goals – gianna soderstrom

this can happen

May 21, 2020Posted in community, habits, motivation, writingTagged coffee, Dreams, encouragement, friendship, goals, inspiration, memoir, motivation, pep talk, publishing, tattoos, writing2 Comments

Saturday mornings are made for coffee and if you are wise in the ways of really making it a weekend, you take your coffee out walking with an old friend in a beautiful neighborhood. Or at least, this is what I did last Saturday. I met Sarah at a coffee place on the familiar corner of a wide, slow street. It’s called Good Neighbors, and is there anything more to say than that?

We took our coffee to go, walking through the cool morning and talking as fast and enthusiastic as you can only do when you’re all caught up on news and move on to conversation. We talked about everything. The summer camp at which we became friends and still work for, which sort of latte each of us ordered, the freshness of the lilac hedges we walked past. Tattoos came up somehow, and in no logical sequence, tattoos led to my writing. Reluctant as I am to talk about my writing, everything seemed to tumble out in confidence of a supportive listener. The big dreams, the ones about this memoir and that book of essays, the questions about building an audience – maybe I’d held on to those secret thoughts for so long they spoke up of their own accord. I talked, laughed ruefully, wondered and dreamed a bit, and finally shrugged.

“Who knows though. I’m not really sure what I’m doing.”

“Gianna,” Sarah turned without stopping and looked at me, face all lit up like spring, “this can happen.”

This can happen.

I hung on those words for a minute, and she poured out enough ideas and strategies to build my dreams sky-high, iron-framed and concrete-founded.

This can happen.

It’s been five days of turning over every single suggestion she named and writing down question after question, marketing, hashtags, giveaways, monthly emails – and despite how logical and actionable every single thing has turned out to be, I still can’t believe the three words she said first. This can happen.

It’s carried me all week now – all tired long week of parenting in a safer-at-home order, bruising my shins on the steps, wading through days of uninspired writing, closing my journal or my laptop or my mouth with a snap because I feel like sometimes I’ve run out of any words to say at all. But I remember that tiny sentence that opened a whole world of hope, and I think it to myself again: This can happen.

Sometimes that’s all the seed of hope we need to keep a dream alive – one person who knows how to put shoes on a dream and make it start walking. Somebody stares at the sky with you, and sees your same dream, the one you thought was just a fleeting shape in the clouds, and calls it real. One person who can look you in the eye and say, “Yes. Here’s how.”

I hadn’t planned on taking our conversation from the tattoos I want to the books I plan to write, but there we were, and there was magic in the unplanned sharing of dreams, because now those dreams have a confidence in them that isn’t just mine. They’re backed by somebody I trust – and sure, I’ll still have those days when I can’t see what value there is in any of my work, or I wonder why anybody would want to sign up for a future monthly email from me. But I have Sarah’s enthusiasm to fall back on too, now. I have somebody who cares about these things becoming real, somebody who won’t be shaken or disappointed when I write a bad sentence or a bad paragraph, or when nobody takes notice of an Instagram caption I crafted with heart and vulnerability.

So darling, whatever that dream is, I want you to hear it from me: this can happen. You may not have all the details figured out and maybe I can’t tell you exactly how to train for the marathon or survive basic training or learn to lead-climb tricky rock walls, but don’t let that hold you back: this can happen. You can do this. You’re not alone. Find somebody to talk to, somebody who knows which step to take. But don’t forget that I’m here cheering for you. Your dream matters. Your goal can become a reality. Your ideas are important.

Darling, this can happen. Remember it. Say it to yourself often. And if you know somebody who needs to hear it too – send them these words. Heck, say it to them yourself. This can happen. I’m not alone; you’re not alone; nobody is alone. Big things can happen when we begin to tip the balance from wondering to acting, to encouraging and hoping and planning. Let’s take time this week to be Sarahs – to pass out hope like coffee on a Saturday morning and remind each other the ways that big things can really, truly grow into being, one tangible, tiny step at a time.

getting stuck

July 1, 2019Posted in courageTagged goals, hard times, life instructions, parenting, small steps, winterLeave a comment

This post is full of instructions. They’re instructions that we all need at some time in our tumultuous years. Sometimes the days begin to feel long and pointless. Maybe you’re sick – sick for a long time and it feels, or is, debilitating. Maybe you’re just low on inspiration and working the 9-5 because it seems that is all life has for you. Maybe Netflix has convinced you that you owe it your attention, despite nagging doubts. Pretty much anything can suck us down into the stuck place; a job, finals, parenting, moving, dim living spaces, too much pasta.

Please know I’m not talking about depression here. I know depression can be influenced by all those things and more but you usually can’t just “get un-stuck” when it comes to mental health. You’re worth enough, valuable enough, to close this blog post right now and get help. But if it’s just a weird little inward battle to get up and get dressed on those days that feel pointless, then this is for you.

I’ve had plenty of my own stuck days. In fact I think I wrote this during one of them. (To be honest I was just looking through my unpublished posts and decided it was time for this one to come alive.) But stuck days don’t last forever – I know this because after months of feeling sick and watching the light at the end of the tunnel receding as fast as I advanced, I’m beginning to come out into the light. It’s just been little things – morning sickness for four months, a sinus infection for as many weeks, a toddler who’s getting faster as I’m getting slower and more pregnant. But for all that, the sun is coming out. Joy is breaking through (accompanied by warmer weather, hey!) and now I want to share some of the things that have helped me walk through it with hope. In fact, many of these things are still working habits mine – practices to fight back against the dark we all face any given day.

Do what you can. Go slow, as slow as you need without critizicing yourself at all. But if you can get dressed, then do it. Getting dressed will make you feel better. And hey, now that you’ve come this far, eat some breakfast. Try to get some protein in. Do what you can, even if it’s a microwaved hotdog or a bowl of breakfast cereal. Do what you can. If you can get through work, do it. If you need to take a nap and safely enclose your contented little babes in their crib for half an hour while you sleep, you set yourself a time and get those 30 winks. Do what you can.

Move a little. Maybe exercise just isn’t really an option. Ok. I’ve been there. I’ve had my afternoons of laying on the couch watching old movies because my body won’t move without pain (or just nausea. Babies, I tell you.) But if you can, take a walk around the block. Get a little air. Maybe stretch out with some gentle yoga. Movement will help your mood, gently lift you just a little bit. Trust me – I’ve felt it happen on the most disappointing days. Heck, if you don’t have any physical restraints, push yourself a bit and get in some solid cardio. You’ll thank me later.

Go outside. Maybe the most you can do is go sit outside. Maybe you can’t even do that. Find a sunny window. Or sit on the patio if you have one. Walk around the yard, around the block, down to the park or coffee shop. Take a long hike if you have the ability. Exercise plus fresh air is a vital combination.

Set a goal. Pick something small that you can achieve within a day or so. Write a card to a friend, finish the dishes from last night, wash a load of laundry, cook a meal at home. There’s a sense of achievement that comes when you finish a task or a goal, no matter how small it is.

Put down the phone. I know it seems small, but try to replace a few minutes of phone time every so often. Pick up a book. Stare out the window and let your mind wander. Take that quick walk around the block we’ve been talking about. Take a few minutes to stop the games, the comparison of social media, the branding and promotion and posting to prove that your life is good too. Just enjoy your life for a few minutes. I don’t say there’s anything wrong with your phone, only that we humans have the capacity to get so sucked in that it begins to dominate every nook and cranny of our life.

I hope these ideas help you. I hope they remind you that even on the ugliest, hardest days you can find a small ray of light. I hope these ideas walk with you through the dregs of winter and into the spring. Here’s to you who feel stuck. We’ll make it, friends. Sunshine is coming.

last year

January 8, 2019Posted in courage, habitsTagged change, courage, discipline, essays, goals, New Year, resolutions, writing, yoga, Yoga with AdrienneLeave a comment

This is a story about last year. 2018. The year of New.

I have a page in an old art journal that I labeled just like that: The Year of New. Twelve months ago I sat at the faded yellow kitchen table and held my toes over warm air vent while I wrote down a long list of new things to try.

Recipes
Camp life
Try a new coffee drink
A new ethnic food

I set no stipulation on myself to succeed. I am already chronically afraid of failing. Somehow or other, I convinced myself that trying was succeeding. My only real goal was to find one thing to do every month that I’d never tried before.

I had already begun setting new goals for this year when I saw a post on Instagram asking people to share their best goals, memories, and reflections from 2018. Oh, this is easy… I typed “Trying new things!” and smiled as I sent it to her. “Great!” she responded, “What’s something you plan to keep?” I hadn’t thought of that. I knew all the courage last year required had changed me. I knew I’d learned things about myself that I never realized before, but I hadn’t paid attention to what those things were.

I’ve been thinking about it all week since then, and I have an answer. I realized it when I rolled out my yoga mat and began Yoga with Adrienne’s annual 30 Days of Yoga challenge. I did this challenge last year. It wasn’t easy; I was out of shape and my 6 month old had a thing for interrupting me for meals and attention. But when I sat down on the blue mat and started following the video this year, I remembered how good it felt at the end of January 2018 when I finished.

When February began, I had finished one new thing – I finished a fitness challenge. And I’d finished something I needed discipline for. I couldn’t rush through all 30 days of yoga practice; the videos were posted one day at a time. After half-an-hour I was too sore and shaky to keep going even if I could. I’m the classic work-ahead girl. You give me a book to read over a few months and I’ve got it done in a few days. But last January I was forced to pace myself, to accomplish something better by stretching it out.

That yoga challenge changed the rest of my year, really. I began to write more. I didn’t sign up to write a novel in the month of November, though that achievement sounds glorious. But I did sit down almost every day between May and December to write and edit, write and edit. I published blog posts here, submitted essays to competitions and judges, completed a writing webinar, got my work published on other blogs. The long slow discipline of practicing every day was paying off.

My New Year’s goal last year served its purpose; I was challenged to try new things and I had to try them slowly and consistently. That is what I love about 2018.

My goals this year are different. They’re more specific, for starters. But they’re written like torches lit in the dark, pointing me in the direction I know I want to go. So here’s to last year. Here’s to slow steps in the right direction. Here’s to discipline and patience, the much that is accomplished little by little. And here’s to 2019. Happy New Year.

I’d love to hear your goals for this year, or how last year shaped you! Chat with me in the comments!

embrace your dreams

June 13, 2018Posted in courage, writingTagged Aspens, blogging, Colorado, dreaming, Dreams, Eagle Lake, Eagle Lake Camp, goals, memories, on this day, writingLeave a comment

“What do you want to do?” Grant asked. He meant for myself; did I want a job, a hobby, more education? We were walking slowly back from the park, me with the hole in my jeans, him carrying our tiny boy in the baby carrier. He asked me again sitting in the oversized blue chair in the corner of the living room, again in the kitchen when we did the dishes together and I wondered about what the fall would bring. He kept asking, sometimes months apart, because I kept not knowing. How long had it been since I knew what I wanted?

“No stretch marks, that would be nice,” I’d joke decrepitating. “To sleep through the night,” with a quiet sigh about waking up to nurse the wee one. “To not wrestle with my insecurity anymore.” “To have the space to think.” “A few hours by myself, no dirty diapers or wiping baby cereal off his chin.” I honestly didn’t know what to dream for, how to dream, what my dreams were. I only knew what they had been once, before I gave up on them and moved on.

We haven’t had that conversation for a few months now. Perhaps we haven’t had the time; Grant is working twelve and fourteen hour days lately since camp is up and running. There are counselors to be trained, schedules to deconflict. And I am happy. I watch the sun creep slowly up over the pines in the morning; I walk up the road to see Pikes Peak dozing in the noon sun; the alpenglow on Raven’s Craig casts the evening in gold before the night moves in like a whisper.

I have space; time. I can breathe again. The dreams are coming back.

“I want to [be] curious. I want to notice things. I want to be creative and resilient. I want to become better and better forever at what I love; parenting, writing, spending time in the outdoors, investing in relationships. I want to follow Jesus well. I want to think original thoughts. I want to work hard, and I want to know how to stop working completely and just play. I want to keep discovering the wildness and beauty God put in me. I also want to eat dinner.”

I wrote those words this afternoon, sipping too-bitter cocoa and staring at the aspens quaking in the gusty wind. I know what I want.

I found this photograph a few hours later on Facebook, popping up in the memories that I looked at on a whim. I remember that photograph. The sun was beaming brilliant and the lilac blooms had given way to full-green waxy leaves. I settled onto the culvert rocks with no flowers to look at, determined to just put down my phone and be for a few minutes. And then this call snagged my attention; I started writing things on my little phone screen, thinking again of all the writing dreams that I had slowly given up on.

Two years ago was not much a time of dreaming. I was sliding into a hard season that would open with the uncontained joy of my wedding. But the seed of dreams was planted. Maybe it took all these two years to poke above the soil. Today feels softly significant for all the joy of this small realization. I know what I want.