yawn...

I've never been a super huge fan of hardcore exercise, but I've never been too keen on being a total couch potato. Walking and slow jogging, dancing, and weight lifting were great for me. Running, though? Nope!

When my health went south, so did exercise. The chronic pain and other medical problems made it really hard to find any sort of balance, and reluctant couch potato became a standard for a long time. I'd try and do the things I liked to do, but I'd end up in bed for days recovering. That is, until I found yoga. For almost a year, I was able to do yoga sessions at home every day. Then it all changed when the pain became so debilitating that I could barely walk. And so, as some know, I had surgery!

Because of the surgery and long recovery, I haven't been able to do much in the form of physical movement. For several weeks, the most I could do was take a shower before collapsing back into bed. Now that I've started feeling quite a bit better, I decided to try some type of exercise so that my muscles don't totally atrophy. That's more worrisome to me right now than weight gain, seeing as my jeans are actually quite a bit bigger on me than they were back in March.

I didn't want to hurt myself or push my body too hard, so I recently got back into yoga exercises (and by recently, I mean about two hours ago). Here are some things I forgot about this form I like so much:

1. I have not been nor shall I ever be as flexible as I am in my dreams -- because I do dream about being able to do incredible feats worthy of Elastigirl in the Pixar film The Incredibles.

2. Relaxing my neck is ridiculously difficult!

3. A yoga mat is probably a good investment, one which I should have made a long time ago but have never gotten around to doing.

4. Every time I finish a session, I'm suddenly exhausted and feel like I could sleep for hours. In fact, I'm reminded of how often I've fallen asleep at the end of a routine -- 'cause it happened today.

5. 40 minutes goes by incredibly fast when I'm not timing laps at the gym. I like this way better.

Now, if you'll excuse me. I'm going to go study for finals -- and by that I mean I'm going to take a nap, because I can barely keep my eyes open!

so sad...

Today has been kind of a sad day. I woke up feeling like little pieces of glass had been wedged into my heart and were moving slowly through my veins -- kid you not, it's a real feeling. Your whole body hurts and shakes, and it's worst in your chest, like something has shattered -- and the little shattered bits are radiating out through your arms and legs and toes and fingers. Even your ears hurt.

Because it was such a sad morning, I was grateful for my friend Thomas. He took me to brunch at Denny's, because there was Hobbit food on the menu (and because he said he misses me, and that it's stupid that we're so busy with school). What better than Hobbit food to make you smile? It was such a laugh, the whole time -- I've know him for over a year, but there are so many things I've learned about him since we started spending time together this semester. He's probably one of the most talented, sincere people I've met in my life. I don't think he's afraid of anything. Visiting and laughing with him made some of the blues go away for a little while, for which I was happy. He took me to a dance concert at the college afterwards, and we had a good time watching all of the talented people perform.

Coming home, the sad aches began again. I tried doing homework, and couldn't focus. I tried writing for work, but no words made sense. I tried cleaning, organizing, even sleeping -- nothing.

Finally, I gave up. I went to Target and bought my favorite frozen pizza and some peanut butter cup ice cream. I bought season 7 of Psych through Amazon.com, threw on some sweats, let down my hair, got a plate of pizza, and pulled out my new shimmery, light pink nail polish. And I've been sitting at my computer since 7:45 this evening, watching ridiculous episodes and making my nails look pretty.

I feel a little better. The sad aches are still there, but they're a bit numbed now. I've got good memories of breakfast with Thomas, new funny lines to quote from Shawn and Gus, and pretty fingers.

Part of my brain is yelling at me for wasting the weekend, doing no homework and getting no work assignments completed. Another part of my brain is smiling.

Hopefully my heart will start smiling more, too.

drop dead...

That awkward moment when one second you're singing "Come Thou Fount" and the next you're staring up at dozens of concerned faces over your head.

Yeah. I passed out in choir today. I'm not really sure what happened. No, I didn't lock my knees -- I've been singing since I was four-years-old, so I'm well aware of that no-no. As a matter of fact, I actually sat down for a whole five minutes due to a sudden headache before I hit the floor. I made it through maybe the first line and a half of the first verse after standing up...not entirely sure when I lost consciousness.

Thankfully, Amber caught me on my way down (according to reports from bystanders). Between her, Jason the EMT, and Jamie the Lifeguard, I was in pretty capable hands (har-har). Dad did drag me to the doctor, which I resent a little bit, and as usual, it was determined that nothing is wrong with me.

I'm probably just super stressed. Not to mention the stress has been amplified because I lost a whole afternoon and evening of homework time, and my first 12-page paper is due on Thursday at 1:30. It's the history paper that my professor said will be graded according to a higher standard than my classmates because I'm brilliant.

Well. I hope she likes disappointment, because the best I can do is much less than I had anticipated. Which is frustrating. I hate, hate, hate doing mediocre work.

School should die. It sure is killing me.

overwhelmed...

Wednesday was like almost any other Wednesday. Except for one thing: while I was attempting to butter some French bread, I found myself slumped against the counter with no recollection of the few seconds before I fell.

The pain has been bad this week.

Thursday was much like Wednesday, minus the French bread and the passing out. The physical and emotional pain peaked. I was scared, angry, tired, and alone -- alone in the sense that I was stuck in my body and mind, and trying to get out was too exhausting.

And then, I was asked out on a date. Not just any normal run-of-the-mill homework date, which has become the standard due to our heavy workloads, but a real one. Where he called me up and issued a formal invitation; I put on a skirt, blouse, and heels, and he wore slacks with a tie; he picked me up at 7:30; I wasn't allowed to open any doors at all (usually he opens the car door for me to get inside, and I let myself out because I'm silly that way); he took me to Mimi's Cafe; and we talked for hours. And not just all of that-- he came to my door in my favorite green shirt and the jacket I got him for his birthday, holding a white rose tinged with brilliant red, a box of all dark chocolates, and strawberries with chocolate syrup for later on (our new favorite treat because we can't afford real chocolate covered strawberries, nor do we have time to make them).

A day later, I still can't entirely comprehend it all. That someone would go so out of his way for me -- to get off work, to wear the clothes I like so much, to bring gifts that mean a lot to me, and to take me somewhere so nice -- even in the face of missing valuable homework time. Because he knew I was hurting, and that things had been hard. Because he wanted to make me smile.

What's even more amazing to me is that this isn't the first time this has happened.

It's overwhelming in the best way.

too fragile for my own good...

I have a sensitive personality by nature. Commercials about homeless animals, photos of orphaned children, and the occasional man standing on the corner with a sign trigger tears. I feel for people, and animals, and sometimes I feel trapped because what little help I can give personally is less than a drop in the bucket.

That kind of sensitivity is a good thing in some ways. While it can be problematic at times, it's something I've learned to work with, instead of let it control my life. Recently, though, I've been sensitive in ways less compassionate -- meaning I find myself getting hurt a lot.

I don't know what it is, but stupid little things hurt. Comments from family members and friends or things I read keep reminding me of mistakes I've made or the goals I'm so far from reaching. It's like thinking you're moving forward, a step at a time, until you turn a corner and there's that wall again, smirking and saying, "Hey, remember me? Your old pal? You keep trying to forget me and move on -- I don't like that. Good luck walking away from me, kid."

There are reminders everywhere. Reminders of times I've failed and stupid mistakes I've made. Honestly, I feel like I'm worthless. I'm starting to think I don't deserve happiness. Which is wrong -- both of the previous lines are wrong. The thinking is wrong -- I know that. Knowing that doesn't seem to make it hurt any less, though. It's quite frustrating.

It's frustrating that no matter how many good, right things we do, the bad things creep up out of nowhere to knock us down. That no matter how hard we try to be happy, and to take care of ourselves and others, it's still ridiculously difficult to get out of bed in the mornings and face another day.

my life right now...

Whoever thought it was a good idea to call me to be a Relief Society teacher is crazy. Wait...

Parker is married. And Sierra is married. And Alyssa is married. And Abe is married. And Jason and Morgan are married...to each other. Funny, if things had gone as planned, I would have beaten them all at tying the knot. Let's just say I'm glad they went first!

I am obsessed with checking my position on the waitlist for Economics 110. Down to 24th (one second)...sorry, 23rd (yes, I did just check it again) from 110th. It's almost as bad as eBay bidding.

White Collar. White. Collar. NO, I have not watched the first season in less than a week for the second time. And NO, I do not plan on starting the second season again tomorrow. Give me a break.

But seriously, Matt Bomer and Tim DeKay -- I can't decide who I like better.

Why is it that I am absolutely terrified of calling/texting/contacting in any way, shape, or form, the one person who I should not be afraid of contacting? It's kind of ridiculous.

Living at home is making me lazy and depressed. I stay in my room all day, avoiding family at all costs because for some reason, every time I emerge, a fight breaks out. I don't know if it's my tone of voice (which would be hard, because I've pretty much stopped speaking), my facial expressions (again, hard because I usually hide behind a book), or my smell (possibly, because mom thinks my jasmine-vanilla lotion smells like bug spray). So basically I sit in my room and weigh the pros and cons of staying or leaving every time I decide to venture out. Let's just say it sucks.

My dogs are possibly THE neediest dogs on the planet. I don't care, though. It's nice having the little furry things in my room all day.

I decided that I figured out why there are so many liberal thinkers in the Humanities and Social Sciences fields -- I've been doing some research on course requirements for various majors and I've found that most (if not all) of those majors are not required to take Economics (except for mine, of course -- go figure), at least at my university . They can take other classes to fulfill course requirements instead. If Econ is an option, they skip it. I would, too, if I had any other choice. So they read loads of Russian or German or French or whatever literature, and tons of philosophy, and never get into the actual history of what happened to the people financially under socialist and communist governments. Fascinating, what we think works, and how we easily ignore actual history.

It sickens me that one person (me) has so much stuff. And yet, when I decide I'm getting rid of things, I cannot let go! That stuff cost money. A lot of it is in the form of books and memories (journals, photographs, and the like), and arts and crafts supplies. Then there's all of the bedding and clothes (gah, I have so many clothes) -- but I use them all! It's a dilemma, I tell you. A real dilemma. 

Sometimes, when I'm having a sad moment, I picture his cute face and just grin like an idiot. And then I wonder why I'm scared to call him, because he is my boyfriend -- I'm afraid that I'm needy, I guess.

I hurt so, so much. After having that ultrasound, I am completely perplexed by the fact that such a tiny piece of anatomy can cause such excruciating and all-consuming pain, not to mention fainting, vomiting, fevers, and what have you. My whole life I've thought that ovaries and uteri and all those other things were huge because anything that could make so much of my body hurt all of the time had to be ginormous. Wrong. Takes childbirth to a whole new level as well, I'll tell you what.

I got hired to do freelance writing for some sort of online independent business marketing firm. Wish me luck.

Oh, one last thing. Guess who is going on a weekend trip to Cedar City with her man and...wait for it...her man's parents. The four of us, three days seeing plays and hanging out at the Shakespeare Festival. I'm honestly extremely excited, and the more I think about it, just as terrified.

Let's do this.

family...

Earlier this month, my grandpa suffered two severe heart attacks in the same week. Because my grandma's health isn't great either, they have been set up with a hospice service to help them out.

Side note: what really should happen is they come down off that mountain and live in the city.

Side note over.

A very last minute trip up to the Gorge was thrown together, and I was lucky enough to spend several hours with my grandpa in the mornings and evenings talking about stuff. He talked to me a lot about the break up, and some of the things he said have helped a lot. It was nice -- I didn't even bring it up, and so to have grandpa ask me about it meant a great deal to me. I didn't know that he pays so much attention to my life. I'm probably grandchild 25 out of over 40! Grandpa is great.

Because these isn't a lot to do up at the Gorge, dad set up a horseback riding outing at the nearby lodge. Every time we go up there in the summer, spring, or early fall, we try and go horseback riding. It is so much fun!

Here we are with some of the horses! Meghan (top left) with Vanilla Ice, Amanda (top right) with Wishbone, and me with Wishbone.

Meghan ended up riding with Vanilla Ice, Amanda with Wishbone, and I got a pretty reddish-grey horse named Wolf (who names a horse "wolf"?). Spending time with the horses made me feel super relaxed for some reason. The slow ride through the pretty country and Wolf's sweet personality was great.

Not only was there little to do up there (pretty far from civilization), there wasn't much to eat. So mom and dad took us down to the other lodge  near Dutch John and we had amazing hamburgers and fries. Seriously, they were so good. 

Dad and mom waiting for their orders -- I could barely get them to look away from the TV so I could get a picture. Star Wars: Return of the Jedi was very enthralling.

We have great hair. Just saying.

I love my grandparents. Especially grandpa. Praying for them both!

lightheaded...

Everything I look at squiggles and wiggles before my eyes. The carpet. The wall. The door. The screen. Even my toes are squirming and twisting in a strange, motionless dance. Because they're not actually moving.

Perhaps I'm dehydrated. Perhaps I'm lacking nutrients that my body needs to function properly. Both of these are most likely accurate -- if I remember to eat, or have the will power to force myself, I haven't really been eating very well the past few days. And I cannot for the life of me remember to drink. The water bottle on my desk at work sits full and untouched for entire shifts, as does the one in my backpack, and the one on the kitchen table.

My head is full of air, like a balloon bouncing and jouncing on a string.

My heart is full of lead, like a weight on the floor of the ocean.

Honestly, I'm exhausted. I'm pushing through things, but nothing I'm doing has results like I want.

I can't focus enough to study -- I fill out the study guides, but I take in nothing. I can't get anything done at work --  I go to the office and sit at the desk, but I end up staring at the screen for hours, unaware that I'm doing nothing. I can't complete tasks at home -- I get halfway through a job, such as the dishes, but then have no energy to get them done.

There are so many questions in my head. What did I do wrong? What more could I have done? What should I do now? How can I fix this? Should I? Should I not? What? When? Where? Who? How?

Why?

Questions, questions, tormenting and reopening wounds -- "don't live in the past," "don't dwell on things," "don't ask why." I know. I know not to.

And I do it anyway.

Should I move on?

I'm eavesdropping on two people in at the end of the hallway. One I know from a music class two semesters ago. She said something that, while it doesn't relieve the pain and emptiness between my ears, speaks to my heart:

"If it's the right thing, then you'll still be here when the time is right."

If it's right, God will make it so. Whatever the right thing is, God's will shall be done. Keep living. Keep trying. Keep working. Keep studying. Keep doing.

One day at a time -- one minute, one hour, one day --
moving, moving, moving.
Moving towards God -- to His blessings.

So dizzy.

waiting...

As some of you know, I haven't had the best health for the past two years or so. For a few months, I was improving, and I was excited to get back into "normal" life. However, things have taken a bit of a turn and are gradually worsening.

I admit that frustration and hopelessness start setting in at times. I haven't missed so much school since I was a sophomore in high school. I've never had this many sick days at work (thank heavens my supervisor is understanding and offers his help wherever he can). While I've always been aware of financial difficulties, I've never before felt so pinched. And I've never, ever felt so tired, never. Not only that, but my dad's getting worse as well -- though he won't admit it.

Is it ironic to anyone else that now, at possibly one of the hardest times in my life, I'm happier than I've ever been? Listing out the worries on my mind somehow brings a smile to my face. Yes, I'm physically uncomfortable most of the time, and I worry about losing my dad, but inside, I feel at peace. Every time I start worrying and the concerns press on my mind, I'm able to sit back and think about how good my life really is.

For example. Though I've missed a lot of school, I'm keeping up and am still getting good grades. My work supervisor is incredibly helpful. Money is a serious concern, but it keeps working out every time I really need something. I'm sleeping more frequently than I have in years. And dad is still here, and always happy to spend time with me.

After the third doctor's appointment this month, they finally decided that it's time to start looking for the problem, rather than treating the symptoms. I'll get the test results in a few days -- I'm hoping things will be okay. And they will be -- everything has been working out so far. I don't see why it won't continue to do so.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. For so many things -- although, the wait time for me and Adam continually shortens. So excited.

lore of the folk...

Yesterday I finished my first folklore collection project. Three days of sorting through computer files full of dates, names, and beliefs about different diseases, injuries, and ailments...voila. Complete.

I learned a lot of interesting things. Mostly what not to do. For example, one belief advised treating a burn by covering the affected area with turpentine and then holding the limb over a hot stove. Mmm...false. Turpentine is flammable. Pretty sure that's not going to help.

Or this one: to cure frostbite, stand barefoot in the snow. While snow can help warm up a frozen limb (because the snow is actually warmer than the icy skin and helps draw out the cold [thank you, Boy Scouts]), standing barefoot in the snow is a bit ridiculous.

Or how about eating a mouse to cure a toothache? I'm sure that's fool proof.

The really fun thing has been all of the Google searches that have led me to new, weird, and interesting bits of information regarding many of the "cures" and "treatments" I've been sifting through. Some actually work. Like ginger tea for menstrual cramps. Or raspberry tea for a stomachache. Who knew? Others don't work (see above). Such as vinegar on a sunburn (ow). The acid makes it worse.

Google is awesome.

Anyway, it was a long, rather boring process, but it's finished now. Yay.

However...that assignment was a bit preferable to the one I'm currently working on. Get this: my new project is all of the files containing folklore relating to love, courtship, marriage, and other such topics. Currently, I'm going through all of the beliefs about dating: what to do, what not to do, what to eat, what charms and incantations to use to get someone to fall in love with you. Not that I'd ever do that. Silly. And wouldn't work. I mean, after all...remember what happened with Tom Riddle and Merope Gaunt? Not happy.

Dating files. Advice from clear back in 1886.

Fitting, no?

#"nothappy,Bob"

triggers...

On Thursday the doctor diagnosed me with chronic migraines and added a new rash of medications to my short list of drugs (now it's a medium list). He also told me that I should track any headaches that occur so we can find triggers, then eliminate or work with those things so that the migraines don't occur as frequently.

Day 2 of My Headache Journal has begun, and so far I've pinpointed a couple of things that bring on the headaches.

1. Anger, irritation or frustration (I guess talking out my frustrations in a raised voice while showering when no one is home isn't an option anymore)

2. Reading for extended periods of time

3. Laying on my left side, which is the side of my head that usually begins hurting first

Day 2 has also brought about some alterations for dealing with these triggers that I've noticed.

1. When angry, irritated, or frustrated, leave the situation, stop talking, or take a nap -- basically things I should do anyway. Or just not get mad at stupid stuff. Which is what I should do regardless of the threat of a migraine.

2. Read for half an hour, and then take a ten minute break (I won't lie and say ten minutes is the average -- those ten minute breaks often turn into half hour to forty-five minute excuse making escapades where I do everything I can think of which will keep me too busy for my homework).

3. Laying on my right side instead of my left (duh). I have also found that sleeping with my teddy bear lessens the pain. I'm not sure why that helps, but it does (and I don't mind it, either -- having an excuse to cuddle a toy is fine by me).

I am also happy to report that the doctor prescribed taking aspirin with sugar free Coke for managing headaches that do occur. Don't be surprised if you see me on campus with a bottle of the stuff -- I have no fear anymore as to what people may think of me drinking a caffeinated beverage. Take that, Dining Services. I'll just bring my own soda with me.

So far I'm able to manage the current headache I have a little better, now that I know how (even though it's lasted for over a week, roller coaster-ing in severity). I'm not sure how preventing future headaches will work out yet, especially because this one won't go away -- we'll wait and see how these new medications take hold. And if they don't, well. Back to the drawing board we'll go.

I'm sure my insurance company loves me right now.

back at it...

So.

Thursday, I woke up with a major headache. I missed class and barely made it through work.

Friday wasn't much better.

Neither was most of Saturday.

Sunday continued in a similar fashion.

As did Monday. Except on Monday, I fell asleep at 4:30pm and was awoken two hours later because of the headache.

That got me worried. The last doctor I saw told me that if a headache woke me up, I would need to call my regular doctor (or all-purpose doctor, as I like to call him) as soon as possible. But I didn't call that doctor yesterday because I figured the headache would go away. It couldn't possibly last for 6 whole days. Right?

False.

Another appointment at another clinic with another doctor, slated for Thursday at 2pm.

Right now I'm really wishing that it were possible to fall asleep on a textbook and absorb the information through osmosis.

That would be stupendous.

it's been a day...

I have discovered that if I get to campus 45 minutes before my classes start, I can get a parking spot near the bell tower, which cuts off almost half of the walk to my building from the parking lot. Which, all things considered, is very helpful for me right now.

My professor handed back the exams from last week. I got a B+. Considering I was praying for a C, I did fairly well.

Did 8 tutorials today -- which is a lot less than I usually do during a four hour shift. I've learned that if you take longer with a single student, you can explain things better for them and you do fewer tutorials throughout a shift (no crap, Sherlock). All the same...this job is exhausting.

Mom took me to lunch at the wrap shop on campus. Strawberry Fields wrap equals deliciousness.

There's a(nother) dress at the book store that I want. Note to self: stay away from the clothing sections in the book store. Or, stay out of the book store period.

Anthropology was a silent affair. Literally. Sat there for 39 minutes with no one speaking, and then one person timidly commented on something from the reading. Nothing for another 4 minutes. Then a second timid comment, after which the professor got up and left. The Quakers' practice of silent meetings is really getting to us.

2 hour study group after school and work for the next American Studies exam on Wednesday. Karina and Nelly are fantastic.

Bad and frustrating news from doctors -- I really dislike this whole mess.

My sister took me to Cafe Rio with her tonight -- such happiness. We talked about how stupid and confusing boys are. It was therapeutic. We both enjoyed ourselves immensely.

Going to Idaho on Thursday this week. Watch out, Rexburg. Gonna party all weekend long...with my textbooks and sleeping pills.

Oh, and I got stuck in the elevator today. Tried to walk out and found myself slammed into the back wall. Yeah -- my backpack strap had gotten caught on the handrail. Whatever.

exams don't wait for life...

This semester is probably the most frustrating I've ever had in my entire life.

Yes, I have a lot more homework than  usual, but that's not what is stressful. I actually feel like I've got a handle on the Game of College. It's basically a study in selective listening. Listen for what the professors are looking for, and then spoon feed it back to them, repeating their own words in essays and exams to make them feel awesome (accuse me of being a suck up and I will wholeheartedly and unabashedly agree with you). Keeps them happy and gets me good grades. Easy as that. Bam.

No, what's stressing me out is that life happens so frequently that I can't stay caught up. Readings get put off in favor of sleep because I can't comprehend what I'm reading. Studying gets pushed aside because people are more important than grades. Classes get skipped because I literally can't get out of bed. Essays and papers are written at the very last minute because stuff just happens.

But school isn't going to slow down so that you can focus on cleaning up the mess suddenly dumped in front of you.

For example. I have another large, ridiculous exam tomorrow morning (at 7:45am, no less). Have I studied for it? Well, if you count doing all of the class readings throughout the semester and attending as many lectures as possible (health problems -- they rock), then yes. I've studied. But if you count actually preparing for the exam?

Nope. 

Once again, life keeps getting in the way. 

Time to hit the books in a big way. Peace out, Girl Scout.

the worst kind of heartbreak...

Disclaimer: all of what I have written may come across as selfish, childish, and ridiculous. It's honest, though. Straight from the heart.

For almost four years, I have set my eyes on serving a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I was one of the only girls in high school who was considering it. Many of my friends would say things like, "wow, good for you -- a mission is so not for me," or "I'm so not interested in serving a mission." Some of the girls would think me a little strange for my desire to go, and many of the boys said things like, "yeah, you'll change your mind when you get into college -- girls don't have to go."

As I grew older, I still desired to serve a mission. Often times that desire was put down by other people (I've written before about what many male friends have said to me concerning my goal). Words like "it makes me sad that so many girls are serving missions -- they're needed as wives and mothers, not missionaries," and the ever present "you'll change your mind when you meet that perfect guy" were thrown at me a lot. It made me so angry -- I didn't want to serve a mission because I wasn't dating (quite frankly, I care more about the status of my kitchen floor than I do about dating -- I hate dating). It also bothered me because the general authorities have encouraged women to serve missions, saying that women are able to reach people that the men can't. A woman who wanted to serve a mission because of a desire to serve the gospel was totally in the right, according to church policies. That's why I wanted to go. It's why I still want to go.

This summer, I began to feel that the timing of a mission was not right for me yet. I received a "no -- not right now" answer from the Lord twice, once in my bedroom and again as a confirmation of that answer in the temple, when I went to "double-check." I felt impressed to focus on my schooling, because I am more than halfway through with my degree, and to get as many educational experiences through BYU as possible.

Never have I been 100% satisfied with the "no -- not right now" answer. I say that I am, and I try to be, but it's been hard. Often times I've prayed for patience to follow through based on the answers I've been given, but it's been difficult. That difficulty was increased exponentially due to the announcement President Monson gave yesterday morning, right at the beginning of the first session of our General Conference.

When I heard that the age for worthy sisters had been dropped from 21 to 19, I was surprised. However, I didn't feel upset -- or not super upset. I felt a little bothered, but nothing important. As the day went on, though, and as I got text messages from friends asking me if I was going to go this year, I began to feel an overwhelming feeling of sadness and disappointment. Most people don't know that I have put my mission plans on hold, almost indefinitely. I haven't told very many people -- around here, many people automatically assume that the reason a person is no longer going on a mission is because a big mistake was made. I didn't make a mistake -- I just got told to hold off.

Those feelings of sadness increased as I received news from my younger sister that she will no longer be applying for college for next year, but will instead begin work on her mission papers in January and leave as soon as she turns 19 in July. I felt even more disappointed when my 16-year-old sister texted me that she is going to go on a mission as well in two years (she turns 17 in January), and that she was so excited to receive that answer from the Lord. I turn 21 in January, but no mission papers will be sent this year to Salt Lake with my name on them.

Getting on Facebook made it even worse. Countless status updates, pictures, and other posts met my eyes, each from young men who are moving up their mission dates and from young women who had never before considered missions (and some who have even criticized me for my desire), each expressing with enthusiasm and delight that they were scrapping their college applications and working on mission papers, or altering their goals to include a now possible mission.

I scrolled through my news feed until I could no longer see the screen because of the tears falling from my eyes. My entire being felt shattered, left out, even let down. I began to pray, asking God to change His mind, not really expecting Him to do so. I told God how upset I was -- how all of my life, everything that I have ever desired with my whole soul has been taken away from me, or I have been told to wait. I have watched both of my sisters receive every desire I've ever wanted and was never given -- leads in the school musical, positions on the choir council, relationships that have lasted more than four years, more attention and recognition from my parents, dates with good boys every other weekend -- I can honestly say that almost everything that I have ever desired has never been given me. And I was angry -- I was angry and heartbroken, and I told God that.

The more upset and heartbroken I began to feel, the more I tried to force myself to think of all of the good things that have been given to me, instead of the things I wanted. I got into BYU, even though I didn't think that I would and didn't really care to. I received an internship and a job that I didn't even know existed. I've been given friends who, though they have only been in my life for a couple of years, have been better friends than most of the people I knew when I was younger. No, I don't get to be in plays or in choirs, but I get other things.

But it has still been so hard. All day yesterday, and most of the night, found me in tears, frustrated and devastated because of my "no -- not right now." I recognize that it isn't a "NO" answer. It's a wait and be patient answer.

Being told to wait is one of the hardest things the Lord has asked me to do -- and that is what He asks of me the most.

This, for me, is the worst kind of heartbreak, because it's another time in my life where a righteous desire of my heart has been kept from me, and I've had to watch people who were never interested (or sometimes less qualified) receive those opportunities. I'm not saying that a mission is totally kept from me -- but not given to me when for so long, I have felt such an overwhelming desire to go and serve. What is hard is watching the people I went to high school with, who had no desire to serve a mission, suddenly take off and leave two months after making their decisions. What is hard is knowing that my sister, who is two years younger than I am, will be going on a mission before me, when she had little desire to do so in the first place, wanting to focus on school and see what happened as she got older.

What is hardest is to continually be told, "be patient," and nothing seems to change -- not with my health, not with my friendships, not with my family relationships, not with anything.

I will be patient. I won't give up. I'm not going to distance myself from the Lord (for as someone said in conference, moving away from the Lord when faced with a trial is like leaving the safety of the underground shelter when a tornado is in the field next door). I know that this will be for the best -- the Lord told me to wait for a good reason. Everything that He has done in my life has been for a better reason than I ever could have seen.

"Trust in the Lord with all thine heart, and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct thy paths."

I will do it. He'll take care of everything.

Speaking honestly, though...that doesn't mean it doesn't break my heart.

apology, explanation, and update...

dear World,

First, an apology. I apologize for the last few days of downer posts. Summer time was rough, and autumn time has not yet lessened in the frequency of hard days. Bad news has been common, and progress has been slow.

Second, an explanation to the above apology. See, I write about these things here because it makes processing the information easier for me. Once I write everything down and send it off into the void, I can revisit the problems as a more or less objective reader. Sometimes I pretend that I didn't write the post -- sometimes I sit back and take apart the grammar and the sentence structure, as I would in the writing center. And then I read it again, this time focusing less on the words themselves, but more on possible solutions that might come to mind.

Third, an update. I again have something that I need to write about.

Dark-thirty of this morning found me up and ready in my kitchen awaiting my friend who would drive me to the specialist's office. I set up an appointment two and a half weeks ago, and this morning brought the scheduled time with it. Saying that I was nervous is an understatement. However, I was not quite scared to death, as I was fully alive and thinking about all of the "what ifs" in my mind.

I shouldn't have been so nervous. Everything went well. Every person I talked to, from the receptionist to the nurse practitioner to the phlebotomist, was kind and helpful. Rather than telling me that I was doing something wrong and causing me to feel guilty for my lack of knowledge about my body, they each helped me feel comfortable and relaxed. Their focus was on giving me information that I can use and walking me through all of the possible solutions and outcomes. Yes, medications were prescribed, and yes, lab work was required, but it wasn't as frightening as it has been in the past.

The appointment went well. I, however, don't feel well at all. The number of tests the nurse practitioner wants to run necessitated quite a bit of blood -- I ate before and after blood was drawn, but I'm still a bit shaky. There's also the fact that the results might show some serious problems, ranging from a bit serious to serious enough that I don't want to think about it.

And so I try not to think about it. But it's hard. It's hard not to be worried. It's hard not to be scared. Everything is going to work out just fine, I'm sure. I'm still scared, though.

It doesn't help that I've been having a hard time eating anything again lately. Almost every time I make or purchase a meal, I dump it, give it away, or put it back. I can't seem to eat anything. It's not that I'm not hungry -- I just don't want to eat anything. Every once in awhile, I can't eat. Food sounds so great, but if I actually try to eat it, I feel like throwing up (or do throw up). The headaches occur more frequently as well. Most likely it's due to the lack of appetite -- not only do tummies complain when they're empty, but heads want to be sure you're aware as well.

It's probably stressed related. I don't do well with change -- things keep changing quickly and adapting is hard for me. And now, more changes will be taking place. I won't mention them all here -- there are many. There are medications to be taken on a set schedule, particular foods and drinks needing to be on hand at all times, and the nurse practitioner kindly but firmly informed me that while my school is important, homework will need to take a back seat to getting sleep. She's not worried about my physical activity, but she is concerned about the amount of sleep I get. Let me just say, she's not the only one!

Everything will be okay. It really will. For now I need to force myself to eat dinner, finish some homework, and go to bed. Besides, I have something to look forward to tomorrow night!

And so, dear World, things are okay. Life really is good -- it's better if there's a way to express the inner most thoughts and feelings. At least it is for me.

your Friend,
GKB

day 3...

Currently on hour 70 of one of the worst headaches I've ever had in my whole life. So far I've been through one 50 count bottle of Ibuprofen in the last 4 days. Wondering if it's even helping anymore...I honestly don't know why this is happening. I'm told it's most likely stress -- that is very possible. Incredibly possible. Here's the short list of stress inducing things:

1. An unexpected guest in my house who was invited by my roommate who moved out a week ago. This guest is a) staying longer than I was told she would, b) does not have my landlord's permission to be in the house, c) has been keeping me up all night due to her need to watch movies late at night with the sound up because "I get so bored," and d) invites her family members to stay in the master bedroom, again without permission from the landlord. I contacted my landlord and told her what's going on, and she said she'll take care of it. I just hope she isn't mad at me.

2. More things happened with Callie over the weekend. It's getting better though, but it's taking a long time and a lot of effort on my part. I'm very frustrated because I don't have time to talk to her every minute of the day, or spend time with her, and I really  need to try and sleep when I can. Luckily she's starting to get things rolling and we're heading in a good direction.

3. I'm supposed to go swimming with someone this weekend. I don't have a swimming suit that I feel comfortable in and I can't find one online that can be here in four days (shipping options are only 10-14 business days at all of the places I've looked). I'll go look for one tonight probably, but still. I look terrible in a swimming suit. Not okay.

4. Balancing school and work is very, very difficult. I ended up dropping one of my classes because I'm pretty sure I won't be able to handle the homework and work 20 hours a week. So far I've been getting all of the reading done after school and work, and during my breaks during the day. But it's a tight schedule. I need to get really good grades, and I'm worried that I won't do as well as I need to.

5. My health isn't improving very fast. Something is always hurting, particularly my head. It makes it hard to get my homework done, because sunlight and artificial light hurt my eyes, as does reading. If I tilt my head down for too long or look to the side, my eyes start blurring and I get very dizzy. It's rather frustrating.

I'll make it work. Things will be okay. I'm just doing the best that I can and trying to take care of myself as well. Things will work out.

baby, you've got this...

It's been an interesting Friday-Saturday transition. Yesterday and last night were a bit stressful, but super great. Good friends, good food, good amount of productivity, and good results from said productivity.

Around 3:30 am I woke up with the most awful, awful pain inside that I have ever felt in my life. I haven't cried because of pain for a long time. It was scary to feel so absolutely helpless; I couldn't walk, could barely move! Nothing's wrong according to the medical definition of wrong though, so don't worry.

This morning the pain had mostly faded to a constant, dull throbbing, like when you pull a muscle in your shoulder or neck. It's not too bad, so long as you don't move too fast. So I got up, skipped breakfast because looking at mom's toast made me feel nauseous, grabbed two sharpened pencils, three pieces of paper, my ID card, and prayed that I'd make it through the Stats final without passing out/throwing up.

It sounds dramatic. It kind of was. Meh.

At 11:15 am, the most dreaded exam of my life began. The hall itself was terrifying: that room could probably fit close to (or more than) 600 people. Now I know why people dread having American Heritage in JSB 140 -- you almost get swallowed up in the hugeness of it. Fewer people attended my high school football games!

Luckily it was quieter than a high school football game, and I was happy to find a seat on the end of a row. Immediately I tried to figure out a strategy to not drop all of my stuff (exam packet, bubble sheet, scratch paper, calculator, and pencils) because there truly was no place to put it. The auditorium desks are about two inches longer than an 8.5 x 11 inch piece of paper and maybe an inch wider. Not the best desk to take any sort of exam on. Strategy finalized (haha), I sat down to take the odious Departmental Statistics final.

But I didn't dread it so much after I finished the first page and realized there was no way I could have missed any of those questions. Despite the awkward, abyss-like feeling of the auditorium, the constant whispering shuffle of hundreds of exam papers, the cramped confines of my paper size desk, the dull pain in my body, and the ache in my head from a sleepless night, I knew that stuff. At 12:30 pm I walked out of the auditorium, trying to be afraid of my score, but I just knew I'd done better than what I was hoping for (a C). And guess what?

I ACED that sucker.
90%, my friends. Nine-zero, a straight up A- on the exam I have heard nothing but horror stories about. I could barely (still can barely) fathom the fact that I didn't fail that final. When I saw my ID number next to the 90%, I actually started laughing. The girl who'd scanned in my test smiled and said, "It's a good feeling, isn't it?"

It is indeed a good feeling. So is going home and sleeping from 1 pm to 5 pm without waking up once.

2 finals down, 2 to go. After that, three days in St. George with two of my favorite girls in the world. Bring on English and Humanities!

PS Prayer WORKS, people. If you've done all you can do, and worked as hard as you can despite your limitations, the Lord WILL help you. Give him a shot. He'll give you a miracle.

boxed in...

It is again beyond me to write something upbeat and happy. Despite all of the good things that happened today and all of the fun adventures that took place, I can't do it. I have to get it out.

I feel suffocated. I feel like everything is closing in around me, like I've been put into a box that is progressively growing smaller and tighter and darker by the hour. There seems to be no space inside me, and everything is just getting packed tighter and tighter together.

Everything feels like an insurmountable barrier, including getting up in the morning. I do it, only because I have to. It takes me a long time though, sometimes hours, to convince myself to get out of the bed and to get ready for the day. Even then I feel so tired and weary that it takes huge physical and mental effort to even raise my arm or to take a step forward.

No matter how hard I try to feel differently, I can't seem to do it. I can list all of the wonderful things in my life, all of the blessings I've been given, and the way I feel doesn't change. Thinking about my acceptance to BYU, my new job, my many friends, my family--there IS GOOD, and so much of it. Yet I still feel this way, this horrid, exhausted, crushed, squeezed, yucky blahness.

I want it to be Halloween now. Then I can dress up like Number Six and forget about being me for a little while. I'll be a kick butt alien who wears leather and motorcycle boots. That is going to be so super fun. Can't wait!

sidetracked...

I got a little behind on the 90 days challenge thing, so I'm just going to pick it up here and start today at day 68 (I think it's 68...). Sorry about that! There's been a lot going on in the health area of life. All of the other areas of life, too, but the health area is causing some rough patches of trail. Shoulder to the wheel!