Psychology and Photography

I'm increasingly interested in my psychology class day by day. We just finished studying motivation and personality. I learned a lot about myself, my motives, my patterns, the gospel (believe it or not), and my relationships. I learned about how much I really tell about myself in my actions. I knew that I told on myself in some way or another, but I never realized the extent to which I tattle. Just reading and studying made me want to change and be better (perhaps to tell better things of myself, and still maintain congruency in my conscience?)

Also aiding in my realization was my photography class. When our photography assignments are due, we pin up our pictures on the back wall. Then the professor goes to each and every picture and we as a class pick it apart. We say what components make it a good photograph. Then we interpret the feeling the artist is portraying. We have done this several times, but this time was especially different. As the sememster has gone on, I've talked to and gotten to know all the people in my class, so listening to the mood of their work told a lot about them. Sometimes the mood we interpreted wasn't the mood the artist was trying to portray, but instead a mood that reflected on them (which was true of one of my photos. I tried to portray something getting under our skin, but the class interpreted beauty and new life. They also said a lot of things that revealed me. Pretty weird.) They did that to all four of the photos I displayed. They all had a theme, which I didn't realize, but all four showed the beauty of feminine power. Which is something I focus on and feel as I prepare for marriage and future motherhood (which in my opinion is the ultimate beauty). Very interesting, indeed.

Winding Down

So it's been ongoing stress basically since September when I returned from my brother's wedding. It's been one of those 'when it rains, it pours' kind of times. Trevor has seen me through all of it, one thing after another. He's seen a side of me that I don't think any other guy has seen, or would have stuck through. But Trevor did. He's still here, and get this, still in love with me! That only makes me love and trust him more to know he sticks through the hard times. It all could've been worse, but even so, it's still been pretty tough. Things are really tight this month with my car breaking down at all. The repair bill took all of my Christmas money, and most of my moving money. Trevor had been out of a job for a while, and has little money for the holidays. We decided to just stay put for Christmas. It's sad, but we don't have much. And certainly wouldn't have enough for plane tickets. Part of me wanted him to just go on and have a wonderful holiday, but I knew if I suggested it, he'd boycott it immediately. He won't even go to the store without me. I don't think he'd leave me for the holidays. So we discussed our options and resigned to having a meager holiday with just the two of us-something that brought me to tears every time I thought about it. I really wanted to meet his family. He talks about them with such a love. Also, we really have nothing here. Neither of us has any family, and Christmas isn't anything without family.

Well, his entire family has sacrificed getting presents just so we could be there. I was so deeply touched after getting off the phone with his mother yesterday at how much they want their brother to be there. I have the feeling that this is one awesome family. I found some pretty inexpensive tickets today that we can afford, with the help of his family. I'm so excited that we can make it there after all. Although it will still be hard, because I've never been away from my own family at the holidays, I'm excited to be a part of his.

On top of that, a lot of the stress has dispersed. The car is working fine, and that can finally be off my mind. All the troubles I've been having with "Sally" are over (for me at least). Sure, I came out with no friends, but I'd rather be alone than stuck in endless contention. I'm not alone anyway. I've got my wonderful boyfriend. Also, things are better with him than we've ever been. We love each other very much. We knew there was something special from the get go, but we had some communication issues like crazy. It was very frustrating for a while. But we've been reading "Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus" by John Grey. It has changed everything. I understand him, and he understands me. We've learned how to grow and support and nourish each other. It feels great. I love him so very much. I can't believe it. I highly recommend this book to all couples. Both married or dating. It will improve everthing. I promise.

I am stressed!

There's too much to do and too much to pay for and not enough money! I'm supposed to be moving in six weeks. All of my moving and Christmas money just went to my car. Now I'm stressed. How am I going to do this all? There's no way! Stupid car stupid breaking down. Just when you save up and think you have enough, life happens. Sheesh.

Who am I to disagree?

I have not slept well in over a week. Maybe two. How can I? My best friend is in more trouble than she realizes. There's been nothing but contention and tension in my house. I don't do well in contention. I'm much too positive of a person.

Here's the story. My best friend, "Sally" is in a relationship with a very controlling and manipulative guy, "Frank". He's emotionally abusive. A lot of people disregard that. But it's real, and it does a lot of damage. Real damage. Believe me, I know. I was dating an emotionally abusive guy for quite a while and it took a lot of work to get past all that damage. Painful, hard, work.

Sally has been with Frank off and on for quite a while. Years, in fact. They've even been engaged. Twice. I hadn't ever really been around Frank, but while he was gone, I talked a lot to Sally about him. How she felt, what she thought. She continued to talk to him on the phone every night. She'd talk about how she missed him, but also talk about all she didn't like about him. Things he needs to change. Rule #1 in dating: NEVER try to change him. You gotta like him as is because he's not going to change and it's not fair to expect that of him. If he's not what you want, move on and find what you do want. Don't try and make him what you want. Anyway, I met Frank in the winter. He wasn't very happy. Nor was he congenial. I didn't expect that of him, given the circumstances (which are not important right now). So I didn't judge, and I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Sally continued to talk to him every night on the phone. I never thought this was a good idea. It's not that I didn't like Frank, it was just hard on her. And, I'm sure, hard on him. She knew that she didn't want to marry him, or really even date him at the moment. So why was she dragging it out? That only kept her and him both from moving on. And it was only harder on the both of them. Rule #1 in breaking up: do it all the way. Don't do any of this half stuff. If you think you need to end the relationship, end it. Don't keep them tied to you in any way. Don't be tied to them in any way. Move on. It's hard, but move on. There's someone better out there.

Frank finally moved out here, and I finally got to see who he really is. It scares me. I have seen the progress Sally has made over this last year. She's come a long way in trying to heal some of the damage he's already done. He came in and undid all of that work. He tears her down, and I can see my dear friend withering and dying inside. I hate it. It's killing me.

One night, Frank was over at our apartment. Tension had already been high since Frank didn't get along well with my other roomate "Betty." Betty, Sally, and I had sat down previously and agreed on some apartment rules. One of which was to have guests out of the apartment by 11 pm on weekdays and midnight on weekends. This was to be curtious to each other so that if others wanted to sleep, they could. Frank seemed to have it in his head that only Betty wanted and enforced this rule. Not so. We all agreed on it. If we didn't want it, we wouldn't have agreed. Betty was out of town. I could tell Frank didn't plan on keeping the rule. I was having a hard day, and wanted to go to bed. Trevor was also over with me. It was 10:57 pm. I warned both the boys that they only had three more minutes. Frank, out of nowhere, started yelling at me about what a hypocrite I am. I only keep the rules when I want. He doesn't have to do what I say. I sat there calmly as he treated me this way. When he was finished, I simply said, "All I am saying is that you are a guest, and I'd appreciate it if you acted like one." He went off about how he's not my guest. I said, "I didn't say you are my guest. I said you are a guest." Then I went outside to say goodnight to Trevor. I didn't appreciate that he would treat me like that in my own home. I will not be yelled at in my home. Nor will I be belittled like that. I was mad. I didn't feel like talking at all the next day. Particularly to Sally. I was upset that she would allow him into our home. I was upset that she would allow him to undo all of her work. I was upset that she was regressing. Most of all, I was upset that I couldn't do anything about it.

Later that night, after I had calmed down, Sally and I had a talk. Frank and Trevor were both there, anxiously waiting in the living room. They didn't like that their girlfriends were fighting. I told Sally about how much I love her. I told her about when she moved here, it was her first time away from her parents. She was unsure of herself, and unsure of the world. I watched this unsure girl bloom into a beautiful, confident woman. I told her of how this confident woman has gone away and I don't know where she went. I miss her. I also talked to her about what I wanted in life. I want to be that couple that hosts bbq's at their house. I want to be that couple that has a hard time getting out of the church because we talk to everybody. I want to be that couple that is social. I need a guy that can be that with me. I wouldn't want a guy that seems to make enemies everywhere he goes. That jumps to conclusions, that jumps to anger, that accuses. Because it would be hard for me to make friends with a husband like that. I also told her of a girl my brother was dating. Her mother hated my brother. And even though my brother is a good guy, her mother couldn't get past mistakes he had made. This girl loved him and wanted to marry him, but she realized that if she did, it would be a fight for the rest of her life. She would inevitably have to choose him or her mother. She didn't want that fight for the rest of her life. It wasn't worth it. I asked Sally if she wanted that fight for the rest of her life, because that's what she would have. She'd never stop battling. I also told her about love. About how love is not jealous, and love is not selfish. Love is a beautiful thing. Love helps you grow. Love helps you reach your potential. Love is not building one up while tearing the other down. Although some like to say that's love. Love is not a battle. When the right one comes along, everything should fit. Everything just flows. My brother found a woman who fit so much better. Although he wanted it to fit with the other, he's glad he waited. I wanted to create love with my exboyfriend, but try as I might, I just couldn't make it happen. You can't force things.

Sally had a lot to think about. She got away from Frank for a few days, and it seemed her head was clear. She knew she couldn't be with him. But once Frank found her again, it was like her brain had escaped her. His thoughts were now hers. He knows exactly what to say to her. He's so good at what he does, and I hate it. After that, Sally was pure livid at me. While Sally was away, clearing her head, Frank tried to get into our apartment. He scared my other roomate, Betty, so much that she wanted to call the police. After that, she announced that Frank was no longer allowed over. I supported her 100% because you should feel safe in your own home. You have that right. She was now scared of him. Sally was very mad about this. She was mad at me about this. But, I was not the one who did this. If you ask me, it was Frank. His actions are reaping those consequences. I didn't like being yelled at, and Betty didn't like being threatened. And somehow this was my fault. I did feel badly. I wanted Sally to have guests and have fun and be comfortable in her own home. But being a guest is a priviledge. If you can't act like one, then you just can't come in.

On top of my best friend being mad at me, Trevor was as well. He didn't like the way I was treating Frank "like trash." But the way I see it is Franks actions earned those consequences. I'm not trying to be cruel. I'm not the kind of person that singles someone out and decides to be really mean. I have never been like that, nor will I ever be. But when people start crossing lines and making me feel unsafe, I can not tolerate it. That is absolute. I had to draw the line, and I had to support my roomate drawing the line.

Sally was really mad. But all the mean words she said to me one night in the car after I picked her up from Franks house just sounded like Franks words. It didn't sound like my friend at all. I was trying not to be hurt, because I knew it wasn't her. That's not like her at all. And the tension just kept rising.

Trevor and I took a break from all this and went down to DC for a weekend. When I came back, Sally had moved out. Betty had kicked her out. I, once again, supported Betty. Sally had broken the rules and let Frank in. Sally would also leave before we woke up in the morning, and didn't return until we were asleep. And when she didn't avoid us, it was nothing but anger. Betty couldn't live like that anymore (in fact, none of us could) and also decided Sally would be happier in a place that felt more like home to her. So Sally is gone. That doesn't mean I don't still worry about her.

Before I left for DC, Betty and I expressed our concerns to the Bishop. As head of our congregation, he should know about the welfare of his people. He seemed very surprised by all that was going on, and also gravely concerned. He listened to us, and counseled with us on what we can do. Then he gave us each a blessing. It was the most comforting blessing I had ever recieved. Not only about this whole situation, but all that's going on in my life. My dating Trevor, my decision to move to Utah, everything. It was exactly what I needed to hear, and I knew that only the Lord could know those things to say.

I was praying to the Lord that night. I asked Him if I am doing everything I could possibly do for Sally. One word came quickly to mind. "Fast." I had not fasted! Why didn't I think of it sooner? So Betty and I fasted the next day for Sally. That evening, I was ending my fast in a prayer for her. I felt a huge surge of comfort come over me. I think everything is going to be ok.

Now that Sally is gone, I don't really know what's going on with her. I hope she's ok. I'm still worried about her. I hope that she can make the right decisions. I hope she remembers to council with the Lord. I know He'll guide her. I most certainly love her. She is outstanding. All I want is my friend back.

Please, read up on abusive relationships, or personality types of abusers.

I think the best thing I can do now is get educated on abuse, and let her know that I am here for her if and when she needs me. And also to rely on the Lord.

I love you more today than yesterday

So, I'm really in love with this kid. It's pretty crazy. It used to scare me when I was falling for someone, but I'm not scared with him. He makes me feel safe. I like it.

I've been thinking about the dating scene a lot, and how I'm about to be out of it, and how all my dating experience has shaped me and my tastes, and how Trevor fits all of them. The more I learn about him, the more I love him. The more he's for me.

I've been with guys that I've really liked, but there's always been a but. I like him, but he doesn't want a lot of kids. I like him, but he's kind of judgemental. I like him, but I'm uncomfortable in telling him what I want. I've been dating all these likes that come with buts. It's been great. I've really learned something with all of them. I've discovered something new about myself with all of them. Example: I always thought I could be a good listener until I started dating one dude who really liked to talk. I realized I can't be the listener. I have to talk too. He never let me have any input and I hated it. I learned how much attention I really do need. I can listen in a give and take convo, but I can't just be a listener. I need a listener. In another relationship, I learned that I can't be with an only child. I need him to be from a big family. I want lotsa aunts and uncles for my kids. It's just something I couldn't get past.

I've been making this little checklist in my head. I've been discovering more and more things that I do and do not like. That I need and don't need. It's kinda funny. I'll get done with dating one guy and say "Well, he was fun, but we couldn't have a real conversation." Then the next guy comes along who can have a good conversation, but he doesn't seem to broaden my horizons. Then the next guy comes along who does stretch my mind, but and can be spontanious and have fun, but he's not ambitious. God keeps puting these guys in my path to teach me a little something I want and need. I keep getting the one thing I wanted from the last guy, but discover something else this one lacks, until progressively I get what I want.
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I've met my match
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He's all I've been asking for. He's all that I've wanted. He's all to my taste. He's all that I love. God knew what He was doing when I was dating all the Mr. Wrongs. He was teaching me how to recognize Mr. Right. And certainly how to appreciate him. If I hadn't dated all the boys I had in the past 2 years, I don't think I would've appreciated Trevor near as much. I sure love him.

Favela Rising

I went on a date last weekend with the boy from the last post. Although he didn't do so well the weekend before, he did rather well this time.

He took me to see a documentary called Favela Rising. It really made me think. The filming took place between 1991 and 2004(ish). It's about a man named Anderson Sa who was born and raised in the ghetto, or favela, in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. After a terrible murder of his brother, the drug trafficker decided he wanted to fight the violence in his favela. He founds a music group with a man by the name of Junior. It revolutionizes not only his favela, but many other surrounding favelas. Gangs dissolve. The number of druglords deplete-all through music and getting kids of the streets. It's an amazing story. You'd have to see it to believe it.

My favorite part of the movie is that Anderson and his group make phenomenal music. An international record company signs them. I'm thinking, "Great. That's the way it always goes. He tries to make a difference, gets fame, and sits pretty the rest of his life. He won't help anybody but himself." Well, he doesn't. He refuses to leave the favela. Many asked him why he would do that, when clearly he can afford a better life. He tells them he can't help his community from the outside. Those are his people and he's not leaving them. All their proceeds go back to the community. Back to the kids. Back to the music.

The living conditions in the favelas of Brazil are far worse than anything I have seen here. I couldn't believe the way some people live. My first thought was how unbelievably lucky I am to be born where I was born in the conditions of living that I was raised in. I take so much for granted. So much. There's much more suffering in the world than I realize. Daily suffering.

My next thought was this; if he can make such a difference in such a hopeless place, then surely there must be something that can happen here. At one point in the movie, the government wanted Anderson to branch out and found a group in a neighboring favela. He explains how he can't. He doesn't know their problems. Music has solved problems in his favela, but he doesn't know the conditions there. He doesn't know the heartache there. He explains how they have to want it. They have to know what to do, then he can go in and help them do it. The solution lies with in. It made me feel somewhat helpless. I don't know their conditions. I don't live their lives, and I don't know, really, what goes on. It has to come from within the community. This change that I seek for them.

At what point do we say "Enough" and change our worlds? Although it's wonderful and truly amazing what Anderson did, he had to wait until all his friends and finally his brother had died before he did anything. What can be done?

The dating game

Games. Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. I love winning, unless it's Phase 10 with the Vellingas. It's better to lose then. But that's beside the point. The point is dating is, whether we like it or not, a game. So many people complain about the head games involved in dating, and they want to get past them, yadda yadda yadda. But they still play the head games. And when they find someone who doesn't play games like they think they wanted, they get bored. It's unsatisfactory.

The truth is, we need the head games. They aren't just games. They are tests. Every little thing is a pass or a fail. Not the whole time. Not eventually. Just initially. It tells us whether it's worth it to invest our time, and more importantly, our feelings. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.

So I'm in the game. I'm playing my cards. I've learned new tricks. One's I've never known before. I'm excited to try them out. This game, like every game, is a little different. They all have their quarks and variations. I've studied this player (not to be confused with playa) for a year. I've been interested, but circumstances wouldn't let us start our game. Circumstances have changed. I'm excited. He's cute. He's got character. I like him.

The game has dealt me a new hand. He goes for surgery.Twice. I can't say I've been in this situation, but it's nothing I can't handle. Besides, this gives perfect girlfriend opportunities. I can visit. Bring him food. Entertain him. Perfect, if I can play them right. Things are going well. One thing I didn't forsee. Medication. This one threw me for the loop at first. I didn't think about that, and he acted kinda funny. I didn't like it. But be patient. That's only temporary. He'll be back to himself in no time. I think I played that round pretty well. Too bad I'm not sure if he can remember it.

Next round. First kiss. This rocks. I liked it. But post first kiss is scary. There's pressure on the first one, but not pressure like the second one. First kiss could've been a fluke, or happened on a whim, or just something that happened because he was there, and I was there, and sometimes that happens. The second kiss is where it's at. That one is more planned. That one is more than a fluke. That's going out on the limb. That's pressure. Is he gonna kiss me the next time? Will we acknowledge it? Who knows? I hope it's not a fluke. It wasn't for me. 3 days go by. He never calls. I certainly don't call. That's a bad card. But I'll see him tonight. It's institute. We'll both be there. Is he gonna sit by me? Show in public that we like each other. That things have changed between us? It doesn't go so well, but things were crazy. There were lots of loose ends to tie before the big campout weekend. That's understandable. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt. This round is left slightly confused and unsure of the next round.

Next round. Camping. One whole weekend for opportunities. This boy is shy. I understand that. In rounds past, I have had to be slightly more obvious that I liked him. It's part of the game. He needed more motivation. But now we are post first kiss. The chemistry is there. Still pressure, but not as much since we have seen each other since. He makes opportunity for alone time. Good move. I take it. Second kiss happens. Nice. Pressure relieved. It's not a fluke. Still the question of "so what now?" He's feeling better from surgery. It's his turn to make things happen. Time for me to step back. Gotta do the dance. See what happens. Hmm. Not much. Doesn't do too good a job at making himself where I am. You know, being around each other. Sitting by me, or standing around me, or going to activities I go to. He makes conversation with others he's more comfortable with. That's ok. He's shy. But he doesn't acknowledge in public very much that I'm there, or that there's something more between he and I than he and everyone else. Not digging that. Campfire that night after not-so-well-played day. I'm feeling kinda done. I'm not gonna try. It's all up to him now. I concentrate on hanging with my friends. We went off to go catch fireflies. Perhaps to avoids some of these stinky he-didn't-play-it-right feelings. But when I join the others around the fire, he does manage to come sit by me. Good move. It shows me something. We sing as he and another play the guitar. He eventually passes it on to somebody else. His hands are free. That's a good sign. He ends up sitting in front of me and leaning on me. Ok. That's acceptable. Everyone's there, so he's being a little more public. That's good. Everyone goes to bed. We walk around in the night, talking. Not holding hands. He doesn't do that very much. We say good night. I get a nice hug. People are still up and talking in their tents, so a kiss would've been no good. The next day, hardly anything. Not very much opportunity for anything, though, with packing and church. When saying good bye, he did give me a hug in front of people. Thats a good sign. That rounds over. Still feeling unsure, but more done. He didn't play his hand well at all. He ditched me in Niagra Falls. He didn't sit by me in the pageant, or in church. That's no good. Also, somewhere in there, I wandered in some poison oak and had a terrible allergic reaction. He didn't act very concerned for my well being. Not a good sign after all the care I took after his surgeries. Not good at all.

Today is the day after. I haven't gotten a phone call. Still nothing. I don't feel like he's puting much effort in this at all. I'm feeling more done as the day goes by. I'm still not completely closed off yet. But if I don't get a call before thursday, I'd have to say I'm done. I need some effort. He's got to take some intiative. I did do more chasing with him than I normally do, just because I undertand he's shy, but I don't do all the chasing. I am, after all, a lady.

Sadness

My ward is great. It is a very...unique....ward. I'm definitely not in Utah anymore. On one hand, you've got the very rich and rather wealthy people. Some families have expensive *cough* nine million dollar *cough* mansions. On the other hand, a majority of my ward is from the Ghetto. The ghetto of ghettos. The poverty in this place is unbelievable.

Last week, I had the oppurtunity to miss sharing time and go to relief society. A woman was there who was baptized, but hadn't been there for years. She took the oppurtuntiy to speak out about how we're hypocrites and unfaithful because we aren't bringing her to church. We don't dare go in the ghetto. Those of us who do have cars, myself included, have a full car everysunday. I know a couple that brings two cars just to get others to church. I have gone in some scary neighborhoods to pick people up. I know another family who only has one seat in their car, but still goes to get someone. Some families come in pieces just to get to church, and they all meet up at the building later. There is a lot we do. We just don't have enough cars to get everybody. My ward as about 5-600 members, but only 100-150 show up. There are a lot of inactives. We do our best, but it's impossible to seek them all out every sunday. Those who want to go, go. They find rides. They call around. It gets done. Sometimes I even make two trips just to get people to and from church. It happens.

This last sunday, I was sitting in sharing time, and it seemed there was an abundance of adults there. The kids were behaving well, and it was rather sparse because of 4th of July weekend. I thought, "I could probably sneak out unnoticed and go to relief society." But then I thought, "No, I like to sing with the kids." So I decided to stay in sharing time. It was grand. Appearantly, in relief society there was, once again, quite an uproar. The lesson was, of course, patriotic. How we should be thankful for our freedoms. One woman piped up about how america is fake. There is no real freedom for black people. That got everyone fired up. Another one talked about how they lied to her when she left africa. She thought this would be a better life and now she's stuck. She's stuck in poverty and danger. Although I can't completely understand what they go through everyday, I still would like to say that the only think that keeps us stuck is not the color of our skin, but the state of mind we are in. Oprah Winfrey was raised in aweful circumstances. Look at her now. I could say the same for Condaleeza Rice. The color of their skin didn't limit them. I know that of all the people in the ghetto, I can only really think of 2 examples, but still. It's not impossible.

I was discussing with a friend (who also missed this uproar) on monday night about a dear lady in our ward. She is a single mother of six children. She is raising them to the best of her ability, but they are barely surviving. She struggles and has stress i could never imagine. I have been to their neighborhood to pick them up for church. Frankly, it terrifies me. I hate being there. I hate getting out of the car. I would hate to have no choice but to raise my kids there because I have nowhere I can go. Her power is being turned off this week. She's scared and stressed. My friend and I were discussing ways we can help her. What can we do? Just listening to these circumstances and what a loss she's at, it just...it breaks my heart. All of this breaks my heart. Sometimes I think, if I were a millionare, I could help so many people. I'd build a big house and they can stay there and live, and their children could be raised well. But really, that's impossible. Then they learn to be mooches. It's not so much money thats the problem (although it can be a big part of it) it's mindset that's the problem. It's not what we can do for this woman. Frankly, I have enough in saving to help keep her power on for another month, but that's not really what she needs. She needs to learn how to live. How to budget. How to save. How to earn. They don't need gimmies. They need life skills. That's when I don't know how to help them. I'm barely only learning these life skills as well. It's only a matter of months before I have my first appartment. I'll have rent, and groceries, and utilities. It just breaks my heart that I can't help them more.

I was also thinking how lucky I am. How grateful I should really be. I take way too much for granted. At this point in life, as I date and find the person I want to marry, and find the life I want to lead, I weigh my options. I want a college graduate. Someone with ambition. We don't have to be millioinares, but I'd like to not have to live paycheck to paycheck. But even if we were living paycheck to paycheck, I know that we would never be in that kind of neighborhood. I know that no matter how bad things got, we would never ever wind up there. That is not even an option. I have family that would help out, and I just know that I will never live in that part of town. But some just don't have that option. That is all they've ever had, and that's all they ever will have. It's hard to escape the poverty. It's such a cycle. It really just breaks my heart.

Update:

The couple I talked about below have agreed to be married (which was the biggest obstacle) and baptized! They are getting baptized July 16th!

With all my heart

For the past couple of weeks, I've been going to an investigators house with the Sister Missionaries. Usually it's just one woman, but I've heard a lot of her significant other. Today I met him.

We taught the plan of salvation. Before we could even start, he started asking us all these questions, and whenever we wanted to move onto another part, he'd ask a question right into. You couldn't have written a script better than this. As we were leaving, Sister Smith invited them to church. She also mentioned that afterward there was a baptism if they'd like to see that. He said "I'll be there. I want to get baptized, but I want to see how it's done first."

I was floored. It was the most amazing of lessons. Everything he's been wondering his whole life had been answered, and he received it. He'd tell us stories of his thoughts in his childhood. His father was catholic, his mother protestant. He never agreed with either. He had too many unfulfilled questions. As he told these stories about why our answers made sense, I was watching him talk and could tell that he's been prepared in these instances since he was very young to learn of this Gospel. I know this church is the completely true church of God. It makes too much sense not to. I love the Lord, and I know he loves his children. I am so grateful that I was able to take part in this experience.

Healing and the Spoken Word

I've got nothing. I think too much. I think about stuff I want to write on this, but when I think it, I don't have time to type it, and when I have time to type it, I don't remember what I was thinking. So I thought, maybe if I just started typing, something would come to me.

I said something the other day. I said "Music is my medicine." And it's true. I wrote a song, probably one of my favorites, because it's so authentic. It's from a place I dared not touch. A place I didn't want to go to. A place I was ready to bury and ignore like I've done so many times before.

But that's not the real me.

Not so consciously I decided that I wasn't going to be fake anymore. I was tired of it. It's time to be honest. Back in the day, I was the entertainer. The rambunctious-daring-energetic-funny-always-happy-nothings-wrong person. Fake. I didn't want to do that anymore. If I'm sad, I act sad. If I'm annoyed, it'll show. I don't pretend things just don't bother me anymore. Although, honestly, I don't get that bothered easily anyway. I could never have any down time at home. I always had to be...what's the word...bouncy. I think because I was so truly deeply sad that a)I didn't want it to show, and b)I didn't want anyone else to feel that, so I tried to make them happy. It doesn't really work unless I'm truly happy myself.

Words, I've discovered, are a wonderous thing. I use them now. Not in the way I used to. Not bubbly and conversational and filling up silence. Now they're honest. I say what I think and feel, no longer worried that it will make someone else sad. It's not my job to keep everyone else afloat. I drown. But I do help if I can. It's amazing how many doors it's opened up, and how many it's closed.

For example, there is a young man, we'll call him "Bob" who really liked the ladies, and really wanted some companionship, but struggled when it came to being around them. He came off all sorts of wrong. He had very good intentions, but not good ways of showing that. I got a very wrong impression of him in the beginning. As I got to know him, and his character, better, I realized what a really great person he is. But his problems in the dating field persisted. People all around were expressing worry. "Somebody should say something." "Somebody should help him." But nobody would say anthing. Why? Too hard? Afraid? Awkward? Yeah. Well, instead of saying somebody should, I did. We had established a friendship, and some trust. So I told him honestly, but kindly, what was happening. Awkward? Yeah. It was. Hard? A bit. I couldn't get out what I wanted to say, and sometimes I could've come off the wrong way. Worth it? Totally. He's changed some things, and gotten what he wants.

Why don't we speak out?

Why are we so scared of people? I by no means want to be offensive, but honestly, who cares? Why does it matter if someone gets mad? Or never talks to us again? Especially when it really isn't that close of a friend. If it's something that needs to be said, say it. Say it kindly, and with love. I have been in a lot of awkward situations with even more awkward conversations, but none so far have been mad at me. People know when you are being honest and speaking from your heart. And you'll feel a lot better afterwards. I don't keep it in anymore. I'm not fake.

So I went to this place that I was ready to bury. I didn't like what came up. There were a lot of old skeletons, but not as many as there used to be. I felt terrible. Deeply sad and broken up. I didn't know how to handle it. I didn't know if I could. Finally, when I thought I was really at my breaking point, I sang. I wrote a song of all I had been feeling. All that I wanted and couldn't have, but now I can have whatever I choose to take. It was a hard song to write. I still can scarcely play it and not cry. I sang it to my mom and her sisters when they were here. They all cried too. This one needs to go public. This one needs to be heard.

In a lot of ways, I feel healed now. And that is why music is my medicine. My songs have healed me so many times before. As I said in a recent song "I feel the music, love's pure music, heaven puts in me."

The Utah Mormon Debate

There is a post on my friend Christie's blog about how she's sick of the Utah mormon stereotype. Well, she's (no offense) too Utah to really see. As much as I argue, I don't think she'd ever get it unless she lived outside Utah. Here is my side of the story. I think I'm gonna break down her paragraph piece by piece.

"I am so sick of people saying UTAH MORMONS. I'm sick of people putting me in a class and saying that I'm clicky and don't know what the real world is like!" First of all, Christie isn't clicky. She was always outgoing and open minded. I liked that about her. Second of all, it's not mormons that are clicky. People in general can tend to be clicky. We just happen to have a common religion. That doesn't make mormons clicky. It's just what people tend to do. As for not knowing what the real world is like, well, I know Christie has been through a lot. However, there are things that don't happen in Utah that do happen out here. What is the real world anyway? The Chinese have a different reality than Mexicans, or Russians, or Americans, or Brazilians, or Africans, and so on. Utah has a different real world than Georgia, or California, or Massachussets, or Tennessee.

"Ok, truthfully, I feel like I've experienced the world." I really, I don't know what to say to that. If you can say that sentence, and actually believe it, then you really don't know what you're talking about. Especially when you've never lived in a different society.

"I don't push people out just because they drink or smoke or don't believe in abstinence." Neither do I, but you look at them differently, don't you?

"People generalize WAY TOO MUCH!" Aren't you generalizing about people in that sentence?

"I hate it when people are always saying Utah Mormons are horrible. We're people too." Yes, you are people, horrible people. No, I'm just kidding. I'm just kidding. You're not. Let's make up a scenario. Let's say a black kid in black clothes, baggy pants, tattoos, gold chains, multiple pearcings, and a beanie walked in church. Any Utah ward at all. Do you think he'd be warmly accepted? How well do you think he'd be fellowshipped? I'll be honest, a year ago, I would've steered clear of him too. A couple of sundays ago, I gave a ride to three kids like that. That is the attire they wore. I was so stunned at how my ward accepted them. It didn't even make a difference what they wore or how they looked. Fact is, most of my ward is from the inner city ghetto. It's a dangerous and frightening place. My primary children grow up there. They see horrendous things every day. I can't believe how caloused a nine year old can be because of the things he has to go through on a daily basis. It breaks my heart. The city I live in is in the top ten most dangerous cities in the United States. Every morning, I wake up to the radio reporting on yet another homicide, yet another rape, yet another gang fight with many innocent casualties. Things I never heard of back home. Things I know my ten little primary kids are seeing every day. Those ten children are stronger than I will ever be. The testimonies of the Saints out here never cease to amaze me. I knew some strong people back home, but I never knew people like this. You can deny it all you want, but Utahns just don't understand.

"We're not perfect. Yes, we've been raised in a different way than most people." Raised different? Refer to above paragraph.

"The truth is I'm sick of people looking at Utah as a place that is just infultrated with religion. " Utah is a place infultrated with religion! Are you kidding me? How many temples are there? How many church building are there in our home town alone? How many non members do you know? Compared to how many members you know? Can you walk into any store and know there are other mormons in the store? I can't do that.

"All around the world there are places where one religion is dominiate and it's not just LDS.Look at people individually!" I talk to this one guy in my class. He is from Pakistan. He's muslim. He comes from a dominately Muslim society. When you think of Pakistan, don't you automatically think of the Muslims? Why do you do that? Why don't you look at people individually? Why don't you look at the women behind those eyes, and behind all their head coverings? Oh, is it because you don't know anyone individually? You just have to make a generalization about their society, don't you? Huh. There's a little food for thought.

As for the 'mission' arguement in the comments section of her blog. I'll just copy and paste my comment on that. Missions are a whole different story. Missions are great. You get a lot of experience. You experience the world, but a mission is not your real life. It's different when there's rules and you're watched and you're studying intensely and knocking on doors. How many missionaries come home and continue to do that? That's not their real life. I think there is a big and distinct difference between living life outside of Utah, and going on a mission. I'm not discounting the fact that missionaries did experience the world, but a experiencing the world on your mission and experiencing the world in real life are two different things.

When it rains...

You know, with everything going wrong-Deaths, loss, frustration, just to mention a few-it hasn't got me down. I'm amazed.

Normally, I can get pretty bogged down pretty easily, but I am so happy. There's so much to be happy for! Ever since I've become reactivated in the Church, I've been so happy. Everything's gone right, despite things gone wrong. I'm so happy. The church offers such a different perspective than what's happening in the now.

On sunday, not only were my primary kids quiet as I taught class, but they were listening. That has never happened before. Never not once. I actually felt as if they actually got something out of it. We learned about Joseph after he got sold into Egypt and what Potiphar's wife does and how he eventually gets out of jail. They didn't listen to any of that. I could've been talking to the chalkboard for all they cared. But after I finished talking (to the bricks in the wall) I asked them what they had learned. "Nothing." "Pray." General answers. I started telling them what I learned.

I learned that you should always choose the right.No matter what, even if it does get you in trouble. Even if you go to jail and lose a lot of your life. Always do what you think is right. I also learned that no matter what, God listens. He listened to Josephs prayers down there. Even though Joseph might not have understood why God seemed to take so long, God still always answers prayers. We just have to be patient. I also learned that if you stick to it and stay on the path, God will bless you beyond your comprehension. He loves you so much that he wants to give you everything, and He will if you be patient and good. The last thing I learned is that nothing can go permanently wrong with Jesus Christ. No matter what happens, it will never be permanent because what Christ did was so wonderful that it makes everything right in the end. Nothing can go wrong.

The children listened to all that. I could tell it was soaking in. I could even feel the Spirit! The Spirit had entered my classroom! That was one of my New Years resolutions. Get my kids to actually walk away with something for once. Get the Spirit in the classroom at least once. Ok, so I guess that was really two goals, but still. It worked! I had never realized what my testimony could do. All this time I had been trying to get them to learn from the manual or by games, when really all they needed was my testimony. It was quite the experience for me.

Today, as with any day, I am listening to kzion- an internet radio that plays all LDS music all the time. I love it. I can never get enough of it. The more I listen, the more I want my music to play there. Why am I so afraid to get my stuff out there? Why can't I just do it? It's good. I know my stuff is good. A few songs are even great if you ask me (which is big because I am my toughest critic). I guess it's just scary. When I write silly songs, like "concieted" or "waste of a day," I'm not worried with that stuff. I don't care if people like it or not, or if people criticize it. When it comes to my serious stuff, the stuff that comes from my heart, that's a little scary. I'm scared for people to criticize it. That is me to my very essence. To put that out there, to put it all on the line, out in the open, that's terrifying. But I want to do it so bad. All it takes is just one little leap, right? I'm afraid my legs won't jump. I need to get it done. I want a CD! I want to inspire people and comfort people. Music is the best way I know how. It comforts me so much.

Moving on

Well, I talked to my friends the Vellingas yesterday. I sure love those two. We talked about my 'dear jane' letter. I guess I've kinda been avoiding that talk with them because I wasn't sure I wanted to hear what they had to say. Maybe not so much that, even. Maybe I just wasn't ready to talk about it, because if I talk about it, then I'd realize it's over.

I realized it's over.

So this is the part where I move on with my life. Where I let go of my dreams of marrying him. Part of me still really wants to hold on tight, but I know I can't do that. I've gotta let go. It's tough. He's the only one I've ever opened up to or trusted. He's the only one I was willing to take the risk of getting hurt. Now that I'm hurt, was it worth it? Yeah. I think it was. I learned a lot. I loved a lot. At the very least, he set a REALLY high bar for the next guy, because I expect nothing less. I expect to be treated like a daughter of God the way he treated me. Before him, I didn't really expect that.

So what now? What do I do after all of this? It's hard to let go of someone you were madly in love with. It's even harder to open up again. I'm scared. I've been thinking about the quote by Mark Twain, "Dance like nobody's watching; love like you've never been hurt. Sing like nobody's listening; live like it's heaven on earth." I think that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to love like I've never been hurt. Easier said than done.

I don't know if it's going to be easier to let go of him, or all the dreams I had. The wedding, the children, being in his family. Man, I love his family. I wanted to be a part of it so bad. I guess I got to be for the past two years, but I wanted eternity. Waking up next to him every day for the rest of my life. It's hard to imagine waking up next to anyone else. It's hard to imagine being with anyone else. I'm in love with him. But now, I must let it go. It's better for him if I let it go. I don't know if I can say the same for me.

It's hard to close a chapter of life, but there's so much hope and optimism for the next chapter! I can't wait to begin writing it! I can't wait to meet new characters, and who knows, maybe I'll find love again!

To my viewer

Katelyn, I'm really glad you read this. At least someone does....

Ebony and Irony

It's funny how all my life I've striven to be different. I grew up in a place where most everybody is born and raised in my church and most everybody has the same opinion on things, because that is what the church says, and that is what we believe. I hated being the same. I did whatever I could to be different. Sometimes, even, when I didn't want to, really. Now that I live in a place where I am different, I want everybody to be the same. I want everybody to have the knowledge that I have.

My English Composition class really gets me going. I mean really. For those of you who know me, I'm sure you know what I mean. I have opinions, naturally, but I'm not one to share them. You believe what you believe, and I'll believe what I believe. No sense in arguing about it and getting frustrated. In english, however, i do not view it the same. Although I respect others beliefs, values, and opinions, i am completely disgusted by what people think is "right," or "moral." My opinion is so different (and my I add completely right) that I MUST share it. If I don't defend the right, nobody will, and then something truly would be lost.

Want some examples?

Pornography.

The word I feel dirty even saying. Regardless, it is an issue, although others don't see it as such. Class began by discussing a Harvard professor losing his job for having pornographic images on his work computer. We discussed whether it was just that he lost his job. The discussion quickly evolved to porn itself. I could NOT believe it. Could NOT. It quickly turned to the whole class against me. One girl stated how it is "natural" for a man to look at such filth. "No! No it is not natural! It is wrong!" The words spilled out before my tongue could stop it. Everyone else seemed to think it was "natural" and even "healthy" for men to view that stuff. Natural? Healthy? I don't know about you, but I don't consider it healthy to degrade women like that. It got pretty heated. I then stated that it has been a PROVEN FACT that rapists, child molesters, and other such sexual preditors began on pornography. It is a dangerous addiction that should be avoided like a disease. It degrades women. It ruins lives. It robs you of your ability to love. That shut everyone up pretty quickly. I don't believe the "natural" and "healthy" argument was strong enough.

Cohabitation.

Did you know that if a couple lives together before marriage, they are 80% more likely to get a divorce? Did you know that a child is more likely to get abused emotionally, physically, and\or sexually if the parents cohabitate or are divorced? Cohabitation weakens commitment. It makes a mockary of marriage and weakens our whole society. There are many people in my class who cohabitate and defend it fiercly. Once I presented those statistics, they haven't said a word.

Homosexuality.

Oh boy. This one is a sensitive issue. First and foremost, I need to make a few disclaimers. I have gay friends. I love my gay friends. They are really great people. Very respectable. I truly adore some of them. Also, there is a distinct difference between homosexual/gay/lesbian and same-gender attraction. SG attraction admits that you have those attraction and urges. Just because you are tempted, however, doesn't mean you have done something wrong-in any case, not just homosexuality. Homosexual/gay/lesbian denotes that you have acted on your SG attraction. Therein lies the sin. Acting upon it. I sympathize with those who are struggling with SG attraction. It is a terrible battle that I can understand, but can not comprehend. I can't imagine the pain and anguish they must go through. I admire and respect them all the more for battling it. Homosexuality is a choice. SG attraction is NOT a choice, but acting upon those urges IS a choice. I have absolutely no tolerance for those who choose to act upon those urges, and then play the victim in all of this. If you make a choice, own up to it. Don't misplace the blame on society, or your parents, or others, or God. You chose to give in. You can choose to fight the battle. No, it is not easy. Frankly, I don't blame anyone for giving in. I can't say I'd be much better. But if I chose to live the gay life, I would not play the victim. I believe in consequences to your actions. I have nothing but the utmost respect for those who choose not to give in. It is a long a rocky path. I pray for you. Regardless of whether you choose to be gay, or you experience SG attraction and fight it, you are a person. None of us are perfect. I can not judge. All I can say is don't play the victim. You are not a victim. I will love and accept any person, simply because they are a person, not because they do or do not have my same beliefs.

Abortion.

Now this one got me fired up last class. We read an article recently published in the paper about a Christian Minister who is a woman, yes, she is a Reverend. She leads a congregation of people, spiritually. She wrote about her abortion 19 years ago, and then precedes to justify it. She said some deeply disturbing and horrendous things. She openly admited she, and I quote, "murdered [her] baby." She also talked about her "anguish" in her and her husband wanting the baby, but "not wanting it enough." So just because you don't want something, you murder? Since when was that okay? She also started a sentence "In the battle over killing our babies,..." In the battle over killilng your babies? What? How can you honestly say that it's right to kill your baby? How can you start a sentence like that and feel that what you did, or the whole practice in general, is right? A battle over killing your baby. There shouldn't even BE that kind of battle. She also argued that is was the "moral" and "right" thing to do..."for me, my family, my husband, and my job." Her job? She's a flipping reverend! And she murdered! And she feels RIGHT about it! What is going on in the world today? Not only that, but the people in my class agreeing with what she did? Is there no good in this world? Are people really that blind? Isn't there a scripture about good being evil and evil being called good. That woman is the "great and abomidable" church the scriptures speak of. I can't believe she is considered a spiritual leader. I simply don't understand how you can stand in front of a congregation and claim goodness and preach about righteousness and sinning when you yourself are a murderer. That article makes me beyond mad, and frankly sick to my stomach.

I love this class because it opens my eyes to the world (although sometimes I would prefer to remain innocent and naive). It forces me to make a stand, stick to my guns, and voice it. I don't back down. I don't apologize for the truth. I state it how it is, and I believe, I really believe they know what's right. They know I'm right. I can see how things have changed in that class since the beginning of the semester and now. I think I have possibly made some people think about what they are doing. That life can't just be wandered through. You've GOT to make conscience decisions, and then reap the consequences. Rape, divorce, aids, abuse. Take your pick. I, however, will steer clear.

Everytime I leave that classroom, I am that much more thankful for the gospel. I am thankful that I can see things and have a clear head. Sometimes I think my peers are drowning in this vast and perilous ocean. They grasp at whatever they can find to stay afloat, but they don't realize they are not going to make it if they are making poor and careless choices. I am so thankful I can see things so black and white, that I'm not lost in this fog that so easily overtakes.

Poem/Song

I was exhausted last night. Sometimes, after a long period of Insomnia, I just get exhausted and go to bed early for a few nights. Then, it's back to insomnia. Last night, I wanted to sleep, but this song popped in my head. I can't ignore that. I have to write it down, or it's forever lost. I've learned my lesson. So much for sleep. Now I can't rest until it's finished. Of course, it's finished good enough, but I'll always mess around with it until I like it. Until it's just right. Here's the first draft.

I met this boy one fine summer day.
He asked me out. I said "okay."
He held my hand. I guess that's alright
'Cuz we were together every day and night.

Then came fall, and that boy stuck around.
I felt my other half had fin'ly been found.
One night he looked up, and something scared me.
I saw in his eyes e-ternity.

The leaves blew away, and in came the snow
And I'll tell you what, something started to grow.
What it was, I wasn't quite sure
It wasn't something I had ever felt before.

The flowers popped up, and the birds began to sing
He got down on one knee, it was a wedding ring!
"I wanna give our love a lifelong chance."
He grabbed my hand and we began to dance.

Questions came up, doubt filled my mind.
Was this love, or is love really blind?
Marriage, wow, that's quite a task.
"Honey, I've got something I've just gotta ask."

"Do you believe in love, do you believe it's true?
Do you believe that love could really see us through?"
He looked me in the eye and said "Yes I do.
I believe love believes in me and you."

Now it's been fifty years, and our mem'ry grows dim,
But he loves me, and I love him.
We've had our ups and downs, happiness and strife,
A life without him wouldn't count as a life.

----------------------------------------

That's all I got so far. It's pretty neat. Needs a better tune than what's in my head.

I HATE COLLEGE TODAY...but only today

The Inevitable has happened.

I got it. I finally got it, and I can't help but feel...sick to my stomach...among a lot of other feelings. Stupid. Foolish. Hurt. Sick. What did I get? I got THE letter. The letter every waiting girl dreads, but usually gets. I got Dear Janed.

He lost himself to the Lord. That's a great thing. I'm glad. That's what he needs to do. I am still trying to lose myself to the Lord.

He spoke of the little time we had together before he left. Yeah, it wasn't very much, but everything we had was different. It was worth waiting for, or was it? I can't help but feel stupid. How could I have given my heart away so readily to him? I was never that willing with anyone before. Stupid. I hardly knew him. Why did I trust in him so completely, when it is otherwise hard for me to do so? Foolish. I have stuck by it for the past 18 1/2 months, and now, I'm single. Not just semi-single. Completely and utterly single. Yeah, I've been single before. Many times. But I fell in love with this one. He was it. Foolish. You can't decide that in so little time.

I did a lot of things wrong. I'm gonna regret them. I wish I didn't think of him so much. How come the future never goes according to plan? Well, I suppose that does make planning my immediate future a little easier. I wasn't sure whether to stay here or go back to Utah. Not sure it would be worth it to go if things didn't work out, but now I can plan my life more by what I want to do, not by the possibilities of what might happen. He won't move across the country for me. And I can't go back for him. I feel sick.

I will still write him. The worse thing I could do is lose conctact. I feel the possibility of us continuing is slim, but I can't close off all possibility. If there is a chance, I'll take it. Risky. Part of me doesn't want to know. I don't want to be hurt. Oh, but never to know would be worse.

Here is what I will do. I will write him news-y letters about happenings. I will be friendly and upbeat. I will not think about our future. I will not think about when he comes home. I will make plans for me, but keep them flexible, just in case. I will date. I will have fun. I will live my life, grow, and learn. I will be the best me I can be. I will not worry about it anymore. That is what I will do.

One Tough Week, One Good End

Life has been tough this past week and a half. After returning from Florida, I went to Arizona to a family reunion. I had a lot of fun. I'm glad I went, but it was hard. It was awfully hard.
I was terribly nervous. I can't recall when I've ever been alone with my dad. When we've ever just had daddy-daughter time. I wasn't sure how it was going to be-what it was going to like. I could barely remember any of his extended family, although I have come in contact with a few via blogs/email.
The first day I was there, I spent the day cooking with Dad. He taught me how to make his famous potato salad, and also how to make enchiladas. Mine were disgraceful. He needed to teach me right. It was great being there with him, learning. We also played his guitars. It was my first time playing a twelve string. It was different, but fun. That night, I went to the Lyons house to stay. The Lyons served a CES mission in my area, but now live near my dad in AZ. It was wonderful to see them again. I really missed them. They were my adopted grandparents out here.
The next day, Tia Anna, Dad, Riley, and I headed to the reunion. When we arrived, all sorts of people started hugging me. It wasn't a big turn out, but I still only recognized a few. I would hang around in conversations and wait til someone's name was said before it registered who it was. I knew which cousin was from which aunt or uncle, but I didn't know them between their brothers and sisters. Some of them I had to ask my dad who it was because nobody would say their name. I felt rather embarrassed I didn't even know my own family. It had been 8 years since I last saw them, and I was a little girl then.
I had a lot of fun conversing with them. There had inevitably been marriages and births, so I got to meet new spouses, second cousins, and step cousins. Everyone was...aged. Aunt Kathy put together a R.E.E.L (Riley Elden & Eva Lou) Trivia game. I was surprised at the answers I knew, but I knew little. Some of the questions brought on memories. I listened and laughed as my cousins told stories of our grandparents, but I coudln't help feeling out of place. Left out. I missed something. I missed something big. I didn't have any stories of my grandparents. I don't know them. I don't know the things my granpa always said. I had really missed out. I had missed out on 8 years of memories. Things I will never have. It was really hard for me to choke back the tears. I never realized how much I had missed out on. Not only with my granparents, but all my cousins.
Dad seemed happy I was there. He had never smiled like that at me before. I know it meant a lot to him. Saying goodbye was the hardest thing. I didn't know when I'd see everyone again, or if I would. I felt immense sorrow for everything I had missed, and everything I'm probably going to miss. I had never felt this before. Hugging my father goodbye in the airport was hard. I don't know when I'll see him again. This weekend was our first time together, alone. We had, as gay as it sounds, bonded. When I left there was something there that there wasn't before. Something that never would've happened if I wouldn't have come. As I stood there, weeping, in his arms, about to depart back to my life, I felt, for the first time, love. As much as he's said 'I love you' in the past, I never felt it. I certainly never believed it. But this weekend, I felt he loved me. I realized that no matter how far away a parent may go, no matter how long they are gone, they still love their child. So much of my life has been spent wondering, and wishing. Now I know.
It scares me. It scares me a lot. I feel vulnerable. Words will never explain the pain that comes when a parent abandons you. Worse yet, it is never over. The void of them not being there at events, such as prom, or graduation, or pageants, still hurts just as much as the day they left. It was a lot easier when I resented him. It was a lot easier when I wanted nothing to do with him. But now, I have forgiven him. I have let go of the expectation of the "Ideal Father" and accepted him for who he is. Not what I want him to be. He has the choice of who he is. I have the choice to accept it, or be bitter. I love him. I love him no matter what he does. Whether our relationship persists, or not, it doesn't matter. He will always have my love and my prayers. That is the difference between the easy road, and the road less traveled.
Yes, this weekend was hard, but it was well worth it.
Back into the swing of things. Work, school, church callings. I went about busily with my days, as usual. Friday, my mom called. She sounded upset. What was the matter? "I'm sorry, Miranda, but Rick shot himself today." What? No. Why? What?
I worked for Rick a little over 2 years in high school. He was a good boss, and I loved being his employee. I loved his wife, and his daughter, whom I also worked with/for. Rick was great. He became like a brother to me. Someone to always tease and be teased by. Countless buckets of ice cold water have been dumped. I have been covered in icing, or powdered sugar, or flour. I once ruined a $4000 check in his pocket from dumping water on him. He didn't get mad, although I was scared. He did, as always, get even. I'm going to miss him.
I am sad. Death, I can deal with. Suicide is another thing. There is no reassurance he's in a better place. There's no comfort. There's no solace. No peace. What I am saddest about is the thought of how hopeless he must have felt. The state of mind he must have been in. Who knew he was carrying that around? Could I have spoken a kinder word? Could I have had better actions? It's really made me reflect on my state of mind. I battle with seasonal depression. Winters are hard. At one point in my life, I did try to die. I wanted to. I know the sorrowful places Rick was at. Lucky for me, I had a friend in the right place at the right time, and I held on. When times get tough, and sometimes even when they don't, suicide still crosses my mind. No, I would never. I force the thought out. I refuse to harbor it. If I had done what I inteded during my teenage years, I would've missed out on so much. My niece, and nephews. I love them more than anything. My high school friends are the best people on earth. The love of my life, Sean. My experience in college. The experiences I have yet to have in college. The friends I've made here on the east coast. What would I do without them? The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. Something of which I've only been active about 18 months. I would've missed out on a lot.
To lose hope is the saddest experience here in this mortal life. I am grieved that Rick had lost his. I have hope in Christ. I will never lose that. I may lose everything else, but of that, I will never let go. I am beyond grateful that I could be a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. It continues to strengthen me daily. Without Christ, I would be nothing. I know who I was when I didn't allow him in my life, and I will never go back to that.
The words of General Conference this weekend were greatly comforting, and inspiring. I could not have needed General Conference more than I needed it at the end of this burden-full week. President Gordon B. Hinkley is a prophet of God. He, and the Apostles speak the truth. The pure, divine, sweet truth. I love them, and pray for them. I am grateful for them, and all of my blessings, even through heartache.

Hang on. If nothing else, hang on. There is more to life than what is happening now. I could never have forsaw the joys I would experience, and I cannot forsee the joys I have yet to celebrate.