THIS IS MARRIAGE.

We made it a year!

And people say the first year of marriage is the hardest — or at least someone somewhere told me that (or something close to that) once. The thing is, we wouldn’t know because this is all we know.

But being that we have made it one FULL year, it feels like maybe we just might be experts on holy matrimony.

And with that, it’d be selfish to keep all the knowledge we’ve learned to ourselves. The VPs are nothing if not giving.

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MARRIAGE IS A PROMISE.

The sooner you realize the “I do’s” are a commitment and not a contract, the better off you are. Did I vow to watch playoff hockey? Yes. Did I watch any playoff hockey? NOPE. Does Greg love me any less? Probably. But if he wanted me to follow through, the St. Louis Blues should’ve tried harder.

MARRIAGE MAKES YOU BETTER.

Your spouse is constantly trying to make you the best you and it’s easiest to think of everything through that lens. So when he sweetly does all BUT one of the dishes after you cook, it’s only because he knows you love getting a few extra pseudo-steps on your watch by scrubbing a dish right before bed. He's sweet like that. 

MARRIAGE CAN BE BUILT ON LIES.

Confessing to your parents that you and your wife ate edibles is never not a bad idea… especially when the reason you told them is because the high kicked in and made you paranoid they’d be suspicious of you sitting in the car with sunglasses on at dusk. They aren’t. And you shouldn’t. And your wife might be upset that she was thrown under the bus with you.

MARRIAGE MEANS SHARING.

Marriage and engagement and living together all feel the same. The only difference is that you now share a last name, which is difficult to get used to. But don’t say that over and over again to your husband who has happily had that name his whole life and feels an attachment to it. And do not, under any circumstance, say, “TWO LAST NAMES IS TOO MANY. CAN I JUST BE AMY VAN?” They don’t like that kind of thing, apparently.

MARRIAGE IS A LOT LIKE TAKING A PADDLE TO THE FACE.

Two days after we vowed to support and love one another, we went ahead and took the metaphorical “for better or worse” and made it literal. As we were bouncing along class 45 rapids while white water rafting, Greg flew into the air and lost control of his paddle… which made direct contact with my jaw. HARD. And that’s pretty much what marriage is: A paddle to the mother-puppin’ face and a death stare the whole river felt.   

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But here’s the real thing we learned: Nothing and nobody can prepare you for marriage.

It brings out the best in you — ­and the worst.

It feels magnificent some days and insignificant the next.

It makes you dependent and also long for nights alone.

It’s confusing and all-consuming.

And it’s the best decision we’ve ever made.

Goodbye to My Best Year

I’ve always known 2017 was going to be my year.* It sounds weird, maybe even a bit conceited. I can’t be certain when it started, but I just know in the years leading up to it, I had this feeling deep down.

So much so, when Greg proposed in 2016, I remember thinking how perfect it was — that I got to get married in the year that was already going to be my best.

On top of that feeling, 2017 just fell at the perfect time in my life. 25, turning 26. Engaged, getting married. Runner, falling more in love with running every day.

2017 was the year that all my passions and loves in life collided. I didn’t choose one over another. I didn’t have to. I did all the things I wanted to do and so much more.

I challenged myself.

I spent more quality time with the ones I love.  

I found my voice and stopped laughing at the things that make me uncomfortable.

I read a lot. I listened to podcasts.

I was more inspired than I’ve ever been.

I ideated and stretched my creativity.

I wrote. A lot.

I ran more miles, which meant finding a new appreciation for what my body can do.

I made meaningful connections.

I explored new places, both through travel and within my soul.

I became a “we” with someone who makes every day wonderful.

And we bought a house — putting down roots in the place that has always been home.

And as hard as it is to say goodbye to the best year I’ve ever had, I know these things won’t go away. They’ll manifest in the years to come.  

There will be more miles run. More passions found. More challenges to take on.   

Life is only going to get better. I've circled the sun 26 times. I know this now.

So see you later, 2017. Thanks for the sweetest memories. I’ve bookmarked each and every one to relive in the years to come.

And to 2018, let’s see what you’ve got.

*I can't look back on 2017 without thinking about all the really shitty things that happened. By all regards, it was a rough year. But it was beautiful, too. And in this blog, I decided to find the positive, and I realize how fortunate I am to have the reflection I do. 

Disaster Status

From an early age, we’re taught to blame others for our problems. I think it starts with innocent embarrassment but somewhere along the way it transforms into active ignorance.  

And it’s a serious issue. One that is destroying the way we live. And where we live.

So I’m just going to lay it out for you.

We have completely fucked our environment. It’s on us. All of it.

The record-breaking hurricanes, destructive wildfires and deadly earthquakes. The hotter-than-hot summers, the draughts, the extinction of species.

We did it. It’s not Mother Nature retaliating for the election of Trump, as funny as that might seem. It’s not her being revengeful. It’s nothing more than human-caused climate change.

The scientists, the ones we trust to tell us everything, are in consensus on that.

And just because our political leaders would rather argue like children about whether science is real than take action doesn’t mean we can sit idly by and watch our world get destroyed.  

The sooner we do something, the sooner we can try to change the course of the future.

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What did we think was going to happen when we introduced fossil fuels? Started cutting down trees for high-rises? Mass producing new items as opposed to recycling old ones?

We have drastically altered this earth. Of course, that would have consequence.

Every action does.

And by making this a political problem instead of a human one, we’re begging for these natural disasters to keep happening.

The earth doesn’t choose who inhabits it. It’s home to democrats and republicans, blacks and whites, climate change activists and climate change nay-sayers. It does not discriminate.

So why not protect it? It might just be the only unifying thing we have left.

But honestly, the thing that bothers me most is that it takes almost nothing from us to save our home and conserve it for future generations.

Hell, to conserve it for today’s generations.

Because mother nature isn’t messing around. She’s angry all right. And we’re the ones that pissed her off.

What are you going to do about it?

Mirror, Mirror

We all have those moments that make us say, “Damn, does everyone else know I’m a genius?” And then there are those that make us say, “Good god, I’m lucky to have made it this far in life.”

Let me tell you about my biggest oh-shit-I’m-an-idiot moment.

It involves the most expensive thing I’ve ever purchased and my inherent distrust of cars parked in front of my house.

If you all remember, I had to buy a new car after graduation because there was just no way to continue the rad Willsey carpool. So shortly after I officially became an adult with that nifty piece of paper Mizzou hands out, I did the most adult thing I could’ve done: moved home and got a car loan.

Proud.

I am not in the habit of treating my things like things, so naturally I named my new SUV and treated it exceptionally well. 

I hand washed it often. I parked it inside every night. I never ate a greasy drive-thru burger in it, even when I was severely hungover. We’re talking true love.  

Then one day I took myself out of my stereotypical millennial situation of living with ma and pa and moved into a house with what one would call a normal garage situation.

[Let’s just put it in perspective of what I came from: I was used to parking Big Booty Judy in a garage that my dad can fit his F-350, crew cab, long-bed truck inside. It’s real roomy.]

At this point, I’d had my car about 13 months. It had just lost its new car smell. It was a little babe. I had lived in my new house for about a week and felt like I’d become a pro at entering and exiting the garage made for Barbie cars.

So on the fateful day, I took to leaving the house as nothing more than reversing and going. But wait one single second. Who said the lawn people could park in front of our house? And who was that man with the weed eater coming up our driveway?

And that fairly simple, explainable situation is what murdered my passenger-side mirror.

Have you ever been witness to a “car crash”? It’s equal parts sad and scary. An overall traumatic experience. And truthfully, I’m quite proud of myself for hitting the brake and not the gas pedal in my distress. Small victories.

As any adult living on her own, driving her adult purchase would do, I called my mom in tears. If you ask her, I was overreacting… she thought I had hurt myself on a mirror.

Well, basically mom.

Do you know what one mineral gray Ford Edge mirror costs? $463. 

Do you know what you pay when you expertly hit your mirror and you only need one part and your dad is really handy with super glue?  $73

Karma is real, people.

In the time it took for that one part to come in, I truly learned the importance of side mirrors. Try merging onto the highway without using your mirror — I dare you. It’s a damn guessing game… but admittedly somewhat thrilling.

I took it upon myself to tell everyone I’ve ever talked to the dangers of parking inside a garage (it might seem worth it but really weigh out your options). I also decided to measure my garage width and compare it to my car — mirror to mirror — just so everyone would know exactly what I’m up against. I have three inches on either side to shoot my much-too-large-for-me SUV into the normal-sized garage.

I’ve been living at the scene of the accident for nearly two years now. Every time I leave and come home it’s a game of “will she or won’t she.”

We’re moving soon, into a house for life (as in we bought it, have a mortgage, pay interest, all that jazz). When we decided to make an offer, the first thing I did was measure the garage doors. I’ve lost three inches. THREE CRITICAL INCHES. I'll have a whopping 1.5 inches of breathing room on either side.

Moving day is May 11. I’ll keep you posted.

Why Are Women So Offended by the Women’s March?

Let’s just get this out there first: I am an independent thinker. I don’t align with either party but fall somewhere in the middle. I’ll lean left for some issues and right for others. But like most people, I think my views are fairly logical.

Scientific studies are factual. Marriage is marriage. Women are equal.

Record scratch. Freeze frame.

Women aren’t equal.

As women, we are treated better than we used to be. We are no longer expected to be homemakers, to have husbands, to be silent partners. And we aren’t expected to be baby-making, dinner-cooking, laundry-folding machines.

But at one point we were. And that’s where this issue starts.

I can’t argue against the fact we’ve come a long way in the past 100 years. Even the past 20 years. We have strong, free-thinking women to thank for that. They challenged what they were being told by perceivably stronger, conformity-thinking men.

How scary for them.

They did the highly unpopular thing and had a voice. They fought. They marched. They signed petitions. They sneakily built a platform to stand on. 

So women have it good enough, they say.

Well I say we don’t.

It’s 2017 and women, who make up approximately 50 percent of the population, are lesser than because 80.7 percent of the House seats are sat in by men. These men are making decisions for our bodies. Bodies they’ve never lived in — therefore, they don’t know how hard it is to keep healthy and safe and childless.

That’s just one reason women PEACEFULLY marched on Jan. 21. We are scared. Just like Elizabeth Stanton, Maud Wood Park, Eleanor Roosevelt and Rosa Parks all were. And we want our voices to be heard. We need them to be.

The women who organized these marches and marched in them should be celebrated for taking action when they are worried about their rights. What do you do when you’re frightened? I know I would prefer to stay in bed, read, watch TV or snuggle my dog. But no, we marched. We left our homes to put our bodies on the front lines to show just how passionate we are.

And we didn’t just march for the quintessential woman.  

We marched for all women and all issues at stake: including women in other countries, women who are told they can’t because they’ve aged, women who are catcalled because they have breasts, women who don’t want another kid but can’t afford birth control, women who love another woman and are worried they won’t ever get to marry, the woman who gives us life each day: Mother Earth.

We marched for collective human rights.

We did not discriminate in our march. We’re asking you not to discriminate against us.

So I’m sure some of you skeptics are wondering: Where do we draw the line between sexism and feminism?

Yes, I like a man to open my car door. That’s a tradition backed by love and respect, not a lesser-than mentality.

Yes, I prefer vacuuming to mowing the lawn. That’s not me buying into gender roles. After having done both, my partner and I decided to split chores in this way. It suits us.

Yes, I cook dinner. I love to cook and bake and eat. I also happen to cook for a man. Mostly because he resides in the house and it’s convenient.

So the answer to your question is, we draw the line wherever we damn well please.

Because it should be our CHOICE.

That’s what this is really about it. Choice.

Make abortions legal so women can choose if that’s something that works for them and their partner and their life (yes, because sometimes it really is life or death).

Make pay equal so a woman can choose which job she’d rather have — if she even wants one at all.

Make it so the woman who chooses to advance her career instead of add to her family isn’t judged while her husband is applauded.

Make it so the female who chooses not to march isn’t fighting against the women fighting for her.

I truly don’t understand why women are so offended by other women trying to make the world better for the gender. No one is forcing you to get up and march on a Saturday. Or use your phone minutes to call senators. Or take 3 seconds to sign a petition.

It’s your choice not to. As it is ours to.

Why is it so hard for women to support women?

I support that there are women who don’t want to join the efforts. What I don’t understand is the women who are attacking the efforts and saying there’s no reason to protest.

Below are a few reasons I’ve heard FROM WOMEN as to why the women’s march wasn’t necessary.

Reason 1: That it was teaching our daughters to throw temper tantrums to get their way.

Actually, it was showing her that when something makes her uncomfortable, she can stand up and fight for what’s right. She can take action. We’re showing her it’s OK to be in charge of her own body. That she has a powerful voice that will be heard.

Reason 2: That U.S. women have no right to be upset because we have it better than other countries.

You’re telling me you truly think that’s a logical reason to sit back and be complacent? That it could be worse, so we should be happy we have what we have. I don’t think so. Plus, we weren’t just marching for U.S. women. We were marching for all women everywhere, who yes, have fewer rights than we do. But guess who marched in solidarity anyway? They did. Because change is change. Women are women. And they, too, will be influenced by who’s in office in the United States. They already have. Have you heard of the Mexico City Policy?

Reason 3: You’re pro-life so you didn’t march.

First of all, everyone is pro-life. Technically speaking, you’re just anti-choice. If abortions are legalized, no one will force you to get one. You’ll still have your right to abstain from it. We trust that you’re intelligent enough to be a parent, so trust that we’re smart enough to evaluate our circumstances and decide when we’d like to become one.

Reason 4: You don’t feel unequal.

Lucky you. You’ve never been catcalled while running? Never been made to feel uncomfortable by a powerful coworker? You weren’t hired just because you’re pretty and the men in your office needed eye candy? Your salary is exactly the same as the male with your same title? You have access to mammograms, birth control, pap smears? Seriously, that is great! I wish all women could say that but until that’s the case, we march.

Reason 5: That women were put on this planet to do what men can’t.  

So females are the filler sex? The one that makes up for the almighty male? I guess by way of that thinking, if you’re a straight woman, you can “benefit” from this and have a perfectly evened out household. But what about women who love women? The ones who get none of the male “perks.” What about them? Is it human to say it doesn’t matter?

My point is that human is human and human rights involve all humans being treated equally.

Put simply, it’s about choice.

Choice /CHois/ noun:  an act of selecting or making a decision when faced with two or more possibilities.

But women aren’t faced with possibility, we aren’t faced with decisions and we definitely don’t get to choose.

Choice is a funny thing. It makes women feel strong, but when women have it, I guess it makes men feel weak.

What I wasn’t expecting was this from women as well.