All But My Life / Gerta Wiessmann Klein

I have long been fascinated by World War II history. In particular I've been interested in the Holocaust; from my early teens, I read every history I could get my hands on, focusing on the facts, figures, and general psychology of the Nazi regime. Why did they pick on the Jews?* How could a nation stand by and do nothing, while their neighbors and friends and even relatives were shipped to work camps, trampled and shot in the streets, treated worse than the lowliest farm animals - their lives worth less than the dirt upon which the Germans trod. I can't answer these questions to my satisfaction. Neither can many historians, whose words in literature and documentary continue to debate motive and share tales, dates, and figures.

                                    

Lately, I have ventured into the realm of Holocaust autobiography and historical memoir. Compiling booklists has become a hobby, because I admit: my previous experience studying the Holocaust often left me feeling sick, angry, and depressed. Given my own personal dealings with post-traumatic stress disorder, I was frightened to pick up a book written by a survivor. Could I read without nightmares? Without nausea? Without feeling hollowed out, stripped of faith, and dwelling on the current horrors I know exist in the world?

Finally, I got the courage. I began my journey with Gerda Weissmann Klein's memoir, All But My Life. After 2 hours of nonstop, can't-put-it-down reading, I finished. And I'm unable to tell what this book has given me with any real clarity.

First published in 1957, her work begins with her experiences as a Jew in Poland on the day Germany invaded, in 1939. She introduces her parents, her well-loved brother, Arthur, and other family members, neighbors, and friends. Immediately she asks the question I have visited time and again: how could her Polish neighbors welcome the Germans into their small village, when they all knew what it meant for the Jews in their midst? Her story continues through the German victory years, with her brother being removed to work camps inside Poland; her father and mother forced into the dank, damp basement of their own home as their belongings are stolen before their eyes; their eventual removal to a ghetto; and their separation as her father is sent to a men's camp, and her mother is sorted into the trains for Auschwitz.

Klein makes it clear that they all knew what it meant to go to that dreaded place.

Because of her age, Klein escapes the death camps and is sent to one of the many German work camps. She is lucky in the first years, overseen by a strict commander, but dealt mercy in many instances. Klein and her 3 friends from home and the trains are together for almost their entire incarceration - though only she survives the long ordeal (all 3 died within 1 week of liberation by American troops, the first days before, the second on Liberation Day, and the third several days after due to amputation complications). In her final chapters, Klein asks once why she survived and her friends did not, sitting among the headstones outside the joint Allied Forces hospital where she recovers from her trauma. And chooses to move forward in honor of her friends, in honor of her promises to her family to be strong, rather than dwell on the horrors and grief.

Any memoir of this kind is heavy. There is death, there is sorrow, and there is the constant head-shaking at the utter lack of humanity experienced by Klein and her fellow Jews. As I read, I kept expecting tears. I kept expecting rage and shock to boil within me, to cause me to close the pages in despair. As each page unleashed new terrors and fear, I was surprised to find myself spellbound - not by the awfulness itself - but by Klein's bravery and commitment to her promise: "Be strong," said her brother. "Be strong," her mother's last words through the screams and cries of a crowded cattle car. "Promise me," from her father, "that you will go on." And she does - for herself, for her friends, for her family.

Klein humbles me. Her determination and sheer force of will are inspiring. I found myself staring at a spot on the page, simply wondering how she did it - how when filthy and hungry, she kept working and found ways to ingratiate herself and her friends with their guards.** In awe I read her account of carrying her best friend in their death march through the snow, Klein herself too weary to keep going, but never stopping. I couldn't do that. I don't think most of us now could do what she did, or any of these survivors managed. How did they hold out in the face of such insurmountable pain? Fear? Grief and sorrow?

I'm amazed by this memoir. I'm astounded by Klein's final pages - how there is such hope pulled from the darkness. I'm blown away by the epilogue, how Klein writes of her healing, of the dark days, and of things that trigger memories*** - and each time they threaten to swallow her up, she perseveres. She overcomes. She is herself in awe of what has come from her experience - that she is never hungry, or cold, or afraid; and that she has turned tragedy into opportunity to help those who do suffer through advocating and volunteer work. Klein writes that helping others has lifted her higher than any activity she could possibly do, has given her courage that she never thought possible. I am again humbled by her compassion and dedication to easing suffering.

I feel things I cannot express. I never "review" books - in fact, this isn't a review to me. This is trying to capture the sheer amazement I feel at this woman's strength. Part of reading for me is empathy - trying to feel and be one with the person or persons whom you read about in a story. And I am overwhelmed. Words are my gift, and words fail describing the sheer energy I feel in my soul.

Read All But My Life. Really read it. You will learn something more than heroism and courage. You will learn gratitude.

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* Note that the author repeatedly mentions others who were persecuted, criminalized, and beaten/tortured/killed due to disability, age, and race (such as non-Jewish Hungarians and Gypsies). No mentions are made of individuals of varying sexual orientations. I focus on Jews in my thoughts here because this is the group whom Klein most identifies with and shares common experiences.

** Klein made use of sudden, unknown confidence and blunt honesty to get Polish natives working for the Nazis to assist her and her friends. She demonstrates almost reckless courage to many captors, both male and female. Remarkably, she gets what she needs almost every time. She did not, however, use sexuality to earn favors or get out of trouble. In fact, she refuses this and almost loses her life for it, if not for a friend's quick thinking (which friend is the first of her quartet to perish).

*** There are several instances in the epilogue that hint at post-traumatic stress disorder. I found Klein's responses to these situations inspiring, and I believe that other individuals who live with this illness would find her experiences useful. It certainly has helped me after an initial reading, and a second, more thorough look at the passages and stories shared.

it's a new dawn, it's a new day...

I usually write a "looking back" post for the new year. But for the 2013 to 2014 transition, I'm not going to.

I'm looking forward.

It's been a good first day of the year. I've been reminded again of the good friends that I have, of the present opportunities, and the importance of family (even though I still struggle getting along with them). I've gained a greater appreciation for my home, and for the relationships I can fall back on when I get into trouble, whether through my own decisions or just because of circumstances.

Honestly, I face this new year with a lot of fear and anxiety. There is so much uncertainty in my heart, and my mind jumps at shadows that it is actually creating. I've learned that I can't just say "No more" or "I'm fine" and expect it all to go away; that I have to work through it and learn to manage it. And I'm starting to learn to say the words, "I need help." As sick and scared as it makes me feel before saying it, getting the words out provides relief. I've done it twice today and so far it's only strengthened friendships, instead of pushing people away.

For this year to be a good one, I have to make it be a good one. Again, I'm scared to sleeplessness (worse than the usual, mind you) about what the future may hold, and I can't figure out how to shake the past (yet). But it'll be okay.

Given how things have been for the past few weeks, I can say that right now, right here...

I'm feelin' good.

nothing to do but do...

A phrase comes up a lot in conversation these days. I say it, my friends say it, my family members say it -- after we take turns detailing the hard things that we're facing or the stresses brought on by work, school, health, and other things, we say with a shrug and a half-sort of smile, "Eh. What can you do?"

It's as though it's a socially constructed way of saying, "Thank you for listening to my problems, and don't try to help me -- I just needed to talk."

It's true, in a lot of ways. So many things just have to be done, regardless of the difficulty or the heartache. Life doesn't stop for anyone. Unless you happen to have a billion dollars in your bank account, of course -- then you can tell the world what to do and it has to listen. Money talks a lot louder than anything else.

I keep looking at the things in my life and I'm sometimes amazed that I get anything done. I'm honestly baffled that I'm accomplishing anything at all.

Sometimes I look at other people's lives and feel grateful that I don't have their struggles. They're so strong -- sometimes it makes me feel even weaker -- I couldn't do what they're doing.

Everybody's got something. For me, and for everybody else -- despite the physical pain which grows worse by the day, the emotional issues that creep in the background, the lack of sleep due to nightmares and pain, and the immense anxiety caused by deadlines, health problems, bills, and what-have-you -- we just keep going.

Eh. What can you do?

Everything, apparently.

counter attack...

I keep finding a thought spinning around in my head.

"Wow. Look how much you've lost this year."

In some ways, it's kind of true. I have lost a lot. Often it seems that every time I turn around, some big, awful thing happens that leaves me feeling as though I've been decked across the face. 

I've lost important, meaningful things. I've lost a lot of my freedom that comes from living on my own and having a car at my disposal all of the time. I've lost opportunities, I've lost time, I've lost money. And worst of all, I've lost people I never dreamed I would lose -- or prayed and begged the Lord to let them stay.

But amidst all of that gone-ness, there are so many things I've gained. I've gained new friendships, new opportunities, new responsibilities, new dreams, new knowledge, and maybe even new wisdom. I've gained a better understanding of the Atonement, and I've gained a greater sense of the Holy Spirit's whisperings. I've gained patience and compassion, strength and resolve. Well -- maybe less in the patience department, but more than I had before.

I feel as though I'm closer to my family and to God than I've ever been in my whole life, and that's after all of the mistakes I made.

Admittedly, I'd like to give in to the anger that keeps working it's way into my heart. I'd like to curse and cry and scream and let the whole world know how much my heart is hurting -- but I won't. I don't need to.

There are bigger, more important things in this life. I'm holding out for them.

i never understood...

I always knew that breaking up was hard to do, and I thought I had a pretty good understanding of how it feels. There have been times in my life when I had to let go of people I really cared a lot about, a couple of them being guys I almost dated. One I even had to run from, because staying was too dangerous.

It isn't until now, however, that I think I actually understand what it's like to lose the companionship of someone you love more than anything in the whole world.

It sucks.

Now that I know what it's like, I ache for those who are going through similar situations that I am. One friend went through a break up earlier this year, and she still isn't quite over it. She's been holding on, hoping that things would get back together (I, unfortunately, am in the same boat, just in a different sort of way -- every experience is very different, another thing I'm learning). He, on the other hand, has moved on and is dating someone else.

I saw the update on the Internet and my heart broke for her. How it must hurt her to see that he's done and has found someone else to make him happy, while she's still stuck with the pain of losing him, and the future she thought she would have.

I think I understand that better now.

That's one of the things that is the hardest for me, really: that the future I thought was going to happen isn't happening. I thought I had found someone to share my life with, someone to whom I could give everything and be sure that he'd still be there tomorrow.

The day I see him move on will be a hard day -- I like to pretend I'm good at moving on. I'm not. I hold on to things I shouldn't, and I hope for things that probably won't happen -- at least not with the person in question. I'm loyal to people I love, even after they're long gone. People I haven't spoken to in years, who have really hurt me (even the one really abusive guy) -- I still miss them, even though I know I shouldn't.

I wish I couldn't love. Then things wouldn't hurt so much.

But love makes life worth living.

...

Lately when I think about writing, I feel sick. Then again, that's how I feel when I think about most things.

I'm often ready to bolt into the nearest restroom because my stomach turns and twists so much. I'm always (not an exaggeration) on the verge of tears. I can't sleep.

The worst thing is that my happiness for other people's joy is tinged with a deep pain. It isn't jealousy; I know how jealousy feels -- mean and angry and bitter. This is different. It's more like a quiet, aching sorrow, one that I don't want the happy person to know about because I don't want to detract from his/her joy.

And yet, I sometimes wish they knew, just so they could give me a hug and a job to do so I can help bring about their special days. It's better when I'm working, especially when I'm working for others.

It'll get better. Honestly, it only can get better from this.

I'm lucky, really. Lucky that this is happening: I'll be more aware of others' feelings. I'm learning to be more forgiving. I'm learning to take care of myself for me, not to please someone else. I'm understanding that what I want is just as important as what someone else wants (although I still often do not have opinions, which some of my friends mistake for not sticking up for what I want -- sometimes, I just don't care what we're doing because I'm with people, which means I'm not alone). I'm getting better at telling people the truth regardless of the consequences. I'm practicing asking for help.

I'm growing.

Funny, how I forget that growing physically comes with pain, too -- joints enlarging, muscles stretching, bones lengthening -- keeping me awake when I was little as my body changed into the 5' 2" person I am now. Why should mental, emotional, and spiritual growth be any different?

Perhaps because the pain, for me, is enhanced by other things in my life, such as the long-time struggle with depression, and the more recent appearance of quite severe anxiety. And part of it is my personality: two of my friends were talking to me last night, and they reminded me quite firmly that my loyalty to others has often placed me as less important -- that it's time to stop taking the backseat. And they're right -- while being loyal isn't a bad thing, strengths can easily be weaknesses if used the wrong way.

I'm lucky in friendship. Lucky that I have people in my life who care about me, and who stick with me no matter what's going on in my life. I'm lucky that I have people who celebrate my successes, and who lift me up when I've hit the ground.

Georgie's just lucky, I guess.

things I learned today...

1. My dryer only shuts off if it gets too hot. The rest of the time I have to pay careful attention to how long clothes have been in the dryer so that things don't shrink. That's why I noticed -- I put a load of towels in the dryer and a little while later the house was quiet. Yep. Dryer had gotten too hot and had shut itself off.
2. Most of the curators and non-student staff at work now treat me like I'm in charge of Workflows. The student employees like me know better, and none of us can figure out why the big wigs don't spread things around a little bit more. I mean, come on -- I haven't even been trained on the super specifics, yet I'm expected to know them.
3. When Kala gets hungry enough, she will not hesitate from waking you up from an unexpected nap by huffing and whining in your ear. And if that doesn't work, she'll full on whop you on the face with her paw. I guess she was really hungry, or I slept a lot longer than I thought I did.
4. It is possible for professors to assign homework that takes five to six hours a day, and have exams once to twice a week for an entire term.
5. I really, really like my job.
6. I CAN MAKE GOOD COOKIES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Seriously. Never before have I been able to make a good batch of cookies by myself. But this time, they're turned out amazing. Which is why I am actually going to take them to the neighbors as I originally intended, rather than tossing my mess into the garbage bin. Because it's not a mess! It's cookies!
7. Chelsea's pillows are much more comfortable than mine.
8. I really need to get better sleep!

act in faith...

"Perhaps the greatest test of our faith and the most difficult part of prayer may be to recognize the answer that comes to us in a thought or a feeling, and then to accept or to act on the answer God chooses to give." -Rex D. Pinegar

I have learned a lot about the Lord in the last couple of days.

I've learned that even though I make mistakes and feel afraid to pray, I can go to the Lord and he will listen.
I've learned that the Lord will answer my prayers and alleviate heartache.
I've learned that a spirit of peace can fill my heart and mind, even when there are tears pouring down my face.
I've learned that the family I was placed in loves me very much, and that I am blessed to have them.
I've learned that the Lord answers the prayers of my parents on my behalf, and that they really are interested in me.
I've learned that the Lord lets me and others use their agency, and that he comforts those who are affected by the choices of others.
I've learned that forgiveness is more than a possibility for me, but a reality.

I've learned that following promptings and holding on to peace is very, very difficult. Because life is not easy, and the fears and doubts creep in easily. Because loneliness sets in, and uncertainty clouds the mind.

Because what you want and what God says is best for you may not be the same thing.

question mark...

dear World,

Why am I so bad at baking? No matter how closely I follow recipes, things never work out well for me.

Sincerely,

a concerned girl who made rolls which she will not be taking to her boyfriend's house for dinner because these are not going to impress his mom.

at all.


ever.

don't want, can't have...

I don't want to write any more papers (especially dumb ones that are just busy work).
I don't want to read any more textbooks.
I don't want to get up early anymore.
I don't want to tutor papers anymore.
I don't want to go to school anymore.

I want to write poetry.
I want to read real books.
I want to get up when my body is done sleeping.
I want to not tutor.
I want to learn -- really learn.

And I really want to have time to paint my nails.

That would be grand.

can you keep a secret...

You may be asking yourself why I'm putting a secret on the Internet. Well, most of the things I put on the Internet are my secrets. They're different kinds of secrets -- they're not the ones you really can keep wholly to yourself. But they're the things that you wouldn't say to certain people, or the quiet thoughts that people can see on your face, but have no words for because you don't share.

I have a secret. It's a secret a lot of people know about me, which is that I have a lot of white traits in my personality, and my reaction to change or difficulty is often to pull away. I avoid conversation or interaction, mostly because I want to be alone and people won't let me when I ask or tell them I'm busy. Or, if there's conflict, or if I feel afraid, I intentionally isolate myself. That's one of my secrets.

How can it be a secret if people know about it, you ask? In a nut shell, it's a secret because though people see the behavior, they don't know why I do it. The secret isn't the action -- it's the motivation.

I'm not a great communicator. I could be if I forced myself out of my comfort zone, but I get so afraid of offending someone that I end up just agreeing to whatever the person says and go back to door mat status. Or I know that I'm right, but I don't know how to express it. If I were able to argue with someone by writing a paper about it directed at the problem, I'd win every time. Talking about problems, on the other hand? The other person always gets their way, even if it's completely wrong of them, because I get so confused and so flustered that I often can't remember what the original reason for the conversation was in the first place.

And so I shut up. Literally, I shut my mouth and I shut my bedroom door. I turn off my phone, I clean my house from top to bottom, I get ahead in my studies, and I go to bed early. 

Granted, it's not okay to say, "this is just the way that I am -- deal with it." I know that this isn't exactly the best way to handle stuff. Believe me, I'm working on it. Sometimes I just need a break for awhile -- I need to be alone. I need to be away from people. I need to be able to choose when I talk, who I talk to, what I talk about, where I go and who I go with -- being truthful, I get sick of being a door mat after awhile. 

So. There you have it. Another secret courtesy of Georgie. And because you're going to be kind enough to keep it (at least, I assume that you will), I'll even tell you a joke:

A British man and a Swiss man were sitting together in a cafe. The British man, who was preparing to go to Switzerland, asked the Swiss man, "What is the best thing about your country?"

The Swiss man thought about it for a few moments, then replied, "Well, the flag is a big plus."

Pardon me while I snicker to death over here in the corner.

Wah, wah. Peace out, girl scout.

timing...

I've been thinking a lot about timing lately. Timing as in when things happen in my life. There are certain things  that I want to have happen (some of them right now, if I'm honest). I want to go to Washington, D.C. on an internship. I want to serve a full-time mission for the LDS church. I want to go to graduate school. I want to find a guy who makes me laugh and isn't afraid to take a chance with me. I want to marry that guy. I want a beautiful wedding. I want a little white house with a red door, a pretty yard, and a happy kitchen. I want the sound of children's laughter in the air and pattering feet across the floor. I want to hold hands with my best friend and sit together on the porch watching a sunset.

I want my life to be centered around Christ and the gospel. That's what I try to do. Some people I have met in the recent past have criticized me for this, saying that I'm not really faithful because I only live well in order to reap the rewards of a good life. "You're only doing it for the blessings," some say. 

Well, in some ways, yes. I know that if I give my best effort to live as the Lord has asked and commanded me to that He will bless me. After all, God cannot break His promises if I keep mine, as he said in the Doctrine and Covenants 82:10, "I the Lord, am bound when ye do what I say; but when ye do not what I say, ye have no promise." But I also do it because I want to live that way. I want to show the Lord that I love Him, and that I desire to be the best I can be for Him. The blessings are just a benefit. 

Not only that, but those blessings don't always come when I want them to come. All of those things that I listed above? So far, none of them have happened, nor will they be happening in the near future (that was reconfirmed tonight). I'll be honest when I say that it is sometimes maddening. I get so frustrated at times, wondering what I'm doing wrong or if there's just something wrong with me as a person. 

This has been on my mind a lot lately, sitting in the back of my head in a box that I'm afraid to open for fear of seeming ungrateful or impatient. Finally I've opened the box and examined the way I've been feeling and how I've been thinking. What I saw hurt! I felt let down and alone and forgotten, wondering what I'd done to fall so short of my dreams. Like going on a mission -- not right now. And dating -- that still never happens. I continually pray to the Lord to help me prepare to be a good missionary so I'm ready when I can go. I ask Him to help me be open to dating, but it never happens. All that ever happens are frightening or stupid experiences which leave me scratching my head wondering what I did to mess up this time.

I finally went to the Lord in prayer and I asked Him, How can I do the right things and be who you want me to be if you won't let me? If you won't make it possible? I'm doing the best that I can, but nothing is working out. You tell me to be patient. You tell me to wait. Am I doing something wrong? I'm trying to be good and be patient, like You've asked. Am I even going in the right direction? I felt like Nephi, when he cried out to God and said "Nevertheless, notwithstanding the great goodness of the Lord...my heart exclaimeth: O wretched man that I am! Yea, my heart sorroweth because of my flesh; my soul grieveth because of mine iniquites" (2 Nephi 4:17). What have I been doing wrong?

With this on my mind, I was absolutely stunned at the answers I began to receive. Sunday's meeting had the same underlying theme, that of waiting on the Lord's timetable. It was repeated over and over again in different ways and by different people, that while the desires of our hearts may be correct, the time may  not be right. Elder Dallin H. Oaks, one of the apostles, said that it is just as important to do the right thing at the right time as it is to do the right thing at all. It is imperative to do the right thing at the right time. The choice may not be wrong, and the desire may be righteous, but the timing of the choices and desires may be off. Elder Oaks emphasized the importance of having faith in the Lord no matter what we are faced with, saying that "faith in the Lord Jesus Christ prepares us to face life's experiences," and that "faith will give us peace and knowledge of God's constancy in our lives. We will not need to plan even the important events in our lives at times, for He will guide us and direct us until those events fall into place, according to our faith."

It's like the scripture in the Bible, the one that says to "trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct thy paths" (Proverbs 3:5-6). Yes, I don't understand why things aren't happening, and why I receive the "be patient" answer. I want to serve now! I want to do what I've been told is good and right and true now! But what I want and what the Lord knows is best aren't matching up. Heavenly Father's timing is not my timing. His timetable is different than mine. He knows that I'm frustrated sometimes, and He knows that my frustration stems from a desire to do as He has asked. However, as Elder Oaks reminded, the timing is just as important as the righteousness of a desire. For me, the time has not been right. The Lord still has things for me to do at the place I am right now, and knows that there are things I still need to change and learn before I can take new steps in my life.

For now, I focus on the things I can control: my pursuit of an education, my relationships with my family and friends, and my commitment to the gospel and the Savior. What I must do is be the best person I can be, being faithful and diligent in what I have been set to do, and in the desires that at this present time can be realized. It is my job to rely on His guidance, and to trust the revelation and direction that He gives me. I have to trust Him, and commit my way "unto the Lord; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass" (Psalms 37:5). Because if I do as He asks to the best of my ability, He will take care of me. He will make sure that my desires are realized, if I trust Him and align my will to His.

"you weren't alone for long..."

Every once in awhile one of my primary students will say something that leaves me speechless. Sometimes I'm amazed at the sincerity of what they're saying, and the absolute truth in it. I often find myself so grateful for their insights. Many times I wish I could go back to that time, when the world was untainted by the worries and cares I have now, before trust was broken and fear set in.

My class has four students -- three boys, one girl. Sophie is a precocious, talkative, practical little thing. She always has something to say, and she knows many of the scripture stories as well as or better than I do. She also has a very clear picture of life and love. Sometimes the things she says shock me, not in a bad way but in a surprised and "wow, you're seven and you just totally blew my mind" kind of way. For example:

During our lesson today (love one another), I told a story about a time when someone did me a kindness and reminded me that even though I felt alone, the Lord was still aware of me. Sophie raised her hand and said she had something to share. I don't remember the exact words, but it went something like this:

"Even when you feel alone, you're really not. Like the time when my mom accidentally left me at the library. I was so scared and I cried and cried and cried, but then I remembered all of the other times I'd been lost. Any time I'd been lost before, I hadn't been lost for long. My mom always came and found me -- it might have been five minutes, or two, or even just thirty seconds -- but she always found me again. And it's okay to cry, because that happens when you're alone and lost and scared, but just because you feel that way doesn't mean that you're not loved. You're never lost for long. When you feel like that, you can remember the times you felt sad or scared before and how it wasn't forever. You weren't alone for long. Because someone will always come and find you."

It's not often that the words of a seven year old can leave me speechless and near tears -- it was one of those little miracle moments that come around when you least expect them, and when you need them the most.

i like the friend zone...

I've been in frequent correspondence with Sister Raddatz. Because I'm busy working and she's busy being a mom, it's easier for all parties involved to schedule adventures and to communicate through email. The other day she was asking me about my dating life, and I told her that I don't date. I have a couple of close guy friends (both of them being her sons) and one very close guy friend, but other than that I don't go out of my way to associate with any other men. Sure, I have a lot of male coworkers at the writing center who are great people, but they're coworkers -- not to mention I'm not interested in them anyway. Great kids -- weird though.

I mentioned to Sister Raddatz that one of my friends and I had joked about going to Las Vegas for my 21st birthday. Somehow (it was probably my fault) we started laughing about getting married there -- just one of those stupid things that happens in a conversation about a guy and a girl going to Vegas together, you know? Eventually I told him that I didn't want to get married anyway, one reason being that neither of us would have temple recommends and that, frankly, I believe that we might kill each other. He said that he could see the temple recommend thing being an issue, but no -- we wouldn't kill each other. 

Sister Raddatz said that she's heard that there is a little bit of truth in every conversation. I laughed and told her that it was all just fun. "Besides that," I said, "there is no way that I am getting married at 21."

A couple of days later, she said she'd been thinking about that, and she had a question. "Why don't you want to get married at 21?"

This question has come up a lot for me lately, not in relation to age, but just "What don't you want to get married?" Adding the 21 onto the end has made me think a lot about the reasons why I don't want to get married. I guess it's because 21 is an age that isn't very far distant for me anymore. Somehow in my imagination I went from being 18 to 23 -- I forgot that 19, 20, 21, and 22 are in the middle there. That's 1,460 days that I just jumped over in imagining the way my life was going to be. So much for a five year plan...I forgot about four years in there!

Anyway. So, in general, why do I not want to get married at 21?

First of all, in order to get married in the next year, I'd have to either meet someone really soon or see a current friendship move from "friend zone" to "together zone" to "fiance zone" to (eek) "together for eternity zone." That would be super, super fast. If I know him already, sure, it might not be so bad -- date for a few months, see if it works out, and bam! Game over, life begins! But if I don't know him -- that would be an even faster relationship progression because I don't already know him.

Second, 21 is so very young. SO very young. It looks super old when you're 14, but once you're watching it approach you, you realize how very not-grown-up you really are.

Those are the main reasons that I've come up with to answer the question "Why do you not want to get married at 21?" Now for the other question: "Why don't you want to get married?" Or, to make some readers happy, why don't I want to get married yet.

In my opinion, I don't know enough about life and love to get married (yet). I don't know enough about people. There are so many things I don't know, and so many things that I haven't experienced that would be very difficult to do if I were married (like an internship in D.C. or a mission as a single sister). I also have realized that I am terrified of commitment. I can commit my heart no problem! I'm loyal to a fault, and if I love someone (be it a family member, friend, potential more-than-friend), there is very little that will keep me from staying absolutely, 100% committed to our relationship. 

It's committing everything else -- time, space, mind, body, all of me -- to someone that scares me. It's having someone know everything about me -- my fears, my desires, my weaknesses, my selfishness, my insecurities -- and if it turns out that he can't handle me, then what? When do you reach the point that you know enough about each other that you want to spend eternity together, through the good and the bad? Perhaps I lack faith, or I don't understand people well enough, but I don't see anyone wanting to stay with me.

It's the eternal aspect of that commitment -- it's the good, the bad, the beautiful, the ugly, the everything of a relationship -- that terrifies me. I know that I can stick things out with someone. I've done it time and again, once to the point that I allowed myself to be manipulated and hurt emotionally and physically because I loved that person with all of my heart. I went through hell for that boy, and for a couple of others, too. Not that I want to put anyone through hell, but will someone stick it out with me when it gets hard?

It's the fear that things will fall apart, leaving nothing but pain and broken trust. To get married, you have to date someone and get engaged first. There's always the chance that things will get ruined. I know there's always a risk, and that it's better to risk than to never have a chance at loving someone. I don't know if I can handle that right now. I don't want to ruin perfectly good friendships and be left missing someone I could have had as a friend forever if I had been willing to keep things friendly.

For example. I would love to have someone to talk to and spend time with and take care of and love, but I don't want to. Though I know that I am willing to make most of the sacrifices necessary to be in a relationship, the idea of dating anyone scares me to death. Sure, there are a couple of guys who I absolutely love spending time with. I enjoy their company, and enjoy them as people. But because we're not "together," there can be that friendly space between talks and visits and no one feels like their needs aren't being met. I don't feel stuck. Stuck is a horrible word to use in describing any kind of relationship, I know, but it's the only word that really works for how I feel when considering a relationship. I don't feel stuck when I'm best friends with a guy (even if the feelings of friendship start becoming more). But thinking about dating brings on this almost panicked, trapped feeling (not to mention nausea and butterflies).

I don't know why that is. I know that there's a lot (and I mean a lot) of fear involved. Fear of rejection, fear of pain, fear of broken trust, fear of having something absolutely fantastic and then watching it fall apart, etc. And I think I'm just not emotionally mature enough to handle it. There are so many things I still don't know about people. Right now I'm perfectly happy being best friends with guys who I can be close to without fear of being hurt or annoying them -- if we're "just friends" then we have nothing to lose! 

I wonder if it's more that I'm afraid no one will love me enough, or if I'm afraid that I won't be able to love him fully because I'll always be waiting for things to fall apart. I wonder if I'm afraid that things will actually work out, and then out of nowhere it'll come crashing down. 

It's silly and childish, but it's where I am right now. Today, I believe that 21 is definitely not a great age for me to get married. Who knows, I could be wrong. I could meet someone or a friend could convince me that the friend zone is boring, and somehow I end up with a ring and a temple date. From where I'm sitting now, it doesn't seem like a possibility. Mostly because I'm afraid. I feel comfortable being single. I like being single. I also like being close to someone. I haven't let myself think about which I like more -- for one, I don't have anyone in my life who would consider dating me and for another, why dwell on something that you can't have right now?

jumping on the zombie wagon...

Ever since the beginning of the zombie craze that has swept the world of cyberspace, I have wondered at how something so gruesome and creepy could ever be popular. Zombie books, zombie films, zombie TV shows, zombie memes, zombie zombie zombie everything -- all packed full of brain-seeking, limb-twitching, face-pulling, moan-making living dead creatures.

Not appealing. Not at all.

I'll admit that I've read my share of zombie themed YA fantasy and sci-fi novels. The Forest of Hands and Teeth is a particularly interesting read. It was fascinating because of the detail and, well. The title and cover art alone were enough to make me pick it up off of the shelf (yes, I do choose books based on their covers). But other than that, I've never been into the "genre." It's always creeped me out.

Thanks to Parker, though, I took my shot at entering the zombie media. He invited me to auditions for a music video that is being put together by his brother. I had no desire to audition, but since I only get to see Parker every once in awhile, I decided to go and say hi, maybe watch some people show their stuff. No way in heck was I going to try out though. Do you have any idea how stupid people look when pretending to be zombies? Pretty darn stupid. In a highly entertaining sort of way.

Of course, Parker tried to get me to audition. So did his brothers, sister, and sister-in-law who were there. I was too scared though, and too afraid. I watched and found myself wishing that I could have a shot. It was a short-lived wish, though. Too scared. I didn't want to look dumb.

After saying good-bye to Parker and heading home, I started re-thinking my decision to not try out. I inventoried the reasons why I hadn't done it. 1) I was afraid I'd look like an idiot, 2) there was a very good chance I'd look like an idiot, fear aside, and 3) the only thing I know about zombies is from books and memes -- I've never actually seen a film or show that has them in it, so I didn't know how they moved or sounded or anything.

Sitting at a stoplight, I realized that the main thing holding me back was fear of looking stupid. Then a new fear crept in. It was a fear that if I didn't try out, I'd get home and regret it, especially when the video comes out. I'll see it, and it'll probably be cool, and I'll think "Girl, you are so stupid. You totally could have had a chance at being in this -- and you chickened out. Just like everything else you've ever not done."

That was it. I turned the car around and drove back, thinking up potential movement I could do when I got back. I ran into the room, and when Parker's sister Whitney asked if I'd changed my mind, I said, "YES. Because I'm tired of missing out on things because I was too afraid to try -- I'm not doing that today."

And guess what? All of them clapped for me! All of these grown-ups who had been trying to get me to try out for two hours clapped. One of them, I don't even remember her name, told me that she was proud of me. They didn't even know me, but they didn't treat me like I was dumb or silly or immature (which I am).

So I tried out! I had no idea what I was doing, and my face was red the whole time, and I kept giggling -- but I did it! It was scary, and my legs felt like jell-o, but I did it. And now I'm sitting here in my house not feeling sad or regretful -- I feel good. 

Was I scared? You bet. Did I look stupid? Of course. But did I do it? Yep. I did. Take that, zombies. I'm not scared of you.

do as in don't...

I find it rather ironic that this was shared by my mom on her Facebook page.

Please know that I'm not blaming the way that I am on my past and current relationship with my mom. I just find it interesting that so many of these strike a chord with how things were in my home in regards to both of my parents. By no means was I (or am I now) a 100% all-around awesome kid, either. No person is perfect, and therefore no person is a perfect parent or child.

Sometimes it is so hard to forgive -- I'm 20 years old and I'm still afraid to be friends with my mom. One of my biggest problems is that I have a very good long term memory. My short term memory frequently gets lost in the static of the past.

All I can do is keep trying.

someday we'll know...

Love is something that I don't get. There are so many definitions of love -- I, however, can't seem to define it. There are so many ways that people show love -- sometimes it's hard for me to recognize those ways. And sometimes, it's hard for me to grasp that someone actually loves me.

Take physical touch. I don't know what it is about me and physical touch. I go for days and days without it, and I start to forget that it even happens. No hugs, no high fives, no nothing, and it's no big deal. I rarely miss it or seek it out. I just tend to forget about it.

Then out of nowhere someone will scoop me up in a hug or place a gentle kiss on my cheek. It often shocks me, and I'm left standing there looking surprised. Like today -- a family friend who I've known since I was a baby came into PartyLand tonight. She asked me how my dad and my family are doing, and then she asked about me. I gave the usual "I'm fine" answer. All of the sudden she leaned over the counter and gave me a hug, then kissed me on the cheek and told me she loves me.

I was completely thrown off guard, so much so that I could hardly respond. Standing there behind the counter, I felt tears come to my eyes and a voice in my head said, "Oh, yes. That's what it feels like to be loved. That was kind of her."

And then I felt all funny inside, and vulnerable. Lately I've been trying to keep a sort of protective shell around myself when I'm among coworkers and friends (close friends and room mates excluded -- they've figured out how to get through the shell). But I'm beginning to notice that when I'm offered verbal and physical affection from someone, especially someone I don't know very well or see very often, the shell starts to crack.

Knowing that someone loves you is a strange thing -- for me, it's one of the most astounding sensations in the world. I often worry that the people I love don't love me as much as I love them, and that they'll go away (still working on that one). Realizing that someone really cares about me and loves me hits me like a lightning bolt -- the lady at the store literally left me speechless.

Love is a hard thing for me to understand. It's hard for me to explain why -- I'm not even sure that I know. I only know that it's a tricky thing for me, slippery and hard to grasp in my mind. It frightens me -- it keeps me up at night, or wakes me up.

Like last night -- I know I was having a good dream, and that I was with someone who made me happy. I know it was a man, and that we were laughing and having a good time and were happy together. Then, I lost him. He was there one second, and then he was gone. I couldn't find him -- he was just lost. I woke up crying, not really sure why because the details of the dream faded very quickly -- but I felt so scared and so alone. I do remember that it was 4:15 in the morning, and that I haven't felt that devastated in a very long time.

I think I loved the person in the dream. I don't remember who it was. I don't even know if the man was a person that I knew. Losing him, though, was the worst thing ever.

Love. I don't get it. Not just romantic love, either. The dream is just an example of one of the things that worries me. The other loves, like sister, parent, daughter, brother, friend, neighbor, and all of the others -- those worry me, too.

For what is it to love, and to be loved? What is it really?

Hopefully I'll begin to understand it someday.

lesson Three...

If you talked to your friends the way you talked to yourself, there's a chance you wouldn't have very many friends.

 

To be very honest with you, dear reader, I do not want to write this post, because once it's written and posted...it's written and posted, meaning that people will be aware that I'm aware of this problem in my life. Then, they'll expect me to change it.

Nothing is wrong with change, I understand that. Where I get hung up is that I'm not able to change fast enough. But that is beside the point of this post. The point of this post is to address the next lesson that I have realized I need to learn, that being the statement above in italics.

What led to the recognition of this problem was a conversation with my friend Parker. As usual, he had gotten me talking about things in my life that very few people can get me to talk about. After about fifteen minutes of listening to me, he interrupted and said, "Stop saying that you're stupid." I laughed it off and replied that I wasn't saying that, and he responded, "Yes, you are. I've counted six times in the last five minutes that you've referred to yourself as 'stupid.' Stop it."

The sad fact was that he was right. The sadder fact was that I honestly hadn't noticed. Six times in five minutes? That's ridiculous. But if I replay conversations in my head, it's true. Be it stupid, immature, boring, fat, dumb, whatever word you like -- I use it frequently in reference to myself.

Once he'd pointed this out to me, Parker said something that has made me think a lot more about this (and I'm paraphrasing here): "If you were to talk to me like that all of the time, I wouldn't want to be your friend. And if someone else were to call you names and talk badly about you, I'd tell them to shut up and possibly punch them in the face. So why on earth is it okay for you talk that way about yourself to me, or anybody?"

TOUCHE.

But really! I mean, if someone else comes up to you and says, "You are so stupid," it makes you feel angry, indequate, or hurt (or any combination of feelings). It's never okay for anyone else to treat you in that manner, nor is it okay for you to speak that way to another person. It's just as bad then to talk to yourself that way.

By no means is this easy to do (I'm finding that most of these lessons are similarly easier said than done). However, recognizing this problem in myself has caused me to pay attention to my patterns of speech, and in some ways my patterns of thought. I've noticed that I don't call myself "stupid" as much as I used to. Granted, part of that may be the fear that Parker will find out and deck me (which he wouldn't), but most of it is because I know it's not fair to myself. Slowly, I am removing that word from my vocabulary. I still slip up (Brianna can attest to that), but it's getting better.

  

The hard part is removing other such words from my vocabulary. It's easy to see from the experience with Parker that I don't realize I'm speaking in certain ways. Then there are some words that I don't particularly want to stop using because they're safe and familiar. In some ways, they're a part of the identity that I have established. However, if that identity is one that is uncomfortable going outside or being with people, then perhaps it truly is time to change things. Or change more things.

The way we talk and behave towards others is a big indicator of who we are. I'm beginning to see that it is much the same in the ways we talk and behave to ourselves. It's easy to believe that my words and thoughts towards myself don't count and don't matter, but I'm beginning to see that this idea isn't true. It's a false belief -- hearing my inner voice say the words "you are so fat" hurts just as much as hearing my classmates say those same words did when I was in elementary and junior high school.

  

The biggest problem is less related to the words we use and more to the meanings attached to them which can lead to improper ways of seeing and thinking about yourself, others, and the world. It isn't necessarily the words that hurt the most. It's the belief in the ideas that the words hold. The words "stupid" and "fat" don't mean anything -- the ideas surrounding those words and the societal definitions that we buy into are what hurt. I would never project those definitions and ideas onto a friend or family member. I don't buy into those ideas in the context of my friends and family. Why then is it okay for me to apply such ideas and definitions to myself?

In short, it's not okay. It isn't easy, and it isn't just about removing a word from my vocabulary. It's about treating myself better. My friends are not verbal punching bags. Neither am I. It's time to tear up my stock receipts in the ideas of society and use words that encourage good thinking, good speaking, and good acting -- not just in others, but myself.

Be your best friend. Take care of all of you -- mind, heart, body, spirit -- in the way you think, speak, and act. After all...

If you talked to your friends the way you talked to yourself, there's a chance you wouldn't have very many friends.

still a student...

I've been thinking a lot about the first lesson post I wrote. About worrying less about how my life looks to others and more about how it feels to me.

By no means am I a master of this principle, or any of the others that I have written about. I often find myself thinking and acting in ways that are completely against the things I am trying to learn. Sometimes I stop short and tell myself, HEY! Remember that one time when you thought of that one thing and you were going to work on it and become better? Well...better remember it now and QUIT STOPPING YOURSELF FROM PROGRESSING.

Not all of the voices in my head are particularly kind.

Anyway. For example. I've been spending a lot of time on my own lately in the House. Natalie and I see each other in the evenings for a few minutes, sometimes for an hour, but most of the time we're just two friends sharing living space. We both work a lot, I at my three jobs and Natalie at her job and in her volunteering.

This time alone hasn't been lonely time. I rarely find myself feeling sad or upset. Instead, I have found that I am able to get a lot of things done: keeping up with the housework and making sure things are nice; playing with my dog; adventuring with friends; reading; writing; cooking; thinking; singing; perhaps soon drawing.

While I was in the kitchen today, boiling eggs by myself for the first time ever, I stopped and looked around me. Here I am, I thought, boiling eggs and planning meals for the week, debating on whether or not to make a cake or brownies, brainstorming potential primary lessons, cleaning the kitchen, singing hymns and talking to my dog in my Snow White voice, musing on life and its mysteries, mentally checking to see if my camera is ready for tomorrow morning, and trying to figure out which big chore I'm going to complete on Friday night. I looked around the kitchen again and thought, I LOVE my life!

Then another not-so-kind voice (which sounded remarkably like one of the people who works in the same building that I do) said, Yep. You're a total Molly Mormon. You just keep on proving it. You are doing nothing important with your life except cleaning the house, cooking the food, and thinking about the Gospel. Oh my gosh, LOOK AT YOU! You are so NOT awesome. DO SOMETHING with your life, okay? Jeez.

And for a minute, I started to be ashamed. I remembered all of those things that person told me a few weeks ago, telling me that (and I quote/paraphrase) "your life is so boring -- don't you do anything worthwhile at all?" and "wow, you are such a Molly Mormon -- you like teaching primary. And cake pops, seriously?" and  "next time you make a decision you should think for yourself, instead of relying on the misguided examples of other people."

Remembering those things she said brought me spiraling downwards. I hated myself. Even though I had been angry when she'd said all of those things to me, I believed her words for a second. I AM boring, I thought. I am everything she said I am --  I SHOULDN'T like these things. I should be more adventurous and daring, maybe try something new. I probably shouldn't even like Disney movies.

But as I looked at my reflection in the Kitchen Aid that I was putting back in place, I thought of what I'd proclaimed to have learned. WHO CARES if that person thinks I'm a Molly Mormon? WHO CARES if my life appears boring to her? It isn't boring to me! I like my life. I like teaching primary and making cake pops. I like doing dishes (sometimes) and singing and boiling eggs and cleaning and playing with my dog. I like the way I am. Besides, that person has no idea where I've come from and what kinds of decisions I've made.

You know what? This is my life to live. It isn't hers.

We are all students of life. The person who said those things is learning about life, just as I am. We're both in different places and taking different roads. What I need to remember and continue to practice thinking is that though others may tell me that the life I live is boring and housewife-ish, it doesn't matter. What they think doesn't matter. I feel comfortable this way. I feel happy this way. All of these things bring me joy, and to me they are worthwhile.

I don't plan to change the world. I plan to change myself. That is what is most important.

lesson Two...

God understands your tears just as well as He understands  your words. After all, He gave you both.

If you have read anything that I have ever written, or talked in person or on the phone with me, you will know that it is rare that I am ever at a loss for words. Yes, I'm actually a shy person, but once you get to know me and the walls come down, the flood gates open and out come thoughts, dreams, jokes, laughs, and more.

There are times, though, when I can find no words to express the thoughts and feelings inside my head and heart. There are times when I find myself cradling broken fragments of memories in my fingers -- snippets of conversations replaying in my ears, flashes of faces in my mind, scenes of love and loss stuttering like an old film in front of my eyes -- those broken fragments are often hard to hold. A forgotten moment can have an edge sharper than a knife when it is brought again to light. Even with the times of joy mixed in, the bite of shattered hopes lingers longer than the reminisces of happiness. Finding words can be as difficult as finding peace.

I am a person who must express what I'm feeling and thinking in some way or another. My first choice is through words, be they written or spoken. I have to get things out. Not doing so results in sleepless nights or nightmares, and withdrawal from others, among other not so healthy coping methods. And so the times when I can't find words, when I can't express how I feel...those times are very hard.

Today has been a day of no words. It hasn't been a bad day by any means, but there were things festering inside of me that I was too afraid to look at, because I knew that if I looked, it would hurt. I pushed those things aside -- I've probably been pushing them aside for a few days. But those things will not stay buried for long. Soon I got too tired, and almost too curious, to not look. And I did.

It was one of those moments when I saw much of my life -- where I've been, where I am, where I'm going -- and it seemed as though I was nothing. No matter what, I'm not good enough. Yes, I've accomplished things, but I'm not good enough to be really worth something in others' lives.

I thought of the older man at my sisters' workplace who was fired shortly after he began working there because he couldn't do the work well enough -- he'd needed a job so badly.

I thought of the friend whose parents are upset at her for things she couldn't control -- she would have kept her word if her car hadn't broken down, and if she'd had the money to fix it.

I thought of all of the people who have lost homes in the fires, all of their belongings and possibly pets -- they couldn't forsee that the places they lived in would be in the path of a monstrous wildfire.

I thought of the girl who has become a good friend in a short amount of time, who got in some trouble with a boy and when she told him she was pregnant, he left her, and when she lost the baby he came back and told her it was all her fault -- she deserves so much better than that.

And then the thought came to my mind -- 'you are not enough. Your writing center job, your associate's degree, your high honors, your house, your life -- YOU -- are not enough to help any of those people.'

My heart aches for these people, and it aches more that I can do nothing to help them. It is a literal ache, one that hit me so hard that I doubled over and did the only thing I could do: I began to cry. I leaned against the wall for what seemed like a lifetime, crying and crying because of the pain I felt in my heart for these people and my inability to help them. And another thought came: how could I believe in a God who let things like this happen to people, especially to those who don't deserve it? And why will He not make me enough, when I have constantly tried to give everything to Him?

I then began to berate myself for worrying about things I can't control and for questioning the Lord. I remembered that everything happens for a reason, and it makes people stronger if they will learn from it. You shouldn't doubt, and anyway, you should be praying rather than crying, a not-so-kind voice said in my head. Mid-sob, though, I was hit by something that I'd never thought of before. I was so surprised that I stopped crying. And another voice answered saying, The Lord understands tears. He hears those just as He hears your words.

I was stunned. How had I never thought of that before? All of those times I'd avoided talking to the Lord because I knew that I would have no words to say and I would merely cry -- He gets that. He understands that there are times when I will be unable to speak, to voice the things that are inside of me. And it isn't just when I'm sad, either. He understands the tears of joy just as well as the tears of sorrow.

Tonight the pain I felt has not been assuaged very much. My doubts are not as prevalent, because I'm trying to step back and remember the "big picture principles." I still ache inside for these strangers and friends, and I will not lie and say that the tears have ceased completely. However, I do know that it is not weak to show the Lord my tears. He understands them -- He gave them to me as a gift, a way to express feelings when I cannot explain them through words.

God understands your tears just as well as He understands your words. After all, He gave you both.