Finding the Pieces

The story of how a lost boy found home

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Father, husband, professor, writer, nerd.

  • Life is Weird – Moving to England

    Life is weird. The last time I published a post on this site was on June 3rd, just over three months ago. Just to recap what was going on in my life in that moment, here’s the mini revelation I had while I was writing said post:

    I was so busy setting my eyes on England that I forgot to look right in front of me…I didn’t see how much I actually do love Michigan. And now I’m seeing these things and I’m making new friends and I’m finding that I’m happy and I’m not in England and that’s a good thing.

    England is still in the plans. When and for how long is a different story…

    For the first time since coming home from Oxford I finally felt completely content with staying in Michigan. Not just being in Michigan temporarily, I was even okay with the idea of staying in Michigan (or the U.S. in general) permanently. I hadn’t given up on England; I had decided to trust that any plans God had for me would always be enough regardless of what country I was in.

    I remember hitting “publish” on the post after hours of prayer and writing. I remember going to bed that night, strangely excited about not having a solid answer to the question “where do you see yourself in five years?” And then I remember waking up the next morning, logging into my email account, and seeing an email from the University of Essex.

    Fast forward three months. It is September 9th. In seventeen days I am getting on an airplane that is flying to England. In just a few weeks I will be starting my MA program in Sociolinguistics. I’m going to be a full-fledged adult who pays rent and buys toilet paper.

    And, to be completely honest, I’m a little scared. I’m sad to be leaving the home I’ve finally found in Michigan. But I’m also really excited. And if I’ve learned anything this last year, it’s that I have absolutely no idea how my life might change. As scary as that used to sound, I’m starting to discover the joy in just watching everything unfold.

  • Finding a Place

    Tonight I met an old friend and her almost two-year-old daughter for an early dinner. We don’t get to spend a lot of time together, but the moments we do have are special. There we were, sitting at our booth, talking of relationships and jobs and the future, intermittently attempting to prevent her daughter from smearing mashed potatoes everywhere, when I started to realize how much I didn’t want that moment to end.

    When I first came home from Oxford, the last thing I wanted was to stay in the States. I missed England. I missed the boyfriend I had just left in England. I missed the friends I had just learned how to love in England. I even missed the gruesome all-nighters and painfully long essays I had to write for my tutors in England.

    What I didn’t realize at the time (but what is painfully obvious now) is that it wasn’t just the place that I missed, it was the people. Oxford was one of the most life-changing experiences of my life. For the first time ever, I got to experience fully what it meant to be myself, and how being myself had a lot to do with who I was with. I got to see what it meant to live in community with other people. And in the middle of the relationships, I also saw the beginnings of what I was meant to do with my life.

    So I came home and I spent a lot of time grieving the loss of what I thought was a physical place. In reality, it was the loss of a place with others. Then I spent almost an entire year telling myself and the people around me that I needed to get back to England. England was the place I was being called to. England was where I was going to be happy. England was where my place in the world was.

    It’s funny how some of the most life-changing moments come not during the loud and extravagant, but in the quiet and simple. Sitting in a booth at the back of a truck stop diner, watching a toddler kiss her mommy’s tummy and showing me where the baby is, I realized that finding my place means so much more than moving halfway across the world.

    I was so busy setting my eyes on England that I forgot to look right in front of me. I somehow missed that even though my friends from Oxford are all scattered across the world, we still find time for each other. I didn’t see how much I actually do love Michigan. And now I’m seeing these things and I’m making new friends and I’m finding that I’m happy and I’m not in England and that’s a good thing.

    England is still in the plans. When and for how long is a different story. I have a tendency to try to map my entire life out while I’m still missing some key pieces, but I’m trying to do that less and less. And for now I’m trying to learn how to find my place with the people around me; to be happy and trust that I’m going to find where I fit, even if it’s not where I initially planned to be.

  • Learning to Adult: Relationships are Hard

    For the few of you who clicked on this because you were hoping I was going to spill my guts about some gossip-filled love story, I’m sorry.

    I don’t have a whole lot of experience in romantic relationships. I don’t really have a lot of experience in many other types of relationships, either. I mean, I have friends. One time I even managed to (briefly) have a boyfriend. I obviously have built relationships with different family members and coworkers and professors and fellow students and colleagues. But those “relationships,” save for a few, seem to be be rather…limited.

    I love my friends. I love my family. I enjoy having conversations with most of my coworkers. But I don’t know most of them, and they certainly don’t know me. I can’t be entirely sure, but from what I’ve gathered there are a few things that most of the people I know seem to think they “know” about me:

    • “You’re such a smart girl.” – I get this one a lot. And while I will say that I know what I know because of good professors, good resources, semi-decent genes, and hard work, I will always emphasize that I am not as smart as people tend to think I am. This is usually met with protests and the friend/coworker/distant relative trying to get me to “admit” that I’m highly intelligent, like I’m harboring an essential piece of information.
    • “You’re so sweet!” – Thank you? I strive to be a decent human being and, unless I’ve missed something, I was under the impression that such a standard requires one to follow most social expectations a majority of the time. You know, the occasional smile and “how are you today?” and the ability to think about someone other than oneself every now and then.
    • “You are such a great communicator!” – Ha. Haha. Right. In a work setting? I try. In a classroom setting? Most of the time. In a relationship? Forget it. I never know how to properly convey what I’m thinking, so I usually stumble for words that make at least a little bit of sense. Either that or I get super passive aggressive. It’s real cute.

    But even though almost all of the people I know throw these wonderful compliments at me and seem to think I’m such a wonderful person, I only have a deep and meaningful relationship with a small handful of them. And it’s not because I don’t want to have good relationships with the people around me. I just don’t really know what healthy relationships look like, and I honestly find it a lot easier to spend my time working on what I know how to do well: work, study, write, and other things that are typically more independent tasks.

    That being said, I’m trying. Kind of. I’ve spent a few nights hanging out with my closest friend from high school. I’ve been trying to spend more time with my family. I’ve been trying to spend more time talking to my friends that live outside of Michigan. I’m spending more time catching up with some YouTube friends I’ve lost touch with. I’ve even started hanging out with a new friend from work.

    But at the end of the day, I feel like I’m failing someone. If it’s not one of these friends or family members, I feel like I’m failing myself. I am not an extrovert. As much as I love people, I need time to recharge my social batteries at the end of the day. I used to be good about giving myself that time to rest and recharge, but lately that hasn’t been the case. On top of work, YouTube, blogging, preparing to move to England, trying to take care of my body, and trying to build and maintain old and new relationships, I’m exhausted. I know I need to find a balance somewhere, but right now I’m really struggling to find it.

    How do I find the time to get everything done, still be a good friend, and maintain my personal health? I am blessed to have so many wonderful people around me, and I’m trying to learn how to navigate these relationships. But I’m afraid of failing not just myself but the people I love.

    Relationships are hard, but part of me has to believe that they are worth the effort, even when I feel like I’m failing.

  • To my Fellow Procrastinators: Discovering The Fear

    I will never know how I managed to graduate college with a semi decent GPA. If I am working on a project that I am interested in, I will start work on said project as soon as I know I will be working on it every waking hour until the due date. Not a minute before, not a minute after.

    Through my four years of University, I somehow managed to become a master procrastinator. How did this happen? I discovered the fear. I learned early on that there will come a moment during every semester and for every term paper that will ignite the will within me to get stuff done, and that is the moment the fear takes over.

    It is that terrifying feeling of guilt, dread, self-doubt, uncertainty, and a little bit of slightly sadistic joy. You know the kind? It sits in the pit of your stomach, heavy with regret. It simultaneously drains and supplies life. You feel its energy surging through your body, feeding the need to write the best looking pile of college-appropriate word choices that you have ever created (they don’t call it a B.S. degree for nothing).

    The fear thrives on neither food nor sleep, but on over-caffeinated panic and, occasionally, sweat, blood, and tears (though not necessarily in that order). During exams and deadlines it can become your greatest enemy or strongest ally. If controlled properly, it can help you survive nights you otherwise thought would devour you whole. If not handled with care, it will probably result in an existential crisis on your kitchen floor at 3:00 a.m., complete with a pint of ice cream and a single spoon to console you.

    So take heed, fellow procrastinators.The fear is not a force to be played with. Know the consequences. Avoid the dangers. Protect your sanity. Get your freaking work done.

  • New Projects, New Conversations

    I don’t usually post many of my YouTube videos on this blog, but I’m really excited about this so I decided to share it anyway.

    A few months ago I started a collaborative YouTube channel with my friend Amy. Because we are two extremely nerdy people who enjoy talking about all things nerdy and educational, we decided to start the channel and call it The Study Loft.

    We first used the channel as a place to encourage each other during a diet bet, but we’ve been throwing around some ideas and we’re going to be using this channel as an outlet to talk about all of those nerdy things that don’t usually escape our Skype conversations. And as a way to talk about these things, I’m starting a new series called “Let’s Talk About…” (Pretty self-explanatory, right?)

    I enjoy having conversations about things that are fun and thought-provoking, and I’m hoping that The Study Loft can turn into a hub for good conversations. So, while I promise to not self-promote these videos every week, here is the first video in that series:

  • Rekindling the Fire: Losing Weight One Failure or Success at a Time

    I just recently finished a diet bet with a friend, and we had been tracking our progress through our collaborative YouTube channel. I was hoping the diet bet would be a good way to rekindle the fire of motivation that’s supposed to be located in the general vicinity of my rear-end, but the sparks just weren’t catching.

    While we were recording one of our weekly updates, we both let out slightly uncomfortable laughs of guilt and exhaustion. I was in the middle of training at a new job, she spends most of her day away from home for work, and both of us were/are dealing with our own versions of how-to-life syndrome. We’re tired, we’re confused, and quite frankly we were about as excited about working out at 5:00 a.m. as a five year old is about eating his vegetables.

    So we spent some time venting to each other. Adulthood is hard, and especially so when you’re trying to learn how to throw healthy living into the mix of things you’re supposed to balance. But we didn’t want to just complain, we needed to figure out how we could get our motivation fires going again.

    While we were talking about this, Amy said something that made a lot of sense: things like diet bets and little rewards and “punishments” for goals are fun, but if we don’t have an end goal in sight it’s a lot easier to give in and eat that piece of cheesecake.

    So we kept going with this line of thought. Why do we want to lose weight? Is “to be healthy” too abstract of a reason? Is “so guys might notice me” an unhealthy reason? What is motivating us to lose weight, and is that motivating factor enough?

    As we continued this part of our conversation I started remembering how I felt when I first started losing weight. In the beginning it wasn’t about my dress size. It wasn’t about how other people saw me or even about being at a “healthy body weight.” It started out as a journey to survive.

    I weighed 400+ pounds, spent most of my time in doctors offices and ER waiting rooms from constant asthma attacks, and the mere thought of a flight of stairs made me wheeze. I could blame my weight on the steroids or my inability to exercise at that moment, but instead I decided to take responsibility for my own life. I wasn’t even 20 and I had to make a choice about living or dying. I chose to live.

    Fast forward almost three years, 120+ pounds lost, and to a significantly smaller and healthier me. My lungs are not perfect but they are stronger. I like my body and can confidently say that I think I look sexy in a dress whether anyone else thinks so or not.

    I don’t feel like I need to be fighting to survive anymore, but the reality is this: I still weigh over 250 pounds. My heart is healthy right now, but will it remain so if I stay at my current weight? I haven’t developed type II diabetes yet, but the chances of that happening are higher because of my weight.

    We each get one body to live with. Some of how our bodies thrive or struggle has to do with genetics and circumstance, but in the end, for most of us, it comes down to a choice. I’m choosing to take care of my body, as broken as it is. It’s time to rekindle that fire, and I’m excited to see just how big it gets.

    Comment Question: How do you find motivation to take care of your body? Whether that be to lose weight, gain weight, eat properly or exercise often. Let me know in the comment section below! 

  • Day One Thousand and One

    On June 29, 2012, I created a list of 101 things I wanted to complete in 1001 days. Today is day one thousand and one, and I have a confession to make: I did not complete all 101 goals on my list.

    To be completely honest, I’m okay with not reaching some of the smaller goals. Sure, I didn’t finish coloring that garfield coloring book. I didn’t make a year in pictures album or start an herb garden. I didn’t even try to learn how to use a pogo stick, but that’s probably a good thing.

    I didn’t do a lot of the things on my list, and there are a few that I’m kind of sad I missed. I didn’t reach my final goal weight of 150 pounds. I didn’t donate all of my clothes over size 18. I’m still living at home and I never ran a marathon, but that doesn’t mean I have to stop working towards these goals just because 1001 days have passed.

    So what exactly did I do in the last 2.5+ years? For starters, I did complete 51 of my goals. It might only be half of the list, but I’m pretty damn proud of those 51 things.

    When I first made this list, I wanted to work on my writing and to eventually start vlogging on YouTube, but I was too insecure to start. So I made blogging a goal on my list, and on January 12, 2013, I published my first post on this blog. A little more than five months later I posted my first vlog on my YouTube channel.

    Through both WordPress and YouTube I found friends and communities that encouraged me to do the things I love and the things that I would have otherwise been too scared to do. The 101 in 1001 list became less about checking off items on a list and more about becoming the person I wanted to be. It became about testing myself, working towards things that mattered, learning to love my body, and learning to be myself without apologizing for it.

    So, without further ado, here are a handful of the 101 things that meant the most to me:

    I met my first two major weight loss goals and have lost a total of 130 pounds.

    Weight Loss Pic #1 - 06/12/12 - 350 lbs - down from 367!DSCN2279

    I got to run across the finish line of my first 5K with my mom running right next to me

    IMG_0278

    I fell in love with reading again and read well over 100 books.

    I started to learn how to cook and tried at least 30 new recipes

    As a way to challenge myself to be more comfortable in my own skin, I set goals to buy a dress, wear high heals, and wear something sleeveless in public. When I set these goals I didn’t really see them coming to fruition, but guess what?

    I also did a few things I never thought I could do, like studying at Oxford and speaking to a room-full of people about something I thought was interesting

    I tried to build a snowman, which still technically counts even though he didn’t really have a head

    I went on a four week road trip with a dear friend

    I didn’t complete all 101 goals on my list, but I’m satisfied with where this little experiment has gotten me. I’ve been pushed and pulled and thrown beyond the boundaries of my safe bubble of comfort more times than I can begin to list. I’ve met so many amazing people, both online and offline, many of which are now some of my closest friends. The way I see and understand the world has been challenged and tested as I’ve travelled outside of this little corner of Michigan, and I am better for it.

    These last one thousand and one days have been kind of wonderful, and if I can pass on anything from the experience it is this: Don’t be afraid to challenge yourself. This world is too big and this life too short to live a quiet and safe existence.

  • One Hour in Babies “R” Us

    I should not be allowed in Babies “R” Us. I might be a woman in the prime of her baby-making years, but the last thing on my to-do list right now is painting a nursery. Sure, the idea of having children is not one that I have sworn off entirely, but right now I want to focus on working and finishing school, and at the rate I’m going it’s going to be at least ten years until I’m going to actually want to pee on a plastic stick.

    But tonight, for about one hour, my lovely biological clock decided to freak out, causing my voice to jump 3 octaves while I got stupidly excited over a onesie with a bow-tie. Welcome to Babies ‘R Us: the store that might actually be able to empty my savings account if I let it.

    I’m not saying there is anything wrong with Babies “R” Us. I’m also not implying that there is anything wrong with my very real human instinct to get very happy when I see anything associated with a tiny human. I’m just saying that I probably looked a little bit ridiculous as I pranced around the store looking for things that would look great in my imaginary child’s nursery.

    That being said, it was kind of fun having baby fever for a little bit. And, if anything, my cousin’s little one will benefit from the 20 minutes I spent carefully deciding which baby book she would like best.

  • Learning to Adult: The Waiting Place

    In my last post I talked about my struggle to decide whether or not I should move to England this autumn for graduate school. I wrote that post because I was hoping for guidance. I was looking for answers. I was frustrated and tired, so I started writing. I started praying for answers. And I started asking not for the answer I wanted but the answer I needed, even if I didn’t actually know what that answer was.

    I got my answer one week later. I thought about writing an update post to tell the world–and by “world” I mean the 12 of you that read this–that I made my decision. But the fact is that my decision was kind of made for me; the only thing I did was accept it.

    What happened was that I got an email from Essex, the school that I was planning on attending this October. The subject line read “Discontinuation of the MA in English Language and Literature.” I took in a sharp breath, closed my eyes, and clicked on the email.

    I knew what it said, but the words on the screen turned blurry. The program I had been accepted to wasn’t running this year. I could transfer to another program that was slightly related to my own, but none of them offered exactly what I needed. The answer I was looking for was staring me right in the face, so I clicked “reply.” This is the message I sent:

    Dear Ms.____,

    I received the email regarding the discontinuation of the MA in English Language and Literature program. At this time I will not accept a place in any of the other related programs for October of 2015. Instead, I was hoping that I could defer my place at Essex to October of 2016. I have been reevaluating my financial situation and feel that it would be wise for me to wait another year to work and save so that I am more financially prepared to participate in the program.

    With kind regards,

    Erica H

    Short. Sweet. Professional. Detached, even.

    95 words in total. It took me nearly one hour to click “send.”

    I don’t know why It’s been so hard for me to talk about this decision. I’ve told only a small handful of people up until now. I know that this is the right decision for me. I know that I am needed at home right now and that waiting one more year for England is, in the grand scheme of things, a very small time to wait. And to be honest I am okay with waiting one more year. I am okay with having more time in the U.S., as much as it drives me crazy sometimes.

    What I’m having a hard time being okay with is admitting that I was wrong. I broadcasted to all of my friends and family that I was moving to England this September and there was nothing that could prevent me from doing so. I was going to have my Master’s degree before I turned 24 years old. I was going to go work for a few months but then be the girl that went and did something with her life. I wanted to prove to everyone–but mostly myself–that hard work and strong determination could get me anywhere.

    But you know what? It’s okay. I was wrong. I miscalculated. I thought I had my future planned out perfectly. I was prideful and a bit too arrogant to believe that my plans could change.

    England is still in the plans. Grad school is still on my to do list. But I know that those plans might change, and that’s okay. Right now I just need to wait. Wait and work and wait some more. I need to learn how to live in this waiting place, something I’m kind of struggling to do right now. But God is teaching me a lot about waiting and trusting him. It’s not easy, but I know that it will be well worth it, even if I can’t see it now.

  • Learning to Adult: Difficult Decisions

    I’ve always been pretty independent. So, like most young and inexperienced teenagers, I jumped at the chance to start making my own real life decisions the moment I finished high school.

    The funny thing, though, is that for the first time in a long time I’m faced with a decision that I don’t think I have the answer to. I used to think I knew what was best for me. I used to think that if I wanted something bad enough it was something that I needed to do. But now I’m learning that being an adult and making adult decisions is hard, and I don’t always have the right answer.

    I’m also learning that sometimes there might not even be a right answer. Or, if there is, it might not be clear what that answer is right now. Let me present you with my decision-making problem to try to make a little bit more sense:

    I’ve been saying for a while now that I am planning on moving to England. I have a place in the Master’s program at the University of Essex, and the original plan was for me to move there this autumn.

    But sometimes plans change. Well, kind of. I know I’m going to England. I know that I want to go to Essex. I know that I will work my way there eventually. But right now I’m kind of questioning my decision to leave this year.

    I have student loans to pay off. I have a personal loan from Oxford that, small as it is compared to my other loans, needs to be paid off soon. I have medical bills that need to be taken care of before I leave the U.S. I’m not worried about paying these things off, but I am concerned about how much of them I can take care of in less than one year.

    I am so blessed to have two jobs right now, but my question now is this: Do I work this year and save up just enough money to get through one year of grad school, or do I stay home another year so that I can be a bit more financially stable when I do move to England?

    I know that I can pay off what I need to pay off in loans and have enough money for one year in England by time September rolls around. The problem, however, is that I will only have enough money saved to live in England for one year.

    So what happens at the end of that year? Will I have to come back home? Will I be able to get a job and support myself while I wait to start working towards my PhD?

    These are the questions that I’m wrestling with right now that I think I need to think about them carefully, but there are other questions that make the whole decision-making process even harder: is fear of financial insecurity just a crutch to stay home longer? I want to move to England, but is there a part of me that is still afraid of making such a life-changing decision? Is it foolish of me to want to move to England without knowing for sure that I can afford to stay there past the length of my initial program?

    And of course, the question so many people keep asking me: am I trusting God with this decision?

    I do trust God. I know he has a plan. But how do I know I’m following that plan? Going to England this year feels right, but does it feel that way for the right reason? And the same question applies to waiting one more year for grad school.

    Both options, quite honestly, have reasons tied to my own selfishness and desire to have control. I want to take charge and move to England and go to grad school to prove to myself and the world that I can survive. But I also want to do it with a sense of financial security. Why, though? I’ve never been financially secure in my life. Is it irresponsible to hope and pray that I’ll figure out later how to afford living on my own in another country? Part of me says yes, but part of me says “I know I can do it.” But can I?

    I know these are all questions that can’t really be answered right now. Or if they can, I’m not looking at the right thing to find that answer.

    I don’t know what I’m going to do yet. I do know that I’m going to pray and trust that God has the answer. He has been teaching me a lot about patience and waiting the last couple of years, and I’m hoping that I can continue to trust him while I wait for the right answer.