What a Month!

March has brought a lot of surprises and even more adventrures!
Looking back, I don't even know where the month has gone, but here we are, on the last day of the month!
Last year at this time I was wishing the world would spin a little faster because the school year was dragging on for what felt like forever.
This year, I wish it would slow down a little!

In the past few weeks I have been busy.  Mostly with things no one else sees necessary to blog about, but I have so little time in my life to do normal things that I find them earth-shatteringly important. 

• I finally got my hair done (I've been wanting to do it for aabout 6 months).  It didn't turn out how I was imagining but I am getting used to it and even starting to like it. 

• I went to the dentist. (Its been a while okay?)
• I went to my first "Festival of Colors" at the Hindu temple in Spanish Fork.  If you live in Utah or have friends in Utah, there is no way you can ignore this festival.  Especially if you have facebook.  I had a great time and really enjoyed this crazy, cultural, religious, local event.  It has sort of a devoted fan following and I was happy to participate.  It was right up my alley.
• I went to the doctor.  I haven't been to a doctor in over 3 years.  I hate going to the doctor's office and I have valid reasons actually.  Every time I go, something worse happens to me.  Usually I go in with something small and seemingly easy to take care of, and come out with something much worse. This time, I went in for routine immunizations (for travel this summer) received Hep. A and TDaP shots and only hours later had a raging infection in the arm where the TDaP shot was given.  My arm swelled to twice its size, was red, hot, and very, very painful.  I had a fever for a few days, was hallucinating, threw up for 12 hours, and had hot/cold sweats for days.  Of course, because I got a fever--and one of my triggers for a migraine is a high fever--I had a massive migraine for 4 days.  Let me tell you, I don't ever want to go into the doctor again after this.  I would be the 1%.
   
• I finished The Biggest Loser event at my local gym.  Finishing was all I was hoping for but I actually did better than I had thought.  I placed 13th out of 35, so not too awful.  I ended up losing less than I had wanted (I would have loved to lose 50 pounds) but did well for 7 weeks.  I just hope to keep up the working out so that I can stay healthy and happy.  Exercising definitely puts me in a better mindset. 

I guess I can say good-bye to March without any hard feelings.  All in all, I don't think I will be missing this month when it comes to next year.

Don't Mind Me, I'm Just Lamenting

It seems I've been around a lot of amazing people in my life.
Especially amazing women.
I've known a lot of wonderful women who have gone on missions for the LDS church and I've been witness to the joy at reading their calls, the fun and anticipation of preparation, the long weeks of the MTC, the nerves of entering the "field," the struggles of dealing with difficult companions, and the joys, graces, fears, frustrations, triumphs, learning, and growth that comes from a call to serve the Lord.  I've supported, written, sent packages, comforted, been at their houses on Christmas and Mother's Day for the phone calls, waited at the airport, and dealt with the awkward returns.  I've faithfully stood by my friends who have chosen to serve. I've felt true love and joy for them and their choice. I've smiled about it, laughed about it, cried about it, and loved it, but I've never actually held it for myself.
Every time I send someone out, I always feel a bit melancholy, remembering how I have always thought I'd serve.  I remember being a little girl, dreaming of the mission I would serve; a dream yet to come to pass, if ever.
Every time I send someone out, I feel the pang of sadness that reminds me how much I will miss my friend for those 18 months.  And how much I will be missing out on.
Every time I send someone out, I feel a stab of jealousy knowing that my friend will come back a changed person. I will be pretty much the same.  My friend will come back a better person, no matter how good they are in the first place.  I will still be the same.  My friend will be a person with new friends, never to be forgotten or replaced; a person belonging to a group comraderie that will always trump those of us who stayed behind.  I feel a stab of jealousy that refers to my wish to belong to something so intimate and life-changing. 
As I think about my life, and as I compare it to those who have made the faithful choice to serve, I often believe I have wasted my time; believing I missed my chance. 
And then sometimes I remember: my whole life has been a mission.  I always feel that way after those moments of jealousy, sadness, and desire.m  I can remember that I have served, and have felt the joys of missionary work.  Because in reality, I've served all around the world.  I've brought souls to the gospel.  I've influenced others.  I've studied the gospel.  Though I've never done so under the official call of the First Presidency, I HAVE served.  And I'm serving NOW...just in a different capacity.
It may not be in the cards for me to serve a full-time mission, but I haven't wasted my life.  I may not have been able to foresee my role in missionary work as the one who writes missionaries--faithfully every single week, mind you!--but nothing in my life has followed a cookie cutter path, so how surprised should I be?
So to those faithful friends, chosen to witness for His name, tell His story, proclaim His love, and I will try to look forward with my own faith, and mission.

Feeling like a zode

Do you ever feel like one decision can change your whole world?
Do you ever feel like that decision is practically impossible to make?
I feel like that. 
It seems so silly...one decision is not necessarily the end or the beginning, but it feels that way.
I have so many things to decide these days and I feel like the decisions weigh so heavily on my mind and my heart that I just want to make the choice.  But, I also have a highly logical side that needs to weigh every pro and every con and analyze and feel out every single aspect of the choice. 
I wish I could just fly by the seat of my pants and choose whatever I feel like choosing at that moment. 
I'm just not that way. 
I just can't be happy with a decision I make spontaneously. 
I need the peace of mind of knowing, a year later, that when I made the decision, it was with careful thought and planning. 
Its just that I don't have peace of mind while trying to make the decision. 
Ugh.
I'm weary just thinking about it.
Wish me luck. 
Maybe someday I will have an answer to this connundrum.

Mentally Unstable

When did it become a sign of mental illness to want to talk about life?
Back when I was younger, like living at home as a middle school and high school kid kind of younger, I had friends I was so close to that we shared just about everything.  We used to talk for hours of our dreams, our fears, our hopes, our plans.  We laughed, cried, talked seriously, acted crazy, and played together without inhibition.  Those friends were people who, at the time, truly cared about me and my life.  Those friends were people who really wanted to know about me and my struggles and triumphs. 

Life seemed so complicated then, but we were really dealing with a much simpler kind of struggle.  Things were more clear because the hard things were the only things we were trying to fix.  The rest of life came because our parents, teachers, church leaders, etc. were taking care of them in order for things to be good for us.  We just had to deal with our own lives and our own immediate surroundings.
Now that I am, ahem, older...life isn't so simple.  Not only do the trials get more complex, the things  used to take for granted only exist if I create them.  A home to live in, food on my table, clothes to wear: all things I have to provide for myself these days.  That's just life.  However, things are much more complicated, intense, and dare I say, more difficult now, partly because of the needs I must take care of myself and partly because life just tends to get more complicated with this age. 

Yet, in this interesting and struggle-filled time, if an adult like me wants someone to share my thoughts with, someone who will listen to my fears, my hopes, my dreams, my plans, I am considered mentally unstable.  Oh sure, maybe not openly, but if you try to get close enough to someone to share those deep feelings and emotions, people start to believe you are a mess.  Its pretty commone to hear people talk about a person who has some depth to their emotions as "needing a therapist."

Why in the hardest parts of life, do we, as a human race, seem to shut each other away?  Why are we so concerned about out souls bumping into each other?  Why do we think we are so capable and strong on our own?  Why isn't sharing and lifting each other's burdens just an expected part of life? 

Instead we try to survive on our own, ignoring the need to share and help, dismissing the desire to care about each other, and supressing the hope that somone else might actually give us a chance to care about them as we hope to be cared about. 

It seems strangely ironic to me that so many of my generation are bloggers.  No, not because it takes a dedication to writing, and no, not because we are a generation of techies, and no, not because we are interested in a lot of attention, but because blogs are a place where people can write whatever is on their minds and find mental and emotional release, gratis. Cheap therapy.  Who needs a therapist?  All you need is a hundred or so close internet friends who will listen like those friends used to in middle school.  The difference?  Those readers can choose when to listen to your struggles and when to conveniently not read your blog.

Do I sound upset?  I'm not at all.  I just happen to have feelings and ideas that no one else will listen to without calling me crazy.  I just had these thoughts tonight and wondered who might care to listen.  Like a therapist, or like an old-school kind of friend.

Everybody's Got to Have a Body...

It's a weird thought for me sometimes...
To think about having a body. 
It's weird because it isn't all of me, but a huge part of me (pardon the unintended pun)
I have this crazy body that can do all kinds of crazy things!
My body can move, jump, sit, run, dance, lift weights, spin, and on and on.
My body can get strong. 
My body can get weak.
My body can repair itself.
My body can destroy my ability to breathe.
My body can lose its voice.
My body can scream and shout and laugh and sing.
My body has done all those things in just the past few days!
I am constantly amazed and astounded at the abilities I have because I have this physical body that can do so many things.  I am honestly impressed with the way I can push my body to do more than my mind thinks is possible and still keep going.  I am baffled by the way my body can work for me, and against me.
It is pretty amazing to think about all that my body can accomplish, on its own and with my mind (when it is functioning) as a partner. 
I don't know how to explain my amazement without sounding too crazy, but I am definitely impressed. 
Lately, I have been able to see what my body can do.  Being sick, getting well, gaining weight, working out, losing weight, running, surviving...it is all possible.  And there are so many more things that my body is capable of that I can't even begin to imagine.  It is possible that I could make my body run a marathon someday (if I convinced my mind that I wanted to do that).  My body could climb Mount Everest.  My body could swim the English Channel.  Of course it would take some work and some choices, but it IS capable of all that. 
How grateful I am for a working body.
Impressive.  Really, really impressive.