You know that Ingrid Michaelson song? The one that was on that Grey's episode a while back; the one about snow. This one:
I was listening to it yesterday and had to stop my car because it hit me.
I love snow.
Snow melts.
But it doesn't matter how many times it melts or summer comes around, I still love snow.
It's almost like the snow being gone makes me appreciate it more.
Well, shouldn't love be the same way? It's supposed to be soft and quiet and unexpected.
It's supposed to shock and awe you.
Yes, sometimes it's going to fade. Sometimes the wind is going to blow it away.
But we shouldn't waste all our time being upset that it melted.
We should just be excited that it's going to come again. Maybe this time it will come faster and harder. And maybe this time it will stay longer.
Maybe this time you will be better prepared.
I'm trying to focus on the happy 'maybe's in life.
Saturday, November 24, 2012
Thursday, November 22, 2012
I've been waiting for midnight.
Guys, I'm thankful that I still haven't been forced to see the last Twilight movie. (Or any of the other Twilight movies.)
I'm grateful for electric blankets since I still haven't coerced a certain male into cuddling with me.
I'm thankful that I'm not a vegetarian, because rib eye steak.
I'm grateful for Target; especially their clearance sections.
I'm thankful that my brother said today that he's happy I was born. That's practically him saying he loves me.
I'm grateful for brownies and mint chocolate chip ice cream.
And I'm thankful for Gerard Butler's bum and face and biceps. And the parts in between too.
And that wasn't meant to sound scandalous...
What are you thankful for?
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
It is not the end.
President Uchtdorf:
“No matter how bleak the chapter of our lives may look today, because of the life and sacrifice of Jesus Christ, we may hope and be assured that the ending of the book of our lives will exceed our grandest expectations.
“And to all who suffer—to all who feel discouraged, worried, or lonely—I say with love and deep concern for you, never give in. Never surrender. Never allow despair to overcome your spirit. Embrace and rely upon the Hope of Israel, for the love of the Son of God pierces all darkness, softens all sorrow, and gladdens every heart.”
“And to all who suffer—to all who feel discouraged, worried, or lonely—I say with love and deep concern for you, never give in. Never surrender. Never allow despair to overcome your spirit. Embrace and rely upon the Hope of Israel, for the love of the Son of God pierces all darkness, softens all sorrow, and gladdens every heart.”
Sunday, November 18, 2012
the long and complicated story of my recovery.
Today I finally reached the surface of the water; I took my first breath, and was filled with life once again.
As I work through the events of the past year I am overcome with the lessons I have learned. Overcome with feelings of love and gratitude.
There are two people who know my struggle. Not even my parents know, unless of course they are now reading this. I've given hints and passing sentences, but not details. I won't even attempt to do that here.
You see, eleven months ago I decided that I was going to end my life.
I wouldn't share this except that I feel it will help convey the seriousness with which I take the following. My reason for returning to this blog, isn't to discuss my downward spiral, it's to share my journey of swimming back up. To share the reasons why I can once again, call myself a dreamer.
The first flotation device I was thrown:
I had been underwater for a long time; I'd long since run out of oxygen. And then a boy named Nate showed up on my doorstep and told me so many sweet things. He told me sweet things and I, in my self-deprecating state, was less than sweet in return. I was down-right awful to him, actually. Mostly because I had such low self-esteem that I couldn't believe he meant the things he said, and partly because I had been a sincere jerk my whole life, and didn't quite know how else to respond to people.
But his efforts showed me that someone cared, and before that I had felt so invisible, so irrelevant. His kindness and forever-happy spirit showed me that I could make decisions to progress. I could kick my legs and fight to get to the surface. He unknowingly started pulling, while for the first time I started fighting.
The second flotation device:
I had made progress. Plans of how and when and where to end my life no longer plagued every thought. But after sinking for so long, my muscles simply couldn't fight anymore. I began to stagnate my ascent. I learned to fake-swim -- to look like I was working and happy, but still wasn't at all. At this point, no one knew of my struggle. I remember I was at church for the first time in months and people asked how I was. Each time I would enthusiastically reply that I was wonderful, that my life was lovely. Then once, after someone had walked away, I heard a voice over my shoulder. Riley told me that my answer was the most fake thing he had ever heard me say.
I was caught. Embarrassed and enraged and guilty, I hastily made up an excuse and went on with my day. But his blunt reaction taught me that I wasn't fooling someone, and that knowledge made me wonder if I was even fooling anyone. I could no longer fake it till I made it. I had to actually do something.
This is where the fight gets hazy. "Isn't it funny how day by day, nothing changes. But when you look back, everything is different?" - C.S. Lewis
All I know is that there was a lot of prayer. A lot of church. A lot of looking outside myself. A lot of kicking, a lot of screaming.
Mostly, there was hope:
Hope for air. Hope for happiness. Hope for good days.
I would pick landmarks and swim to them as fast as I could. Birthday parties, trips, and holidays. Anything that required celebration and was in the future. I started to make things exciting so that I would look forward to them. I listened to Dory and just kept swimming.
As I got closer and closer to shore, the water would get brighter and clearer. So many times I had thought I had broken through, only to realize that I was still amid a battle. But I could see things better, I could see how far I had come and finally I had something within myself to propel me forward.
Then there were two life vests thrown toward me:
Combined because they are brothers, Kyle and Nathan taught me that a person can be wholesome and pure while being outrageously funny and pleasant. They taught me that not all males are inappropriate. Not all males are jerks. They showed me what men act like.
These men reminded me of laughter. Of teasing and frustrated giggles. They have changed my perception of and renewed my faith in marriage. After coming to dry land, I learned that I have a mountain to climb. But these two taught me that although it will be a difficult road, it can be filled with joy and lots of silliness.
Finally, there was learning:
I have learned that progress is progress and that is worth celebrating.
I have learned that the greatest gift you can give someone is the benefit of the doubt.
I have learned that celery is not poison, especially when it is covered in peanut butter.
I have learned that water doesn't have to drown you; that from the right source, water can fill you and lift you higher than you ever thought possible.
I've learned that there are men in my midst. Men that are clean and respectable and gentlemen and fun. Men that make me laugh. I've learned most of these lessons from men younger than me, but who have such a better grasp on life than I do.
I have learned that dating is the worst, but it is nice to be asked on dates nonetheless.
I have learned that I have an infinite ability to work. For happiness, and money and an education. I have power and means and time. Oh, how lovely the gift of time is.
I have learned that I can run, and I've learned to love the pain that comes after strengthening my muscles.
I have learned about all my flaws and imperfections, my tendencies to judge and gossip. I have learned that I can be tolerant and kind. I have not perfected this, but I am growing every day.
I've learned that JoAnna is the most incredible woman on the planet, and I am so happy to call her my beautiful best friend. I am so lucky to have had her by my side through this whole journey, and thank my lucky stars that she continues support me and offer her sunshine to me every day.
I have learned that dark days come to an end. That there is light at the end of the tunnel. You have to walk toward it though.
I have learned that no one can encroach on my ability to be righteous. No one can hinder me from pleasing God. No one can halt my journey. This makes it easier to move on, even when they treat me badly.
I have learned that lipstick isn't evil. It makes you feel fancy and grown-up.
I have learned that tears are healthy. They dry like raindrops, and are always followed by rainbows.
I have learned that you can cry a river of tears, but that you should probably build a boat first.
I have learned that Jesus Christ is the way, the light and the truth. He is the son of God. He is my brother. I have been a believer my whole life, but now I know the reality of His mission. He has given me a life worth living.
I have learned to forgive myself.
As I work through the events of the past year I am overcome with the lessons I have learned. Overcome with feelings of love and gratitude.
There are two people who know my struggle. Not even my parents know, unless of course they are now reading this. I've given hints and passing sentences, but not details. I won't even attempt to do that here.
You see, eleven months ago I decided that I was going to end my life.
I wouldn't share this except that I feel it will help convey the seriousness with which I take the following. My reason for returning to this blog, isn't to discuss my downward spiral, it's to share my journey of swimming back up. To share the reasons why I can once again, call myself a dreamer.
The first flotation device I was thrown:
I had been underwater for a long time; I'd long since run out of oxygen. And then a boy named Nate showed up on my doorstep and told me so many sweet things. He told me sweet things and I, in my self-deprecating state, was less than sweet in return. I was down-right awful to him, actually. Mostly because I had such low self-esteem that I couldn't believe he meant the things he said, and partly because I had been a sincere jerk my whole life, and didn't quite know how else to respond to people.
But his efforts showed me that someone cared, and before that I had felt so invisible, so irrelevant. His kindness and forever-happy spirit showed me that I could make decisions to progress. I could kick my legs and fight to get to the surface. He unknowingly started pulling, while for the first time I started fighting.
The second flotation device:
I had made progress. Plans of how and when and where to end my life no longer plagued every thought. But after sinking for so long, my muscles simply couldn't fight anymore. I began to stagnate my ascent. I learned to fake-swim -- to look like I was working and happy, but still wasn't at all. At this point, no one knew of my struggle. I remember I was at church for the first time in months and people asked how I was. Each time I would enthusiastically reply that I was wonderful, that my life was lovely. Then once, after someone had walked away, I heard a voice over my shoulder. Riley told me that my answer was the most fake thing he had ever heard me say.
I was caught. Embarrassed and enraged and guilty, I hastily made up an excuse and went on with my day. But his blunt reaction taught me that I wasn't fooling someone, and that knowledge made me wonder if I was even fooling anyone. I could no longer fake it till I made it. I had to actually do something.
This is where the fight gets hazy. "Isn't it funny how day by day, nothing changes. But when you look back, everything is different?" - C.S. Lewis
All I know is that there was a lot of prayer. A lot of church. A lot of looking outside myself. A lot of kicking, a lot of screaming.
Mostly, there was hope:
Hope for air. Hope for happiness. Hope for good days.
I would pick landmarks and swim to them as fast as I could. Birthday parties, trips, and holidays. Anything that required celebration and was in the future. I started to make things exciting so that I would look forward to them. I listened to Dory and just kept swimming.
As I got closer and closer to shore, the water would get brighter and clearer. So many times I had thought I had broken through, only to realize that I was still amid a battle. But I could see things better, I could see how far I had come and finally I had something within myself to propel me forward.
Then there were two life vests thrown toward me:
Combined because they are brothers, Kyle and Nathan taught me that a person can be wholesome and pure while being outrageously funny and pleasant. They taught me that not all males are inappropriate. Not all males are jerks. They showed me what men act like.
These men reminded me of laughter. Of teasing and frustrated giggles. They have changed my perception of and renewed my faith in marriage. After coming to dry land, I learned that I have a mountain to climb. But these two taught me that although it will be a difficult road, it can be filled with joy and lots of silliness.
Finally, there was learning:
I have learned that progress is progress and that is worth celebrating.
I have learned that the greatest gift you can give someone is the benefit of the doubt.
I have learned that celery is not poison, especially when it is covered in peanut butter.
I have learned that water doesn't have to drown you; that from the right source, water can fill you and lift you higher than you ever thought possible.
I've learned that there are men in my midst. Men that are clean and respectable and gentlemen and fun. Men that make me laugh. I've learned most of these lessons from men younger than me, but who have such a better grasp on life than I do.
I have learned that dating is the worst, but it is nice to be asked on dates nonetheless.
I have learned that I have an infinite ability to work. For happiness, and money and an education. I have power and means and time. Oh, how lovely the gift of time is.
I have learned that I can run, and I've learned to love the pain that comes after strengthening my muscles.
I have learned about all my flaws and imperfections, my tendencies to judge and gossip. I have learned that I can be tolerant and kind. I have not perfected this, but I am growing every day.
I've learned that JoAnna is the most incredible woman on the planet, and I am so happy to call her my beautiful best friend. I am so lucky to have had her by my side through this whole journey, and thank my lucky stars that she continues support me and offer her sunshine to me every day.
I have learned that dark days come to an end. That there is light at the end of the tunnel. You have to walk toward it though.
I have learned that no one can encroach on my ability to be righteous. No one can hinder me from pleasing God. No one can halt my journey. This makes it easier to move on, even when they treat me badly.
I have learned that lipstick isn't evil. It makes you feel fancy and grown-up.
I have learned that tears are healthy. They dry like raindrops, and are always followed by rainbows.
I have learned that you can cry a river of tears, but that you should probably build a boat first.
I have learned that Jesus Christ is the way, the light and the truth. He is the son of God. He is my brother. I have been a believer my whole life, but now I know the reality of His mission. He has given me a life worth living.
I have learned to forgive myself.
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