Validate me!!!

I have 2 children, 10 siblings, A husband, And countless friends and family members (it's because of that whole 10 siblings thing)

I say all this, not to brag, but to give you a picture of my background.

I interact with people a lot, on facebook, and in real life. All different kinds of people, from a variety of places, ages, and social backgrounds. And I've noticed a key trend with all these individuals, we're all looking for one thing.

Validation.

Proof that we matter to someone, anyone. We just want to belong, to fit in, to feel wanted, needed, and loved.

And so we post pictures of ourselves, our children. We continually change our status updates to something witty and impressive. Anything that will make people stop and pay attention. We all want to be 'liked' and commented on. It makes us feel important, needed, validated. Young teenagers put up pictures/video's and literally beg people to say that they are pretty or cool.

It's as if we carry a little soapbox into the street, plop it down, and scream at the people passing by "Validate me! Tell me I am OK! Tell me I am pretty! Talented! Smart! Validate me!"

Our ego's, self identity and self esteem are so fragile. It doesn't take much to break them. And the more arrogant a person is, the more fragile they are. We are constantly bombarded by media and imagery that shows us everything we aren't. And why we aren't thin enough, pretty enough, muscular enough, smart enough, or talented enough.

And so the infamous facebook "likes" and comments mean the world to us. Our friends compliments mean the world to us. Our partner's have to constantly affirm us. Because if we don't get that constant stamp of approval, our fragile self esteem shatters.

Here's the secret though. All of the outside validation (meaning any kind of approval in anyway from persons another than yourself) doesn't really mean a thing. It's empty. Fake. And only allows you to build a sham of self confidence.

In order to really feel validated, you have to validate yourself.

You have to feel that you are OK, pretty, smart, and talented. All on your own.

Because if you don't you constantly crave outside validation, and when you don't get it, you are thrown into the depths of depression. It's an endless and exhausting cycle.

As pointless as immortals fighting an endless war. They win a battle, they lose one, they die, regenerate, and fight more. Endless, exhausting, pointless. The epitome of a pointless and wasted existence.

It's time to start really living. Stop the endlessly pointless cycle. Stop screaming at the passing tide of people.

Validate yourself!

Understanding Love

The following post is something I wrote and entered in a magizine contest. The subject of the article was 'When did you first understand what love is?'


When I first read through the information for this contest, I dismissed it as a thoroughly uninteresting topic, but I couldn't stop thinking about it. I combed through my memories for ones that would define and illustrate the concept of love. I found that understanding love requires more effort than simply reading a dictionary. Understanding love requires personal experience. I found myself cataloging the stories of my life. Some of them made me smile, others I had hoped to forget, but as painful as some may be, all of them have helped form my definition of love.

Love is not the exhilaration of a first crush.
I am 12 and more than a bit gawky. On Friday I am going to 'Youth Skate Night' at the roller rink with my siblings. The boy I like will be there. I remember buying new earrings, a new shirt, and a necklace for the event. I spent hours getting ready, repeatedly brushed my hair, applied chap stick and perfume. I was desperately hoping that he would ask me to skate the couple's skate with him. I ended up skating with my best friend, Hannah. The boy I liked asked my sister instead of me. I remember quietly crying myself to sleep that night so my sister's couldn’t hear.

Love is not your first kiss.
I'm 12, the boy I'm still crushing on is spending the night with my brother. My sisters and I have snuck into our brother's bedroom and are playing a game of 'truth or dare' My sister has dared him to kiss me. He comes close to my face and I burst out laughing. "Will you stop laughing so I can kiss you?!?" He says.

Love is not sex.
It is one week before I turn 17. I've just been excused from my psychology class because I burst into hysterical tears. My friend is excused along with me, I sink onto the cold tile floor, I collapse against the wall and sob out my confession to her. I've lost my virginity and I'm terrified.

Love is not an escape plan.
I am 19. I am preparing to elope. I remember looking at my reflection in the mirror and searching my face for some sort of emotion. I see nothing. I am completely numb. "Maybe I shouldn't do this" I think.

Love is not faithless.
I am 21. My husband and I have just had an explosive fight. He's admitted to kissing another woman. He's left a hole in the wall. I'm crying. What did I get myself into?

Love does not vanish.
I am 28, I hear the words that you never want to hear from your spouse "I don't love you. I just can't do this anymore." We decide to file for divorce. I am oddly elated. I have been trying to hang on for so long. It's a relief to know that we will end our farce of a marriage.

Love is understanding the heart wrenching pain of loss.
I am 10 years old, I sit on a couch at a funeral parlor holding the corpse of my dead infant brother, I am sobbing. He was born 12 days earlier but had a chromosome defect and other medical problems. He didn't live past his first month.

Love is in the ability to empathize and give comfort.
I am 11, "April? You have a phone call, it's Maggie" I hear my mom's voice shout up the stairs. I come running."Maggie? Hi! How was Disneyland? What's wrong? Are you crying?".  Maggie explains that while on a court ordered vacation with her dad (her parents are newly divorced), her dad has taken her brother, hopped on a plane to Honduras and left her. Alone. In the Miami airport.  Leaving her, to tell her mother that her brother is not coming home. I remember feeling my heart break for my friend.

Love is a gift given.
I am 5, I sit at the top of the stairs with my 2 sister's we are peeking down watching our parents put presents under the tree and fill our stockings. "We're getting Barbie's for Christmas!" We squeal as we sneak back to our beds.

I am 7, I sit watching my mom painstakingly decorate my birthday cake. It's a chocolate cake with green icing. My mom is drawing a gingerbread man and gingerbread girl on it. I am so excited I can't wait to show it to my dad, as he walks in the door I exclaim "Daddy! Come look at my cake. It's beautiful!" I proceed to grab it off the counter and walk it over to my dad. I overbalanced and dropped the cake. I burst into tears my mom hugs me and tells me not to worry "because it will still taste great."

Love is the anticipation of experiencing new life.
I am 26,  I'm in the grocery store. I walk by the tampon aisle and think "Hmm, I don't think I've bought those in awhile. In fact, when WAS my last period?" So, I purchase a pregnancy test. I'm 8 weeks pregnant.

I am 27, I lie on an operating table wishing that I could see what is going on, but at the same time oddly grateful that I cannot see what is being done to my body. I hear her sneeze and then she starts to cry. My heart melts inside my chest. I am being stitched up.  They are taking her from the operating room, "Wait! Can I see her?" As I gazed down at her tiny face I realized something, love at first sight is not a myth.

Love is the ability to take an incredible risk and put your mended heart back "out there."    
I am 29, I am going to meet a guy that I have been talking to for 6 months. I am nervous, my stomach alternates between flutters and knots. What if I really like him but after seeing me he doesn't like me back? What if everything we feel goes away once we see each other? What if I sleep with him? Am I even still capable of sleeping with anyone?

Love is ability to be awestruck.
I am 30, my voice breaks as I speak into a microphone. Tears fill my eyes. And then I feel the pressure of his hand on mine, and I am able to take a breath, blink away the tears, and finish saying my vows. We are married.

Every time I see my husband's face, I smile. As I sit across the table from him while we play board games, I cannot help but feel a sense of awe that he sits across the table, spending time with me. As I watch him play with my 3 year old daughter, my heart melts. As I watch her run to the door shrieking "Daddy! Daddy! You're home!", a profound sense of gratefulness and joy fills me. He loves me, he loves us. As I sit here, our unborn child shifts around and kicks within my womb. We have created life together. We have created a home together. 

When did I first understand the meaning of love? It's taken me 30 years to realize that I am experiencing love, true love, now, every day, for the first time ever. The road I have taken to get to this point has not been straight. It's been full of winding curves, lofty cliffs, swamps and marshes. And yet; I cannot complain. Without all of the struggles, without all the sludge, I would be unable to truly comprehend how lucky I am. For the first time in my life I wake up happy. Every day.

In 2010, as I was watching the movie 'Captain Corelli's Mandolin', I heard a quote that I have been unable to forget.

          "Love is a temporary madness. It erupts like an earthquake and then subsides. And when it subsides you have to make a decision. You have to work out whether your roots have become so entwined together that it is inconceivable that you should ever part. Because this is what love is. Love is not breathlessness, it is not excitement, it is not the promulgation of promises of eternal passion. That is just being "in love" which any of us can convince ourselves we are. Love itself is what is left over when being in love has burned away, and this is both an art and a fortunate accident. Your mother and I had it, we had roots that grew towards each other underground, and when all the pretty blossoms had fallen from our branches we found that we were one tree and not two."
— Louis de Bernières (Corelli's Mandolin)