Where Do I Fit In

Let’s talk about fitting in.

A phrase I thought would be well left in my past by the time I finished the 8th grade. On the contrary, I am now an adult in all my back-pained and tax-filing glory, still wondering where I fit in.

Going throughout this Monday, I started as we all do with a healthy dose of scrolling in the morning. My Facebook feed is full of people 20 years my senior complaining about why on Earth the halftime show would be someone no one knows. It was the Weeknd.

Switching gears to my Instagram feed, where I feel like I have the most social prowess. The first scroll brings short form videos, reposted from Tik Tok, which is a platform I purposely never downloaded. Partly because I feel like I’m too old at my ripe age of 22 (more on that later), part of it is because I can’t afford to have my screen time go even higher, and partly because every time I see a teenage boy bite his lip and attempt to be seductive, I die a little inside.

The recycled Tik Tok’s vary from dance trends that I am far too self-conscious to attempt to partially scripted skits performed by married couples making fun

of their children.

Scroll a little further and it’s a picture from winter sorority recruitment.

Scroll again, and it’s a new mom’s ‘must haves’ for breastfeeding.

I keep scrolling, hoping to find something with a semblance of relatability. The algorithm seems to think we go straight from decorating our bedroom in our parent’s home to needing tips on how to sleep train your baby. For some people, that might be the truth, but for me it seems to leave a glaring hole in the content world for my particular life situation.

Enough of that. I swipe the apps closed and move on with the morning. Contrary to all the fashion and trendy content I prefer to consume, my day to day is anything but glamorous.

Today I donned blue light glasses, as recommended by 9/10 optometrists for those who sit in front of a computer all day, sensible heels, and a cardigan – because my office gets a bit drafty. In case you need a reminder after that last sentence, I’m 22.

Making the transition from Gen Z-er to working class adult is always a little of a culture shock in the mornings.

Every day starts with the same shuffle between offices, pouring of coffee and checking of mail. Small talk and pleasantries galore as everyone finds out how everyone else’s weekend was and if their drive in was alright. Inevitably, stories about what someone’s clueless husband did, or someone else’s rambunctious toddler got into start to flow. Topics that roll around and I can throw out my best chuckle for but can’t relate to. My apartment is empty, quiet, and gloriously non-sticky. My life is self-centered and doesn’t involve washing a man’s underwear (for another 8 months anyways).

All the anecdotes about parent teacher conferences or questions about who the best pediatrician is go straight over my head.

About once per week, I meet with either a networking group, a young professional board, or a non-profit event committee of some sort. Every single time, I look around the conference room. Seated in varying levels of ergonomic chairs inside slightly different mid century modern office buildings, are the same type of person. Driven, ambitious, motivated. The who’s who of the Springfield Business Journal’s frequent mentions. Those who I’ve never seen outside of a crisply pressed blazer and pearl earrings.

Somehow, these women have accomplished it all during their tenure in the workforce. A brief stint heading a fundraising committee, a feature in the local ’40 Under 40’ article, an extensive rolodex of local connections. I have been sitting in these carbon copied situations for four years now, and each year I hope to finally feel like I’ve earned my spot at the table.

Each year, I feel like someone thought it was ‘bring your child to work day’ and let me tag along at the meeting. Without the same impressive repertoire of connections and experience, it can be daunting to find your voice in those situations. I know I want a spot at the table, but it feels like the seat is just a little too big for little ol’ me.

I usually drive home in silence. My mind feels so loud after nine hours in front of screens wider than I am tall. It takes me every bit of the 20-minute drive home to stop fixating on my to do list for the next day and even decide what I want to eat for dinner. Mid decompression from work,

I’ll pop back on Instagram at a stop light. A meme that only someone who’s spent their formative years on social media would find the slightest bit funny greets me. The contradiction between what I was doing an hour ago versus now gives me a headache.

An hour ago, I was creating hundred thousand-dollar budgets for construction projects. Overseeing an entire subdivision. Running job cost audits for dozens of different homes at a time. Now, I am laughing by myself at a picture of a very smooth burger bun with a caption about its’ skincare routine.

The whiplash in that moment could send me back to the second grade.

One minute I’m hunched over my keyboard, squinting at my second monitor, trying to figure out if the stupid one is me or QuickBooks (it’s generally me), the next I’m tagging my friend in a photo of a baboon and telling them ‘it’s you’.

Somehow, I feel too young and involved in societal trends to be taken seriously at my professional endeavors, yet too old and encumbered by adult realities to really feel youthful.

I feel incompetent when talking to moms who all nod in agreement when talking about how bad strep throat went around the schools this year, when I’d be hard pressed to change a diaper. Less than ten minutes later, I feel outdated and archaic when I see my college friends have a casual lunch during the week, in hoodies and leggings, without checking to make sure they’re back at work on time. If I had a

dollar for every time I’ve shown up to an event and prefaced it with “sorry I look like a grandma, I just came from work”, I could re-design working women’s fashion.

I feel like I’m developmentally stunted when everyone around me has baby fever and is gushing over infant onesies, and I’m still terrified of children. But show me a Tik Tok of a 13-year-old girl dancing to WAP and I’ll go into mom mode and ask, “where are her clothes?!”

I know I can’t be the only one who feels like this. I feel like I blinked after high school and now I’m here with an engagement ring and a degree, but I’m unable to relate to college students or married couples. Everywhere I look, another glowing woman on my Instagram feed is closer to meeting their "sweet baby" and another teenage girl learned another new dance. I feel a little more archaic every time a newer, younger, prettier blonde girl trends on Instagram. At this point, I swear they’re making them in a factory.

I know I’m not the only one who has insecurities ranging from another girl having a wittier caption than me, to someone at my office juggling more responsibilities than me, to a woman making a Pinterest-perfect meal for her husband when the best I can do is grab takeout.

I don’t know if I want to be the trendy Instagrammer, the powerful working woman, or the doting wife and mommy blogger. Or all three. Or neither, and society is just so good at pushing false narratives behind our defenses so stealthily that we start to question if we put them there ourselves.

I try to tie all of my ramblings up with a life lesson and a clever quip and leave it all in a neat little bow.

Today I don’t know that I have a resolution. I have struggled with this on and off since high school. Too social and goofy to fit into my honors classes, too nerdy to fit in with my social circles, etc. As with most things, I’m sure 90% of it is in my head and everyone else is far too consumed with their own identity crises that they never stopped to notice mine.

The hardest part of life for me has always been finding my purpose. It’s also always been my biggest struggle as a Christian. Through my faith, my purpose is defined for me. Love others and bring others to know Jesus. That’s all I have to do! So why do I burden myself with excelling or “fitting in” with every corner of the world that I dip my toe into?

I could attribute it to my pesky Type 3 nature. I could say it’s because I’m a spiteful Scorpio. I could write a dissertation on why my childhood insecurity manifested itself into a desperate need to achieve and be liked.

The truth is, this is the way that Satan attacks me. Fear of not fitting in. Fear of failure. Fear of not being good enough. Fear of being an outsider. Fear of being left behind. Fear of unworthiness.

It has taken me all 22 of my years to realize that my perfectionism and need to conquer aren’t just ‘personality quirks’. They are deeply rooted weaknesses that are used to exploit me.

Knowing this gives me the freedom to not fit in. The freedom to enjoy my little in-between part of life, and all the living there is to do here.

It gives me the freedom not to win or conquer everything, because “You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them. The One who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.” 1 John 4:4

Just because I choose not to contort and squeeze myself into the roles society has carved out for me doesn't mean I am quitting, or lesser, or weak. It means I want to find my own niche, and I know it will fit perfectly around all my jagged edges and imperfections.

Every day, I get a little more okay with not fitting in. I fall a little more in love with my contradictory, messy, confusing corner of the world. Whiplash and all.

To a New Decade

2021 will be great. *knock on wood*

In all seriousness, I know for certain that the next year will be good. Because I will make it good.

Not with quantifiable New Years’ resolutions of higher salary or lower body fat or more preset sales or anything that yields only fleeting happiness once achieved. That was my lesson in 2020. Every resolution checked off the list only brought momentary joy. Then back to real life.

My goals were good, but not for the right reasons.

I wanted to lower my body fat percentage, not be overall healthier.

I wanted to find a job that paid more, not a job that made me happier.

I wanted to sell the most presets possible, not create more because they make me happy.

The list goes on. Good goal, poor purpose.

My 2021 goal is to have purpose behind everything I do. I want my actions and decisions to be intentional, not just means to an empty “resolution”. Don’t get me wrong, my previous goals brought me a lot of achievements, memories and lessons. They were what I needed last year, to run headfirst into the brick wall that was 2020.

My approach is different this year. I learned that ultra-specific and measurable goals only go so far when you can’t predict the circumstances in which you’ll try to achieve them. For example, had a goal last year to take a new trip every month. For obvious reasons, that wasn’t feasible. I didn’t meet the sales goals I had set for myself because it didn’t feel right pushing photo filters on people during a period where so many were without work. I wanted to buy a house but had no idea my relationship would be so strong and the “my” goal would become an “our” goal. I never would have guessed I’d be spending NYE quarantining with my fiancé recovering from COVID-19, a virus I hadn’t even heard of 365 days ago. I’m making my new resolutions with that in mind.

Wherever I am this time next year, wrapping up 2021 (hopefully somewhere in the Caribbean), I want to know I lived the year intentionally.

I want to get to know each of my friends a little better this year. I want all my relationships to be a little more snug. I want to be a better friend to everyone in my life. I want to acknowledge the memories while I’m making them. I want to call my grandparents more. I want to use every excuse to call Austin my fiancé for the first and last time in my life. I want to soak up every moment of wedding planning, however tedious and cheesy it might get. I want to see my brother more, and notice the tiny ways he gets closer to adulthood every day. I want to let myself sleep in without guilt. I want to recognize the privilege that fitness is and never forget that health is a gift. I want to be more charitable with my finances and trusting with my tithes. I want to forget about my phone for an evening (or many evenings). I want to write down all the things I intended to but never did. I want to listen more closely when people speak to me and really hear them. I want to kiss Austin every time I think about it. I want to grow my knowledge in my new field at work. I want to take more candid pictures and fewer posed. I want to talk to God every night, even the ones when I don’t want to interrupt my New Girl binge. I want to celebrate every success with my people as if it were my own. I want to feel my cheeks hurt from smiling. I want to never forget that every part of my day was exciting at some point, and tap back into that novelty. I want to rave about every cup of coffee and every sunny day as if it was the first I’ve ever experienced. I want to remember that while the firsts get fewer as the years go on, the lasts are sudden and unexpected, and I want to live accordingly.

2021 will be a great year.

So now, as I sit with my pants a little more snug than they were a month ago and my bank account a little emptier than I’d like it to be, I am reminded to show grace to my body and myself, exactly as I am today. My present self is a result of living the past holiday season to the absolute fullest, and probably spending a little too much on gifts for the ones I love. I will not let myself get so consumed with finding a flat tummy again that I forget to listen for what the Lord is saying to me during this new year. I can almost guarantee my calling for 2021 isn’t just to lose a few pounds and save a few bucks. While I hope to do that along the way, I pray to be used for far more eternal things this year.

I am listening. I am ready. I am hopeful.

Here’s to a new decade.

To My Future Fiance

Hannah:

Before the engagement:

I've written an embarrassing number of letters to my future husband over the years, but I have to say this is a first. Everyone who knows me knows I don't do well with surprises, lack of control, or the unknown. So you can imagine how much fun this stage of life has been. To clarify, what I'm referring to is the fact that I have a serious boyfriend. I love the serious boyfriend. We picked out a ring. We talked baby names. We know each other's deepest darkest secrets and have each other's birthmarks counted. It doesn't get more official than this.

When you're a girl, you always dream of the proposal. You basically drool at the thought of someone loving you so much that they decide to ask to live the rest of their lives alongside you. So much that they use their time, money, and decidedly inferior planning skills to choose when and how to ask you the most important question of both of your lives. You fantasize about the ring and all the ways to subtly show it off to everyone around you.

You don't typically consider the waiting in your daydreams, however. The time after you've had the important talks, when you've discreetly begun adding to your wedding Pinterest board religiously for the first time since eighth grade, but your left finger is still empty. It's too soon to start actually planning, and I've actually had to make a conscious effort to NOT consume wedding content online. If I let myself begin to plan, the entire event would be booked and coordinated before the proposal even happens. Therefore, I have wedding blinders on.

Don't get me wrong, there isn't a rush. I'm so happy in this life stage and so happy with our relationship, I'm in no hurry. Whenever it happens, it will be the stuff of daydreams and the happiest day of my life. The thing is, once you know something is coming but not when, you tend to keep an eye out for any and all signs. For example, Austin hasn't been able to tie his shoe without my heart stopping for a month now. I tend to perform a TSA-level pat down every time I hug Austin just in case there's a suspicious package hiding in his back pocket. So far, it's just been his car keys. If he asks me out on a date, I start practicing shocked faces in the mirror to make sure we don't have a Kim Kardashian ugly-cry situation. It's been very taxing on me. My nails haven't looked this consistently good in years.

All jokes and wedding planning anecdotes aside, this time is really unlike any other. I've known since I met Austin that he clicked with me like no one else ever has. He brings a different kind of sunshine to my life. I look at him and I see my future. I don't see a glittery ring or a tasteful - yet - glamorous bohemian chic ceremony. I look at him and I see the face I want to fall asleep next to every night. I see the cheeks I want to smother with kisses as soon as I get home from work. I look at him and who I want to share my good news and bad news and everything in between with. I see babies with his eyes and holding his hand in the car and a lifetime of laughing at his perfectly inappropriate sense of humor. I look at him and I see a marriage, not just a wedding.

I am over the mood giddy at the thought of my dream guy putting my dream ring on my finger. But even more than that, my heart floods with all kinds of embarrassingly mushy sentiment about making Austin Ruder my fiancé and then one day, my husband.

Until then, I'll keep making poorly timed jokes about Austin dragging his feet and do my best not to ruin whatever his sweet man brain has planned.

After the engagement:

It finally happened, y'all. He finally got down on one knee and it wasn't a prank or an untied shoe. I'd like to detail how amazing and perfect it was, but truthfully it was all an amazing and perfect blur.

On October 31st, otherwise known as Halloween, my sweet boyfriend drove me down to Eureka Springs because I wanted to spend the holiday in a spooky haunted city. I was only moderately grumpy that our day of fun had to be cut short because of 'family photos' that evening. I grumbled and my good sport of a boyfriend just bit his tongue. We had macaroons, margaritas (or I did, he drove) and all the small town fun we could squeeze into a six hour period. When it was time to drive back to get ready for family photos, I was a little disappointed that our festivities were over.

My first clue came when I was mid-curl, fixing my hair from the damage the wind had done earlier in the day. Austin, who is perpetually late to anything and everything, popped his head into the bathroom to ask if I was ready. The man who is shamelessly late to church, was asking me if I was ready? I finished, taking my sweet time to put the right shade of lip gloss on and we headed out the door.

The drive over, I was doing the usual (taking selfies, see below) and felt the nervous energy in the air. He had faked me out so many times in the past, I had been trying so hard not to get my hopes up. However, I knew if he was actually going to propose, there's no way he wouldn't have involved my parents. He knows how dear they are to me.

Luckily, me being the obsessive daughter that I am, I track my parent's location with their phones. I lost a quick mental battle with myself and decided to peek at their location.

Highlandville.

Aka - exactly halfway between their home and where we were headed for family photos. I knew it was coming, but still, I didn't want to get ahead of myself. Despite my perpetual snooping and months of trying to bust the surprise, now was the time to put my crazy aside and enjoy the moment.

The rest of the memories come in flashes. Austin going to 'park the car' and not coming back. My future mother in law leading me out to the back courtyard of the Big Cedar hotel. Seeing a beautiful waterfall, sunset, and the love of my life. Oh, and a photographer hidden in the foliage (just like all my dropped hints said).

Austin taking my hands. Getting down on one knee. Saying something that I can only imagine rivaled Shakespeare. Smothering him with sticky lip-gloss kisses. Both of our families joining us and shedding all the happy tears. The dreamiest day I could have ever imagined, beginning with him putting aside whatever nerves he felt to give me the perfect day leading up to the perfect proposal.

If there was anything I would have changed, it would have been to relax and trust him more. I didn't give him nearly enough credit for all the things he listened to during our relationship, little details that he tucked away to use to make the day perfect. Him sneaking over to my parents house to ask their permission when I was busy with his mom, picking out the perfect outfit for 'family photos'. Making sure my nails were perfectly manicured and that there was both hidden photo and video being taken so I could relive the day and smile myself to sleep for the weeks to come. He truly outdid himself and I shouldn't have spent all my free time acting like a crazy conspirator searching his dirty clothes for a ring box.

Side note: the (custom) ring is absolutely perfect in every way. Just like the proposal. Just like my future husband. Hopefully he can still say such things about me after seeing my ugly side when I'm not in control of the situation.

Here's to a lovely lifetime of no more surprises!

---

Austin:

I am back! *the crowd goes wild* It's been awhile since I've written on this blog, so let me give you a quick summary of what has gone on in my life. I got engaged… which I am sure you've caught onto by now. Pretty happy time of my life, which thankfully followed up a little bit more stressful time of my life. Enough about how great I'm doing though, let's get started on this thing.

Growing up, I never thought about the engagement process. I obviously wanted to get married and have a family, but the whole engagement thing seemed like more of a burden than an exciting time of my life. Some people may feel like that's a harsh way to look at it, but that’s just my personality. Pretty par for the course.

I really didn’t give the idea the time of day until about 8 or 10 months into dating Hannah. I had been ready to get into a serious relationship after I got back from Oral Roberts because (as Hannah would be quick to tell you) I wasn’t getting any younger. I had finished college and my basketball years were behind me, so it was finally the right time for me to think about settling down. So around that time I started to see a future with Hannah, and was in a place in my life that I was ready to take that step. From there it took me a little bit longer to figure out exactly what that 'next step' would look like.

I decided in the summer that I was ready. I had made the mistake of telling Hannah when we first started dating that I wouldn’t get engaged until at least a year and a half of dating, so naturally all she heard was 'I will propose to you in a year and a half.' As soon as that day hit I didn’t hear the end of ring size jokes, and how good a ring would look on her finger and blah blah. So for any guys who may read this do NOT make that mistake.

We went online to start looking at some rings, and found a couple designs that she really liked. Some family members had experience with the site I was using, so they helped me look as the time got closer. Finally I customized the ring, paid for it, and cemented the idea that this thing better work cause this is a lot of money… and uhh because I love Hannah too of course.

The ring came in about a month later, but we had weddings 3 weekends in a row, so the proposal would have to wait. I had to make sure the ring was hidden from the nosey one, and thankfully I did because she did try to search my apartment when I was gone. Luckily I put it on top of the refrigerator so she couldn’t reach it. When I told my parents they were very congratulatory. When I told Hannah’s parents, her mom gave me the very comforting “okay...” which made me feel very confident. Overall, both families were extremely supportive and excited for us. It was around 9 at night, and I was planning on taking them to dinner to ask them but Hannah (the nosey one) has her mom’s location shared, so that was out of the question. Feels bad.

I had the whole proposal planned out. We were to go down to Big Cedar, I'd propose by the waterfall, take pictures, and we'd then go to dinner with both families. Then Hannah decided she wanted to go to Eureka Springs that day.

It was the first time I've ever been, and wouldn’t be upset if I never went back to be quite honest. Much too hipster for me, but of course Hannah loved it. So I was just trying to make sure we made it back in time to get ready for the night (especially her, because I didn’t want to hear that she wished she had more time to get ready for the rest of my life).

We started heading to Big Cedar and then I dropped her off at the front door. I drove around to a back parking lot that was close to the spot where I was going to propose (with the photographer there already of course. Another thing I would never be able to live down if I hadn't prepared). My mom and brother's girlfriend led her out a side door where I was waiting.

When that moment hit and she walked out, I did get a little nervous. I knew she would say yes, but there's just something about taking that step that never feels like it's a 100% guarantee that she will. I wish I could put it in better words, but it's one of those things that until you experience it, it wouldn’t make sense. Thankfully she said yes, we celebrated, and we went on to have a great night with both of our families there to enjoy the moment.

I know I've given advice throughout this piece of what not to do fellas, but I would advise you to take your time to make the moment as close to perfect as possible. This is a big step that shouldn’t be taken lightly, and she will remember it forever. Do what she deserves. Give yourself plenty of time to make sure it is going to work out the way you want it to, and of course keep it a secret until the very end. Surprising someone always makes a moment a little bit more sweet. I would also say to work things around the event to try to make it easier to keep the secret, and go with the flow a little bit. I really did not want to go to Eureka Springs, and if you know me at all you know just how much I dislike downtowns and anything artistic. It ended up being a blessing to give my mind something to focus on that day, plus giving her something to have her mind on all day to keep her distracted from what was going to happen that night.

Plans rarely go exactly as expected, but that's what adds a little kick of cayenne pepper to life (or spice for you non-cooks). Other than that, keep your eyes open for the one you want to spend the rest of your life with. Every person you date isn't the one, and you have to realize when it's just a temporary person, or THE person. You can't force it, but the right one is out there and you'll know when you've found them.

Overall live life, and enjoy the process. Life is too short to constrict with a tight schedule for your future, and a way it NEEDS to go. Life will go on, and it will take you where it wants to take you. Trust the Lord to put you in the situation and then live it.

In the meantime, pray for all of us men out here trying to plan a wedding. We need it.