I know I’m too much DEAL WITH IT

I’ve never found a historical figure more like myself than Alexander Hamilton. What I lack in his obsessive stamina I match in my overt too much-ness. See, Hamilton came to America with a dream and he worked hard to achieve it. Along the way, he overwhelmed people with words and honesty and was constantly fighting uphill battles to make his new nation great. His words, especially when written, were his tools.

He made mistakes and sometimes his honesty got him into trouble. That didn’t stop him from continually working and publishing. Ask anyone around him and they’d probably tell you he was a little too much. Except etiquette was the obsession back then so there would some gentlemanly way to express it, like ‘Hamilton always has ideas and suggestions for every situation, even when not directly involved.’

Like Hamilton, I’m too much.

I have strong opinions about everything. Today I started a tirade against autographs and why they’re pointless. I can feel when one starts rising within me. An unknowing victim cordially chats with me about any random subject and suddenly I’m triggered. My demeanor changes and my voice becomes strangely forceful and somehow I get a little louder. It’s never against them or what they think because fortunately my manners work occasionally. I only care about nonsense, like the travesty of wearing jeans to the theater and why ‘What Makes You Beautiful’ is a really demeaning song.

At least in a professional setting, they’re supported by my experience and knowledge. Still it happens. We’re discussing something related to branding or marketing and then the strong opinion starts building. Usually it’s useful and drives my work ethic, but sometimes it just means I talk a lot during a meeting.

I’ve often claimed to be a very dichotomous person. I am either in full makeup or I look like I just rolled out of bed. I will work hard nonstop or I will spend hours on my couch rewatching The Office. I either don’t care at all or I care so much everyone else begins to hate me.

I’m really familiar with that last one.

One of the hallmarks of my personality is my intensity. I have zero bedside manner and tend to sound like a jerk when in reality I just don’t know how to tone myself down. I want to help where I can and often I go into overdrive and people no longer want to work with me. In college, I started wearing bows every day to appear less harsh, but it probably just made me look crazier.

People probably wish I would remain lethargic so the passionate beast wouldn’t be unleashed to annoy everyone. I just don’t know how to care less.

I want things to be the best that they can be, and sure you can argue that it’s just my perception of ‘best,’ but whatever. When I dedicate myself to a project, I want everyone to feel as strongly as I do. This is why working at Girl Scouts is such a good fit for me – everyone care a lot, just like me.

I’ve never understood why people don’t care or try. They don’t implement new rules or pay attention when something is being changed. They just keep going with how they’ve always done things because to them, it doesn’t matter. I DON’T GET IT. Whatever.

After more than 28 years of being this way, because yes I’m sure even as a baby I was like this, I’ve learned a few tricks. Primarily it’s keep the raging beast within. Get to know people and let them think you’re quiet and then SHABAM douse them in insanity when you can trust them.

Jk. Kind of.

It’s not that I pretend to be someone I’m not, it’s just I hold a lot of opinions to myself and just kind of nod along. When I used to meet people, they either liked me or they didn’t. Now I’ve mastered to art of tricking them into thinking I’m likable. Once a real relationship is established, I’m fully Chelsea, lock and loaded with opinions I will most definitely express. So if you know me IRL and I’m a spaz around you, take it as a compliment.

Recently, though, I’ve moved back toward my roots of ‘this is me’ (sung to the tune of The Greatest Showman classic). I don’t want my behavior to act as an apology for who I am so I don’t accidentally annoy someone. Yes I know I can be more tactful and quiet, but in general I like who I am. I like that I care so deeply about everything. I like that I’m intense. I understand that not everyone will jive with by vibe and that’s a-okay. God made me to be this passionate so why would I dare deny Him the joy of seeing me express it?

Right now it’s got me in a tough situation. I’m in a new place with new people and we hardly know each other, but I’m in full-Hamilton mode. Like dropping a pamphlet denouncing John Adams deep. I feel like I’m in this place for a reason, with the right experience and skills to make a difference. The more I push, the more I feel I’m the only one. Except now instead of worrying that they won’t like me, I’m wondering if this is worth my time.

I don’t say that to be uppity like my time is so precious (see previous comment about rewatching The Office). Moving against the popular current alone is exhausting and frustrating and frankly, it makes everyone hate me. Contrary to what my personality may say, I don’t want to be disliked. Sometimes it’s uncontrollable, but sometimes it’s the result of me trying to make waves nobody asked for.

The remedy for this situation is a polite confrontation where everything is laid on a table and a decision is made. But conflict isn’t my forte. I’m the girl who will ignore our texts if we’re fighting because I don’t want to deal with it. Being an adult is hard.

Tonight an email became the straw that broke the horse’s back. Is that the right phrase? Either way, something finally snapped within me and I realized I can’t avoid this conversation any longer. I won’t make myself less or belittle my intensity, but I will respect the outcome.

It just means I might have time to obsess and lose my mind over something else. Most likely The Office.

Some days, you know?

Today was one of those days that makes me wonder why I try to human instead of just hiding in a cave all day. Not because I’m depressed or sad, but because it’s filled with setback after setback.

Yesterday was a good, productive day and twice in 24 hours I told people I loved my job. And then everything fell apart.

Now, I still love my job, but today really tried to convince me otherwise (thanks Satan).

Some days you just feel like a bumbling fool. I was so bumbling that in an attempt to explain a situation and insult myself, I managed to seem critical of something much larger. That was the cherry on top. It came after the release of leaving the office. I thought I was done but the Day was like we’re not finished yet and BOOM.

Several times I’ve questioned my profession and felt like do I even do marketing? Because that’s the kind of day I’ve had where I feel like Mr. Bean trying to write blog posts and design emails.

Now I would like to hide in comfy clothes and pretend like life doesn’t exist, but instead I’m going to go work some more and then wake up and do it again.

I’m an optimist. Tomorrow is going to be better. My brain will remember how it works and I’ll be able to think clearly and respond to emails in a way that isn’t perceived as problematic.

As for everything else, I’m not going to think about it now. Just like the great Scarlett O’Hara, I’ll think about it tomorrow because tomorrow is another day.

And tomorrow (God-willing), I’ll kick some serious marketing butt.

You and the shadows

I’m afraid of the dark. In the dark my fears multiply, creating impossible situations in my brain. As a child, I used to sleep on my parent’s floor when the fear began to consume me. I was sure a landslide would strike and kill me in my sleep, or maybe an unidentified volcano. Strange lights became alien invasions and every sound was an intruder waiting to break into my room.

This fear often seeps into my dreams, making the shadows come alive. Last night felt real. And for the first time, I dreamt about you.

Who you are doesn’t matter; you are simply the latest in a long line of boys I’ve momentarily latched onto because I need the idea that maybe there’s hope out there. You showed up, like the most casual thing, and quite unlike me, I approached you.

It was a dream so time is a strange concept, but it was like suddenly we were friends and you were stopping by. The whole dream seemed to take place in my grandma’s house and driveway. I remember noticing movement in the field across the road and feeling the hair raise on my spine. Being my dream, on some level I knew what I had created.

We were talking and I asked if you had ever noticed anything strange across the road. You look, and notice the benches were gone. In real life, there are no benches, but in my dream it was like they’d also been there. Just as suddenly, they reappeared attached to a monster and came hurling at us. The sky began to rage and darkness consumed everything.

I found you lying a few feet from me, and instantly cradled your neck, muttering some cheesy movie dialogue about how important you were to me. And then we kissed, and it was a moment I’ve always dreamed about.

But then in the next scene you were there, trying to teach someone about love. I heard you saying such wonderful things about the person you loved, and I was sure it was me. Eyes gleaming, I touched your shoulder and expected another grand romantic moment. Instead, you told me you had to go find someone else. I wasn’t the person you loved.

I woke up feeling all of these emotions at once. Fear over the monsters I think live in the shadows. Joy over my kiss with you. Loss when once again I wasn’t the one someone wanted.

It’s silly, isn’t it? One moment in a dream knocked me back down to thinking that I will never be enough for anyone. I think about you and my immediately thoughts are all the reasons you wouldn’t want me. Then I tell myself it’s all nonsense, but I don’t really believe me.

I don’t want to be afraid anymore, but I don’t know how.

Lost magic

I wish I had the words to describe the feeling of magic in the soul. The kind of feeling that transports you to where everything is good and safe. Where for a few moments, everything is okay. 

I feel this when I hear birds singing during an early summer morning or when I see a plane traveling far away. I am safe when I go on walks and experience all the beauty of this world. I feel at peace and all the pieces fall into place. 

Today I had my window down for the first time this spring, on what felt like the warmest day of the year. There’s something so interesting about the heat of spring and the smell that happens as the seasons begin to shift. Even though the calendar says spring, winter is still melting away, leaving a smell that is fresh and full of hope. 

Magic occurs on days like this, where you know it will get cold again but today you will enjoy it. When you put your hand out the window and let the fast breeze remind you of all the beauty yet to come. 

The perfect song plays, and for three minutes you forget all of your troubles and you just feel. Maybe you feel joy because the song reminds you of everything you have. Maybe you feel heartbreak because the song reminds you of what you lost. It doesn’t matter if the song is happy or sad; all that matters is it makes you feel. 

Feeling is good for the soul and something we overlook in the fast paced world. We don’t process emotions because we don’t have time. We just keep going. We don’t pause to experience what’s happening because there’s somewhere we need to be. 

I remember being a child the best when I let myself in these moments. Almost all of my sacred moments come from childhood. I love early mornings and airplanes because they remind me of going somewhere fun. The almost warm days remind me of school and fighting to not where a jacket. 

These feelings transcend age and you remember what you felt and you allow yourself to feel again. 

This is magic in our world that we have moments like this. I hope you find some magic today. 

Hello, I miss you quite terribly


Are you up?

I’m sorry to bother you, it’s just that I can’t stop thinking about you. Not you, necessarily, but the idea of you implanted in my brain. I unfollowed you on social media but we still always see, don’t we? I see your updates and stare at pictures of the person I knew. Or at least wanted to know.

The further away, the more I notice. The more I realize. The more I’m sure of.

The way I see it, there are two alternatives. Either you really did like me and something happened that changed everything or you were just playing me all along. If it’s the latter, you wouldn’t be the first, but you were certainly the best.

If it’s the former, I’m left to wonder why.

When I see you or places that remind me of you, memories flash through interrupting my regular thought process. Sometimes it’s just the feeling of humiliation when I realized it had happened again, another guy who didn’t actually want me.

Sometimes they are intimate moments that make me blush.

Sometimes they are butterflies from every message received when it seemed like you felt it too.

Most painfully, sometimes they are the small moments of near perfection that haunt me. The brief moments when I felt safe and warm with you. When it felt like after years of being by myself, I had someone else to add to the equation.

I know you lied to me. I know it was convenient for you. I know something changed. I just wish I knew what it was. I’m left feeling like a fool, you see, because this mess isn’t something new to me.

In a way I’ve always been a secret with guys. Never have I had the one who wants to take me to public places or share photos on social media. No, I always have the guys who come over late and maybe we talk but they aren’t really there for me. I don’t know why I fell so easily into this role or let it continue relationship after relationship. All I know is that I did and I let you do it too.

I can’t fault you too much for keeping me in the dark. I made it easy for you. I didn’t demand you treat me better. To be brutally honest, I was so desperate to make you stay I did whatever it took.

Despite all of this, I still miss you quite terribly, but don’t flatter yourself. I miss the hope I felt during that first week, the joy in realizing this is what it felt to find something good after searching for so long. I miss the longing fulfilled that you represented.

And now, late at night, with no one else on my mind, I’m forced to question everything and miss you more and debate sending a message as if now is the time you will change your mind and see. I know it won’t. I know you don’t want me. But you’re all my brain has to want.

In its loneliness, it doesn’t care how you’ve hurt us. It thinks maybe just one more hang out will heal us. That it couldn’t do any harm, but my heart knows better.

Most people would argue it’s the heart who eggs the brain on, but with me I think it’s the opposite. You see, my brain is always searching for the logical solution. You are the last person I liked and I’m lonely. To my brain, this is the obvious solution. Just go back, keep it casual.

But my heart knows this path all too well. It’s been bent and broken by years of convincing it this was a good thing. It sees you for who you are and knows that despite our strong, we cannot survive another attack right now. We need to keep building ourselves and finding our worth from God and not you.

Past me might text you. Play it cool. Try to get you to come over so for a few hours I could forget how empty some of the spaces in my life are. Kind of like our last night. It was never more than a connection of two people searching for a connection they’ll never have together, but needing a distraction from the world.

I think that’s what we called it. A distraction.

I don’t want to be someone’s distraction anymore. I want to be someone’s reason for paying attention. But I know I’ll never be yours.

“Make it easy, say I never mattered.” I know you don’t miss me like I miss you. I bet you don’t even think of me until you have to. But I don’t want your thoughts anyway. What good do they do me?

No, I want to stop missing you. I want to fill that wound that never quite heals and learn that no one can harm me. I want to have faith I’ll feel the hope again, only then it will be real and I won’t have to doubt.

I’m tired of the fake scenarios in my brain where you come back or I have a chance to say everything I need to say. I’m tired of giving you any space at all.

It’s not going to be easy, but someday I know I won’t miss you at all.

If at first you don’t succeed

I planned to write as soon as I got home. I was so jazzed up after the team leader meeting for my church’s kids ministry. I was inspired to actually act instead of wait.

And then I got on Instagram.

Writing seemed less and less appealing. I was excited to read my Bible and now I’m like can’t I just go to bed. I probably will, if I’m being honest. I’ll justify my choice by saying I won’t focus on the words anyway. Or maybe I can use the excuse I had some Jesus learning tonight and I’m all set. These are all just excuses to make me feel better when I know I’m making the wrong choice.

Tonight I set a personal goal with the team to write daily and to write a book in 2017. This means relatively nothing to most people. I’m not sure if I something so important to offer the world that my book will go anywhere, but I have to try.

I’m afraid of my dreams. Afraid of the failure I may face.

There’s so much work to do, so much fighting left. Every day I’m reminded why my voice is important. Not because of how well I string words together or my sphere of influence, but because my voice is important. Every voice is important.

I must remain dedicated and keep fighting and trying every day. Even when I’m tired. Even when I feel I have nothing to add. I cannot give up.

I can and I will.

Small victories

I’m a big picture person. I want to get to the epic finale but I don’t want to put in the day to day work. I see my goals, but the thought of working every day exhausts me. Because of this, I simply don’t. 

I don’t listen to my logical side

I don’t try to get better

I don’t try to reason with myself


Weight loss is a major part of this. I am by no means fat and I’m actually becoming more friendly toward my physical appearance (most days). The problem isn’t my size; it’s how I treat my body. 

I know I want to be healthy. I know I want to listen to my body and eat better and workout more. But I don’t. 

I can picture a healthier me, a girl who isn’t riddled with guilt every time she eats a bowl of cereal and then another and then another. I believe I can someday eat when I’m hungry and enjoy delicious food occasionally when I’m not. I have hope I can turn down cake in the break room. But I’m not there yet. 

My eating is mainly an emotional thing. When I’m good and emotionally stable, it’s much easier for me to make the right choice. Current Chelsea making sure I take care of myself. When the depression creeps in, it becomes a crutch. 

I can’t change anything in my life. I can’t make my debt go away or magically make more money appear. But by God and I can get lo mein, General Tso’s and an eggroll followed by a Blizzard and for 20 minutes believe everything is ok. 

Food is my constant and my comfort. I know a ham hoagie with lettuce, tomato, mayonnaise and Italian dressing will be yummy in my tummy. I know that spicy chicken meal and Frosty from Wendy’s will hit the spot. Taco Bell is the best bae I know. 

This also makes shame and hatred my old friend. 

You want to hear something painfully honest and a little pathetic? I get sad when I’m almost done with my food. If I can, I add more because finishing means returning to my life away from the comfort. It doesn’t matter if my stomach hurts and my brain is telling me know, my poor, sad heart is begging for just a little bit more to dull the pain. 

I eat and then I mentally tear myself apart. Not because of what I’m eating, but because I know why I’m doing it. 

I will never stop loving the greasy and fattening, but I need to learn it can’t save me. 

Today was a small victory and something rare for me. I’m alone in Buffalo for Thanksgiving and already feeling low. To cheer myself up, I planned all day to get a ham hoagie after work. I looked forward to to. I could taste the mayo saturated lettuce.

When I got to my second job, I had a snack and some candy and by some candy I mean too much candy. I’ve been in tights for 12+ hours and my stomach is feeling it. I still planned to go along with my plan because this week has been garbage and I’m sad and it will give me a momentary relief. Plus, I had a few extra dollars before pay day and the law of my life States I must spend it or lose it before I receive new money. 

Maybe it was because I was so tired or maybe it was because I knew I’d regret it as soon as I finished. On some level, I think I realized it wouldn’t fix me. 

I know saying no today doesn’t mean I’m all better. I’m sure some people might think this victory is silly. That’s fine. It’s not about you. 

For me, it was a moment of looking past how I was feeling in this exact moment and realizing it wasn’t going to solve anything. It wouldn’t even make me feel better. Comfort food is one thing, but eating to be comforted when you’re hungry is something else altogether. 

Food will always be an issue for me. I will always crave it above all else, even God for comfort. It will rule me at times and make me hate myself. But small victories like tonight remind me food won’t beat me. 

I just want you to know

Sometimes I get depressed. I go through seasons where I’m unstoppable and then I hit valleys where I’m apathetic and filled with hopelessness. Because my family is no stranger to mental illness, this terrifies me.

I manage to wake up every day and go about my business, but the passion I have for life lives so far down I can barely access it. The things I love seem pointless. Today was a particularly bad day, coupled with a loss in our family.

I left work early, numb to everything. I came home, put on my pajamas and got into bed. I didn’t want to eat, but I did. I didn’t want to watch TV, but I did. I didn’t want to sleep, but I did. This is what happens. It’s like I lose my appetite for everything.

Eventually I reemerge just as bright as ever, but until then I deal with the constant feelings of inadequacy. Like I’ll never be a good writer or good at makeup or get my eating under control. I know what I need to do to get better but I can’t, like there’s a block or something.

Tonight I watched Brooklyn, practiced doing my makeup and listened to some music and felt more like myself. Sometimes it’s little things like this that remind me life is still beautiful.

Plus it’s snowing and I have a new coat. I love new seasons and the opportunities presented. I have hope for the good things that will happen in my life. I know God is in control.

I can get through this. I can and I will.


Today life irreparably changed.

I knew my parents were going home today for a memorial service. We talked about the family Christmas party and what I planned to give my grandmother. We made plans.

One accident, one slip, one moment changed everything.

Life is so incredibly fragile, just waiting to be broken. We tiptoe around to stay safe, but it will stick crack.

All our plans, ideas, dreams are disrupted and somehow life continues. In a time when you don’t understand how the world will change, the earth keeps spinning and we keep going.

Life doesn’t stop for anyone I guess.

Custom racist banners 

Tonight I saw a house with a giant lighted Trump/Pence display. And then I saw a house with a custom printed banner to congratulate Trump. This one was attached straight to the home in question.

My question is simply who takes the time to create and order something like that? 

I don’t have much else to say beyond that. It takes all kinds, maybe.