Yes Life

I'm the kind of girl that ranks compliments I receive. For a long time the indisputable winner was when I stood in a museum in London and my very brilliant friend turned to me and said "Bekah - If we went to Hogwarts, you would be a Ravenclaw."

That was challenged on Earth Day 2015.

I was standing in the grass outside of the office trying to get an .:{|ArTsY|}:.picture of my feet so I could create a before/after Birkenstock compilation when I heard a giggle from across the parking lot. My coworker lifted her head, shook it, and said with a smile on her face “Bekah – you live such a YES life.”

I didn’t quite get it – all I was doing was taking a simple picture of my feet. So I stored that thought away and proceeded on with my day.

It finally hit me.

About a month ago a dear friend asked about my evening plans and I excitedly described my itinerary. I was going to pop into The Woods about 6:00pm with my book (currently: The Lost World by Michael Chrichton) and wait for the acquaintance that was to accompany me, meet up with a very old friend from my Disney days, and attend the Lord Huron concert – which was quite possibly my ideal evening. I ended the conversation with “I’m finally doing the things I’ve always wanted to do, you know?”

I am living a yes life.

A “yes” life is not about saying yes to everything that comes onto your radar, nor is it saying yes to everything you want to do – it’s about saying yes to the things that enhance your life.

It hasn’t been an easy journey, this whole “contentment in self/yes life” thing. I still have panic attacks and I struggle with worrying what other people think about me, but my oh my has it been worth it.  

Puzzle Pieces

"You've been on tinder for two years and you've still never had a committed relationship? What's wrong with you?"

"Eventually you'll have to tell me why you're so closely guarded."

"You come across as so broken. What happened?"

"I still feel that somebody hurt you so much to the bone."

"I want to be the guy that makes you believe again."

All of the above are things that have been said to me in the past month. This is what it looks like to be a single, 25 year old woman in the year 2015 - and I can't say that I don't understand where these young men are coming from.

Somewhere along the way I grew to believe that my worth comes from a romantic relationship, and that if I pray long enough and hard enough that some day my prince would come. Unfortunately, I don't believe I stand alone when it comes to this mindset.

Maybe it was the Church, or pop culture and romantic comedies. Perhaps it was even some other outlet that I haven't thought about yet. At the end of the day I don't believe it was intentional or malicious, but the seed still took root in the minds and hearts of young, impressionable individuals like me.

If I could say one thing, it would be this: I am no more broken than anybody else.

I could easily blame daddy issues, pop culture, or organized religion for the feeling of being unwanted for the majority of my life. At the end of the day I have to look at myself and my life and know that the reason I haven't been in a relationship is because I haven't found somebody that I want to be with - and that's okay. There have been plenty of young men that I have wanted to be with who simply did not reciprocate the sentiment, and I can't hold a grudge against them because sometimes the feeling simply is not there. I know this because I have been the one that didn't reciprocate.

Recently I had it put to me this way: if you were a complete, whole, and non damaged puzzle piece, what would the puzzle piece that complements you look like? This is quite possibly the most beautiful way I have had the idea of a partner brought to me. A puzzle is not comprised  of just two pieces, and those two pieces cannot capture the beauty of a picture as a whole. That particular piece that fits alongside yours does not define the entire landscape of your life's picture - nor does it need to be a romantically interested puzzle piece. 

My twenty-fifth year has been one of the most fulfilling years I have experienced yet. I attend almost every concert I want to go to, I go to Disney World with family and friends, I'm going out and meeting new people, investing in the friendships I have here as well as across the United States, and (my all-time favorite) making time for nights on the couch with wine and Netflix.

Young gentlemen and possible suitors - please know that I don't need a hero, nor do I need to be saved. I never stopped believing in love... I just realized that there is so much more to life than romantic relationships.

#OrlandoDoesn'tSuck

A little over a year ago I went to a little bar in Orlando called Redlight Redlight for the first time. I had moved back to the area two years prior following graduation and was really struggling with making the city my home. Our bartender had a shirt on that told it's readers "#OrlandoDoesn'tSuck" to which I scoffed, bellied up, and asked him to explain to me why that was the case.

Fast forward one year and I couldn't be happier that Orlando is the city I call home - which is ironic because a month ago I was still considering up and moving to Phoenix, AZ because I thought location was the source of my discontent.

Post grad life is hard, especially when you move 8 hours away from where your friends you've spent the last four years with are. This makes it easy to blame your unhappiness on location as opposed to the lack of effort you've put into exploring your new home and investing in potential friends. It's easy to look at instagram and see your friends all out having a phenomenal time in Atlanta, Minneapolis, or New York City while you pout on your couch about how #OrlandoSucks and you post a photo of wine stained coffee mug.

That night at Redlight Redlight was the start to me truly exploring Orlando and finding the nooks and crannies that make it lovable. I went to Park Ave CD's and purchased a record that same night. A couple weeks after that I went to the Social for the first time to see a band that I had been wanting to see, and thus began my love affair with concerts. Since October of 2014, not a single month has gone by where I have not gone to a show. Whether it be Andrew McMahon at The Beacham (which is by far my favorite concert I've ever attended, btw), the Black Keys at the Amway, or going to Big Guava in Tampa, I've made a point to make live music a priority. Sometimes that even means buying a ticket and going by myself.

A few more notable Orlando mentions include the Stardust Lounge near Lake Eola where I went to a burlesque show and met the Orlando Rugby team that I still spend time with to this day. I recently became an annual pass holder out at Disney which has led to me meeting some of the neatest, most talented individuals in the city that I now get to call friends. I've become a regular at Wekiva Island and have the time of my life giggling at inside jokes with the bartenders and teasing the other regulars. There is also Orlando City Soccer, our own MLS team, right here in Orlando that I go out and support with my fellow Orlandians (is that a thing?)

I suppose what I'm getting at is that maybe the bartender at Redlight Redlight wasn't wrong. Maybe it wasn't Orlando that sucked but rather my attitude. Momma Larson always says to "bloom where you're planted" which maybe isn't such a bad idea - it is springtime, after all.

Year Five.

Posted by Scott Larson on Thursday, April 30, 2009

Many people that I have in my life now never had the opportunity to meet my dad. Well here he is, in all his glory, reveling in the advances of modern technology. THE Scott Larson.

My dad was not a perfect man - but he was my dad.

Something I always appreciated about Dad was that he didn't feel the need to fill the silence with idle chatter. One memory I have of time spent with him was while we waited in line at the car wash in Eagan. Some classic rock station was playing on the radio and I sat contentedly silent in the passenger seat when dad broke the silence. "You know what, Bek?" he said, "I think you're the only one of my kids that can sit and silence and be okay with it." I smiled at him and we continued on in line just listening to The Eagles.

I never really considered myself much of a "Daddy's Girl," but I suppose I could fall into the outer rim of that category. Dad was just always my person in the family that got me. We had similar senses of humor, were both introverts not bothered by silence or solitude, enjoyed a lot of the same extracurricular activities, and had the same propensity to talk about the things you're not supposed to talk about - politics and religion.

But cancer is a bitch of a disease.

Summer after my freshman year of college, just a few months after Dad sent me this video, we found out he had stage four cancer. And it was then that I realized that my dad, my guy, was slipping away from me. I found myself reaching out to him more often, not holding back when it came to saying I love you, posting silly videos on his Facebook wall to make him laugh. I called and I made him promise me that he would be there for my college graduation and to eventually walk me down the aisle. He said he wouldn't miss it for the world.

Five years ago, April 11th, 2010, cancer stole those future milestones from us.

I've been told over and over again to not view it that way. I've been told that cancer is never the victor, God always is, and this was just His plan. Most of the time I can jibe with that. I remind myself that at least I got to say goodbye, because some people aren't allotted that luxury. But anger is part of the grieving process, and I've stifled any resentment in hope that it would simply go away. It's hard to not see cancer as the victor, arm raised in the center of the ring, when you watched that awful disease take over the life of a family member.

I watch this video from Dad every few months. And I hope that he knew that I did love him anyway. Despite his receding hairline and other imperfections, I loved him anyway.

feelin' myself.

andrew mcmahon in the wilderness | the beacham | 11.19.2014

Fourth grade is my first memory of drawing a self-portrait with a tattoo. It was a butterfly placed in the area reserved for the stereotypical pirate’s “I Heart Mom” tattoo on the upper arm.

Middle school came with its struggles of finding my personal style. Was I prep? Was I “thug”? Always lingering was the desire to fit in with the scene kids – their chipped black nail polish, edgy haircuts, and black & white checkered Vans skater shoes.

Freshman year of high school was the first time I really wanted to go to a show. Modest Mouse had just released “Good News for People Who Love Bad News” and their tour would be coming through Minneapolis. I begged my parents to let me go, and complained to Kyle in third period English after a discussion on “To Kill a Mockingbird” about how my parents just didn't get it.

January of my sophomore year of college I wrote a blog post on my opinion of serendipity. “The people who are serendipitous are the ones who are open to something new and make the best out of life’s outcomes.” Part of me wants to correct the last word to ‘circumstances,’ but perhaps ‘outcomes’ is the better word.

At some point I had internalized an idea that I was supposed to wait for my life to begin. Along with this notion, I began to believe that my life began once I was in a committed relationship. Would my future mate appreciate the fact that I waited around for them to begin my life? Would my hypothetical husband be ok with my desire for tattoos and piercings? I was a blank slate, waiting for the right person to come around to co-write my story.

All of a sudden I was 24, two years out of college, and living on my own. I had a conversation with an individual who had the same idea locked in their subconscious, and it wasn't until that moment that I realized that I had been doing it all wrong. All of this time I had kept waiting for the future to come, and meanwhile the future was becoming my present, and my present became my mundane past.

December of 2014 I stood on the lawn at the Big O festival listening to Young The Giant perform while I waited for headliners Weezer and Fall Out Boy. My coworker and friend turned to me and said “aren't you just the little concert goer?!” I looked down at myself and around at my surroundings, and it was one of the happiest moments I've ever experienced. I had finally made it.

I hadn't made it because I looked like the girls in the Tumblr posts I had re-blogged for years. I hadn't made it because I was at a music festival listening to some obscure or outdated bands. It wasn't because I finally got the tattoo I had been planning for years, and it definitely wasn't because I had found my future husband. I made it because I was finally living my life – for myself.

Happy Birthday, Mom

"Who would you say is the most influential person in your life?"

I hardly hesitated before I responded.

“My mother.” As if there was any other option in the world to choose from. “It’s maybe the cliché and easy answer, but that doesn't make it any less true.”

“And why is your mother the most influential person in your life?”

This elicits more hesitation. I know that she’s the most important person in my life… but why? I finally settle on an answer.

“She loves me well.” I respond.

“And what do you mean by that?”

Here I was on a first date with a boy and these were the questions he was asking me. What DID I mean by that? Is that just the answer that I know is the right answer? Then it dawned on me.

“She does the little things with me. You know those mundane everyday things that you don’t think about. We walk to Panera almost every Saturday, we ride to church together on Sunday and go to Chipotle to talk about the sermon afterwards. She’s just always there for me.”

An epiphany strikes at this moment – those are exactly the things that my mother has always said are the most important things to her. And I realize that I’m becoming my mother, which is great for many a reason.

Let me tell you about Ladelle Lynn Larson, born February 12^th and the same day as honest Abe (fitting due to her disgust for liars). She’s basically Baberaham Lincoln, amirite?

My mother is so much FUN. She’s the type of woman to open her home to a rag tag group of college kids and take them gator shining at two o’clock in the morning. She loves any and all games – as long as she’s the front-runner at all times. Ladelle’s laugh is one unbridled by self-consciousness – if she finds it funny, you’ll know. Even when she knows it’s wildly inappropriate, she’ll let out a momentary laugh and quickly go deadpan and inform you that’s inappropriate. My personal favorite is when you jokingly say something mean and she’ll give you the saddest look, slump her shoulders, and hang her head. I have yet to perfect my impression of this, but golly does it give me the giggles.

My mother is the type of person that is always up to try something new or different. Every time we travel to a new city, we rarely eat at chain restaurants. She marches straight up to the concierge and asks what the recommendations are. The places that might not be on the list of touristy things you NEED to see, but the places that make the city what it is. And while theatre wasn't always something that was on her radar, when her daughter (that would be me) moved home after college she bought season tickets to the theatre’s tour of Broadway shows. She’ll also wake you up at the crack of dawn to drive up to DeLeon Springs, getting lost a few times along the way, just so we could rent a canoe, walk some trails, and eat at the mill where you make your own breakfast on the griddle at your table.

My mother is also the best human example I have of patience, self-sacrifice, and love. I know this partially because I see the people she chooses to spend time on - people that can be tiresome, overwhelming, and difficult to love. I mostly know this because of how she interacts with me. I was a difficult teenager, subjecting my family to experience a loved one in the bottomless pit of depression. Yet my mother decided to love me relentlessly, despite my best efforts to douse that fire. Decided is the best way to put it, because when it’s difficult to love someone it isn't possible to passively love them. She made the conscious effort to love ME when I was doing all I could to tear everyone around me down. Still to this day when I come home with a tattoo or a nose piercing, she decides to love the person I am and the heart that I have. And for this, I am ever so grateful.

All of this to say, happy birthday to my favorite lady. Thank you for being an example of a Godly woman. Because of you I am immeasurably blessed. Love you – to infinity and beyond.

#CorporateLyfe

I never thought I would feel the same relief that Andy Sachs in The Devil Wears Prada feels when Christian Thompson calls her to tell her he’s able to get the Harry Potter book 7 manuscripts. Then one of the guys I support came to me with a last minute request to compile all the information for flights, hotels, and car rentals that had been purchased for a certain set of employees for their travels to one of our partner schools. One of our travel ladies was out sick and the other was inundated with the extra workload. I think of the next best thing: Donna from World Travel who helped me with the report previously. I shoot her an email hoping she can help me out as quickly as she had before – and I get an out of office reply in return. She will not be returning until the second week of March due to medical leave. At this point I’m planning how I’m going to let Jeremy, as well as the COO, know that I may not be able to get the information prior to the due date of 17 hours after it was brought to my attention. Before I reach out, I make one last attempt to reach out to the general email that Donna left in her absence. I had a response in fifteen minutes from Tracie at World Travel stating that they would complete the task by the end of the day along with providing an update in one hour. By the end of the day I had a completed report and was able to send it to the necessary people. Cue the utter relief Andy feels whilst on the phone with Christian delivering the good news – and an overly thankful email to my new BFF Tracie.

Later that same day I was working at the front desk and a Jimmy John’s delivery boy was dropping off a sub and asked me “Is your job boring?” As though the assumption is that my job would leave me feeling unfulfilled. And my little balloon of accomplishment lost a little bit of air. Then things others have said started popping into my head – “So when do you think you’ll try to get a real job?” “I can’t believe you work a desk job, that sounds awful” and other such atrocities.

While I understand that what I do may sound trivial to someone who leads a much more ~*~cReAtIvE~*~ lifestyle, this job is what I’ve actually dreamed about since I was little. Part of me wishes that was a joke – but it’s not. I used to sit at my desktop computer when I was in middle school and pretend to take calls and manage calendars. Yes I’ve had my hopes of being an artist, an author, a veterinarian, and a librarian – but an assistant/clerical job has always been something I’ve known I would excel at.

At the end of the day (5 o’clock Monday through Friday), I feel fulfilled by my job. I serve a purpose. I can see improvement and completion of tasks on a daily basis. Sure, it’s difficult to sometimes see progress in the grand scheme of things – but I am SO very fortunate to work for a company that takes time to appreciate its employees. Heck, my boss let me leave the office early so I could go watch the USMNT compete against the Germans downtown this past summer just because. #USA

I also once had somebody tell me that a desk job depletes people of creativity. Through the companies I’ve worked for (a whopping total of two) I have met some of the most incredible and ~*~cReAtIvE~*~ people that I now call friend. Erika Cooper has encouraged me to pursue my creativity and independence more than any other person I know. Brett Shugh is always down for a new venue or experience, no questions asked. Marcos Viera has provided me with the most encouraging and uplifting words that I remind myself of on a regular basis.

My current job allows me to have a life and provides me with stability. I know what my hours are going to be on a weekly basis. I know what my paycheck is going to look like. I love the consistency that gives me. I’ve been to at LEAST one concert a month for the past four months without having to worry if I’m going to have to work that night. I’ve been able to go out of town without worrying if I have to work a Saturday shift.

I understand that #CorporateLyfe isn’t for everyone. I also understand and get SO AMPED for friends that are pursuing their dreams and excelling in the world of the arts. And hey – you want to work in the restaurant industry until you figure some things out, go for it. There’s no user manual on this thing called life – you do you.

Maybe I don’t have the same story as Andy Sachs; I’m not utilizing this job just as a boost to my resume in order to obtain my dream job. But please understand that I am very content and satisfied in my little cube covered in bible verses, quotes, and pictures of friends and family – because maybe this is my dream.

Bachelor Recap

Source

I was editing a blog post I recently wrote (which I am SUPER pumped to post) when I was reading a few weekly recaps of the Bachelor. Granted, I don’t really need to do this as I watch it every week with a group of very boisterous individuals, but I still enjoy reading the opinions and reactions of others. However this week’s response is striking a weird chord with me.

Sunday morning I had the privilege of watching a dear friend of mine speak on mental illness and the stigma that surrounds it in today’s culture (you can listen here if you feel so inclined) and I really appreciated somebody taking a stand and talking about it.

I have knowingly struggled with depression since my freshman year of high school. I can pinpoint the exact conversation that triggered a shift in my worldview. It’s been a battle ever since to maintain normality – and I wouldn't say that I’m “cured” or “no longer depressed” but I am definitely in a place where I know how to maintain level ground and keep my head above water… for the most part.

All of this brings me to why I felt so inclined to deviate from my original post – Kelsey’s appearance on this week’s episode of the bachelor and the response she has received.

Kelsey talks about being a widow the same way Ashely I. talks about being a virgin, as itf it's a currency that is going to persuade Chris to keep them around. It's gross."

- Chrissy Stockton, ThoughtCatalog

"Kelsey showed her true colors (and that's why we love her, but just kidding, because she may actually be nuts)"

- Amanda Michelle Steiner, People

"Kelsey turns this romantic trip to Santa Fe into The Kelsey Sob-Story Variety Hour. She sings! She exploits her late husband's congestive heart failure to win over a country mouse! She faints on cue!"

Vulture

I will start by saying this: I do not believe that Kelsey’s behavior is that of a healthy individual. I also do not believe that the way people are responding comes from a place of understanding or grace.

In my own story, I have had many people tell me that they do not understand the concept of depression or anxiety – this includes members of my family. Luckily, I also come from a family that encouraged me to seek help and provided a means for me to do so. I've been on the meds, I've been to a therapist, I've even been admitted to the psych ward (yikes) – it’s been a lot of years and a lot of different methods that have gotten me to the place where I am today. Still, a lot of people don’t understand what depression and anxiety entail.

My dad passed away five years ago this upcoming April. Naturally, this triggered a downturn in my mental state. It’s something that continues to ebb and flow as time passes – because a dad is a major player in an individual’s life. I can’t imagine what it would be like if it were my husband, like it was for my mother – and Kelsey Poe.

My family sometimes responds to our situation with what we call “dead dad jokes.” It comes across as inappropriate and insensitive to most individuals that experience this little bit of twisted humor we take part in. But as Sam says in Garden State, "You laugh. I'm not saying I don't cry but in between I laugh and realize how silly it is to take anything too seriously." And maybe that’s what we see in this episode where Kelsey talks about her “amazing” story – so tune in at 8:00pm EST Monday nights!

Here’s the thing - ABC takes an unscripted dialogue and cuts and pastes and creates a reality that they believe will keep the viewers on the edge of their seats and tuning in next week. Who’s to say that Kelsey wasn't making a flippant comment about her situation and the producers took it and ran.

“But Bekah!” you may retort, “what was up with her collapsing at the end of the episode which resulted with a ‘To Be Continued…’?! She’s absolutely bonkers – she threw herself on the ground and had a temper tantrum! How crazy and childish!”

To you, I say listen to what she said as she was on the ground. Kelsey uttered two words that directed the health care professional to know exactly how to handle the situation – Panic Attack.

I've had two major panic attacks in my life that rendered me completely incapacitated. The first one was my sophomore year of college and I was lucky enough to have my dad join me in my car and drive for me and talk me through it – a memory I still rely on to this day to help me through similar situations that could easily trigger another attack. The second one was my senior year of college when I was planning my flight arrangements to Paris and London (I know, I know – first world problems). I wanted to die right there in my little twin sized bed in Birmingham, Alabama. I couldn't breathe, I was weeping uncontrollably, and I didn't know how to formulate a sentence. I felt useless, perhaps even worthless. I was in a stressful situation and I lost the ability to cope.

Think about the situation Kelsey finds herself in. Her husband has died a year and a half ago. She’s putting herself in a vulnerable position because she’s entering back into the dating world – OH which is also being nationally televised. If I had a dollar for every time I heard girls say on the show that it’s a much more emotionally taxing situation than they were prepared for, I would be living on an island with my own Kim Kardashian upgrade level haute couture wardrobe. I don’t doubt it’s a bit of a stressful situation. Heck, my mom gets stressed out by the thought of a date. And now, she’s just told her story to Chris (I almost said Juan Pablo – I miss him), and now she’s entering a rose ceremony after a clearly emotional Chris just walked away with new knowledge that there will be no pre-rose ceremony cocktail party. I’m not that thrown off by the fact that it was maybe a bit much for somebody to handle in a day.

Again I will reiterate that I do not believe that Kelsey’s actions are those of an individual with a healthy mental state. I will also add that I am thoroughly entertained by the show, its contents, and by watching it with highly opinionated and vocal individuals. But maybe we shouldn't look as contestants on the show as static character’s performing a puppet show for our entertainment. Individuals on this show are dynamic human beings with back-stories and lives outside of the 2 hours (with commercial breaks) shown to us each week.

I mean, if I were to end up on the show, lord knows they would take some quirk I have and make it my moniker – and it would probably be my deathly farts. I’d be labelled as disgusting, but monsieur bachelor would find it oddly refreshing (maybe not the best adjective given the context) and I would win the final rose and the heart of the bachelor and live happily ever after a la Sean and Catherine. Or they’d pinpoint my disdain for PDA and ushy gushy stuff early on and get me kicked out of there for not be emotionally invested enough.

But in both a flippant and serious closing statement:

Reality TV Stars: They’re Just Like US!

in defense of social media

Base of the Davidson Glacier 

Skagway, AK

One year ago I was in the middle of my social media cleanse. I deleted my twitter (which I would later come to regret), deactivated my facebook, and utilized instagram sparingly. So that I have come full circle and am posting with a title "in defense of social media" is very comical to me.

It has become very posh to berate social media. "All people are showing is the positive aspects of their life, and so I feel like they're showing off and that they never have the low moments that I have. I feel inadequate when I see how thrilling their life is." is the main complaint I've heard - and if I'm being totally honest, I've felt that way too.

I started thinking about writing this post shortly after I reactivated my facebook in March of last year. I would talk to people about it regularly, mainly because people felt as though I had failed when it came to ridding myself of reliance on social media for entertainment. In reality, there were a few events I missed out on because people didn't know how to get in contact with me, so I decided to come back and clean out my friends list instead of depleting it from my life completely.

Queue the moment where I realize that social media posts can be seen in a positive light as opposed to a negative one that makes me feel as though I'm not where I should be in life. I started integrating this thought into what would later become this post. Why can't I see the instagram of my friends enjoying the Alabama State Fair and instead of being insanely jealous, be happy for them that they're having a good time, and use that as a springboard to seek out my own local fairs in central Florida? That makes sense, doesn't it? Then it became about people withholding "likes" because of their jealousy. Which really hit a nerve with me. Probably mainly because I covet the high schoolers that top 100 with every post, but also because I didn't understand why that was a legitimate reason to not like something. "Oh, I'm jealous that they're doing this. So I'm not going to like it. Solidarity!!!" Pardon me? How is that even a thing? You can bet your bottom dollar that if I see a post that is either aesthetically pleasing to my eye, or that makes me feel joyful for a friend, I'm going to like it. (did I just throw shade at all the pics I don't like? #sorrynotsorry)

Originally I was going to write a conclusion paragraph at this point that would encourage anyone reading this to challenge the way they view social media. But within the past month I've had a few people tell me that my life looks so glamorous according to my accounts. I'm constantly travelling. I'm constantly going to concerts. I'm constantly out and about. This hit me a lot harder than I thought it would, mainly because I never anticipated that I would be the person that people were watching. There was a two week period in the last month where I didn't eat or sleep because I was having a rough time. I still went out to the shows I had bought tickets to and decided to have a rockin' good time because I couldn't just let my life stop. And I finally realized that I was living the life I had always envied. When I was in middle school I was envious of the kids that went to concerts all the time, and who went out to parties and posted all the pictures. They always looked like they were having so much fun. I wanted to be part of it, and it puts a smile on my face to think that I truly am as happy as I look in my photos. (Perks of Being a Wallflower reference... anyone?)

All that being said, I'm defending social media because I absolutely have my low moments that I would never in a million years snap a picture of and post for the world to see. Those moments are for me to work out with the support of those closest to me, not multiple random "followers". I'm defending social media because I know that the people posting the fun pictures have their moments of despair as well. I'm defending social media because maybe if we talk about it you can begin to view it as encouragement and a positive outlet. Mostly I'm defending social media because I lead a blessed life, and isn't that wonderful?