Howdy, everyone! (Taps mic.) Is this thing still on??

For the past few years, every time I’ve sat down to write a post, I’ve been amazed by how much time has passed since I last touched the blog. I used to feel guilty about this, especially when comparing my posting frequency to the pace at which “real bloggers” seem to churn out material. But I’ve slowly come to accept several things: 1) writing is a pretty slow process for me, so quality over quantity is a good approach, 2) writing is such a key part of who I am and how I understand the world that I can confidently put it to rest in busy seasons and know that I’ll find my way back eventually, and 3) life has been so chock full of change over the past few years that it’s kind of a miracle that this blog is still standing. So instead of feeling guilty, I choose to celebrate!

And things won’t be slowing down anytime soon…As some of you may have seen on my social media, Mr. Pink Tie and I are about to undergo our biggest life transition yet: We’re expecting a baby boy due January 1, 2024!

I want to first say how incredibly excited and grateful we are, while also acknowledging that pregnancy has been a JOURNEY and I had NO CLUE what I was signing up for. Physically, emotionally, and spiritually, this has already been one of the craziest and hardest things I’ve ever done (and I know it’s about to get much harder with a newborn!). I can’t stop marveling at the fact that there are over 8 billion people on the planet and that every single one of them resulted from a woman undergoing this weird, wonderful, and sometimes downright miserable process of pregnancy (not to mention labor, delivery, and the postpartum period). I can’t stop marveling at the fact that many women do this not just once but many times over the course of their reproductive years, while continuing to work, care for other children, manage households, and tend to countless other responsibilities. I am just…in awe, honestly.

But before I dive into the specifics of my story, I do want to acknowledge that there is a flip side to all of this. Even amidst the challenges, I recognize that we are very blessed to have had a healthy and low-risk pregnancy thus far. I realize that not every woman or couple has this same experience, and I have tried to be intentional about offering much of my pregnancy-related suffering for those who have experienced infertility, miscarriage, difficult and/or high-risk pregnancies, and other struggles on the path to parenthood that far exceed my own. So I hope that everything I’m about to share can be read with these things in mind. None of my comments stem from a place of self-pity or signal a lack of appreciation for the miracle and fragility of life.

Now back to our regularly scheduled programming. Did I mention that pregnancy has been a JOURNEY?!? Let’s break it down…

The Physical

About a week after getting the positive pregnancy test and feeling both overjoyed (a baby!) and nervous (omg, a BABY), the nausea set in. Like many women, I quickly learned that “morning sickness” is a total misnomer, as it became my all-day, every day, all-consuming reality from the beginning of May to the end of July. I also experienced some crazy strong aversions to totally benign foods like fruit, eggs, bread, and water, which made it exceedingly difficult to stay hydrated (during an impossibly hot and dry summer, even for Houston). And then there was the exhaustion. Oh my goodness, I never knew it was possible to be that tired! There were days when I would sleep for 10 hours, get up to choke down whatever food didn’t repulse me, throw in a load of laundry, and then need a 2 hour nap to recover.

I truly felt like a different person inhabiting a different body. Gone were the days when I’d eagerly hop out of bed at 5:30 am to make coffee, pray, and exercise before work. During that first trimester, it was an accomplishment to shower and brush my teeth every day (especially given that I couldn’t find a toothpaste that didn’t make me gag). My prayer life consisted mainly of holding a rosary during the worst waves of nausea and repeating “Jesus, I trust in you” through tears. My thick, dry hair became greasy and started falling out, to the point where my hairdresser (before learning I was pregnant) gave me a concerned look and asked if I was getting enough vitamins. My skin started breaking out like I was a teenager and my face was consistently a pale shade of green. I fantasized about switching bodies with someone else for a while, Freaky-Friday style, or simply hibernating for a few months until it was all over.

Besides the grace of God and other people’s prayers, the main things that kept me going were my sonogram appointments. The first time we got to see our baby on the ultrasound at 8 weeks was one of those breathtaking moments that’s hard to put into words, even for a writer. Because I wasn’t yet showing or able to feel any kicks, this was the first time his little life felt truly real and tangible. All of my symptoms just made me feel chronically ill, but seeing his tiny form and hearing his heartbeat reminded me that in reality, we were both very healthy, and everything was going as it should. We had to have additional ultrasounds at weeks 10 and 12 to nail down a firm due date, and even though it seemed a little excessive (and certainly wasn’t cheap), I think maybe God sent me those additional opportunities to see my son because He knew I’d need them. I really, really did.

Fortunately, around week 16, I started to turn a corner. I will never forget what it felt like to wake up one day and realize I didn’t immediately need to go back to bed! Gradually, I was able to eat and drink more normally, and every time I successfully reintroduced a food to which I had previously been averse, we celebrated. “Strawberries are back today!” I’d announce to Mr. Pink Tie, who would cheer enthusiastically.

After a few more weeks, I was able to operate somewhat normally again, to make it through the workday without a 2-hour nap, to meet up with friends, to cook and clean, and even to exercise. Currently, as I approach week 30, I’m still taking a small dose of anti-nausea medication before bed, I still struggle to drink enough water, and I still can’t eat eggs or stand the smell of coffee. But these minor inconveniences pale in comparison to what I experienced before. Plus, now I can feel the baby kick (and punch, and roll, and audition for American Ninja Warrior), which I love.

The Emotional

From an emotional standpoint, I quickly encountered another pregnancy struggle: other people’s opinions, and namely those expressed on the interwebs. In an effort to distract myself from the nausea, I spent wayyyyy too much time scrolling on Instagram in those early weeks. I was actually looking for inspirational pregnancy and motherhood accounts to follow, but instead I became inundated by every idea, opinion, research study, and cautionary tale under the sun. One organization would strongly warn against doing X during pregnancy, while another would counter that this advice was outdated and could be ignored. One Internet Mom would sing the praises of a particular baby brand, sleep method, or feeding philosophy, while the next would condemn this same product or practice as the root of all evil. Even well-meaning sources of pregnancy wellness tips felt out of touch with my reality — I couldn’t fathom trying to increase my choline or omega-3 intake when blue Gatorade was the closest thing to a fruit I’d touched in weeks.

The breaking point came when I was reading a post in which one woman shared her breastfeeding struggles. At first, I was inspired by her vulnerability and courage in sharing — until her tone took a sudden turn and she began using her own story of perseverance to shame women who give up breastfeeding “too easily” and clearly don’t “love their babies enough.”

GET THIS WOMAN OFF THE INTERNET! I wanted to scream. (I may have actually screamed, too — this time period is mostly a blur.) Then, I realized, it was time to get ME off the internet.

Within days of deleting the Instagram app from my phone, I noticed dramatic improvements in my mental health. I started taking the approach that if my OB wasn’t worried, I wasn’t going to worry, either — and luckily, she has been a great resource and cheerleader throughout my pregnancy thus far. She also experienced a lot of nausea during her own pregnancies, so when I shared that my main food groups were Diet Coke, cheeseburgers, and gyro sandwiches from our local Greek restaurant, she laughed knowingly and encouraged me to simply do my best.

I’ve continued avoiding Instagram as much as possible since then, and although I miss seeing updates from friends, you really can’t put a price on peace of mind. I’ve also unfollowed the accounts that were stressing me out so that if and when I do choose to scroll, I’m less likely to spiral.

The Spiritual

Throughout the worst of my symptoms, I kept reminding myself that God wouldn’t allow me to suffer unless He intended to bring a greater good out of the experience. However, as I looked over at my poor husband, I often wondered if there were any good in it for him, too.

I was well aware that we had vowed to love each other “in sickness and in health” on our wedding day, but what had never occurred to me was that I might be the one to be sick first. For whatever reason (probably pride), I had always envisioned myself playing the hero in this scenario, not the other way around. I was ready to make soup when Mr. Pink Tie was sniffly, apply cold compresses when his fever spiked, and make a late-night run for cough drops when his throat was sore. I was not prepared to need his help, at least this soon. I was not prepared for how vulnerable it would feel for him to see me at my worst, to hear my grumpiest and most unpleasant thoughts laid bare, and to pick up my slack in almost every area. And I was not prepared for what it would feel like for him to do all of this with such willingness and compassion, with such strength and grace. He didn’t just step up to the plate — he hit the ball out of the park, over and over. When I felt useless, he reminded me that we were both working hard doing exactly what we were supposed to be doing. For me, that meant growing a whole human being, not cleaning the house or answering emails.

Looking back on this time, I can also see God’s hand in setting the tone for my motherhood. My tendency, as you may have gathered, is to try to do it all and do it perfectly. And even after all these years of growing in freedom from my perfectionistic ways, I can still see a version of reality where, if I had felt better, I would have put a ton of pressure on myself to have the “perfect pregnancy.” To eat the perfect diet, exercise just the right amount, avoid anything and everything that could possibly harm a developing fetus, read every book on pregnancy and motherhood, and have everything ready for baby months in advance.

Essentially, in allowing me to feel like crap, He kinda saved me from myself.

I had to let go of all expectations and allow “survival mode” to be good enough for a while. I had to learn to drown out all the voices of the Internet Moms (even the well-meaning ones) and instead turn to a few trusted individuals and my own intuition for direction. I had to learn to look to Our Lady and realize that she isn’t held up as the model of motherhood because she chose the right prenatal vitamin or because of her decision regarding whether to sleep train Jesus. Instead, we honor Mary because of her fidelity to the Lord and receptivity to His plan for her family, even when this plan involved hardship and suffering. (The donkey ride to Bethlehem while 9 months pregnant alone would have raised a few questions and complaints from me, personally.)

Now that I’m feeling better and able to do more, it’s tempting to let the perfectionistic mindset creep back in. After all, we have less than 2.5 months until our due date, and there’s still so much to be done. (Set up the nursery! Find pediatrician! Make a birth plan! Prep freezer meals! Write thank-you notes for the baby shower! Pack the hospital bag! Get everything ready for my maternity leave! Finally organize that one closet that’s been driving me nuts!) It’s endless, and not all of it will get done, especially with the holidays coming up. I’m trying my best to stay calm and remember that, as I mentioned on Instagram the other day, mothers may do these tasks, but these tasks do not comprise the actual work of mothering. (You can read the full post below.)

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Mary, Queen of the Family, pray for us!

St. Joseph, Protector of the Family, pray for us!

St. John Paul II, pray for us!

I lift up my eyes to the hills. 
From where does my help come? 
My help comes from the Lord, 
who made heaven and earth. 

He will not let your foot be moved, 
he who keeps you will not slumber. 
Behold, he who keeps Israel  
will neither slumber, nor sleep. 

-- Psalm 121: 1-4 

In the Christian world, we often refer to Jesus as the Great Physician or the Divine Healer. This title speaks to his ability to miraculously heal not only physical maladies but psychological and spiritual ones as well. However, until recently, I held a pretty limited view of woundedness, or perhaps, of the types of injuries that would qualify for Christ’s care.

Sure, I’ve written about my healing journey with anxiety, past breakups, and my car accident a few years ago. But I’ve still wondered whether the term “healing” was a bit of a stretch in these situations — self-indulgent, even. Was I co-opting a concept better reserved for those who have experienced truly “traumatic” events like abandonment or abuse? Given my privileged circumstances and upbringing, weren’t most of my first world problems just in need of “fixing” rather than “healing”? Weren’t they a result of my own flaws and weaknesses rather than wounds? My experience this Lent, however, has suggested otherwise.

I’ve been reflecting on the idea that perhaps all of us have been impacted by a shared trauma: original sin (Genesis 3). The American Psychological Association defines trauma as “an emotional response to a terrible event like an accident, rape, or natural disaster” and goes on to describe the signs and symptoms: “Immediately after the event, shock and denial are typical. Longer term reactions include unpredictable emotions, flashbacks, strained relationships, and even physical symptoms like headaches or nausea.”

I don’t know about you, but the severing of our relationship with God and our ability to live in perfect communion with ourselves, with each other, and with Him certainly qualifies as a terrible event in my book, one that would elicit a strong emotional response. Immediately after Adam and Even took a bite of the forbidden fruit, they experienced the shock of their newfound nakedness and denial as God confronted them and they shifted blame elsewhere. And ever since, we have seen the ripple effects of the Fall in every aspect of our lives, from our tendency toward sin (concupiscence) to the realities of sickness, death, and natural disasters. Each personal sin we commit only serves to further compound the situation — to rub salt in the wound, as they say.

And just as with any trauma, different people will exhibit different responses and coping mechanisms, many of which are unhealthy and counterproductive. I’d bet that each of us can scan a list of the seven deadly sins and identify ones we lean on more than others. (Helloooo pride and envy!) However, if we view sin (both original and personal) through the lens of trauma, then we can see how God freeing us from our vices is less about Him whipping us into shape via some Divine Bootcamp and more about Him healing the deeper wounds that lie beneath. This doesn’t minimize our responsibility for the sins we do commit, but it does change how we move forward from them. We also have to play an active role in allowing the Lord to heal us, since He always honors our free will. Jesus asks us the same question that He posed to the paralyzed man in John 5: “Do you want to be healed?”

Back to this Lent. As I mentioned in a recent Instagram post, while discerning my penance this year, I started by asking, “Lord, what do you want from me this Lent?” Quickly, however, He encouraged me to ask a different question: “Lord, what do you want FOR me this Lent?” You can read the full story below.

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Making this shift enabled me to identify new areas in which God wanted to grant me greater freedom, and it helped me to see them as wounds in need of healing rather than just flaws in need of fixing. One of these areas is my tendency toward hypervigilance. Although not exactly the same as the hypervigilance experienced by individuals with PTSD, for example, my constant need to control, plan, and anticipate in order to avoid any negative outcomes often leaves me tense and on edge. It’s super difficult for me to ever be fully present in the moment, and on the rare occasion when I can, I realize how much my body aches from all of the muscle tension I’ve been carrying. I also tend to startle incredibly easily. (Just ask Mr. Pink Tie, who regularly walks into the room and scares the living daylights out of me.) However, I’ve never focused much on addressing this for a couple reasons.

First, in many ways, my overdose of conscientiousness has been an asset to me. In my career, for example, I’ve always been the team member able to identify a potential flaw in the plan and develop a safeguard against it. My attentiveness to detail helps me to coordinate events, pack for trips, and proofread papers with relative ease. In a group setting, I usually have that one thing that someone inevitably needs, be it a piece of gum or a painkiller, because of my preparedness. So, I haven’t wanted to lose these abilities that in some ways have become a key part of how I see myself and what I have to offer. Second, I honestly didn’t realize how much my hypervigilance was negatively affecting me until I got married. Entering into a “partnership of the whole of life,” as the Catechism of the Catholic Church describes the sacrament of matrimony, really shines a blinding light onto our brokenness, am I right, y’all?

My guiding scripture verse for Lent comes from Psalm 121: “He who keeps you will not slumber.” Already, it has offered SO much consolation in moments when I feel like if I don’t think of or take care of everything, no one will. When I fear that if I don’t remember to add something to the grocery list or start the dishwasher or respond to an email, everything will unravel. When I’m juggling too much but don’t trust anyone to help me catch whatever falls. One of the key tactics of the devil, both in the Garden of Eden and in every temptation since, is to call into question the very nature of God.

Can you really trust Him? The serpent probes Eve.

Is He really who He says He is? Satan asks us today.

Psalm 121 reminds me that the One who sees all and knows all — who created heaven and earth — is constantly keeping watch over me. He never takes even a moment’s rest from His provision and care. He is ever vigilant so I don’t have to be. I can truly rest, knowing that He is always at work.

Recently, I’ve experienced a string of illnesses — some commonplace, others more unusual — that have forced me to cancel numerous plans, forgo workouts, and call in sick to work for several days. In fact, this blog post is the fruit of a day spent on the couch, forcing myself to actually rest so my poor immune system can catch a break. It’s so hard for me to not view this time as wasted, to not feel like I should just push through and get things done anyway. But last week, as I arrived home from an afternoon of driving from one doctor to the next, I clearly heard God interrupt my thought process with the affirmation, “Your healing is never a waste of time.” It’s always on His time, of course, but it’s never wasted.

So in the coming months, I’ll once again turn to the subject of healing, this time expanding to topics like social anxiety and self-doubt, body image and exercise, and more. I’m excited for what’s to come, but in the meantime, I’m off to take a nap and eat some more ice cream to soothe my sore throat. I have a feeling it’s just what the Great Physician ordered.

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, 
neither are your ways my ways, says the Lord.
For as the heavens are higher than the earth, 
so are my ways higher than your ways
and my thoughts than your thoughts. 

— Isaiah 55: 8-9

Happy New Year, everyone!

I hope 2023 is off to a good start for you. (And if not, there’s plenty of time left for things to turn around!) Something I noticed as I scrolled through my social media feeds in the days leading up to the new year was a trend of gratitude and positivity. For the past few years, it seems that many recap posts have had the tone of “Bye 20XX, don’t let the door hit you on the way out!” And understandably so — the pandemic and all of its myriad implications left most, if not all, of us crawling to the finish line in 2020 and 2021. But this year was noticeably different, and for that I am grateful. It’s encouraging to see so many people feeling happier, healthier, and more hopeful than before. I share that sentiment as well, and although I’m constantly trying to reign in unrealistic expectations, I can’t help but look forward to so much in 2023.

Our first holiday season as a married couple was beautiful in so many ways. My ministry team ran a successful Advent retreat for over 45 young adults, and Mr. Pink Tie played bass guitar in a beautiful Christmas concert at the church where he works. We participated in some of his family’s favorite Colombian traditions, including celebrating Día de las Velitas (Day of Little Candles) and praying the Novena de Aguinaldos (Novena to the Baby Jesus). We attended a candlelit string quartet performance of The Nutcracker, watched (and roasted) a painfully predictable Hallmark movie trilogy, put up our new tree and decorated our house together for the first time, and enjoyed a NYE brunch with friends — a genius idea now that most of the couples have children under age 2. (Everyone, including us newlyweds, made it home in time for an afternoon nap.)

And at the same time, our first holidays as a married couple were difficult, and I had more than one Very Merry Meltdown over the course of the season. I hurt my back in early December and was out of commission for a full week, Mr. Pink Tie was sick from Christmas Eve through the new year, and a few days of freezing temps had us all on edge as we recalled the disastrous impacts of Winter Storm Uri the year before. (Fortunately, our pipes survived unscathed, and we didn’t lose any power or water this time.) Despite declining numerous invitations, we frequently felt overwhelmed and overcommitted, and there are Christmas gifts we still have yet to order. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t see anyone on my side of the family, and in my efforts to keep up with everything else, I hardly incorporated any of our beloved traditions into the season. (The one pastime I did attempt — making a batch of my mom’s famous fudge — failed miserably and ended up in the trash along with all of my chocolatey hopes and dreams.) None of these events was catastrophic, of course, but at times it just felt like a lot, especially on top of adjusting to married life. So as with pretty much everything in life, beauty and hardship co-existed.

Speaking of adjusting to married life, a month or two ago, I saw something on Instagram that I’ve been thinking about ever since.

It was a post from multimedia artist Morgan Harper Nichols, whom I’ve admired for years for her unique brand of beauty, encouragement, and vulnerability. It’s not unusual for me to stop and reflect when her work comes across my feed, but this time, I was truly moved. The post featured the text, “It’s okay if productivity looks different in this season.” The words “in this season” were crossed out, and the words “from now on” were handwritten just below. (MHN provides further details about her personal journey with autism, ADHD, and productivity in the post’s caption, which I highly encourage everyone to read as well.)

It’s okay if productivity looks different from now on.

Such a simple sentiment, yet one that I need to hear on repeat. A major shift in my pace and productivity is something I’ve been struggling with in these early months of marriage. Before tying the knot, when my schedule was largely my own, I spent the vast majority of my time doing: cooking, cleaning, laundry, errands, emails, exercise, planning, preparing, keeping up with friends and family, and staying involved in church and ministry activities. There was very little down time and very few moments that were unplanned. And honestly, that’s just kind of how I’m wired — I’m sharing neither to brag nor to complain.

But when Mr. Pink Tie moved in, I quickly realized that this is not how everyone is wired. He is incredibly responsible, hardworking, and organized, but he’s also a huge proponent (and practitioner) of rest, both physical and mental/emotional. Witnessing him lie in bed after his alarm goes off, spend a few minutes practicing piano “just for fun,” or wait to do the dishes in favor of “relaxing” was initially pretty flabbergasting. And for the first few weeks of living together, we experienced the tension of mismatched expectations when, after dinner, he’d assume it was time to hang out — and I’d assume it was time to get a few more things done. (To my credit, I assumed we’d do the things together, or at the very least, alongside each other — tandem productivity is an underrated love language, y’all!)

When I thought about it a bit more, it began to make sense why Mr. Pink Tie and I hadn’t realized this key difference sooner. When we were dating and engaged, we lived 40+ minutes apart and only saw each other once or twice per week; thus, we could plan accordingly and give each other our undivided attention on every date. Now that we’re living together, we’re going to have to find a balance between quality time (necessary for the health of our relationship) and getting things done (necessary to keep our work and household running smoothly).

And as a result, my productivity has started to look different. And I suspect that it’s more than a temporary adjustment period — this is a “from now on” kind of shift.

I can’t jam-pack every minute and “maximize” every second like I once did. I need to create more space for communication and connection with my husband and allow greater margin for the mistakes that both of us will make. I need to recognize that my pace can sometimes overwhelm or exhaust him and isn’t the best or only way to get things done. I need to get more rest so that I can show up better in every area of life — I wasn’t getting enough sleep before, but this reality was easier to ignore when I was single or living alone. And I need to admit that in many ways, productivity has become an idol, a created thing that is distracting me from — or even taking the place of — my Creator.

And as uncomfortable as it has been (and will continue to be), and as much as I try to fight it, I know that this transformation is not only good for my relationship with Mr. Pink Tie, it’s also good for me. God is working through my marriage to heal me and free me in new ways — ways I wasn’t ready for before entering into the sacrament.

Which brings me to my word of the year. (Drumroll, please.)

Mr. Pink Tie and I used Jen Fulwiler’s Word of the Year Generator, and I got “HIGHER.” (Last year I selected my own word, but this year, I wanted it to be completely out of my control.) After we got a few cannabis-related jokes out of our systems, I was intrigued to see what this word might come to mean over the course of 2023. And already, I am beginning to sense a theme taking shape…

The Lord taking me to the next level in places where I’ve been stuck or have plateaued.

The Lord seeking to elevate my approach in areas where I thought good was good enough.

The Lord showing me that His thoughts are higher than my thoughts and His ways are higher than my ways in places where I didn’t think improvement or healing were possible, or where I wasn’t dreaming big enough.

I can already see it in my productivity, in my prayer life, in my relationships, and in my work — but I’ll save the rest of that for another post. After all, the year has only just begun.

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven;
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

--Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

Remember in my last post when I mentioned that my word for January was “pause”? Well, apparently it also meant pausing the blog, not just for January but for the better part of 2022. Whoops! Although I’ve written nearly a dozen drafts over the past year, so much life has been happening that I haven’t had the wherewithal to finalize and publish a single post. But I’m back, baby, and excited to share some updates! Let’s start with the top 3:

1. I got married: On October 22 (the feast of St. John Paul II), I finally became Mrs. Pink Tie! In the coming months, I look forward to writing more about our experience with wedding planning, marriage prep, and more. Until then, you can find the story of how I met my husband in this post. (Hint: He was the best $29.99 I’ve ever spent!)
2. I moved: In May, Mr. Pink Tie and I signed a lease on our first place together: a townhome in the Spring Branch neighborhood of Houston. I moved into the house in June, and he joined me when we returned from our honeymoon. After 2 years of residing 40+ minutes apart, it’s been such a joy to get to live together and share the regular, everyday moments.
3. I changed careers: Throughout last spring and summer, it became clear that my once life-giving workplace was no longer healthy for me, so I made the very difficult decision to leave. Before jumping into another 9-to-5, I decided to explore some nontraditional options that would allow me more time to pursue my writing — and I soon landed a part-time job as a nanny and some contract work for a ministry organization that I love. Now that the side hustle of planning my own wedding has come to an end, I’ve finally been able to carve out regular time for writing each week. My hope is to grow this blog, write for some additional online platforms, and eventually, embark on some bigger projects I’ve been dreaming about for years.

So a lot has been going on, and there’s plenty more to come! Each of these transitions has ultimately brought immense peace and joy, but as with most major life changes, they’ve also come with a fair share of challenges: new logistics to navigate, disruptions to old rhythms and routines, decision fatigue, and plain old emotional exhaustion. I’m still settling into all of it and will be for some time.

For marriage especially, people often describe the first year as being “really hard” or a “major adjustment,” but they don’t give much detail about why. I always assumed it was because there’s a lot of compromising — and I wasn’t wrong. But I’m finding that marriage, especially in your 30s, also comes with an overwhelming amount of combining — of belongings, finances, schedules, priorities, expectations, and more — virtually overnight. Add this to the litany of tasks that Mr. Pink Tie and I had already postponed during the craziness of wedding planning, and all the hustle and bustle that comes with the holiday season, and we have ourselves quite the to-do list. As someone who loves game plans and getting things done, my first instinct is to try to tackle everything ASAP — even the items that can never be truly “checked off.” (We’ll be communicating about our priorities and expectations ’til death do us part, after all.) I’ve been trying to fight this urge, but still, my heart longs for a roadmap. So, going back to my “word of the month” idea from January, I’ve been discerning what word or phrase I need to guide me in this particular chapter.

For years, I have clung to the above passage from Ecclesiastes and its reminder that there is a season (or in other translations, an “appointed time”) for every thing and — just as importantly — no single season during which we must do and have and be everything. Although the author of Ecclesiastes goes on to emphasize that we can never truly know what God has in store or predict how He will act, I do believe we can discern, with at least some degree of accuracy, what He is calling us to in any given moment.

And I’ve determined that for me, right now, He is calling me to unity.

Now that I have officially entered the vocation of marriage, my top priority on this earth should be Mr. Pink Tie, and specifically, on loving and accompanying him to heaven. I’ve recently started reading Spousal Prayer by Deacon James Keating, which was generously gifted to us by the families I work for. A particular aspect of the book that has stuck with me is the author’s encouragement to prioritize unity and intimacy. This doesn’t mean always seeing eye-to-eye or constantly feeling head-over-heels in love. Rather, Deacon James encourages spouses to deeply share their minds and hearts with one another and, even in times of disagreement, to conduct themselves in a way that preserves, strengthens, and prioritizes their bond.

He provides the (very relatable) example of one spouse wanting to vent to the other. (One downside of having a love for words is that I’m the queen of rants, soapboxes, and unsolicited TED Talks. I felt like he chose this example just for me.) He explains that the wife, for instance, can share her feelings either as a way of getting them off her chest and experiencing momentary relief, or she can share because communicating openly and authentically is a crucial part of keeping their relationship strong, and not doing so may introduce distance and even resentment. The latter isn’t necessarily terrible, but the focus is more on the self than on the marriage. It’s a subtle distinction that, according to Deacon James, will make a big difference in the long run.

So in this busy season, when I am constantly tempted to do more things rather than be present with my husband, or to avoid a difficult topic for fear of the uncomfortable emotions it may trigger, or to continue doing things how I’ve always done them because it’s just easier that way, my prayer is that I will choose unity instead (or at least, that I will choose it more often than not). It doesn’t mean that all other people and projects fall completely to the wayside, but rather than they settle into their proper place in the lineup. This will be an ongoing challenge for the rest of my life, but one that I particularly want to focus on now.

On a lighter note, you may have noticed two things about the graphic for this post. First, the bride and groom in the photo are, in fact, me and Mr. Pink Tie! I thought it would be fun to switch things up and use an actual wedding photo instead of a stock image. Secondly, the template looks a bit different from all of my previous graphics because Turning the Paige is now on Instagram! I’m so excited to finally launch this account and interact with both readers and fellow writers in new ways. It’s also a preview of coming attractions, as the blog will be getting a complete makeover in 2023, a la Mia Thermopolis in The Princess Diaries.

I’ll be back soon with more thoughts, reflections, and maybe a few unsolicited TED Talks. Until then, Advent blessings to each one of you!

Happy new year, friends! As I write this on the morning of January 1, I’m downing coffee and nursing a terrible headache — not because I went too hard last night (sparkling mineral water was the most exciting thing I drank) but because I’m 30 now and this is apparently how I’m going to feel whenever I stay up past midnight. Nonetheless, I am feeling excited for 2022 and, quite honestly, all that my 30s will have in store.

To be clear, though, I’m not approaching the start of the new year in the same Pollyanna-esque way that I’ve done in the past. I’m not thinking that I will sail through 2022 on a rainbow unicorn, and I’m not expecting the changing of the calendar to magically instill me with all the discipline and virtue I need to crush my life goals. I’m still the same Paige I was yesterday, and I’m still going to struggle to get enough sleep, floss my teeth, and avoid wasting time on social media. I know that just as this year will inevitably bring joy, beauty, and wonderful memories to cherish, it will also bring suffering, sorrow, and challenge, because that’s just how life works. But I’m still looking forward to it. 2019, 2020, and 2021 were all different flavors of difficult, but these years also blessed me beyond measure. I met the love of my life, landed a job I enjoy more days than not, re-launched the blog, deepened existing friendships and made new ones, and grew spiritually in ways that are hard to even put into words. It’s exciting — and also kinda scary — to think of all that 2022 will contain that we have yet to discover.

And this time around, I’m taking a different approach to new year’s resolutions, which is to say that I’m not making any resolutions at all. I’m someone who almost always drafts a laundry list of SMART goals and objectives during the last week of December and starts January 1 with twenty-seven new habits to track and benchmarks to meet. Sometimes I make decent progress and sometimes I don’t, but either way, it’s exhausting and I’m over it. At first I thought that maybe I was just being lazy or needed a little inspiration, but then I listened to an episode of one of my favorite podcasts, Pantsuit Politics, and had a lightbulb moment.

In this particular episode, entitled “How Do You Measure A Year?,” hosts Sarah and Beth take a break from discussing the news to chat with their behind-the-scenes crew about setting goals and intentions for the upcoming year. I really resonated with what Alise, their managing director, said about her newfound approach. She explained that because she’s pretty Type A throughout the year, with a “tight handle” on all of the tracking and to do lists, she’s been trying to set more general intentions for the new year rather than creating an endless list of resolutions that will inevitably lead to disappointment and failure.

As she spoke these words, all of my to do lists, spreadsheets, Gantt charts, and meal planning templates suddenly flashed before my eyes. I saw the systems, structures, and routines I have already developed, and perhaps even more importantly, I saw the regular checkpoints I’ve already built in to help me continually reflect and assess progress. And as this montage played out, I realized that I don’t have to set twenty-seven new goals for 2022, and my lack of desire to do so stems not from laziness but from my mind and body signaling that I’m already doing enough. To add more would tip the scales toward exhaustion and burnout. Mic. Drop.

After this epiphany, I decided that in lieu of the traditional resolutions, I’m going to continue with my “word of the year” practice, but with a slight twist. For the past few years, I’ve enjoyed using Jen Fulwiler’s Word of the Year Generator to select a word at random — and I encourage you to try it if you’re so inclined. (She also has a Saint of the Year Generator that’s pretty dope, too.) But more recently, I’ve found it beneficial to choose the word myself and to do so monthly rather than yearly. For many of us, I know the pandemic has felt like a time warp, where days, weeks, and months slip by in a blur of yoga pants, Zoom meetings, and Tik Tok rabbit holes. Choosing a word of the month helps me to see each 30-day period for the microcosm that it truly is and to better hone in on what I need at that particular time.

For example, last October my word was “celebrate.” The month was full of festivities — from birthdays and anniversaries to work trips and my sister’s wedding — and I knew that my natural tendency would be to panic about all the things I wasn’t able to accomplish as a result of my packed social calendar. “Celebrate” helped me to set my to-do list aside and be present for these special moments, remembering that the time to clean and run errands and work on wedding planning would come, just not now. Similarly, my word for December was “adore,” since I knew that the hustle and bustle of the holiday season would make it difficult for me to keep the true meaning of Christmas at the forefront of my mind and heart. “Adore” reminded me of the need to set aside time for stillness, prayer, and reflection amidst it all. Sometimes this meant literally going to the chapel for adoration, and other times it meant forgoing a social activity to stay home and enjoy quietly cooking dinner by the light of the Christmas tree.

For January, I’ve chosen the word “pause.” As work has gotten busier than ever and wedding planning has really taken off, I’ve begun to feel frantic and rushed on a daily basis. I’m hoping that “pause” will help me to take a deep breath and assess which tasks are truly urgent so that I can make progress at a more sustainable pace. I’ve also noticed that I haven’t been listening as well as I’d like — to others, to God, and even to myself and my own needs. “Pause” will remind me to stop and tune into these critical voices rather than drowning them out with incessant noise. And finally, as I shared in my last post, in all of my excitement to get married, I don’t want to miss out on the beauty of this season of engagement. “Pause” will allow me to stop and smell the roses, both literally and figuratively, as we plan our nuptials.

I don’t know what my word for February will be — or for any other month, for that matter. I’ll discern that when the time comes, based on where I’m at and what I need. But I went ahead and created a list of words I find inspiring, and I wanted to share it in case you’d like to join me in this practice. I’ve intentionally avoided words like “accomplish” or “achieve,” since these sound a bit too much like traditional resolutions. But if that’s what speaks to you at this moment, go for it, my friend!

If you’d prefer a simple list to the word cloud shown above, you can download the PDF below.

So whether you set twenty-seven objectives or are simply approaching 2022 with a venti Starbucks and a dream, I’m wishing you and your loved ones 365 days filled with joy, beauty, intention, and growth.