{sweet spot}

Yesterday, my friend Katherine told me that whenever she is deciding whether or not to commit to something, she asks herself this question: Is this something I want to do? Or something I feel like I should do?

 

This question aligns with so many of the things I'm trying to accomplish: to be less busy, to stop shoulding, to make time for the things that bring us joy. But there is also something bigger it taps in to. Lately I've been performing a bit of a self audit. I've been making a list of what I love, what makes me happy and what moves me in the direction I hope to go. And then I'm taking the list of everything I do and seeing how they fit together. Does this event move me torward this goal? Does this project, charity, committee, activity move me where I want to go?

 

This is on the heels of a recent formula I heard about finding how to live a fulfilling, happy life. The formula is: 

Doing what you love + what you think the world needs = happiness.

 

 

 

 My brother, Duke, is the perfect example. He loves healthy living and believes in the power our physical health has on our mental health. He also sees a void in the world: people are undereducated, undermotivated and overweight. He took his love, found the gap in the world, and merged them. This weekend he will finish his Masters, and this fall will start his PhD in Sports Psychology. Every day, he's meeting with clients to help them understand how they can live a healthier life. He's performing research and writing dissertations. He's working with entire families to break the cycle of obesity. And I've never seen him this happy. He's living in his sweet spot.

 

 

Everyone should get to live this way!

 

Everyone should be able to do what they love to help make the world a happier, more productive place. Maybe it's your job. Maybe it's your extracurriculars. Maybe you're lucky enough to have both of your happy worlds in one!

 

For me, the formula is helping me keep my activities in check. It's reminding me that just because I can do something, doesn't mean I should. Some things move us forward and others bog us down. And when we can figure out which are which, that's when we're really living in our sweet spots. That's when we're really flying.

 

 

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r&r at its finest

Life is a funny thing and it seems the minute I found myself at my breaking point - setting rules and taking names - is just when my problem solved itself. Thursday, I scheduled this post, then hit the road for vacation. Just as it posted itself Friday morning, I hopped in the car for the last hour of my drive. I talked to Court and she asked me what I planned to do all day, since no one in our family was coming in until around 5 p.m.

And then it hit me.

I'd been so busy trying to figure out when I was going to finally learn to have some alone time - finally get my head on straight, ducks in row - that I didn't even realize I'd have all day Friday at the beach, by myself. I'd be homeless, since check-in wasn't until 3, wifiless, computerless, companionless. I could do exactly what I'd been saying I wanted to do for the last 3 months. Hang out with myself.

And then I laughed out loud at my own lack of foresight.

And then I got to chilling.

I sat by the ocean and read Love Does for hours. I ate lunch alone outside at a cafe - drinking Chai, people watching and enjoying the ocean breeze. I went on a walk and a run and then another walk, because why not? I read some more and ignored my phone and felt the kind of peaceful rechargedness that I felt when I broke my foot and was house-bound. But this time it was voluntarily, which has a much more peaceful and less anxious prisoner kind of vibe.

By the end of the day, I was, of course, itching like a fool for my family to arrive, because, let's be honest. I don't really love being alone that much. I'd much prefer company and chaos over solitude any day of the week. But sometimes, when you stumble upon a sleepy beach town and are alone without any distractions, you're reminded just how great it is to have a little solo time.

Looks like I don't need handcuffs, after all. Just unlimited time off and a sea breeze. Is that so much to ask!?

Happy Friday, guys!

handcuffed

A little over a year ago I went on a handful of dates with a boy. After a few dates, it was clear he wasn't my match, but these dates haven't gone unnoticed in my life. The grand finale culminated in one really rough evening that made me wonder just how it ever got this far. It has been called, by some of my friends, my worst date ever.

That feels a little dramatic to me, though.

Regardless, in the beginning there were fun dates, when I was excited about him, and his jokes were still funny and did he mean to touch my hand? And on one of those dates, we were at dinner and he asked me how my day was. I told him it was good! And he said, but are you always one of those people who says their days are good?

Probably.

That is, until this week, when my friend Hannah asked me how I'd been and I couldn't even change the words into good before they popped out: tired.

And then I felt embarrased for complaining and wanted to backtrack and tell her I was actually good, but unfortunately my brain was already six miles ahead thinking about why it popped out. This led to a whole slew of thoughts, which landed me at a frustratingly familiar place.

Yet again, I can't seem to slow down. I can't seem to figure out where to cut back. I can't commit to my February goal of spending time at home. And the real problem is, is that this leads to me feeling like I am not doing anything well. Like everything I'm doing, I'm performing just below grade. I'm sliding by and taking shortcuts and missing details.

Last summer and fall, I went through this excellent stretch where I spent a lot of time at home and felt organized and rested. But for some reason, 2013 has brought on an attitude of racing and running that has led to me to choas. Chaos like never seeing my roommate. Wednesday night, we had supper club, and I was just so grateful that we had something on the calendar together, so we could catch up.

When I visited Katie and Sara in Chicago, we stayed at Katie's house. That girl is busy, but she also knows how to say no and really values time to herself. And I noticed when I was there, that she had thought of every detail before my visit. She'd gotten food I liked, made plans just for me - had thought of tiny things that made me feel so important. And it meant so much to me - then also made me panic at the thought of all of my guests that have visited, with fear that I hadn't done the same for them. And it made me realize that in order to do things really, really well (like everything Katie does), you cannot do everything. You have to choose your priorities.

And the fact is, no one can make do it. I just have to make the choice, like choosing to budget or exercise. No one is going to handcuff me to my kitchen table one night a week.

But could you, someone?

On Wednesday, Courtney told me I should try to have one night each week at home. Like totally at home. Not an hour at home before dinner or after yoga and between volunteering. At. Home.

This weekend I'm heading to the beach with my family, which feels like the perfect opportunity to recharge and reconnect. Then, upon my return, Wednesdays officially become Whitney Wednesdays. Because (1) I love alliteration, obviously, who doesn't? and (2) they feel like the perfect midweek opportunity to have some quality alone time.

Courtney says she's holding me to it, which feels like the next best thing to handcuffs.

Let's do this!

PS: I'm not so narcissistic to think that you should now call Wednesdays the day of Whitney, too. But maybe you could have Solo Sundays or Togetherless Tuesdays or Me Myself and I Mondays -- really whatever resonates for you.

images via pinterest

::reality check::

About a year and a half ago a few of my friends had an intervention because I was too busy. Not joking. They told me they were worried I was wearing myself out and needed to cut back.

My initial reaction to this was something like this:

They don't think I can do all of this? They don't think I can handle it? They'll see.

And then:

Am I not handling it? Am I not pulling everything off perfectly? I need to do all of this better then. Move faster, sleep less.

Then, finally, I landed somewhere closer to reality and realized they were right, at which point I put myself on a strict schedule of spending at least one night per week at home. Coming home from work and just being there - no new workout classes, no dates, no meetings, no dinners.

It was insanely hard at first, but eventually became my rhythm. And by this summer, I was actually keeping more than one night open each week - I had really, positively made a habit change. In fact, I went on somewhat of a quest to unglorify busy, where I even learned that busy does not equal self worth.

But, old habits really do die hard.

And I write to you today as one overbooked, underslept, caffeinated girl.

I fell off the wagon.

A few nights ago I was talking to Allie, as I was rushing home at 7:30 to be picked up for a date at 8. She said, "are you excited for your date?"

At which point I burst into her tears. Not your normal reaction to a date.

I'm running on five nights in a row of five hours of sleep. I am so behind on phone calls to my friends it gives me anxiety. I haven't had an unplanned night in two weeks - and have something every single night this week, not to mention a wedding shower to throw Saturday, a flight to Vegas Sunday and a flight to DC next week.

And the sickest part of all? I not only did this to myself, but I also kind of love it.

Argh!

An addiction to busyness is no joke, my friends.

So. I need a plan.

Always need a plan. [AKA: the problem]

Starting today - and from Vegas to DC and back to Atlanta - things stay the same. There's no way out.

But then, upon my return to Atlanta, I slow down. The last 10 days of February are being dedicated to what February should be dedicated to: full hibernation.

Just kidding. I'm not going to pack snacks and disappear for 10 days.

I am, however, going to force myself to leave two weeknights each of those weeks open. That's right. four out of 10 days. 40 percent. Almost half.

It's a plan. And I hope that with it I can finally call a few friends back and give them the focused conversations they deserve. Heck, I might even eat dinner at home and get to bed early.

With it, I hope I can get back to feeling like I'm doing the things I love and care about well, as opposed to doing the things I'm committed to at a mediocre level.

Lots of hope for this time ahead :)

I'll keep you posted on how it goes, of course.

PS: It can't go without saying that I'm super duperly excited about said events/parties/trips/opportunities and so grateful to be included. :)

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sweet dreams

Last week at yoga, I was talking with my instructor about her life right now and whether or not she was overwhelmed. And she said, well, for the average person, my life would not be overwhelming. But I'm not a busy person. I do best when I am unbusy. So this feels like a lot.

Oh. How her words resonated with me. I wish being unbusy appealed to me. I wish that busyness wasn't so fulfilling.

Since June, I have been working my tail off on slowing down. It's undoubtedly been more work saying no and keeping my schedule open than it ever was to run around like a wild woman. It's just not in my nature. But, in this time, I have felt more reflective than ever, have had time to connect with friends in more meaningful ways and have learned a lot about myself.

I have found that I am happiest, and the best version of myself:

• When I get enough sleep. This is the first time that I can remember since middle school that I am consistently getting more than seven hours of sleep each night. And I feel like the king.
• When I eat well. Clean.
• When I work out every day. (not a revelation)
• When I take time to connect with people. In person. On the phone. From afar.
• When I laugh. A lot.

Before I started this process, though, and actually oftentimes still, I get scared that I will lose my ability to be wildly busy. That I might soon forget how to multi-task or get a million things done at once. That someday I might be overwhelmed by basic tasks like getting my kids to school, like my yoga instructor. And most of the time, I can talk myself out of this thought process, but yesterday I stumbled upon this post by Sarah Tucker and it made me feel one million times better. When we are more reflective, and spend more time figuring out who we are and what we want, we make much more productive decisions to advance our futures.

Sarah also led me to Lara Casey's Get Fired Up post, which you should read. I now have a solid list of: what I am afraid of (who knew!?), what I want, who should be by my side to make it happen and how it's going to happen. 

All because I decided I needed to sleep more than 5.5 hours each night. These really are sweet dreams.

PS: If you're feeling equally as inspired as I am, you should enter to win a scholarship to Making Things Happen. I hope we both win :)

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cocktail parties and lateness.

I like to think of blogs as one big cocktail party. It's this happy place where everyone shares their wins - their party lines. You don't go to a cocktail party to tell people about how you've failed; you have your pitch ready. Your one liners that give people just enough information when they ask about your relationships and job. Just enough for them to nod and smile, and give a positive comment.

Well. This is very unpartyish of me, but here we go.

{and I'm super embarrassed to admit this. but I'm doing it}

I am always late. With the exception of work. And workout classes. But when it comes to social events, bible study, etc., I am always a few minutes behind. And I hate, hate it. And people say that it means you don't value other people's time. But that is not true! I really do value people's time - very much.

The trouble is, though, that I always overestimate myself. I always think that if I have five extra minutes, I can unload the dishwasher and throw together my lunch for the next day. Or if I have 45 minutes before a meeting, of course I can get in a quick run and shower.

And (this is where the shame comes in), last weekend I had a meeting for a charity, which began at 2 p.m. When I showed up at 2.10, our chair said, Whitney is always late. Just fashionably 10 minutes behind.

I was so embarrassed. I still am. And am 90 percent unsure as to why I am admitting this in writing. In public. (I should just get a diary.)

But there is 10 percent of me that knows why: I have to get better. I have to be punctual because being late is rude. Even if I do value people's time, it still indicates that I do not. And that is rude.

So this is my new year's resolution for 26, and I need people to hold me accountable. It's high time that shape up and make being on time a priority. Thought Catalog recommends leaving 15 minutes earlier than you need to for everything, which sounds like scary, scary time loss in my opinion, but I am going to commit to doing it. Because while I may lose 15 minutes of my time, I'll be giving others back those 10 minutes I'm always late. And I'm hoping this will prove that not only do I value their time, but I value them too. And that's far more important than an empty dishwasher.

PS: Does this constitute buying a new watch?
PPS: This is too inapprops for the blog, but still funny.

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not that busy?

There is something happening with busyness. Have you noticed? It's like it's losing its coolness. For the first time in years (read: ever) I'm seeing it as Bruce Wayne and not as Batman. And I don't think I'm alone.

Busyness has become a badge of honor. It means you're worth something. You're busy at work because people trust you with more responsibility. You're busy socially because you have a lot of friends. You're busy volunteering because you're such a good person.

And it's true. We are busy for those reasons. But when did it become a reason to brag?

I have been thinking about it a lot lately because I'm trying to prioritize things and figure out where to cut back. And then I stumbled upon this convicting article. And THEN my pastor talked about it at church this week. And that was when I realized I am not alone.

Sometimes we are busy because life is busy. And when you want to accomplish a lot and be productive, things get chaotic. It's inevitable. Sometimes. 

But other times, we take on busyness solely as a source of self-worth. And that is what I am trying to discern these days. Am I doing it to do it? Or because I want to/need to/care to?

I'm ashamed to admit I've said the word "busy" 52 times since I started my blog. 52!? That's embarrassing. Especially since I clearly found the time to blog about said busyness...

Michael Phelps could have swum eight events, but he only is swimming seven. Because he knows he is better when he prioritizes that which is most important.

And as we head into the exceptionally busy season that is fall, I'm trying to view decisions through the lens of: what are my priorities? And does this add to them? By approaching life this way, I am hoping I won't lean on being busy as a way to feel important, but instead simply as the way life unfolds sometimes. 

If Michael can do it, fingers crossed that I can too. 

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are ya bizzy?

"It's not enough to be busy; so are the ants. The question is: what are we busy about?" Henry David Thoreau

It's no secret that I love being busy. Not only do I thrive and am more productive when my schedule is packed, but it's also an addictive form of validation for me. It is fulfilling (#thetruthhurts).

This year, I vowed to slow down (via my New Year's resolutions). I would say, other than for about one week in January, I have done a bad-to-very-bad job of it.

It's.So.Hard.

But I recently read a WSJ article that got me thinking about all of this busyness. The author said that, in reality, we are all busy, but we make time for that which is a priority. If we want to fit something in, we'll find a way. With that mentality, she challenged readers to replace "I'm too busy to do XXX" with "that is not a priority for me," and to see how it changed it.

I don't have time to work out = working out is not a priority

I don't have time to go to bed earlier = sleep is not a priority.

I don't have time to help with your charity = your charity is not a priority.

It changes it, right? Sure makes you think twice before saying no.

Granted, it's kind of the opposite mentality I need to take on, seeing as at the root of my busy-problemo is a difficulty with saying no. But, it's still an interesting theory that makes you evaluate how you spend your time.

Okee. That's all for this Thursday. Back to regularly scheduled programming tomorrow.

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hallo january! wheredyacomefrom?

I did a little thing called pretended like the world didn't exist outside of my family/Indiana during Christmas break. And although it equalled major happiness, it has also meant a little bit of chaos upon my return.

I'm climbing out of email and checking off things tonight like thank you cards and bills (blecky!), so my brain isn't feeling too creative at this point.

I'll catch you on the flipsy!

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thursdee already?

Busy, happy week = busy happy Whitney, but no time for le blog blog.

Hope you're having a good one!

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no more tarzan

Now that it's October (rabbit, rabbit) I am prepared to admit that summer is over. And, with the change of season comes a change in lifestyle as well. Since May, I can count on (less than) one hand how many nights I've spent at home. Not to say I've been weeknight partying, I'm too old for this now that I'm in Club 25, but I've just packed my nights with activities - dinner with friends, new workout classes, committees, sporting events, dates, outings, etc. And last week, it hit me that I can no longer sustain this. I'm deadso. And so, I'm vowing to slow it down this month.

You see, I have always had somewhat of an addiction to busyness. As Shauna Niequist puts it, "I love days when you're always leaving something early to arrive just a touch late at the next place, like pearls on a string or Tarzan swinging on vines, feet never touching the ground."

This is how I've felt my entire life, but it's safe to say that over the course of the last few months, I've overdone it just a bit. So as October begins, I'm making it my goal to sleep more than six hours each night and abstain from making plans at least one, but preferably two, nights each week. I'm confident these two baby steps will help me get things back under control, so that cleaning out my purse and mailing a letter don't become activities that sit on my to do list for weeks.

As my mom reminded me last week when I had a teeny tiny meltdown because I couldn't find time to get Ashley a baby gift and pack between yoga and meeting friends for sushi, balance is the key to life. And just because I've let things get slightly off balance does not mean I've failed (which was what I asked her during my super rational breakdown) but it does mean it's time to reeavalute just, exactly, what is essential to maintain.

So, in November, I'll be sure to report back on how this trial month goes. If all goes according to plan, I'll return as a super-rested, happy-as-a-clam-girl.

Happy unbusying!

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busy beeing and throw backs

Ah! I have so many things running through my head to blog about right now, but haven't hide time to get any of them down on paper. I can't really (or even a little) complain because I just got back from Florida and am simply playing catch up.

Until I can put together a proper post, I leave you with two things:

1. Because this was the best phone ever growing up. We even had a special kids line that made this baby ring (holler back for 873.0757).

2. And because this was one of the best shows ever. Engaged at high school graduation? Mr. Fiene traveling from third grade through high school with them? Does it get any better? I think not.

And in case, for some wild reason, these images don't do enough to make your day, the second was posted with this quote.


“Mom, listen, I haven’t been together with Topanga for 22 years, but we have been together for 16. That’s a lot longer than most couples have been together. I mean, when we were born, you told me that we used to take walks in our strollers together around the block. When we were two, we were best friends. I mean, I knew everything about this girl. I knew her favorite color, her favorite food. Then we became six, Eric made fun of me because it wasn’t cool to have a best friend that was a girl or even know a girl. So for the next seven years I threw dirt at her. I like to call those “the lost years”. Then when I was thirteen, mom, she put me up against my locker and she kissed me. I mean, she gave me my first kiss. She taught me how to dance. She always was talking about these crazy things and I never understood a word she said. All I understood was that she was the girl I sat up every night thinking about, and when I’m with her, I feel happy to be alive. Like I can do anything. Even talk to you like this. So that’s, that’s what I think is love, mom. When I’m better because she’s here.” - Cory Matthews, Boy Meets World


Ah, love it.

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busy bee

I've been heads down this week trying to get everything done. As we quickly approach the summer, I find my work days busy, my evenings planned and my weekends consumed with activities.

Although I love the busyness, I can't help but panic that May is nearly halfway over. Slow down sweet spring! I have an evening commitment every night this week, and something every weekend now through July 10, which makes me wonder when, exactly, I will be able to stop and soak it all in.

Regardless, I laughed when I saw this ad. One of my biggest pet peeves is when people say they're too busy to work out. It's something you have to make time for - you have to proactively schedule it into your day, and this ad provides extra inspiration.

I hope you're able to find some time for a workout today!