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Trust in Yourself and Your Tribe

posted 30th October 2011    Written by: Kat    CATEGORY: All Posts, Guest Post Rockstar, Inspiration, Kat, Season 5

I had the pleasure of meeting the gorgeous and badass Jenn Gibson on twitter, and her website, Roots of She, is one of my favorite places on the internet these days. (If you haven´t checked it out, go now – after you read the interview, of course. It´s an inspiring collection of shared stories for and by women, and I think you´ll love it, too)

I think she´s rad, and I was thrilled that she was willing to share a piece of her story with me for the Stratejoy tribe! I´ll let you meet her in her own words:

In 100 words or fewer, who’s Jenn?

I’m a yoga lover and a believer in the power of dreaming big. Kittens and dancing make my heart go pitty-pat. I moved back home over the summer, bought a little house near the beach and love being so close to my family again. I write gratitude lists more often than to-do lists, and my favorite things right now are watching the leaves fall, listening to the wind high up in the trees, drinking hot tea and the quiet time before sunrise.

What motivated you to start Roots of She?

Because a site like this needed to exist. I’m coming to the table with feminist beliefs and a deep-seated need to translate those beliefs into something empowering and welcoming. My intention for this site: to act as a gathering place for women, a place where we can share our stories, no matter what flavor or bent they take. Think of a country porch on a cool summer evening, sitting around in rocking chairs or swings with mugs of tea in your hand – that feeling of home, safety, connection, solidarity. That’s how I hope you feel when you visit.

With Roots of She, you’ve created the opportunity to connect with so many amazing women. What have you learned from the tribe members that’s touched you the most deeply?

Wow, that’s a tough question because these women teach me every time they put fingertips to keyboard. One thing that’s resonating right now is something that Hannah taught me — the power of making my bed each morning. I would never make my bed before, absolutely loathed doing it, viewed it as a waste of time. I took her course The Joy Up over the summer and one segment of it was about making your bed. Something simple, right? So, grumbling and huffing and probably stomping my feet some, I started making my bed. Then I noticed that setting my space to rights each morning was calming, soothing. Relaxing, even, because I knew that when I would go to sleep that night, my bed would be a peaceful place. The sheets would be pulled up, the pillows plumped. There would be no chaos of tangled and jumbled sheets, no blankets left in disarray. It establishes my room as sacred space.

Do you feel like you’re going through/went through a quarterlife crisis? Tell me a little bit about your experience of it.

Oh, if you were here, you’d've just heard such an inelegant and loud snort. Yes, I totally went through a quarterlife crisis, complete with John Mayer soundtrack. I graduated from college when I was 23 and jumped right into working at a newspaper — oh man, journalism just got me so revved up. And then… and then it didn’t anymore. Then I got tired of being told which stories to tell and how to tell them. It just wasn’t working for me, and I angsted all over my friends and family. I had no idea what to do, I felt so small and lost. After a while, I decided that I’d go to grad school and get certified to teach. I loved working with kids and ensuring that they had a strong foundation of knowing that… they were enough, that they could do anything, it was so important to me. One thing led to another and I had to put those dreams on pause. Once in a while I would wonder what life would be like, who I would’ve become, if things had been different, but life is awesome from where I’m standing, I’m happy.

Who/what inspires you?

Who: Danette Relic. Hannah Marcotti. Pixie Campbell. Amanda Oaks. Rachael Maddox. Gwen Bell. Tara Wagner. Jen Lemen.

What: The smallness of every day. Baptiste yoga. Being around people who get so jazzed on life it can’t help but rub off.

Who/what challenges you?

Who: Me. I get in my own way so often, bahaha. Sometimes I get so wound up about things that it feels like I’m literally standing in my own way. When that happens I know I need to take a break and step away from things.

What: Anxiety and depression.

As you know, I’m a girl who loves to travel, so I love other people’s travel stories. What’s your favorite place that you’ve ever visited? Why?

Hee! I love San Diego! I went there a couple of years ago — it was in February, the East Coast had just gotten spanked by two blizzards, and days after that, there I am standing on a pier and people are apologizing to me for it only being 60 degrees. I couldn’t believe it, it was amazing and something I never thought I’d be able to do. Oh wow, the ocean was so big and pretty. It was vast and I looked out and thought it was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.

Any final words of wisdom for the Stratejoy tribe?

Hmm. Yes, actually. These are the things I wish someone had told me when I was 25 and 23 and 28: Your value and worth exceeds any dollar amount. You can do anything, even if you don’t believe it right now, even if things are hard, your potential is limitless. Be fierce and fearless, trust in yourself and your tribe. And when you get scared, remember to breathe. You can handle anything a breath at a time.

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Dollars vs. Dreams

posted 23rd October 2011    Written by: Kat    CATEGORY: All Posts, Kat, Money, Season 5, Travel, Travel/Adventure

Money’s been on my mind a lot lately. Long-term travel plans will do that to you, I suppose. I’ve got a variety of fears related to this trip, but the one that’s most consistently present is the fear of running out of cash. I touched on that in my post about my travel/moving plans, but I think it’s worth a closer look. I’m pretty sure I’m not alone here, and I suspect this fear is what stops some people from following their dreams of traveling, opening a business, and more.

My parents raised me to make very practical choices about money. My family is solidly middle class–perhaps even upper middle class in the economically-depressed area where I grew up–and they taught me from a young age to save. I’ve never been the type of person to accumulate a large sum of credit card debt, and while I was employed, I was putting money into a retirement account. I decided to leave my job in Seattle to do AmeriCorps partly because the paychecks were sometimes uncertain. Even though I wasn’t going to earn a lot of money during my AmeriCorps year, at least I was able to plan for that.

Point being: my nature is to make reasonably intelligent financial decisions and save money.

What the fuck was I thinking when I quit my job?!

I was thinking that I’d spent a few years automatically transferring 20-30% of my earnings into a savings account every month. I knew that someday I’d use that money to do something awesome, and that time had come. When it wasn’t in my checking account, I didn’t spend it. It was like magic when I looked at the savings balance later!

I was thinking that I was tired of earning my keep in a way that drained me. I was doing so many things on the side that I enjoyed–teaching yoga, blogging, taking photographs–and I wanted more time to explore those options as a potential sources of income.

I was thinking that life is short, and that I’ve never really bought into the idea that we should wait until we retire to follow our dreams. A former coworker once said to me: “It’s hard to dance when you have a walker, but it’s easy to sit at a desk and type.” I don’t want to wait my whole life to do something that I’m excited about now. I don’t want to spend my whole life saving for something that might never happen.

I’m not advocating racking up debt to fund crazy plans and diving into things with reckless abandon. That’s not my style. I am suggesting that if we want to do awesome things, we need to make those a priority. I was able to save the money for this trip by living what some people saw as a spartan lifestyle. I spent money on the things that mattered most–travel and food, including eating out with friends–and I was cautious about the rest. There were certainly times that I missed living alone, but I saved hundreds of dollars each month by having a roommate. I rarely bought things like clothes, books, and other random items because those weren’t in my budget.

My dad said to me a few years ago that he and my mom had a hard time understanding me because they saw my brother buying things (new tv, car stereo, etc.), and I wasn’t like that. I like to spend my money on experiences. That’s how I choose to live my life, and that includes the financial side of it.

All of that doesn’t take away the fear of running out of cash. You know what’s scarier to me, though? Planning around a someday that might never arrive and living a life that isn’t authentic.

Of course, I’ve still got a semi-meticulous travel budget. It’s not like I can get away from my upbringing that easily.

[photo credit: me!]

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Why Moving Sucks

posted 25th September 2011    Written by: Kat    CATEGORY: All Posts, Kat, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 5, Travel, Travel/Adventure

Moving sucks.

There, I said it.

I’ve sold my furniture; donated clothing, books, and other random items; and trashed mountains of paperwork that have been secretly breeding on my shelves and in my file box. (Honestly, all of my possessions must have been reproducing in my closets and drawers, because there’s no way I ever owned that much stuff.)

My apartment stopped feeling like home two weeks ago, when I repainted the walls. Before that, it was bright, cheery, and oh so me. When my ex and I decided to take this apartment, I agreed as long as I could paint some of the rooms: Kermit-the-Frog-green accent wall in the living room, pale blue bedroom, yellow accent wall in the guest room. The walls are back to being Navajo White now, and I’m closing this chapter on my life–the NYC chapter and the chapter with my ex.

I’m no stranger to big moves: I’ve shifted my life cross-country twice, both times leaving behind dear friends and comfortable cities. This feels different somehow, perhaps because Australia isn’t exactly in easy/affordable flight range for most people. Although the prevalence of twitter, blogging, and facebook in my life means I’ll be able to keep in touch with my New York friends (you know, the same way I keep in touch with my Seattle and DC friends now), I still feel flooded with sadness when I think about the moments I’ll miss here.

My heart breaks when I think about the fact that I’ll no longer be able to walk up to my friends’ apartment upstairs when I’m feeling stressed or sad, to sit on their futon and have their dogs and two-year-old daughter shower me with unconditional love. I start crying when I think about leaving behind the knitting group with whom I’ve spent nearly every Tuesday night for the past four years; they have been my strongest support through both the best and toughest times that I’ve experienced in this city. I start to wonder, What was I thinking? Connection is one of my core values, after all…

Like I said, moving sucks.

Fortunately, there are things that can help. Throughout this whole awful process of letting go of everything familiar–including possessions that had moved cross-country with me both times–the yogi in me has been reiterating that it’s good to practice non-attachment. All of this stuff doesn’t make me who I am. I’ve learned through my last two big moves that the people who matter stick around and stay in touch, and you find ways to maintain friendships across the miles. Asking for assistance is important; good friends are willing to do everything from assisting with painting or packing, to sitting with you while you cry and stare at your freshly-painted while walls. And of course, there’s been travel planning, which is pretty exciting when you’re meeting up with friends all over Europe. If I were only focusing on what I’m leaving behind, I’d never get anywhere. Connection may be one of my core values, but so is adventure. I want to find that balance.

With two days left in New York and barely anything in my apartment, I’m trying to soak up as much of my friends and the city as I can. I’ve been writing and taking photos, and also thinking about what I want from the next five months. After a few weeks of thinking about goals, I’ve finally settled on three:

Though I consider myself successful for quitting my job and taking this trip in the first place, I’m pretty certain that I don’t want to go back to sitting at a desk every day working for other people. I want to use the next five months–and the next year, really–to do everything in my power to create a life that won’t involve that.

This is it.

Two more days.

[photo credit: me!]

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Ending a Relationship: Lessons Learned and Things Remembered

posted 18th September 2011    Written by: Kat    CATEGORY: All Posts, Kat, Love/Relationships, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 5, What I've Learned

The relationship that I ended last summer left me in a fragile state. It had been unhealthy for me for a long time; when I look back at things honestly, there were warning signs that I ignored from the very beginning. Because I’d spent a lot of that relationship quashing my dreams and trying to make myself something that he would love, I hadn’t noticed how it was destroying my self-esteem little by little. By the time he delivered some soul-crushing blows during our breakup—I think it’s the only time anyone’s ever called me boring and no fun, and those were far from the worst of it—I believed some of the awful things he said about me.

It probably goes without saying that I wasn’t doing particularly well last August. I recall telling friends that I wasn’t sure how I got out of bed every day, that I did it because it seemed like the only thing to do. I feel pretty confident stating that it was the worst month of my (then) 29 years. I’d realized that I needed to end the relationship, I’d told him to move out, and after that, I had no idea how to pick up the pieces of my life. I wasn’t sure who I was and how to feel like that person again.

Right around that time, I saw someone post on twitter about The Joy Equation, so I thought I’d give it a try. I wanted a way to start connecting with myself again. I think the most telling thing for me was completing the section about my values; it finally clicked that I hadn’t been happy for so long because the life I’d been leading for the previous two years wasn’t in line with any of my values. No wonder I’d been feeling so awful, frustrated, and angry! I stayed in a relationship at first because I hadn’t wanted to be alone, and later because I’d been so torn down by my ex that I didn’t have the confidence to leave. How could that possibly have made me feel anything other than terrible?

I’d love to say that things magically transformed then. Though they didn’t, I slowly began to heal. Things started feeling normal again; I did some traveling. By December, I was ready to make a decision that would dramatically change my life for the better: I enrolled in a 200-hour yoga teacher training.

It’s funny, because I think a lot of people expect yoga teacher training to be about learning to teach yoga. It is, of course, but there’s so much more than that. The teaching part is easier: you need to know the poses, how to adjustment them, and how to sequence them. The biggest—and hardest—part is knowing yourself. How can you hold space for others in a class if you aren’t taking care of you? I had to face some of the scary things that I’d been hiding deep within me for months and even years. There were nights when we’d be practicing together and suddenly, I couldn’t stop crying. I had to learn to let go.

Halfway through teacher training, someone I knew commented that it seemed like I was discovering a lot of things about myself. I replied that I wasn’t finding them—I was remembering. That’s the moment that things started coming together for me; it all started to make sense, and I knew I was ready to make some big changes and work toward living in line with my values.

It’s hard to look back at the past year and see the things that I’ve learned, because I wish I hadn’t needed to conquer those lessons. I’m able to see a lot more clearly now how staying and justifying that relationship was unhealthy for me. I have a much better idea of what is important to me in a relationship; I’ll never again stand for someone who judges my tattoos, someone who wants to stop me from doing things that I love, or someone who wants to change integral parts of my personality. Perhaps most importantly, I’ve remembered how to be alone, and the good that can come of being present with myself.

And in case you’re wondering about those core values that were a wakeup call last summer, they are: connection, bliss, abundance, trust, adventure, courage, magic, and strength. I expect I’ll be exploring those a lot more in this space over the next five months. Though I’ve begun to realign my life to reflect what matters most to me, I’ve got more to learn—and remember.

[photo credit:  me!]

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It Only Took Five Years of Ignoring The QLC.

posted 11th September 2011    Written by: Kat    CATEGORY: All Posts, Job/Career/Work, Kat, Quarterlife Crisis, Season 5, Travel/Adventure

INTRODUCING: KAT

“I can admit now that I was afraid to be alone.”

 collage of kat

Five years ago: My AmeriCorps year with Habitat for Humanity was ending, and I had no idea what I wanted to do for work. I loved that job—the manual labor, the opportunity to teach, the people—and I didn’t know what type of job I could find to capture those things. I fell into my current non-profit desk job because that was familiar (it was how I made my living before AmeriCorps), I needed an income, and I wasn’t sure how to find something else. I considered moving back to Seattle; however, I decided to stick with New York City and the more traditional type of job that my parents wanted for me.

Three years ago: I was still thinking about leaving New York, still wanting to be somewhere else. This time, I was considering Australia. I could get a work visa, and I’d been interested in living there since I first visited in 1997. My job was boring me, I couldn’t get the promotion I wanted—and believe me, I’d been trying—and I was feeling very stuck career-wise. Then I met a guy and fell—hard—and I chose to stay to see where things that went, even though it didn’t feel quite right. I can admit now that I was afraid to be alone.

One year ago: I’d moved in with my boyfriend and finally gotten promoted at work. Saying that sounds like life was great, except I felt like a shell of myself. Every little thing had me on edge; I would literally cry over spilt milk. It was awful, and it got even worse when just before my 29th birthday, my boyfriend started saying completely horrible things to me. I cried, sobbed, and screamed, and finally, I told him to move out. I was left with the overwhelming desire to get rid of everything I owned and leave New York for good, except I knew that at that point, I couldn’t be happy anywhere. I needed time to rebuild myself first. I breathed. I stayed. I proclaimed on my 29th birthday that the upcoming year would be my year of courage.

Let me tell you: when you make a declaration like that, you’d better be prepared for what’s coming.

Six months ago: Three important events:
1. a management training for work, which led to the realization that I didn’t want my boss’ job;
2. the beginning of my yoga teacher training, which helped me find myself again; and
3. finding a (fortunately benign) lump in my breast, which reminded me that I want to be living life on my terms.

Those three things finally propelled me to acknowledge my quarterlife crisis, to make the type of change that had been on my mind for the past few years. When my boss asked me in a meeting if I was happy at
my job, I simply replied, “No.” That startled both of us, and I knew then that I needed to go for it. I realized that there would never be a perfect time; this was the moment to say yes to myself and figure out the details later.

One month ago: I turned 30, and declared it my year of flourishing. I don’t know what’s coming; all I know is that the traditional path—the desk job, living longer-term in one city, settling into a relationship—hasn’t worked for me. In five days, I’ll no longer be employed. In two weeks, I’ll leave my apartment in Brooklyn one final
time. I’ll head to Seattle and then Europe, traveling for several months, and eventually making my way to Sydney—or maybe Melbourne—to be a photograph-taking, gluten-free pie baking, knitting, tattooed
yoga teacher and blogger.

Watch out, world. I’m coming for you!

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