Never stop mixing it up, stirring it all together, and trying new ingredients.
First, gather ingredients: brown hair, blue eyes, dry sense of humor, witty, loving family, love for run-on sentences, wine, and music, heaping desire for extraordinary, generous helping of creativity.
Start by growing up in tiny rural community. A place with country music, baseball and rope swings, where everybody knows your story. Run around barefoot on a picturesque farm for your whole childhood with your little brother, your dogs and cats and horses, and your talented, passionate parents nearby. Be unaware of how special and lucky you are.
Just when it all seems too good to be true, go to college. Surround yourself with girls concerned with Coach bags and spray tans. Busy yourself with boys and affording Uggs and that new thing called the iPod. Paint a false picture of the life you came from, creating a past that seemed to be just like every other girl’s, hiding the person you really are, the horseback-riding, quarterback-dating, farm girl you really are, out of embarrassment. Become “one of them.” Only briefly. Until it’s lumpy and starts to stink. When you can’t stir anymore, cue quarter-life “crisis.”
Add high heat and apply extreme pressure.
Next, run back home. Have an overflowing bowl of questions swirling through your head about who you are, what you are and what you need. Throw in a dash of disappointment from your parents. They want you to be a doctor, a teacher, anything they can define. But, you’ve always been their dreamer, their artist, the free spirit they chuckled at. Now that it’s time to let your spirit go, they aren’t chuckling anymore.
Don’t panic and throw away all you’ve already made.
Let your spirit go anyway. Fearlessly. Scare yourself. Drown in bills, get in over your head, suffocate in the knowledge that you might be all you’ve got. Ignore your better judgment. Drink a lot of cheap beer and sleep through many days because getting real is harder than that achy feeling you get from sleeping too much. Add a phase of depression and embark on a wild journey.
Take a break to let it all settle.
Meet a boy. He doesn’t really love you, but he shows you a world that you didn’t know existed. Be certain to pay close attention and to dump that bum before he breaks your heart. Take what he showed you and dive into a world full other dreamers and artists, full of music, literature, movies, vintage everything, travel and people who have a zest for life that is magnetic. Add that zest to taste. Then, let your heart overflow.
Listen to all those people. Cultivate healthy friendships with those who challenge, inspire and understand you. You’ll know who they are, don’t worry.
Now, get a grip. Get in touch with all those deep feelings you set aside when shit was really hard. They were down there somewhere, boiling. Pull them to the surface. Be strong enough to dissect each and every emotion that you never fully gave your attention to. Allow plenty of time for this. You may need assistance.
Add a generous helping of passion. Start doing what makes you come alive, all that travel and music and literature and joy stuff. Oh, and sushi and wine and paint and cooking and lipstick. But continue learning from all those missteps you took, too.
The recipe should look like it’s all coming together.
Learn all there is to learn about yourself. Honor her. And, remember that little girl from the farm that liked things like her hideout in the woods where she painted on rocks? Honor her, too. Throw her back into the mix.
Start a blog about nothing, stirring and kneading until it takes the shape of a place for you to record everything special that happens to you, around you, and in your head.
Begin understanding that yearning and uncertainty are beautiful traits that most of us share. Vow to reach out to women that are looking for other women who might get it.
Finally, apply to blog for Stratejoy because you’ve found a place where women support, honor, and encourage their differences and individual journeys.