I am what you would call a morning person.

I wake up each morning…much earlier than is ever necessary.

I can literally hear life and all of its chores and all of its adventures whispering in my ear…telling me that I’m missing out, I’m running out of time to accomplish all of the things I want to accomplish.

Usually, this spurs me to action.

I leave my husband to sleep and I go to the gym, I start the laundry, I start a craft, I run out for coffee, I get to work early or I begin the repetitive task of cleaning every inch of my house.

This morning it was different.

My mind was working much slower than usual…there is a good chance it had something to do with the spirits I indulged in last night or the fact that it was a cool, cloudy, Sunday morning…regardless, I told life to shut up and shove it.

I rolled over and over in attempt to find a position that wouldn’t make my head pound, it was a futile attempt and when I finally gave up I found my eyes resting on my sleeping husband.

I have woken to his sleeping face for the majority of the last 5 years.

Long perfect lashes, eye brows in dissaray, lines and impressions on his face from too much time spent against a pillow and that mouth perfectly pouting as though someone in dreamland just gave him some bad news. I’ll never get tired of it. I’ll never lose the rush of pleasure that accompanies the reminder that he is mine and mine to keep. 

Those first confusing moments in the morning are my favorite. Utterly beautiful and painful, as your brain works to catch you up and remind you who you are and what your life is. All of your memories, decisions, accomplishments, mistakes, blessings, love and hurt and loss are shoved into the tiniest of moments…and you’re given another day.

Posted by Hayley Wells & filed under Getting Personal, Life & Stuff. This post has 3 comments.

How fitting.

One week ago, I was writing about battling and (mostly) conquering my debilitating insecurities and desperate need for approval…and today, after a work meeting in which I was handed my new tasks and duties I was also handed a whole lot of “productive” criticism.

To be fair, I directed the conversation toward “respect”, how to earn it and how to keep it.

I guess, I was expecting a “work more hours, step up more often and finish tasks more quickly” kind of pep-talk. I work hard, but I will be the first to admit that I can work harder. Can’t we all?

Instead, I was given two pieces of very startling advice…

The first:

Be careful what questions you ask in meetings with your peers, if a topic or term is mentioned that you are unfamiliar with or you don’t have any knowledge of, wait until the meeting is over and ask your direct report for the answer in private.

So, hey, mom & dad, high school teacher, college professor and personal trainer….I have a spoiler alert for you::

Apparently, there is such a thing as a stupid question.

The second:

You work in an industry in which you cannot be taken seriously when you wear **”short”** skirts, feminine tops and makeup to accentuate your looks. Sometimes being “too striking” can work against you and people won’t take you seriously. Dressing more transgender will give you the opportunity for respect.

**I would like to define my version of short:: I wear skirts and dresses that are above my knee, yes, but they would pass my very strict high school uniform dress code, these are by no means mini-skirt, booty hugging outfits that I am flaunting at work. Instead, they are pleated, fashionable and respectable ensembles.**

This, is the perfect example of an outfit I might wear to work:

I’m not writing this post just to vent…I did that on Facebook yesterday…thanks for the support ya’ll! 😉

Instead, I wanted to flaunt some of this new-found respect and admiration that I have finally found for yours truly.

In all honestly…post criticism….I wanted to crumble, I wanted to bawl, I want a really big glass of wine and a box of Mac n Cheese….but after about 45 minutes of stewing and pouting in my office you know what I decided?

“Forget that.”

Because I am a woman in the corporate world, a young one at that, I am expected to act and dress differently?

You know what?

I will ask whatever the hell I want to in meetings involving my peers, the people I work with. I refuse to keep my mouth shut and pretend to know what organization, law or standard that AVBWG might stand for or not pipe up about a policy change or employee change in the company that I was unaware of because someone else failed to communicate that to me.

I refuse to nod along in a conversation that I might have something damn important to contribute to just because I need a bit of clarification.

If someone wants to roll their eyes because I just asked a question and also happen to be a blonde who did her hair and makeup this morning…go for it. I love a good eye roll. 

The fact is, I am an intelligent, competent and  ambitious young woman and I belong in those meetings, as do my input, my thoughts, my suggestions and yes….even my questions. I could sit in a meeting for an hour spouting off a vocabulary so extensive no one can follow my thoughts…but that does not make me impressive.

Communicating, fostering an open and positive work environment and promoting discussions…that, is impressive and that is inspiring.

Wanna know what else?

I will not cloak my 26-year-old figure in polyester pant suits because being feminine and well groomed is distracting to my credibility.

If you like pant suits, awesome, you rock those pant suits. But I don’t, maybe next year.

As far as I’m concerned, I dress appropriately, my breasts are neatly tucked away, my blouses fit with room and my work skirts and dresses are an acceptable length and fit. I am more than meeting the “business casual” dress code.

I don’t dress for anyone.

Waking up, exercising, showering, styling my hair, applying my makeup and picking out an outfit is for me. I feel good, I feel ready for the day and I feel well represented.

I work hard, I show up, I complete my projects in a timely and professional way and I come to work clean, prepared and well dressed. That is where my responsibility for respect ends and the responsibility for others to give respect begins.

I could be angry at the individual who gave me this pep-talk minus the pep, but the truth is, she is just as much a victim of these ridiculous ideas as I am.

Only, she bought in. 

People, don’t buy in.

I don’t care what industry you are in and I don’t care how male dominated/female dominated it might be. I don’t care how you are directed to act, dress, talk, write, etc. If for one minute you don’t feel genuine & comfortable…you’re off track. And you will only suffer because of it.

Posted by Hayley Wells & filed under Getting Personal, Life & Stuff. This post has 3 comments.

This title…with no words attached to it has been sitting in my drafts for a couple of weeks…its been taunting me. Daring me to write something honest and vulnerable and a little bit ugly.

I guess I could never find the beginning which is technically the past and not a place I like to reside…so I will just start with the now and see where I end up.

I’m sitting at my dining room table, with the window open because I like the cold…and I have a blanket on my lap, a cup of sleepy time tea in an adorable mug, a playlist that consists of calm yet inspiring music (think Sigur Ros & Explosions in the Sky).

I am happy. 

I am content. 

I can imagine the mumbles and the whispers of the people reading this.

“So, what?”

“She’s so lucky.”

“Why can’t I have that? Why can’t I have that moment?”

“What kind of drugs is this girl on?”

Your response to the statement:

I’m content.

Is directly related to the relationship you have with your own contentment.

Mine has been one of epic despair.

Peacefulness, mindfulness and contentment has never come easy to me; I used to be unable to remember a time in my life in which I was perfectly happy with where I was, who I was with and with what I was doing. The more blessed my life became the more things seemed to spiral out of control.

I was loved and I was in love.
I had friendships with depth and sincerity.
I had work and I had dreams.
I had a home and I had things.
I had a family who’s dysfunction could not overcome our love.
I had so much more than most.
And it wasn’t enough.

Almost 2 years ago…my insecurities, my restlessness and my desire for more began swallowing me whole.

My life, my emotions and my self worth became fully dependent on my worth to those around me. Criticism, no matter how small, could send me to my knees. I lost weight, I bought clothes, I spent $100’s of dollars on makeup and skin care products. I lived my life consumed with

“when I get this”
“when I weigh this much”,
“when I can afford to do this”,
“when this person says this”

…only to find out that when one of those things happened I didn’t find the peace I so desperately sought.

I placed my heart and my trust in the hands of people who didn’t deserve it and instead took advantage of my weakness.

I did and said things I wasn’t proud of.

I convinced people I was the opposite of insecure, even if cost me my own grace.

I know it probably sounds dramatic. People suffer from much worse than a constant sense of unworthiness but that kind of thought only brought about more self loathing.

How can I be so unhappy when there are people fighting much larger battles?

 The truth is…the way I was living, it could have been detrimental

to my future
to my relationships
to my physical health.

So, how did I get here? How am I so pleased with a Wednesday night at home, alone, a cup of tea and an excellent playlist?

It started on the day that my mom woke up and decided to start fighting a battle against something I was sure was going to take her life. 

The details of her story are not yet mine to tell, but I watched her change right before my eyes. I found strength in her struggle and hope in the glow that was slowly returning to her eyes. I thought she would die and here she was more alive than ever.

And so, one year ago, my journey to find wholeness began.

This is the part in a movie when a really upbeat Sara Bareilles song would begin playing and I would be all fixed by the end of it. 

I wish.

The first thing I did after realizing how much of my life I’ve wasted in this head of mine was take a really hot bath, play some really sad songs and cry until the water had gone cold. I waited for the water heater to fill up and then I filled that tub up again.

This probably went on for about a week. The water bill was insane.

And then, I went to church (cliche, yes, but extremely effective!!) I spent hours in Barnes and Noble searching for books about happiness and finding it, I researched, I ran….I ran so much. I read a lot of Hannah Brencher blogs. I wore a rubber band around my wrist and snapped it every time I had a thought filled with self-loathing or insecurity (I wouldn’t recommend that.) I journaled and I prayed…a lot. I made my thoughts and my control over them a priority over every other thing in my life. I made an effort to stop my negative thoughts before they were complete and finishing them with positive ones.

I decided if I could give this change in myself, everything I had for 30 days straight, then it would get easier. And when 30 days was up I promised myself 30 more.

After 3 months…

I did more.

I eliminated the people in my life who antagonized these kind of negative thoughts. 

I analyzed my actions and the reasons behind them. 

I leaned into my significant other and I let his kind words and compliments settle into my heart instead of dismissing them as a product of his love. 

I began doing things and making decisions based on the way they made me feel, not on the reactions of others.

I eat healthy and I exercise because living feels better that way.

I seek out work that inspires me and creates passion instead of basing my work on where it will get me.

I look to makeup as a passion and something I love instead of a mask. 

I do nice things for my friends, for my family, for my love…because I want to, not because I am searching for their praise and validation.

It’s not always as inspiring as it may seem written neatly on your screen.

There are still tears, struggles, setbacks…

“I’m fat”
“I’m stupid”
“I’m ugly”
“Why do you even love me?”

Come tumbling recklessly out of my mouth, but I don’t invite those thoughts to stay. I don’t soak myself in them and I don’t abuse myself with them.

I have learned to channel some of the adoration and love I’m so quick to hand over to others into myself as well.

The hardest step of all….was learning to love who I was in the past. Lost and vain and naively needy as that girl was…she meant well, and instead of regretting the years in which this journey almost swallowed me up…I’ve learned to love them. I look back on them fondly and I’m grateful for the time I spent so utterly lost and even more…I am grateful for the people that contributed to the misery.

Without them, without those years I would have no idea how wonderful it is to sit here, drinking tea, listening to melodies, watching my breath appear barely visible in my cold dining room and just being. 

Posted by Hayley Wells & filed under Getting Personal, Life & Stuff. This post has 7 comments.