you are another educator looking for a story you can relate too. Or maybe you are a person in the world who is lookin' for a little extra light in your day. Bottom line is, no matter who you are, I hope this little blog can maybe be that little nugget of light for you.
Reason number 2, is I want to do this. I am currently 25 and I have a lot of living ahead of me, so why not start a blog? I want to share the things and the people that inspire. The nerdy stuff I love. There is going to be a lot of sharing on this blog. Sharing of stories, experiences, research, movies, music, books etc. Maybe you will find something you like or if not, that is cool too! This blog is a place of love and light. So, here we go! I hope to post something more interesting soon other than just an intro. But a step is step and a start is a start! This post is appropriatly called Jarod. In loving honnor and remembrance of my dear friend Jarod VonRuden. Jarod would tell me to do it. To start it. To go for it. Jarod's adventures looked a hellava (yes that is now a word) lot different than mine and involved planes, salsa dancing, and mountains. However, among the many things my friendship with Jarod taught me, this little/big lesson I learned has been crucial. It's ok that your adventures look different. Go on them. Maybe your adventure is starting a blog, going for a walk in the park, going to a diffrent country, doing charity work, singing in bars, coaching, and/or roaming the library for a good book. Go on your adventure. Whatever it is, being whoever you are. Put it back into the world. Here we go, Jarod, here we go. |
AuthorMy name is Olivia. I am woman, daughter, sister, friend, and counselor. I just want to put love in the world. Archives
October 2018
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