{"id":7465,"date":"2015-01-05T23:19:10","date_gmt":"2015-01-05T23:19:10","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/abitcoquettish.wordpress.com\/?p=7465"},"modified":"2015-08-19T01:17:47","modified_gmt":"2015-08-19T01:17:47","slug":"things-i-learned-and-unlearned-in-2014","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/kimberlypearl.co\/blog\/things-i-learned-and-unlearned-in-2014\/","title":{"rendered":"Things I Learned\u2014and Unlearned\u2014in 2014"},"content":{"rendered":"

I’m a few days late. Five, to be exact, because everyone knows it takes at least two days post ball-dropping festivities to recover, one to catch up with work, then another two for resuming New Year celebrations. Plus, things feel neater,\u00a0newer<\/em> even,\u00a0when they fall on a Monday.<\/p>\n

So here I am, and here we are.\u00a0Happy 2015!<\/em> How was your New Year’s Eve?<\/p>\n

\"NYE<\/a>

2015 at the Hotel on Rivington.<\/p><\/div>\n

This past year has been effervescent. There were ups and downs (more the former than the latter); there were things learned and unlearned, experienced, remembered,\u00a0still in motion<\/em>. If 2014 was the greatest year yet, 2015 is definitely going to be better.<\/p>\n

You’d think, then, that the words would come easy. So much has happened the last 365 days\u2014it’s been a year lived to its fullest, a benchmark for future years to come\u2014that it’s hard to remember it all, much less put it down on paper. How do you transcribe moments into letters, or feelings into tangible sentences? The real reason this reflection comes days after Jan. 1 isn’t because of the one too many drinks had (moderation,\u00a0mes amis<\/em>); it’s because I couldn’t figure out how to translate a year into something succinct or, more importantly, into something comprehensible.<\/p>\n

So, five days later, I’ve decided to just write it all out in the only way I know how. A year’s worth of\u00a0things lived, learned, and loved… here goes:<\/p>\n

. \u00a0 . \u00a0 .<\/p>\n

Self-doubt, self-image; ego; modesty vs. humility.<\/strong><\/h2>\n

I used to think I was fearless until this year\u00a0until\u00a0it became more apparent than ever that pride was one thing that stood in my way. I’ve learned the importance of not being afraid to put myself out there\u2014self-promotion, taking a stance, asking for help, giving fully and openly without expecting anything in return (though hoping for it)\u2014which meant being open (of heart, mind, soul) wasn’t enough. It meant allowing myself to be completely vulnerable. The higher the risk, the higher the reward<\/i>, they’d say, and when you’re gambling more than just your finances (pride, weaknesses, emotions, etc.<\/i>), it’s pretty terrifying.<\/p>\n

2014 pushed me, and I pushed back\u2014but less and less each time. There were times where I retreated and reinstated all walls and guards,\u00a0but there were even more moments where I forgot what it meant to care.\u00a0Carpe diem<\/em>. You only live once.<\/p>\n

Those moments when I’d scramble to rebuild walls were when I doubted myself most. Recognizing weaknesses is important, but there comes a point where a fine line is tread between humility and self-doubt. I have to remind myself that weaknesses, though palpable, are work-in-progresses. They are not worth forgetting every accomplishment or strength for. They are there, but they are not everything.<\/p>\n

They do not define me.<\/p>\n

It’s a hard concept to accept, as a perfectionist. I’m learning\u2014struggling at times\u2014to balance times of\u00a0self-doubt as a source of motivation and unhealthy form of self-deprecation. At my best moments, self-doubt (modesty, honesty with self) can be a beautiful thing:<\/p>\n

\"self-doubt<\/a><\/p>\n

Self-love, confidence.<\/strong><\/h2>\n

(This follows along the same vein as the aforementioned “bullet,” herein is my attempt at organizing my thoughts.)<\/em><\/p>\n

It’s an incredible thing to know, without doubt, that I’ve truly found some real, special people to have and hold for the rest of your life. You know when they’re your rock, your therapist, your mirror, your sisters. I have the most incredible support system, these girls could run the world.<\/p>\n

A few months ago during a\u00a0period of self-doubt, one of those girls said:<\/p>\n

\n

“But do you really love you?! … It’s not going to happen overnight, but you have to take a serious look at yourself and love every ounce of perfection and every single flaw. You have to look at your accomplishments and RELISH in them.<\/p>\n

Quite honestly, I think the only flaw you have is not loving yourself completely.”<\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

God, she’s amazing.<\/p>\n

So this is my note to self:<\/p>\n

\n

I dreamed I called you on the telephone
\nto say: be kinder to yourself<\/p>\n

\u2014Adrienne Rich, “The Dead”
\n<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

Love, vulnerability; openness, communication<\/strong>.<\/h2>\n

(Also in the same note as the aforementioned two.)<\/em><\/p>\n

I didn’t believe in love for the longest time. I’m still ambivalent. A few months ago (sometimes now, even), the realist in me can all too easily boil (romantic) love down to some\u00a0winning combination of comfort, trust, compatibility, sexual attraction, and a whole lot of oxytocin. There’s unconditional love, there’s caring\/empathy, and there’s sexual attraction; romance is the product of fiction.<\/p>\n

But then there’s definitive moments where whatever that thing or feeling is just can’t be\u00a0attributed to science or reason.<\/p>\n

What is love, anyway? How do you even know you love, or that you’re in love?<\/p>\n

Inspired by one of my girlfriends, I started keeping a running list of things that meant you loved or were loved (most of which were inspired by witnessing my parents’ interactions, some my own): cracking open crab legs (all that crabby juice, though!) because it’s his love’s favorite food; helping your lover shimmy into Spanx without blinking an eye; holding hands aimlessly; dying her graying roots; planning a trip to Montreal because he remembered you wanted to go there once; knowing all her favorite things; inspiring one another to be better, do better…<\/p>\n

I still can’t fathom\u2014nor can I allow myself to accept\u2014entrusting anyone with\u00a0that<\/em> much hold over me; Pinterest\/Tumblr\/Instagram claims the one you love is the person who can lift you, but just as swiftly destroy you. Again, my pride comes into the picture: I’m proud, for better or for worse, and while I’ve felt more comfortable with acknowledging my emotions as valid, it’s taking a lot to fully understand that emotions aren’t necessarily a sign of weakness. My mother raised me to be independent, to be strong, to be a feminist\u2014but to be those things in\u00a0her<\/em> generation meant emulating “masculinity (in quotes because gender dichotomies are a whole other discussion).” (Re: “Act like a lady, think like a man,” an attempt at a positive message, but\u00a0makes me uncomfortable.) She’s not wrong: she prepared me well, I think, for understanding what it means to live in a patriarchal society. To be strong, to never be overlooked, to be taken seriously meant it was paramount that I be rational always.<\/p>\n

It’s relevant. It’s wise. But even so, there must be balance. Ying and yang; masculine and feminine (energies, Buddhists would say) are necessary.<\/p>\n

\n

“When you grow up as a girl, the world tells you the things that you are supposed to be: emotional, loving, beautiful, wanted. And when you are those things, the world tells you they are inferior: illogical, weak, vain, empty.”<\/p>\n

\u2014Stevie Nicks<\/em><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n

Skin is always in.<\/strong><\/h2>\n

I love a cropped top as much as anyone else (save Taylor Swift, of course), but I’m talking literal\u00a0no makeup.\u00a0<\/em>The older I get, the less makeup I wear (and like on myself). Granted, I’m only 22-going-on-23, but it’s a philosophy that’s worked well for women on the opposite hemisphere (Europeans, Asians, Australians).<\/p>\n

Everything is about getting glowy. I want bright, I want smooth, I want radiant: but really, I’m learning to appreciate my early 20s\u00a0and milk it for what it’s worth before I officially start shopping from the anti-aging aisles.<\/p>\n

But it goes beyond investing in (natural) skin care: it involves diet (working on it), health (okay, I’ll start working out soon…), sleep (that too) and mental\/emotional happiness.<\/p>\n

Oils are Everything<\/b>.<\/h2>\n

I love oils. Maybe not so much in my food, but in my skin and hair care? Unequivocally so. From a moisturizer phobe to complete oil\u00a0fiend<\/em>, I’d say I turned a complete 180 for the better. I live for those moments of immense satisfaction after slathering an oil all over my body. In fact, I’m happiest when I got to bed an oily, so much so that I’ve decided that I’d rather sleep alone (and have glowy, healthy, soft skin) then go to bed… dry. Future lovers, beware: get with it, or get out.<\/p>\n

It all began with the Vaseline Cocoa\u00a0Radiant Body Gel Oil<\/a>, which quickly transpired to a series of Holy Grail discoveries:<\/p>\n