overwhelmed...

Wednesday was like almost any other Wednesday. Except for one thing: while I was attempting to butter some French bread, I found myself slumped against the counter with no recollection of the few seconds before I fell.

The pain has been bad this week.

Thursday was much like Wednesday, minus the French bread and the passing out. The physical and emotional pain peaked. I was scared, angry, tired, and alone -- alone in the sense that I was stuck in my body and mind, and trying to get out was too exhausting.

And then, I was asked out on a date. Not just any normal run-of-the-mill homework date, which has become the standard due to our heavy workloads, but a real one. Where he called me up and issued a formal invitation; I put on a skirt, blouse, and heels, and he wore slacks with a tie; he picked me up at 7:30; I wasn't allowed to open any doors at all (usually he opens the car door for me to get inside, and I let myself out because I'm silly that way); he took me to Mimi's Cafe; and we talked for hours. And not just all of that-- he came to my door in my favorite green shirt and the jacket I got him for his birthday, holding a white rose tinged with brilliant red, a box of all dark chocolates, and strawberries with chocolate syrup for later on (our new favorite treat because we can't afford real chocolate covered strawberries, nor do we have time to make them).

A day later, I still can't entirely comprehend it all. That someone would go so out of his way for me -- to get off work, to wear the clothes I like so much, to bring gifts that mean a lot to me, and to take me somewhere so nice -- even in the face of missing valuable homework time. Because he knew I was hurting, and that things had been hard. Because he wanted to make me smile.

What's even more amazing to me is that this isn't the first time this has happened.

It's overwhelming in the best way.

one month...

Until my high school best friend comes home.

The guy who made me laugh.
The guy who made me cry -- because I was laughing so hard.
The guy who took me to Homecoming junior year and now associates me with the color brown (dress).
The guy who helped our friend ask me to Prom to make absolutely certain I would get to go.
The guy who held me when my heart got broken.
The guy who took me to a dance when I was having a bad day.
The guy who forgot to pick me up for three hours and then bought us ice cream.
The guy who biked to my house in the rain dressed as a clown when I was sick to cheer me up.
The guy who fought with me about random stuff.
The guy who shot me over and over with Nerf guns.
The guy who locked me in a closet.
The guy who brought eggnog, Kit Kats, and fuzzy socks to my house at 11:30 at night when I was sad.
The guy who stole my car keys, my shoes, my phone, and my car, all in one afternoon.
The guy who quoted movie lines with me for hours.
The guy who taught me that I was beautiful.

I couldn't have made it through high school without him.

One month. Can't wait!

death looks good on me...

Actually, that's false. Death does not look good on me, and so I cannot wait for the day (hopefully tomorrow) that my skin is not pasty white, my eyes are not glazed and dilated, my lips are not a greyish blue color, and the circles of black beneath my lashes disappear.

Seriously. I don't think I've been this violently sick since I was a kid. Whatever this particular strain of stomach bug is, it's a doozy. Last night was the worst -- in the past when I've had a norovirus, I'll only empty my stomach three or four times over 24 hours. Not so with this bout -- 9 times in 8 hours. OUCH.

I am so done with this. Beyond looking like death, I've felt like dying, rather than going through this anymore. It's much, MUCH better at this point, but last night...wow. WOW. SO. FREAKING. SICK.

Poor Adam has it, too. And his sisters. And two of his brothers. And six of his cousins (so far). And his dad. And my roommate.

It's like the plague!

But really. I'm about ready to be done. Because, death does not look good on me (nor does it feel good) -- yet, I'm too exhausted to put on make-up to cover it up. Probably wouldn't make much of a difference, anyway.

Adam, however, disagrees with the "look like death" thing. Honestly, I never thought I'd find a man who would tell me I was beautiful when I, in my opinion, clearly look awful; who'd cuddle me up close to help me feel better; who'd kiss me despite my dry, dehydrated lips; who'd spend an entire afternoon watching Lord of the Rings on a cushion bed in the living room with me; who'd be so sweet and kind no matter how I look or feel.

I am the luckiest sick girl in the world.

Best sick day ever.

i may be a bit depressed...

Rather than sit at my desk and beat myself up for feeling depressed (because that always helps), I am now an objective observer.

Okay.

My stomach is in knots and I constantly fight throwing up. I think I'm nervous about something, that something being something I have yet to discover (or perhaps I haven't let myself examine in detail?).

Headaches are again a common occurrence, as is a sort of painful fatigue in the limbs, joints, and muscles of my body. The only routine change I can think of is adding yoga back into my life (never thought I'd miss that, but I do), but last semester it always made me feel better. I still feel better after completing a session.

Honestly, I'm always close to tears. I have to be super careful about not letting things set me off (like a song on the radio, a joking remark from a friend, coworker, family member, etc., a low score, among other things).

When I sleep, I have nightmares. When I don't sleep, well. That's no good for anyone.

This self-exam is leading to evaluating what I'm thinking about, or evaluating what I'm not letting myself admit that I'm thinking about. And so. I will now put it in writing and make it legitimate.

1. I am, without a doubt, absolutely terrified of getting married. Don't get me wrong, I. Love. Adam. So. Much. And I want to be with him forever. All of our talk, though, and the continual progression towards marriage is scaring me to death. Not all of the time, but more often than I let myself admit.
2. Spending money on a ring...ugh. That is probably the thing I worry about the most.
3. Neck and neck with that is planning a wedding without causing serious conflict between family members. Shoot me now. But at least my family likes Adam. That's one less thing to worry about.
4. Finals are in two weeks for me -- my classes don't have finals like the rest of the university does. I'm so behind, and this has been the hardest, worst semester academics-wise for me in my entire life.
5. Finding a place to live is going to be a nightmare -- and that's after going through the difficulty of moving back home in June when the House owners come back.

Huh. No wonder I feel sick -- never have I faced such huge changes in my life.

Boo. I don't like feeling sad and worried and sick. And I really, really don't like crying. Nor do I have the time to do so.

fish-ay, fish-ay...

One of my most proud moments in my life was when I conquered my fear of shoulder-deep water and the possible loss of fingers to sharks and stingrays at the Living Planet Aquarium touch pool. Ever since that day a few years ago, I wanted to go back and visit the little swimming critters.

What's one of the best things about being in a serious dating relationship? You always have someone who is willing to go with you to the random places you find. Like on Saturday.

I feel like we should look more scared right now.

Ermergersh, ERTTERS! Or otters -- probably the best part of the entire aquarium (besides petting the stingray). 

Somethin's fishy... 

Yup! Fishy...sneaky!

me with my stingray buddy (we had a nice conversation) and Adam with his shark friend

Yup. He's adorable. Not to mention he bought me a stuffed otter toy -- we named her Chloe. 

So much fun. I love, love aquariums. I think part of it is because I'm so fascinated with ocean creatures, but I'm terrified of the actual ocean. As in won't go in the water above my ankles terrified. But everything in the ocean? Awesome. As long as I'm not in there with them, I mean.

Aw. That boy. Otter-ly adorable.

temple, temple...

One of the few places that I feel total peace is on the grounds of the temple. In this crazy, noisy, topsy-turvy world, I often find that my head and heart start being just as crazy, noisy, and topsy-turvy. Just walking in the gardens and sitting on the steps of the temple helps me get my spiritual bearings -- I drop my cares and worries for a moment, basking in the glow of the sun on the temple walls.

Sunday saw a visit to the St. George temple -- we stopped there before returning home from our spur of the moment adventure. Jeff, Chelsea, Adam, and I took turns taking pictures of one another on the grounds, soaking up the sunshine and enjoying one another's company.

Pretty much perfection right here, folks.

     I think we're pretty sweet together, don't you?

Except when he does this...not quite as sweet...

Yay, friends!

housemates, bromance to the max, best friends

What a wonderful world it is. 

Spring fake...

BYU has an age old tradition of not giving its students a spring break. The reasons they give seem to make sense, such as "you get out of school a week earlier than everyone else" and "it only prolongs time until finals." But we all know the truth: it's because they want to keep us away from all of the other colleges who are out partying, where we might get into trouble.

True story.

Due to dire need of a reprieve from school, work, and regular life in general, my housemate and I put our feet down and told our men that a holiday was in order. Late Thursday night saw hotel plans and grocery lists set, and 12 hours later we four were in the car for a St. George vacation, our very own fake break.

Adam, Jeff, Chelsea, and me at Fiest Fun enjoying a game of mini golf

Never a dull moment with these two around.

You see what I mean?!

      

I love this man so much.

Shhh!

Oh! You caught us!

Yep. We're all adorable. Such fun!

i have green toes...

Once upon a time, a green-eyed young man showed up at my house with a small bottle of green nail polish, two heating packs, a bag of Darkside Skittles, and a hello kiss on his lips. Why was this such a grand surprise?

1) the nail polish was a color I pointed out at the store more than three weeks ago -- I noticed the pretty color and commented that it would be perfect for spring time, especially if paired with little pink flowers. And who remembered and brought it to me on a rough day? Adam did.
2) the heating packs are absolutely marvelous for the aches
3) never heard of Darkside Skittles, but the Forbidden Fruit flavor is now up there on the candy list
4) who wouldn't want a hello kiss from her sweetheart?

And so now I have green toe nails because I can't paint my fingernails until tomorrow afternoon -- Henry 5 is still running, and my characters can't have green fingernails.

Isn't he the sweetest thing?

all wrapped up...

Adam (yes -- he does have a name) and I had quite the adventure on Saturday. We visited the Mummies of the World exhibit at the Leonardo Museum in Salt Lake City. While it was educational and interesting, I felt that the exhibit designers had leaned a bit on the theatrical side of presentation, rather than focusing on the informational and historical elements of the collection.

I'm very grateful that I've found someone who will allow me to muse about the moral and ethical dilemmas that I find when I visit museums and explore the exhibitions (seeing as it is what I intend to study when I go to graduate school). There is a large debate on the proper handling and displaying of human remains. As I walked through and observed the Mummies of the World exhibition, I was concerned at the way the exhibit designers emphasized the dramatics and mystery of studying mummies. The dim lighting is understandable, as certain light frequencies can damage the delicate remains. What I noticed was the combination of the lighting, the music, and the use of shroud-like fabric to separate the segments of the collection.

It was quite tomb-like. There was a certain creepiness to the atmosphere -- starting with the narration of the introductory video all the way through the end. Yes, there is mystery to mummies, and a certain morbid curiosity which I admittedly possess. But the emphasis on it was too much for me. 

Some of the mummies they showed were also quite iffy to me -- particularly the mummies of the human fetuses. I felt that some of the mummies were displayed less for educational purposes and more for spectacle or shock factor. A couple of times I found myself wondering how the person who inhabited the body on display feels about the handling and exhibition. I believe in post-mortal existence, as I am a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. It concerned me that the manner of display was not respectful enough, that it was all for show and dramatics, rather than in the interest of preserving the life and peoples of the past.

I was also frustrated with some of the language of the exhibit, which stated absolutes and information that we supposedly "know" and can derive completely, questions we can answer with certainty. Sometimes the language was not prescriptive; there were instances when the language was ambiguous, phrases like "this may have" and "it is possible." Those are perfect -- it is what museums in general strive for. What is not perfect is stating a fact about something that we cannot possibly know. We cannot presume to interpret meanings from things we really have no idea about. Interpretation is not the focus of current academia. 

There are multiple debates going on regarding these issues, including the Native American tribes and the display of those remains and interpretation of artifacts. The same debates are occurring with mummies and other things.

Poor, dear boy -- I think he's getting a better taste of what he's headed in to. But after Saturday, he still seems to love me quite a bit. A bit more than I realized, I think. 

I love that man. So very much. How could I not, when he takes me to museums on his free days, treats me to the Cheesecake Factory for lunch, lets me wax philosophical about the moral concerns in my field of study, harmonizes at the table while holding my hands and looking into my eyes, lets me wear his awesome leather jacket, puts up with my outbursts of silliness and OCD-ness at Pixel PlayLand, holds me close to him during church, sits with me when the pain becomes too much, and invites my family to dinner with us so he can get to know them better?

He was very involved in the circuitry boards -- he likes the kind of stuff. 

How can I not love him? I submit that it is quite impossible.

you know it's love when...

...you eat Disney princess Sphagettio's and drink Martinelli's for dinner together, and he talks about how much he enjoyed it for three days after

...he tells you that you're beautiful when your hair is a mess, you have no make-up on, and you're wearing sweats -- and you believe him

...a single text message can brighten your entire day

...you get butterflies from a simple kiss on the forehead or the back of your hand

...his advice for your biographical sketch on your scholarship application includes "write 'I'm the smartest, coolest, most beautiful girl at the school and you should give me money because someday, when my face is on a magazine, BYU will be famous, too. But not as famous as me because I'm just that awesome."

...you do dishes together and it's no longer a chore

...he tells your dog that he loves her and that she's a beautiful sweetheart

...you're encouraged to do your best and be your best, even when you personally don't want to

...he falls asleep on the floor next to the couch as you type up your paper, and when you ask him why he didn't just go home he replies and says, "Because I know that you've been hurting a lot lately, and it's easier for you to deal with when you're not alone -- just my being here helps you feel better. I love you."

...you can't help but smile at the mere memory of the look on his face when he says that he loves you

...you never open a door and you never carry something heavier than 10 pounds

...little notes and small treats mean more to you than the most expensive dinner or most elaborate evening out

...a single rose becomes a treasured possession

...you wish you could express the way you feel, but it's so incredible and beautiful that no words, no pictures, no music -- nothing -- can do justice to the joy and wonder that you feel inside

what I just realized...

dear Friend,

I told you last night that I don't want to go home.

"Why?"

"Everything in my life is back there. School. Work. Responsibility. People I'm scared of. I don't want to go back to all of it."

You reassured me about it all -- I appreciate that a lot.

I didn't tell you everything though.

Driving down the country lanes, stopping at random to take pictures of the sunset, taking turns choosing which direction to go at crossroads, telling stories about past adventures, dreaming about the future -- being together like that made me realize something.

"Home is where your heart is."

I've always brushed that aside as a silly cliche, one overused like "the grass is always greener." But you know something?

As cliche as these little sayings may be, they can be horribly true.

Which is also funny, because you said that this morning. When we said good-bye.

Perhaps I shouldn't say it. Perhaps I shouldn't think it. I wouldn't do those things if I could help it -- the thought came unbidden, unexpected -- they're random thoughts and you just happen to be in them.

And then, as usual, you're the one who voices the thoughts I don't say. Like we're on the same brain wave or something.

It's a little scary. And at the same time, it's not. It's comforting.

You still have my heart. Try as I might, I can't get it back. Because if you asked for it, I wouldn't hesitate in giving it to you forever.

I don't want to go home because you're not there.

At least I got to see you for a few days. You really don't know how much that meant to me.

all my love,
GKB

56 minutes, 23 seconds...

dear Friend,

That's the longest we've talked in weeks -- maybe a whole month.

After we got off the phone, I realized something. I wasn't in pain anymore. For the first time in four days straight, I didn't hurt. No headache, no back pain, no muscle cramps or anything. I didn't notice until I was making dinner ten minutes after we hung up. All of the sudden, the lack of pain caught my attention.

Maybe it's because you make me laugh so much -- laughter is, as they say, the best medicine.

Maybe it's because I know that you still care.

The pain is back now, but it's a bit easier to bear. Probably because I have your words to remember. You said some things that were quite timely. It's nice to know that you think I'm awesome, and strong, too. And now I have something to look forward to this weekend -- can't wait for Friday!

Anyway. I just wanted to say thank you. You probably still don't know how much you mean to me. Just know that you mean quite a lot.

all my love,
GKB

promptings...

I woke up today in a bit of a fog. Three nights in a row of bad dreams (most of which involve my friends getting killed in car accidents, being shot, intentionally overdosing, or myself being tortured) left me exhausted and full of undesirable thoughts.

With the after-dream mind-set, I began to get ready for the day. I pulled jeans and a t-shirt out of the closet, but immediately felt that my choice of attire was wrong. After arguing with myself and providing a long list of excuses, I gave in and selected a skirt and blouse. I was going to the temple today.

This afternoon was the first time I've attended the temple since Christmas. It had been a long time because of school, and then my recommend expired and I didn't notice until last month. I got it renewed on Sunday, and the man who interviewed me ended our meeting with these parting words: "Please use it often." I'm the type of girl who does what I'm told, especially if there's a slight second urging.

Just as I arrived, I got a text from my dad. All it said was "We got in a car accident. Call me please."

Seriously? Seriously. When it rains, it pours until you feel like you're drowning. But as I started to head back to my car, I stopped and called my dad. He told me that everyone was fine -- mom had some bad whiplash and the car had two scratches in the paint with a dent in the fender (Hondas are miniature tanks, I swear),, but other than that they were totally fine. Dad then told me to not come home, and to go to the temple as I had planned.

Again, I did as I was told. I was frustrated to see that it was very busy, and at first I was annoyed with myself because I forgot it's Wednesday today. Mutual night. Everyone goes to the baptistery on Wednesdays. But as I got ready and sat down in line, I found that I was glad to wait.

It was good to think and feel good inside -- it was the first time in several weeks that I haven't felt badgered by unhappy thoughts and feelings. It was definitely an hour and a half well spent -- I didn't want to leave.

Leave I did, and I was left to think more about what I had learned. But I was also faced with the irritating thoughts and feelings that I've been fighting a lot lately -- around and around they circled in my head. Dad's cancer. Callie's trauma. Work drama. Parker's difficulty. Financial things -- my own, my family's, and my friends'. My own shortcomings. Now the car wreck -- although that did turn out much better than it could have.

Slowly I started to sink back into this awful, dark sadness. I felt horribly guilty and sad and just bad in general. I didn't just need to talk to someone, I wanted to. But I was afraid to. My friends have their own problems, and my family doesn't know anything about what I've been thinking or feeling lately (or if they do, they're not saying anything -- I prefer it that way, actually). I didn't want to worry anyone, or bother anyone. Most of all, I didn't want to push anyone away.

A name came to mind, though. Call him, a little voice said in my head. Um...I don't think so, I replied. Do it, came the response. I thought about it, then asked, You sure? There was no verbal answer, but a warm feeling came over me and I knew it would be okay.

Until there was no answer. Then I felt dumb. I put it off to my imagination, and was relieved when my dad called me a few seconds later. And then my phone beeped while I was talking to him, and it beeped a second time when mom took her turn talking with me.

Two voice mails from the same person -- he'd called me back. Twice. 

So...you were right. Sorry about that, as I dialed the number again.

An hour and a half later, I felt free. I told him the truth about the past couple of months. I told him that what I'd said, about life being great and happy and fantastic wasn't completely true. He wasn't bothered. He wasn't angry. He wasn't even very disappointed in me. He just listened. He reminded me (quite firmly) that I'm not going to do any of this alone, that I'm not even supposed to do things alone. I still felt scared, and I still felt a little silly, but I didn't feel as scared or as silly as I had before. 

I'm glad I listened. I'm glad I obeyed.

Follow the promptings you have. If you get a notion to do something good, be it for you or for someone else, do it. Because in the end, you'll probably help both parties in ways you never imagined.  

2 hours, 4 minutes, and 12 seconds...

dear Friend,

While I don't agree that I would look awesome in sparkly, orange high heels, I do agree with something that you said before. Once upon a time you said that when you talk to me about the problems I'm facing, you often gain more insight than you feel you shared. You've thanked me for coming to you with a problem -- I haven't been able to figure it out until now.

It's true. Talking to you helped me see things I hadn't considered before. My words to you offered me solutions and gave me strength. You helped me remember things I'd forgotten -- things like the fact that the Savior loves me just as much as He loves you. And that things get better because He'll help us if we ask.

Knowing that you're there makes me feel stronger and braver -- thank you for being there to lift me up.

Thank you for letting me return the favor.

I love you. And I'm always here. Hope you know that.

all my love,
GKB

dear friend...

I miss you already.

1 hour, 38 minutes, and 41 seconds...

dear Friend,

I don't know how you can get me to spill secrets and dreams and worries that I never, ever planned on expressing to anyone or anything but my dog and the walls of my bedroom. I don't know how you can tell from the initial "hello" that something is wrong, how in 1 minute or less you understand I'm holding things back.

Somehow you always have time to listen. Despite your busy life, you make time for me -- me, of all people you could make time for. You never judge me, you never put me down, you never disregard my thoughts and feelings. Somehow you always have advice and words of comfort. And no matter what, you're there for me.

During and after such conversations, I often marvel at the fact that you're still here in my life. Even though you know about my issues -- and you truly do know more than almost anyone else in my world -- you're still here. I don't know if I can express my gratitude adequately. You're still here -- even though you see my dark side.

I don't know how you do it. Thank you. Thank you, thank you. You're remarkable. Truly.

And, just for the record, I've decided...well...you really must be a super hero.

all my love,
GKB