"things"

I haven't written here for awhile. My journal entries have taken the form of notes on my phone. But that's not exactly conducive to pouring my heart out. And yet, there are limits here too because I feel I cannot be completely free. Oh well, it's a balance anyways, right?

I'm a new-ish homeowner and I love my space. It's not big, it's not grand, but it's big enough and grand enough for me. It has a garage and it's close to work and I don't have to worry about rent rising or a landlord. Every day I wake up in awe that it's mine. I hope I never lose that feeling -- even when I have to leave this house behind someday. For whatever reason, I haven't felt like I'd be here that long... what exactly that means, I have no idea. It's hard for me to judge that when the longest I've ever lived in one house is three years. And even now i find myself wondering when I can go on the next adventure. But I think that's just a product of my growing up and me needing to learn how to "settle."

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A few weeks ago someone asked me what my perfect day would be. That's hard for me consider... I'm easily content and the main thing for me would to have an anxiety-free day. However, there are things I'd like to do and I told this person one of them... and then this past week, I unexpectedly got to do it. Paige invited me on one of her photoshoots and it was amazing. It was amazing to see someone do the "thing" they're meant to do. As much as I hate having my own photo taken, I've always been fascinated by photography... the ability to capture a fleeting moment and evoke a feeling feels my soul with hope. And we all know how much I love the concept of hope. ;) I came back from that shoot feeling inspired and renewed, and yes, full of hope.

I want to find my "thing." I feel like there are many things I'm good at, but nothing I'm particularly passionate about -- not even being a librarian, as much as I do enjoy it (most days...). I feel like I haven't quite found it yet... the thing that makes me happier than I've ever been. I don't mean this in a complaining or discontent sense, far from it actually. I have a very good life. And I'm extraordinarily blessed, but I feel like I haven't hit on my mission yet. And I want to, more than anything.

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The stars have always fascinated me. They make me feel more connected to God. And now, to my parents. Somehow when I see the stars, I feel like my parents are closer -- that they aren't "gone" or "lost" and that they haven't abandoned me. Someone (the same "someone" from above, actually) described the stars as a visual definition of eternity. In that moment, I didn't feel crazy for loving the stars. It felt like a confirmation of all the reasons I love them. And now, I really want to go stargazing.

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My little cousin was baptized yesterday. I was surprised at how strongly I felt the spirit. I cried a lot. Almost embarrassingly so because this cousin and I aren't particularly close and I debated extensively about even making the effort to go because I felt like it didn't even matter that I was there. And it probably didn't matter to him. But I realized that it did matter -- to me. And I realized that I feel the spirit a lot more than I realize because I had the same feeling at Paige's photoshoot and when I've travelled and when I go to the temple -- it all makes me feel the same.

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I still miss my little family horribly. I think I thought that there would be a day when I didn't miss them anymore and that would mean I'd moved on. But that's not true. I still miss them and long for them to be here... mostly because I've realized what great cheerleaders my parents were. They made me feel like I could do anything and like there was nothing wrong with me. And I love them for that. I've reached the point now where I don't pine for them and I don't feel bad for myself that they aren't here. The normal now is for them to NOT be here. And that's good. But I still miss them. But if I had to choose between having them here and having them together, I'd choose them together any day. And someday I'll get to see them again.

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I had to explain to someone (not the same "someone") about the way I walk and why I walk the way I do. It was cool to feel how Heavenly Father gave me the words, even if the person didn't take it well. I don't understand people sometimes. But in the eternal scheme of things, the way I walk is a minor (truly minor, even in the worldly perspective too) inconvenience. And the people that matter in my life don't and won't care. In fact, several people have told me lately that they don't even notice it. And the truth is, neither do I. It just is. It doesn't look TOO weird. It doesn't hurt. And it's kind of hard to miss something I've never had -- a normal gait. For whatever reason, the way I walk is the way I walk. The bleed was a necessary part of my journey and a necessary tool for my progression. And most of the time I feel like Heavenly Father is proud of the way I handle it. I hope the same can be said someday for my other trials. :)

Will there ever be a guy that sees me and understands me? My patriarchal blessing seems to think so. :) I've always wanted to get married. Not to be taken care of, but so that we could take care of each other. Lift each other up. Support one another. Be strong (temporally and spiritually) when the other is weak. Build a life together. And see the best in each other. I hope someday soon that happens. What a blessing and privilege to have a partner, no matter what the future brings. And then, we can dance in heaven. ;) And maybe here too.

One year ago

One year ago, on the first Sunday in January, I had a prompting about Dad. Today as that came to mind (quite unexpectedly), I was hit with an avalanche of emotion.

Honestly, when I received that prompting I thought I was crazy and I've never wanted to be wrong about something more than I did at that moment. The six weeks following were awful, but a confirmation of faith as well (if that makes sense?).

Even now, it's still a little weird for me to not talk to him before work on Wednesday mornings and each Wednesday night as I take my dinner break at work, I'm still afraid to turn on my phone.

And tonight, I want nothing more than to have all three of them here with me. It just doesn't feel right to be left behind.

home sweet home & "cowboys in overalls..."

- the garage. It's still weird I have one, but I LOVE it. The first night I came home late from work and saw how full the parking lot was, I started to panic... and then I remembered I didn't have to worry about it. It was awesome.

- the kitchen. For being a rental, it's pretty close to my dream kitchen. White cabinets. Deep sink. Walk-in pantry. Quiet appliances. Did I mention that the appliances are quiet? In the old place, every time the dishwasher or washer or a/c was on it sounded like a jet engine. Now I have to stand next to the washer and dishwasher to make sure they're running.

- the setup. It feels so much more like a home. I've missed that.

- the light. I love natural light. And even though we live in an inside unit, there are so many windows and I love it.

- the balcony. One of these days before it snows I'm buying a chair so I can sit out there.

- the proximity. It's pretty much in the same area I lived before, which I love because it means everything's familiar and I'm still close to family.

----

It's been a tough week, but every time I have a tough week I'm amazed at how blessed I still feel. I miss the parents so much and there are SO SO many questions I wish I could ask them. And yet, it comforts me that they are together. It's been long enough that the desire to talk to mama has faded a bit (although given the opportunity...). But daddy has only been gone 6+ months and I still find myself reaching for the phone for our daily call. I'd love to hear him say "Hey Lex!" again. He always acted so happy when I called. And I don't think there was phone call where he didn't make me laugh hysterically.

I remind myself constantly that they are in a better position to help me now than they ever were. And I need that. SO MUCH. However, it's still tough to navigate life without them. And there are a lot of times when it doesn't feel fair, even though I know life isn't supposed to be fair -- as dad would say, "fair is a place where cowboys in overalls throw cow chips for distance" -- honestly, I really don't know what that's supposed to mean except "fair" doesn't exist.

"I feel my Savior's love"

When I got in my car at 6:15AM to meet Derek to drive to Lewiston for Tizzie's homecoming thais was the song playing on the radio. It was PERFECT. I struggled not to cry all the way to meet him. I told him multiple times how grateful I was that he offered to go with me, but words are so inadequate. I really have the best family. And if the anguish of the last several years has taught me anything, it's that Heavenly Father loves ME and knows ME and wants what's best for ME -- trials, anxieties and all. Nothing is too big.

I'm not sure why everything has had to happen this way, but I was telling my wonderful Auntie this weekend that if I had to go through all of it to know that He loved me and to learn to recognize the Spirit better, then it was worth it.

The gospel is amazing.

(this was the version playing on the radio this morning.)

22

Last night as I was kneeling down to say my prayers a memory came into my mind and I strongly believe that Heavenly Father wanted me to remember it for a specific purpose - what, I haven't quite sorted out.

"Remember how it felt when you walked after surgery." 

I don't really remember much pre-surgery. I don't remember what it felt like to walk like a "ballerina on pointe." I remember all the therapy and serial casting and being terrified of the saw even when they showed me that it couldn't cut into a tomato. I remember the braces. I remember the teasing. But I don't remember what it FELT like. But, I remember after. 22 years ago.

{via}

The casts all the way up my legs. The mosquito bites I couldn't scratch. How yellow my legs were when they came off. Eric rubbing baby lotion on my legs. The missionaries doing wheelies in my wheelchair. The walking casts. How bad it hurt to stand up, to put pressure on my feet. Accidentally stepping on the track for the shower door while taking a "real" bath for the first time in 6 weeks. The walking casts coming off.

And, a family friend asking what it felt like to walk for the first time with my feet flat on the floor.

It was amazing.

And for some reason, I needed to remember that.

empower

make (someone) stronger and more confident, especially in controlling their life and claiming their rights.

Today I did three things that normally I would talk myself out of... and they're the type of things that wouldn't even end up on a "normal" person's radar as stressful events. :) BUT... I felt so empowered as I did each one and I wish I knew how to hold onto the feeling just a little bit longer because that feeling totally outweighs whatever influence the anxiety has on me (and my body...). I also came home and cried... but that's normal after a stress response. :)

I met with my wonderful bishop on Sunday and since then I've been praying to have the proper perspective on certain things because I just feel like maybe I've been looking at things wrong. The reason I met with the bishop has nothing really to do with this post, but it does have to do with perspective, so here goes...

A few weeks ago I wrote about how Rhett had asked me how I saw the tender mercy in everything and I have to say that his question has been a great blessing in my life because I can't forget it - I keep looking for tender mercies in everything and really, that's an awesome way to go about the day. :) 

When mom was diagnosed with cancer four years ago and I realized that it meant she wouldn't be here anymore, that there was a tangible expiration date to our earthly time together I was so scared. I can still remember exactly what it felt like with the thoracic surgeon came out and said that they had found "suspicious cells" in her lungs and that it looked like she had an abdominal mass, but that wasn't his "area of expertise" so he'd done a biopsy. It was the most suffocating, crushing, unable-to-breathe pain I'd ever felt. The worst panic attack I've ever had. (Also, the first one.) BUT, it didn't take long for me to start seeing the tender mercies that were so prevalent in everything. And in the years since, I can look back and see things that happened that serve as tender mercies to me now.

And when I struggled to keep breathing (quite literally) in the year after she died, I also witnessed so many tender mercies. However, it wasn't until I moved back and things really started to happen in my life that I realized that I could see them everywhere. And having dad pass away has just increased that evidence exponentially. Tender mercies aren't just coincidences. They are evidence that Heavenly Father knows us as individuals and blesses us as individuals. To an outsider these random instances of good fortune or happiness or friendship might mean nothing, and that's okay because to the person who sees/hears/benefits from these "random instances," they are miracles!

You should read this... even if it's not new to you, read it. 

Dot (or in other words, birthday reflections ;))

Great birthdays are...

- celebrating the whole long weekend

- good food (that's really not that great for you...)

- thoughtful texts and FB messages

- laughter

- being reminded of your good qualities

- long naps and good books

- emails from your favorite missionaries

- the temple

- surprise gifts

- reminders of the parental units

Last night after family dinner during the whole "we love you because..." Auntie dearest was saying that the term "Aunt" didn't really fit our relationship... someone suggested "Maunt" (combo of Mom and Aunt) instead (hahaha). But then today we were talking and she said "How about Auntie M and you can be Dot?" (Like the Wizard of Oz... sort of). Well... Dad used to call me Dot. Not very often and more so when I was a kid, but... and now I'm crying again. ;)

missing the parents playlist

These days (as in, the last 4 months...), it's difficult for me to miss one parent without missing the other. So even though it's Father's Day, I find myself missing them both very much... and even Pepper. I don't think many people think about what it's like. For the most part, I've been okay these last months, but there is always this ache deep in my heart that just doesn't leave. It set up residence over 3 years ago and hasn't left.

While I am very comforted by the knowledge the gospel brings, and even by the idea of my parents watching over me together, none of that replaces having them here with me - even when they hated each other. Hindsight says I'd take that over having them both gone even as stressful as it was. But at the same time, I wouldn't trade anything that has happened in the intervening years. I guess that's the tender mercy of it all.

The four of us (me, dad, mom and pepper) were a unit for a long time. Things changed a little bit (understatement of the century) after the divorce, but there was always this unit and now I'm extremely jealous that they are all together again (yes, I believe that Pepper is there too).

I miss talking to Daddy on the phone every day. That was a huge part of my life for the better part of 9 years. I remember when I moved with him and Marcie to Texas that I missed those daily phone conversations even though I saw him every day. How silly is that? When I told him that, he called me on his way to an appointment the next day. And when I decided to move back home, I was so happy to get that back. It was so fun to talk to him every day. He always made me laugh. And we didn't have to talk about anything important either.

And even all these years later I miss movie marathons with Mom. We'd go to the library or redbox and pick up a pile of movies and just sit and watch them on the bed all night. Watching movies by myself just isn't the same. :)

Pepper. Her quiet, comforting presence was the best. The way she'd lay pressed right up against me and whimper in her sleep or the way she'd softly paw my face in the morning when she needed to go out.

I love you guys!

1. The Wind Beneath My Wings

2. Fire and Rain

3. Who'll Stop the Rain?

4. I'm in a Hurry

5. Brave

6. Happy

7. I Hope You Dance

8. Forever Young

(yes, some of these are cheesy... especially #1...)

Happy father's day...

to this weirdo...

I love you, my "handsomer."

P.S. This is the card I'd buy you if I could... like it? ;)

Elder Burton

{via Pinterest}

I've had two experiences in the last few days, courtesy of Elder Burton, that have been absolute tender mercies / miracles.

The first: a visit from an Auntie when it was desperately needed to 1) boost my spirits and to 2) let me know that my Father in Heaven and my parents are aware of me. I had called her in tears a couple hours before and thanks to something Rhett had written in an email, she felt prompted to come see me at work.

The second: after recounting the profound effect the above experience had on me to Elder Burton and thanking him for his part in it, I received a reminder of something that I think has kept me alive the last few years: see the tender mercy in everything. He asked me how I could so easily see the tender mercy in everything and until I read that, I hadn't really considered that I did. But the idea that I do was yet another boon to my weary spirit.

on your birthday, I want to say...

...thanks for choosing me to be your daughter.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

I miss you...

...and I hope you and mom are being nice to each other. ;)

I love you.

things I miss...

- the toothbrush joke

- the way he'd say he was 5' 19" when people would ask how tall he was

- the way he drove

- mexi mess

- how he'd sleep through football games, but if you changed the channel his eyes popped open and he could tell you the score

- how he and mom were together before things went south

- the way he made everyone laugh

- how he tied my shoes on the way to preschool and kindergarten - totally unsafe for both of us

- how he taught me to tie my shoes (learning how to do it left handed and in a way that worked for me first)

- his "gun in the airport" jokes (that's what mom called them when he was being super "inappropriate")

- song lyrics

- his obsession over stereo equipment

- listening to him give talks in sacrament

cathartic writing

I've been so angry at dad today. Today is the first day I've felt like I've really suffered with this. On one hand it feels childish and stupid and on the other I keep hearing in my head "you need to feel your emotions, not stuff them." So I'm angry. Is it possible to be angry and still feel so grateful for all the tender mercies, etc.? I think with grief, anything's possible.

I'm angry that he didn't keep his promise. Even though that promise was an impossible promise and not within his power to keep. After mom died he promised me he wasn't going anywhere. And logically I know he didn't CHOOSE to go anywhere. I'm angry that I have to go through this again, especially so close together. When I let my emotions get the best of me, there are times that I'm still angry at mom too.

But there are so many positives too. There's the promises in the priesthood blessing I received. Mom and dad have the chance to work out their ridiculous crap (if you guys are reading this... it was ridiculous crap). Heavenly Father obviously needs them for something. I have witnessed so many tender mercies. All those are positives.

When mom passed away I remember wishing that I had siblings that grieved (more or less) the same I did. That I wasn't alone in what I felt. That someone who had a similar relationship with her grieved for her too. But, although many people grieved her, no one grieved her like I did. Although I technically have siblings this time around, we aren't close (in relationship or locale), so once again I find myself grieving alone. And it's awful.

I wouldn't wish this particular trial on anyone. Even my worst enemy. Losing a parent is gut-wrenching in a way I can't describe, even when you know it's right. Even when you have indications beforehand. Even when you know that you'll see them again. Even when tender mercies are all around you.

People have told me lately how strong they think I am. While I appreciate the sentiment and what I think it means they think of me, they're wrong. So wrong. It's not strength. Not really. It's just being faced with a trial and having no other way through it. Until you break down and have to do some cathartic writing.

Ode to an ugly rocking chair

Growing up we had this blue velvet-like rocking chair in our living/family room. I'm not sure how long we had it, but it seems like forever. It was a treasure trove of lost change from my dad's pockets - I remember once I found a $20 bill and thought I was so rich. :) And I think he let me keep it too.

But my favorite memory of that ugly blue rocking chair is a story that my mom used to tell me. When I was a baby, she used to rock me in that chair while listening to music. Not lullabies - that wasn't her style. No, she'd listen to REO Speedwagon and Bruce Springsteen while she rocked me in that chair.

To this day, whenever I hear "Born in the USA" and a host of other '70s and '80s songs, I immediately think of my dear sweet mama and that chair. Recently, I started listening to a lot of '80s music on Pandora (my poor roommate!) and I realized how happy I've felt the past few weeks. The memories are sweet. And, yes, I really do like some of the music. :)

(no, this isn't the chair... just a close approximation courtesy of Google; via)

Enumerate.

As much as I love this time of year, it's also extremely painful and I can tell that Satan doesn't want me to focus on my blessings, but that's exactly why I need to.... because the alternative is crying and wallowing in self-pity (but let's be honest, the crying will happen regardless).

In the last three years, I have:

Started (and almost) finished graduate school.

Found a good job (and then got promoted to a better one).

Crossed off two major things from my bucket list.... London and a train ride (from Scotland, no less).

Moved into my own apartment.

Paid off all debt related to mom and her health issues.

Bought a car.

Bought a Vitamix.

Gained a sister (and brothers, but I don't know them as well).

Discovered what an amazing family I have.

Studied abroad.

Gone through the temple.

Found joy in simple things.

And most importantly, I have discovered that it is possible to survive the seemingly impossible.

Thanks to all who have supported, put up with, carried and pushed me while I found my way. I love you all.

playlist

I read somewhere once (sounds reliable, huh?) that if you look at someone's playlist you can tell a lot about what's going on in their life at that moment. I think that's so true, because I know my affinity for certain songs changes as circumstances change. 

On my playlist now... a little nostalgia, a little empowerment, a little melancholia and a little hope. No, I'm not going to tell you what I'm listening to now because I'm not that brave. I'm not brave enough for a lot of things right now. Right now I feel a little "locked in" by my own demons and others' perceptions (that's no one's fault; I haven't stood up for myself enough to change them). 

Today I had a conversation with someone about my trip to London and how amazing it was. It really was amazing. Despite having to carry my demons with me, I didn't feel like I was locked in on that trip. I wish I could've brought that home with me. I am so grateful to be home, so very very grateful, but I have no idea how to not revert back to my "pre-London" self.

I felt spiritually stronger in London, even though I only got to attend sacrament once and I was surrounded by people not of my faith 24/7 in environments not necessarily conducive to the spirit. I know that part of this was due to my utter reliance on Heavenly Father to get through the simplest things and to avoid panic attacks. I couldn't afford to be complacent in any way. It's definitely easier to become complacent at home, but I've also had some incredible instances where the spirit was undeniable (walking into the chapel for the temple dedication I was immediately emotional because it just felt so right... and hearing sweet little Andi's blessing almost made me burst into tears). But I come home and there are the demons again. It's awful. 

Three years ago. Two years ago. One year ago. Six months ago I couldn't have even fathomed the things that have happened in my life. Sometimes I can't even bear to think about it because it just feels too great (in a great way). But at the same time I don't feel like I have enough strength to cross that final gap that exists between now and who I want to be. Before I left for England sweet, awesome Rhett gave me a blessing where I was told that this trip was necessary for me to become the person Heavenly Father needed me to be. I believe that. I just don't know what to do now.

I came across this quote on a website I like to "window shop" (because I really can't afford anything there, but it just feels like "me"):

"Do the best you can until you know better, then when you know better, do better." ~ MAYA ANGELOU

When I started going to counseling one of the first things Clara told me is that I wasn't "responsible" for any choices I had made because of anxiety - that I shouldn't feel guilty about anything because I was doing the best I could with what I had to work with. But she also told me that I already had a good "toolbox" and was handling my anxiety really well. Compared to some of the scenarios I've read, I know that's true but it certainly doesn't feel like it. And now, in the midst of panic attacks I wonder, "how responsible am I for whatever choice I make to alleviate this?" 

I should either be in bed or editing my paper

BUT, alas I am not doing either of those things. Sundays are very reflective days for me. Not always in a positive way, but I think in a necessary way. Move #39 has been difficult. While the apartment and roommate situation is more than I could have hoped for at this stage in my life, it has also been an emotional adjustment. On top of that add working full time, trying to finish study abroad homework and now do my regular semester homework and I've been feeling stretched a little thin. Sundays are also the days where I miss the mama the most and today I got a sad, small reminder of just how much. However, as I overheard someone say tonight, "how can we be sad for them?" I can't be sad for her. I just can't. But sometimes I feel just a little sad for me. Sometimes it's a pity party and sometimes, it's just a longing for what was and what could have been and what I see people around me still have.

Study abroad homework = 99% done (and it's due tomorrow).

Only 13 weeks left of grad school (when I say it like that it doesn't feel so LONG!).

More blessings than I can count.

And a healing heart (I hope!).

I'm a little afraid

Tomorrow's the big day... Moving day. I was just downstairs making sure I had all 15 boxes ready and looking over my box inventory (yes, when I packed the initial 12 boxes in Texas I made a list of what was in each box and numbered the boxes) to see which boxes needed to be unpacked right away. 

I'm afraid of 2 things: change and memories. Those boxes have been packed for 21 months. And although I've unpacked them and repacked them in Texas, those boxes hold what's left of my tangible reminders of mom. The Effiel Tower sheets she surprised me with for my birthday that I will put on my bed tomorrow. My cookbook collection that she'd add to every christmas or birthday. Stupid little things that just remind me. 

On one hand I know these will be comforting, but on the other I just don't want to face it. Does it make sense that I can't wait to see my life again, but I'm afraid of it too? And I miss her like crazy. 

Home sweet apartment

The time has finally come for me to move into my own apartment. While the apartment hunting game wasn't without stress, I'm really pleased with how it turned out and realize (once again) that Heavenly Father is completely in control. I have been so blessed in the almost three years that mom has been gone and a sweet and inspired email from one of my favorite missionaries this week just reconfirmed that. 

BUT decorating my (master!) bedroom in said apartment is harder. I cannot find a bed frame I love enough to actually want to spend money on. There is a bed frame from Urban Outfitters that I LOVE, but it's a staggering $650 and I really can't figure out why, because as much as I love it, it's a relatively simple design. When I sent a picture of it to my dad he said he could DIY it pretty easily... but he has no plans to come out here anytime soon. So for now, I'm planning on the "mattress on the floor" route until I find something WAY more affordable that I like just as much. ;)

(All images are from UO.)

I'm also trying to decide on a dresser. It's either the Hemnes from IKEA or the Malm (also from IKEA) with the hopes of doing something like this soon. 

Decor woes aside, I'm super excited for Barney (my beloved purple kitchenaid) to come out of storage after a year and a half and relieved that I'm finally in a position where I CAN move out. I'm so blessed.