My Biggest Mistake

As I look back on my life, I’ve made some pretty good choices. I worked hard in school, was involved in cross country and other after-school activities, made close friends, went on fun family vacations, got accepted into my dream school, and married a wonderful and handsome guy. I’ve lived and learned, and I’ve been blessed. However, there is one dark cloud in my past, one that I count as my biggest mistake.

My biggest mistake is my failure at a positive relationship with my brother.

It wasn’t always bad – we were best friends when we were growing up. When he would get into trouble, I would cry to my parents and beg them to have mercy on him. We shared an apple under a blanket when our parents told us we couldn’t eat anything else but our dinner. We played knight and mother-to-the-knight in our little backyard, and went on bike rides together. It was bliss.

Something changed. Me.

I think I transformed into a witch. As we got older, it got harder and harder to be patient with him – to show that I loved him. It was easy to fight and say hurtful things as we walked to school, and later, drove to school. As I look back, I know I got mad at him for the little things he did. He teased, played loud music, criticized my driving. None of those things were worth the things I did. I did much worse.

I yelled, I screamed, I kicked, I ignored. I was the worst sister he could ask for. I damaged our relationship, no matter how many times he tried to repair it. Only now do I see the effort he made, and his despair when I refused to give in. Only now do I have endless guilt and shame for how I acted. A simple apology to him cannot dissipate such a dark cloud in my past.

Much to my relief, our relationship is slowly repairing. It’s gotten better since I’ve moved to college and married, giving us time and space. As he prepares to take big steps in his own life of serving a two-year mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints and going to college, we find we have things in common. We are able to talk about things – what’s it like in college, relationship advice, music, and religion. We are almost friends again.

In an effort to gain at least partial forgiveness for what I have done, I promise to never treat another human like that again. I promise to make it up to him every time I see him. I promise to learn from the biggest mistake of my life, and I feel overwhelmingly grateful for second chances and eternal love. As our relationship continues to build, I feel peace and hope that we have time. Time for me to heal past wounds and to be there for him for the rest of his life. I love you, brother. Forgive my biggest mistake.

The Experience, Not the Workout

Sometimes running is about the experience, not the workout. It took me a long time to realize this. In my early running years, I felt guilty if my run did not have me sweating and hurting. The only point of running was to lose the calories I just ate or fulfill my 30-minutes of exercising for the day. Don’t get me wrong – it is extremely important to exercise daily and get those health benefits. However, I was too focused on the workout and missed out on some beautiful running experiences.

Running has the power to clear and relax the mind. It has the power to help us fully appreciate the beautiful world around us. It has the power to allow us to be in tune with our body - to listen to it and feel its strength. The best part is, you don't have to be running at a breathtaking pace to accomplish this.

This morning, I fought the battle of getting out of bed. My alarm went off, and I stubbornly dozed. My husband gave me a persistent push and I fell out of bed. I stumbled out the door and blinked at the morning light. It took me a while to start running. When I did, it was achingly slow. The phrase “lazy bones” flashed in my mind as I watched my legs struggle against the pavement. 

Yet, as I ran, there was something special. I started to have that running experience. My mind was relaxed. I knew how my body felt and noticed it was gaining strength and energy with every step. I started to notice the beautiful world of my neighborhood. There were pearl white roses, a soft light coming from behind the mountains, singing birds, and refreshingly cool air. It was a beautiful morning, and my lazy bones weren't going to stop me from appreciating it.

Even though my run was short and quite slow, it was about the experience, not the workout. After a busy and exhausting week, I needed to find myself again. Today, I found myself through appreciating the sweetness of a calm, cool morning.

This morning’s experience reminds me of two life-changing quotes from my hands down, all-time favorite running book, To Be a Runner by Martin Dugard. In it, there are several lines that perfectly explain the importance of this running experience.

“To run is to think. To think is to solve problems, dream, reflect, hope, mourn, pray, and grow. We focus so much on the way running tones our thighs and fortifies our hearts, but running is also a spiritual and emotional journey” (112).

“[Running is] not just exercise. It’s not just achievement. It’s a daily discipline that has nothing to do with speed, weight, social status,sexual orientation, political affiliation, where you live, what car you drive,or whether anyone anywhere loves you. It’s about the slow and painful process of being the best you can be. That’s why the first step out the door is always so hard. That’s when we choose between settling for average and being a superhero version of ourselves” (230).

It’s easy to settle for average. Every day, I try to find the superhero version of myself. And I realize, it comes from appreciating the experience – not just a running experience, but every experience of every day. I continue to find myself, and hope for a better me.

Eyebrow Threading: Certainly an Experience

I finally decided to just do it. After years of having inconspicuous, blonde eyebrows that grow fast and wide, I decided to do something about it. Eyebrow threading seemed to be a good idea. It looked relatively painless – compared to pulling dried wax off your skin. I wanted to give my eyebrows something to be proud about.

My husband and I did some research online and found Brow Spa 24 in the mall. It had three total reviews on Google, all of them good. We decided to go.

We got to the mall, looked at the map and found Brow Spa 24, and started heading towards it. As we walked, fear of the unknown caused me to drag my feet.

“Can we go to the bathroom before we go?” I asked my husband. I was stalling.

After the bathroom break, we walked into Brow Spa 24. It was a very small and skinny salon; all open for the curious eyes of shoppers walking past. There were three salon chairs in front of big mirrors, and an open counter. A short, stern looking Asian woman was standing behind it.

“Eyebrows?” she asked.

I nodded.

She pointed me to the chair closest to the counter and told me to lean back and close my eyes. Without any other word, I felt a sharp, painful, pulling sensation on my eyebrows. I could hear my hairs being mercilessly pulled out 10 at a time. In all my eyebrow plucking days, tweezers did not compare to this. I had to bite my lip and clench my fists to contain words like “Ow!” and “Jeez!” I like to think that I have a pretty high pain tolerance, but apparently that tolerance ended with my eyebrows. To my horror, I felt wet tears gathering in my closed eyes and draining down the side of my face.

Soon, the plucking and sounds of rubbing thread stopped.

“Do you need tissue?” the Asian woman asked.

“No, no. I’m fine,” I said, embarrassed. I wiped away drops of mascara under my eye.

“Hold your eye.”

“How? Like this?” I pulled at my eye, trying not to wince.

“Is this your first time?”

“Yes.”

She smirked, showed me how to hold my eye and tighten the area of my eyebrow, and went at it again. I sat in the chair, head pressed back on the headrest as hard as I could, thinking of happy things like lighthouses and cookies. Before long, she was moving to the other eyebrow and the same, excruciating process happened again. My eyes hurt from all the tears they retained, and my eye brows stung. I prayed for it to be over.

“All done! You can look.”

I looked in the mirror. All I saw was my bright red skin, around my eyebrows, swollen and hairless.

“Looks great.”

My husband quickly paid, and she told us to keep the receipts to get 50% off our fifth visit. I wasn’t sure if I would come back for a second.

My husband and I walked through the mall and to the parking lot.

“She held the thread in her mouth! And I could hear all the plucking. She was pulling out, like 10 hairs at a time!” he said.

“That was horrifying. This is incentive to keep up on my plucking so I never have to go back.”

Overall, I did like the end product. My eyebrows were expertly shaped, all in an appointment that lasted 10 minutes. My husband treated me to a Target and Walgreens run, where I bought six different products for eyebrows, and ended up finding a bronze shade that I liked (only $1.09!!!). Now my eyebrows can be proud, no longer invisible to the world. I do like that.

I stand by what I said, though. I don’t think I will ever go back to Brow Spa 24, or any eyebrow threading salon for that matter. Next time I might try waxing. Sounds less barbaric than using thread to cause pain. Maybe I am overdramatizing. In any case, it was an experience. Say hello to my ginger brows.

Just After the Appointment

Wet n Wild Coloricon Bronze Shade