coffee with a shot of tears, roasted. . .

Someone tried to break into my apartment today.

Yesterday I got notified that someone went on a shopping spree with my bank info at the mall in Chicago.

The day before, I found out that my brain is full of veins that are "wonky," with no further explanation or plan or anything except instructions to take a medication I'm allergic to.

Exhausted and dreaming all of these dead dreams and sitting on my floor in the apartment with tears streaming down my face and the dogs sitting next to me and me not even realizing why or what for I'm crying. Watching tears fall into my coffee cup and ripple outwards to the edges. Salty salted caramel. Literally drinking tears. Roasted.

I hate feeling sorry for myself. I hate feeling like this. I hate that it has. . .hit. Me. I'm a fly on the wall. Swat. Hello, emptiness. Hello, emotional pain. Hello, distress. Hello, those feelings that demand to be felt but are so far away that it's like looking through an empty paper tube at something so small and so distant that I need a microscope to really analyze them. Yet as I analyze and dissect, I have no idea what I'm looking at.

Coffee with tears in it. Salted. Roasted.

Swat.

...

The tears come in quiet moments.
When the night has fallen and the stars awake in the sky;
when the city goes to bed, and the clock creeps slowly on to midnight.

Finally alone -- and I cry.

I cry for the sorrow, the hatred.
The pain. For the hunger and sickness -- for the loss.
But mostly

I cry for the children.

breaking...

Really.

It's the only word I can use to describe the way my life appears right now.

Nothing is working out. No matter where I turn or what I attempt, things fall apart. Often it's not my fault.

Like the fact that the IRS doesn't recognize my social security/address combination, and so there is now an issue with my financial aid. It clearly states my address and social security number on my tax return -- figure it out, government. Oh, wait -- that's too much to ask, isn't it?

Like the fact that I suddenly went from registered for ECON 110 to being 106th on the wait list and I'm a SENIOR.

Like the fact that I have to take ECON 110 at all.

Like the fact that I'm completely alone at home this week because my room mate is out of town in Disneyland, on a vacation that I thought I was going on as well. I'm still not sure why he broke up with me. At least I didn't buy a plane ticket.

Like the fact that my presentation partner flaked out on me and I ended up doing almost all of the work. NEVER have I had such awful groups, EVER, like I have here at BYU. Seriously, I have never had a good group at this college. Of all places -- where we profess to be hardworking and honest and dependable. Guess it's one of those things that's easy to say, right?

Like the fact that my dad is getting sicker, and his company still makes him travel. HELLO. HE HAS CANCER. If you're reading this, dad's employer, I am NOT happy with you. Yeah. My dad's cancer is terminal. He's DYING. And you -- for the sake of the all-mighty dollar -- are making it worse.

Like the fact that my dad really is dying. How fast or how slow, I have no idea. Having that hanging over me all of the time is absolutely horrific.

Like the fact that my ex-fiance treats me like a girlfriend -- that, though, I have more control over. And let me tell you -- that will stop. So help me, it's going to stop.

Like the fact that no matter how well I eat, or how much I exercise, I'm still gaining weight.

Like the fact that no matter how often I pray, or count my blessings, or do nice things for other people, I cannot shake the anxiety and fear that threaten to envelop me every day.

Wow.

What a rant of negativity. Sorry about that -- I feel better though.

oh, gosh...

I don't know what it is, but I keep getting hit with this head-aching, toe-curling, stomach-twisting, heart-wrenching panic.

All night and all day long I've been fighting throwing up or collapsing into a sobbing heap on the floor. Not kidding -- it's almost happened.

Maybe it's the semester coming to a close, with so much to do.
Maybe it's the amount of work I've been given at the library, now that Jeff is leaving.
Maybe it's the lack of money in my bank account.
Maybe it's the idea of moving home in a couple of months.
Maybe it's the pain in my body that never quite goes away.
Maybe it's the fear of losing everything I hold most dear.
Maybe it's the thought of leaving Kala when I move.
Maybe it's the guilt that often creeps into my mind, for seemingly no reason.

Perhaps it's time to go home now. I don't know what it is about work, but every time I come down here, I feel incredibly anxious. Which is silly, because it's not like anything or anyone can get to me down here. All doors require security access, and even if you shot the sensors or the door, you couldn't get it open (Jeff explained it once, but I don't remember how that works). Although, there are several dozens of feet of duct work, shelving, books, concrete, wood, furniture, computers, dirt, and students above my head.

Pray there's not an earthquake while anyone is in the library, yeah?

so frustrated...

I have an exam tomorrow morning (and you know how much I stress about exams).

Honestly, I don't know how I'm going to remember all of this material. Right now, I can't seem to take in any more. All of the words on the study guide are just that -- words. They don't mean anything now! Nothing I read is sticking.

How can I write essays on things I barely understand?

"Specifics matter. I know BS when I see it...so don't do it," said the professor.

And he's serious. According to previous students, his tests are "ridiculous," "a bear," "the reason I hated that class so much."

Let's just say I'm in tears -- I hate exams. I never feel prepared, and this time I was unable to study as much as I wanted to (life happens -- it happens a lot lately). The caffeine isn't helping me concentrate or stay awake. The headaches are back in full force. STRESSED. OUT.

Prayer. Coke Zero. Celtic Pandora station. Aleve. Pages and pages and pages of notes. Google Doc.

All questions on exam require an essay answer. 12 possible questions (none of which were detailed when we discussed the exam in class). 5 questions given. 4 questions to answer. 1 hour in which to answer all 4 questions.

Screw it.

there'll be joy...

Oh heavens.

                     Oh. Heavens.

                                              OH.

                                                          HEAVENS.

Now that I'm doing oh heavening, how about I tell you a little bit about that.

Last night (Tuesday) was the first time in longer than I can remember that I have experienced true tears of joy. As in being so overcome with happiness and gratitude that I could not contain the emotions. I was absolutely overwhelmed with something I can only describe as real, honest to goodness joy.

Perhaps this is what cloud nine is. People usually describe cloud nine as being in love -- this is so much better than that. This is the confirmation that I am loved and important to God, and that He is absolutely interested in my life. That He is putting things in place to make me the best person I can possibly be. That He recognizes me for what I am trying to do. That He knows me.

God is great.

someday we'll know...

Love is something that I don't get. There are so many definitions of love -- I, however, can't seem to define it. There are so many ways that people show love -- sometimes it's hard for me to recognize those ways. And sometimes, it's hard for me to grasp that someone actually loves me.

Take physical touch. I don't know what it is about me and physical touch. I go for days and days without it, and I start to forget that it even happens. No hugs, no high fives, no nothing, and it's no big deal. I rarely miss it or seek it out. I just tend to forget about it.

Then out of nowhere someone will scoop me up in a hug or place a gentle kiss on my cheek. It often shocks me, and I'm left standing there looking surprised. Like today -- a family friend who I've known since I was a baby came into PartyLand tonight. She asked me how my dad and my family are doing, and then she asked about me. I gave the usual "I'm fine" answer. All of the sudden she leaned over the counter and gave me a hug, then kissed me on the cheek and told me she loves me.

I was completely thrown off guard, so much so that I could hardly respond. Standing there behind the counter, I felt tears come to my eyes and a voice in my head said, "Oh, yes. That's what it feels like to be loved. That was kind of her."

And then I felt all funny inside, and vulnerable. Lately I've been trying to keep a sort of protective shell around myself when I'm among coworkers and friends (close friends and room mates excluded -- they've figured out how to get through the shell). But I'm beginning to notice that when I'm offered verbal and physical affection from someone, especially someone I don't know very well or see very often, the shell starts to crack.

Knowing that someone loves you is a strange thing -- for me, it's one of the most astounding sensations in the world. I often worry that the people I love don't love me as much as I love them, and that they'll go away (still working on that one). Realizing that someone really cares about me and loves me hits me like a lightning bolt -- the lady at the store literally left me speechless.

Love is a hard thing for me to understand. It's hard for me to explain why -- I'm not even sure that I know. I only know that it's a tricky thing for me, slippery and hard to grasp in my mind. It frightens me -- it keeps me up at night, or wakes me up.

Like last night -- I know I was having a good dream, and that I was with someone who made me happy. I know it was a man, and that we were laughing and having a good time and were happy together. Then, I lost him. He was there one second, and then he was gone. I couldn't find him -- he was just lost. I woke up crying, not really sure why because the details of the dream faded very quickly -- but I felt so scared and so alone. I do remember that it was 4:15 in the morning, and that I haven't felt that devastated in a very long time.

I think I loved the person in the dream. I don't remember who it was. I don't even know if the man was a person that I knew. Losing him, though, was the worst thing ever.

Love. I don't get it. Not just romantic love, either. The dream is just an example of one of the things that worries me. The other loves, like sister, parent, daughter, brother, friend, neighbor, and all of the others -- those worry me, too.

For what is it to love, and to be loved? What is it really?

Hopefully I'll begin to understand it someday.

reasons why I hate crying...

1. Mascara runs down your face when it isn't waterproof.
2. It also gets in your eyes and stings, but if you rub them to stop them from hurting you end up looking like a raccoon.
3. The dog gets worried.
4. Your eyes swell up and turn red.
5. Your nose can swell, too, and also turns red.
6. It gives you a headache.
7. Sometimes when you start, you can't stop.
8. Not only do your eyes run, but your nose can, too.
9. It sounds weird.
10. If people notice, they want to know what's wrong -- then when you explain, you sometimes cry harder and can't talk.
11. It's hard to think when crying.
12. Either you cry all the time, or you can't cry at all.

lesson Two...

God understands your tears just as well as He understands  your words. After all, He gave you both.

If you have read anything that I have ever written, or talked in person or on the phone with me, you will know that it is rare that I am ever at a loss for words. Yes, I'm actually a shy person, but once you get to know me and the walls come down, the flood gates open and out come thoughts, dreams, jokes, laughs, and more.

There are times, though, when I can find no words to express the thoughts and feelings inside my head and heart. There are times when I find myself cradling broken fragments of memories in my fingers -- snippets of conversations replaying in my ears, flashes of faces in my mind, scenes of love and loss stuttering like an old film in front of my eyes -- those broken fragments are often hard to hold. A forgotten moment can have an edge sharper than a knife when it is brought again to light. Even with the times of joy mixed in, the bite of shattered hopes lingers longer than the reminisces of happiness. Finding words can be as difficult as finding peace.

I am a person who must express what I'm feeling and thinking in some way or another. My first choice is through words, be they written or spoken. I have to get things out. Not doing so results in sleepless nights or nightmares, and withdrawal from others, among other not so healthy coping methods. And so the times when I can't find words, when I can't express how I feel...those times are very hard.

Today has been a day of no words. It hasn't been a bad day by any means, but there were things festering inside of me that I was too afraid to look at, because I knew that if I looked, it would hurt. I pushed those things aside -- I've probably been pushing them aside for a few days. But those things will not stay buried for long. Soon I got too tired, and almost too curious, to not look. And I did.

It was one of those moments when I saw much of my life -- where I've been, where I am, where I'm going -- and it seemed as though I was nothing. No matter what, I'm not good enough. Yes, I've accomplished things, but I'm not good enough to be really worth something in others' lives.

I thought of the older man at my sisters' workplace who was fired shortly after he began working there because he couldn't do the work well enough -- he'd needed a job so badly.

I thought of the friend whose parents are upset at her for things she couldn't control -- she would have kept her word if her car hadn't broken down, and if she'd had the money to fix it.

I thought of all of the people who have lost homes in the fires, all of their belongings and possibly pets -- they couldn't forsee that the places they lived in would be in the path of a monstrous wildfire.

I thought of the girl who has become a good friend in a short amount of time, who got in some trouble with a boy and when she told him she was pregnant, he left her, and when she lost the baby he came back and told her it was all her fault -- she deserves so much better than that.

And then the thought came to my mind -- 'you are not enough. Your writing center job, your associate's degree, your high honors, your house, your life -- YOU -- are not enough to help any of those people.'

My heart aches for these people, and it aches more that I can do nothing to help them. It is a literal ache, one that hit me so hard that I doubled over and did the only thing I could do: I began to cry. I leaned against the wall for what seemed like a lifetime, crying and crying because of the pain I felt in my heart for these people and my inability to help them. And another thought came: how could I believe in a God who let things like this happen to people, especially to those who don't deserve it? And why will He not make me enough, when I have constantly tried to give everything to Him?

I then began to berate myself for worrying about things I can't control and for questioning the Lord. I remembered that everything happens for a reason, and it makes people stronger if they will learn from it. You shouldn't doubt, and anyway, you should be praying rather than crying, a not-so-kind voice said in my head. Mid-sob, though, I was hit by something that I'd never thought of before. I was so surprised that I stopped crying. And another voice answered saying, The Lord understands tears. He hears those just as He hears your words.

I was stunned. How had I never thought of that before? All of those times I'd avoided talking to the Lord because I knew that I would have no words to say and I would merely cry -- He gets that. He understands that there are times when I will be unable to speak, to voice the things that are inside of me. And it isn't just when I'm sad, either. He understands the tears of joy just as well as the tears of sorrow.

Tonight the pain I felt has not been assuaged very much. My doubts are not as prevalent, because I'm trying to step back and remember the "big picture principles." I still ache inside for these strangers and friends, and I will not lie and say that the tears have ceased completely. However, I do know that it is not weak to show the Lord my tears. He understands them -- He gave them to me as a gift, a way to express feelings when I cannot explain them through words.

God understands your tears just as well as He understands your words. After all, He gave you both.

whoa...

For having been caught by a rather flooring cold (because I didn't catch that thing -- there is no way I would ever voluntarily reach out and grab any bug, let alone one as disgusting as this one), I've gotten a lot done this weekend:

...I've cleaned my room so well that you can see almost the entire floor
...almost all of my clothes are put neatly into the closet (minus the ones that need to be ironed)
...I've boxed up the winter clothes (which I find I might need because it's actually been rather cold)
...I finished my FAFSA application
...written an outline for my 251 project
...started up a skeleton blog site for aforementioned project
...written three papers for my internship
...compiled a couple of different music lists of various genres for workouts
...I planned workouts (!!!)
...began working on a budget for The Move
...selected cupcake recipes to practice before I take them to the writing center to share
...went to the library and braved the deathly still fifth floor to find research materials for the project

So yes, I've been productive. I've been motivated and I've made progress. And after all of that...I only have one question:

WHY am I suddenly in tears?!
I don't get it. See, it's one of those times where I feel so very sad, but I don't understand why. I can't explain it, so I can't talk about it. I write things out (a friend told me I'm very good at writing what I'm thinking) and there's no connection. It's just this dumb feeling that has no logical explanation.

Well. That's that. I'm going to make cupcakes. Maybe. This project kinda takes precedence...

overwhelmed...

Here's the rub:

I'm stressed, I'm scared, and I'm exhausted. I've eaten too many peanut M&M's, I've contributed nothing to my class study guide except reformatting sections (because let's face it -- some of them were a little scary), and I've scared my dogs because I keep bursting into tears. I have no idea how to study for this exam, I don't know what to expect (because my professor so kindly said that if he told us to prepare for multiple choice or essays or matching that the fun of the exam would be ruined), and I have a horrible feeling that I'm not going to be prepared no matter what I do.

In short, I despise English 251.

Mostly, though, I hate being alone.

why am I not like that?

.
It's very hard for me to let things go. It's hard for me to stop thinking, and to focus on one thing at a time. It's hard not to immediately react with fear, not to give up before I get started, to see anything between 85 and 94 percent as a good thing, to believe myself as anything other than potential failure.

It's hard to accept a compliment. Saying thank you is easy, but really accepting it is so, so hard. Like this one, "There isn't anything you can't do! Seriously, if I've ever met anyone who could do anything she wanted to do, anyone who could never fail, it's you." I almost burst into tears. The girl who said it meant it. And what if she were to find out what I'm really like--what would she say then?

It's hard for me to get started on something I'm afraid to do. I have a sort of psychological block that makes it difficult to begin something I'm scared I'll fail. I mean, why try if you're going to fail, right? Wasted time, wasted effort, wasted memory on the laptop disk, wasted paper, wasted ink. Yeah, yeah, it isn't a waste if you learned something. I'm just describing the block, and how I think, and what I'm trying to get over. But it's hard. Like these papers that are due tomorrow. Yes, four papers, due tomorrow. 3 are done now. Or done enough (I don't have a clue what my professor wants, the evaluation he gave me completely contradicts the parameters of the assignment outlined in the syllabus). I really like one of the papers, I like another, and the third I halfway like. I'll fix it tomorrow. As for the fourth, I just have no ideas. That will also get done tomorrow.

It's hard for me to see the good things in life, even when I try. So many people I know are struggling with things, but they're smiling and happy and making other people smile. They're not focused on the hard things, they're focused on the good and happy things. I try, I really do. Sometimes it makes everything worse. It doesn't make sense, I know. That's why I keep trying.

There are so many good ways to be, and good things to be, and good ways to do, and good things to do. How do you apply them to your own life? How do you become who you're going to become when you don't know what you want to become? How do you become anything when you don't even like who you are?


.

disconnect...

Sometimes when I see a picture of myself I stare at it, amazed to see that I'm pretty. Then I look in the mirror and feel like crying.

Being without a voice makes me realize how much I talk on a day to day basis. It also makes me wonder how much of it is ever worth saying, and if I'm just wasting others' time.

No matter how hard I try to be a good primary teacher, I don't feel like I'm making any difference in the kids' lives. I can't get them to behave and they're probably not learning anything at all.

Suddenly men are paying attention to me a lot, not all of it in the "just friends" manner that I'm used to. While it's nice to have friends, it's not nice to be unsure all of the sudden about where all of this is going. I don't want to hurt anyone. Or be hurt, for that matter. Be careful what you wish for. Meh.

I worry too much and I sleep too little because of it. Even when I do "fall asleep" I'm still constantly aware of what's going on around me. The slightest sound or movement brings me jerking out of that place just between waking and dreams, the place where you're trapped between the real and the surreal.

Homework. Busywork, more like. Sick of it. Sick of tests. Sick of this thing called "learning" that really isn't. People don't learn this way. They learn by doing, not by being told what others learned or how someone else did something. Or at least that's how I learn. Like to learn...I don't know.

I never want to be the person who everyone at work hates to work with. I never want to be the manager or supervisor or employer who everyone secretly fears and dislikes. Why would anyone want to be that way? I don't understand why people with "power" use it to intimidate and threaten instead of to empower and educate.

That awkward moment when your mother is right: I am the most selfish person ever. She is right, really.

Sadness vs. Depression: sadness is like a stitch in your side after running very fast for a long time. You can keep living and handling things just fine until you reach a certain point, and then it starts to hurt. Depression, on the other is a constant pain, so constant that it becomes habit. It's a pain so deep that you may not even know it's there because you have nothing else to compare it to. Sadness is comparable. Depression is just heavy.

Every time I go for something I really want, I instantly feel total regret after starting the process. It's like I beat myself up for even daring to hope for something good to come of it. Why should good come to me? I'm no one special. And then after that thought I feel horribly guilty. Recipe for giving up.

My room is a disaster. I started to clean it. Then I sat down in the middle of the pile of clothes on my floor and cried.

Gosh, I am such a...ugh. Sick of this. Especially the crying part.

Water is underrated. Just saying.

little reminders...

I've been feeling very lonely lately. It's been so, so hard to leave LDC. I can't tell you how many times I've dreamed that I've been back in the choir. It always starts out just like it used to be, all of my dear friends there yelling across the room to one another, laughing and giving Mike fits trying to get them to calm down. And then they start to sing, and I don't know any of the songs. I don't know the notes or the words. Brother Eggett ends up kicking me out, telling me not to come back.

I can't tell you how many times I've cried myself to sleep this semester, if I've even slept at all. The transition hasn't been terribly difficult, but difficult enough that it isn't easy.

Tonight I was feeling sorry for myself, stressing out about my Statistics exam tomorrow and a paper that's due, and wishing with all my heart that somebody would think of me. I was feeling alone and forgotten, because so many times I've tried to keep in touch with people and have received no reply.

I was frustrated and feeling downright left behind, even though I was aware of the people who I do have in my life. So then I started to feel bad because I'm a selfish brat. Then I started to think of ways I could continue to let people know I care about them...and then I realized that I don't have a lot of time to do that anymore, and the things I have done lately have always ended with silence from the other end.

Then, out of the blue, one of the LDC boys, Jeff, sent me a text inviting me to his birthday party. He said it wouldn't be a big deal, just a few friends hanging out at his place. For me, though, it was a huge deal. He probably will never know how much I appreciated it. I literally dumped my homework on the floor, got re-dressed, and rushed out the door without putting on any make-up whatsoever because I was so excited. It was only an hour, but seeing a few of those dear people was absolutely wonderful. And hugs! So many hugs.

A couple of hours later, I received another text message from an LDC girl, Allie, who I love with all my heart. I read the message and felt two things: heartbreak that I can't be in the choir anymore and complete gratitude that she had thought of me. She probably has no idea how much that means to me right now, for someone to think of me. It's amazing how something as simple as a kind word can help you to find the courage to keep moving forward.

To you two wonderful people: thank you. You were both answers to prayer.

doesn't make sense...

I'm very upset at myself right now. I'm very upset at someone else right now, too. So feel free to read this post or not. It's very much a vent.

Dear person,

Why do I miss you? Seriously. I have no reasons whatsoever to miss you. You lied to me, you used me, you threatened me, you abused me. The very idea of seeing you gives me feelings that range from anger to fear to pity for the way you are. But mostly I'm afraid. Why am I afraid? See reasons listed in the beginning of this paragraph.

How could you profess to care for me so much and then treat me the way that you did? Why on earth did I think for a second that you told me the truth? You told me that you loved me. What you showed wasn't love. You placed yourself in a position where you could use your knowledge of my life and our friendship to use me and to control me. You had power, and you enjoyed it.

It was easy to tell; I could feel it when we were together. When you came back into my life after almost a year away, you were different towards me. I was afraid to be alone with you. I was afraid to talk to you. I did anyway, but I never felt safe with you anymore.

My experience with you has set me back so far. I was already scared of any sort of relationship. Then, though, I wanted one. So I took a chance on you. Even you know I'm not a risk taker. You were the biggest risk of my life. Thank heavens I didn't rush in and play for the highest stakes; I'd be way worse off. What we had couldn't even be considered a relationship. It was an almost relationship. For me, though, it was a huge, huge risk, and let me tell you--the return wasn't worth it.

Now I'm to the point where I'm so frightened of a repeat experience that I don't even want to consider a relationship. Now, men are handsome, nice, and friends. There isn't an active desire for anything more than friendship. Even the friendships I have made have come about through extreme caution. It's as though I have to put every man through some sort of test before I can trust him. Perhaps that isn't a bad thing, but it isn't a very healthy thing. Then the second my feelings start to change, I look for ways to shut them down. I actively seek ways to turn romantic feelings back into plain old friendship. Why? Because I'm terrified. What happens if he is as good a liar as you are? Obviously I'm easily deceived, and maybe the next guy will actually follow through on his threats. I don't know, but maybe.

What am I supposed to do, though? I'm not very big. I can't run very fast. I'm not very strong. You made all of those things very apparent to me. Thanks for that; now I'm aware of my physical weakness compared to the opposite gender.

So tell me. Why do I miss you? I shouldn't miss you. Why is it so difficult for me to keep you out of my mind, and out of my dreams, and out of my heart? Why do I wish that things could be different? I don't understand this. I don't understand how I can be so frightened of you and at the same time want you around so badly.

I don't need you. Why do I think that I need you?

I'm faced with all of this evidence of how unkind and uncaring you were. It's as plain as the noon day sun on a cloudless day. Which is why I don't understand why I miss you. I don't understand it at all. I never thought I'd say this, but I would very much like to erase you completely from my life. After everything I gave you and all of the love I showed you, you just used it all to hurt me. I'm not saying I didn't do anything wrong at all. Right now I don't care very much about that though. I'm the one who walked away with the emotional and mental damage. You're the one who went to the girlfriend you forgot to tell me about and got comfort from her. How nice for you to have a back-up plan. Or was I your back-up plan?

Now I will say this: I don't hate you. I just wish I could go back to the day I met you and walk away. That would have been the smart thing to do. Looking back I can see how naive I was. From day one, you had me right where you could play your hand the best. You immediately had the advantage, for I didn't know the rules of the game. I didn't even know we were playing.

choices...

Have you ever made a hard choice and felt great about it when you made it, but when it hits you that you can't go back and change the decision you can't help but cry your eyes out?

Yeah. That's me.

something about Christmas time...

Sometimes when you've done all you can do and it still isn't enough, an angel comes along to carry you across the finish line.

I believe in angels...read more here.

crazy spiritual weekend...

LDC with Michael McLean after our first performance of The Forgotten Carols
I am developing a theory. This theory has to do with my personal limitations when it comes to spiritual experiences. I am beginning to believe that due to my spiritual maturity and understanding at this time in my life, I am only able to handle a small amount of spiritual-ness. After a certain point, I reach full capacity. "My cup runneth over" and I am literally unable to process any more. Then come tears that won't stop, the absolute exhaustion of body and mind, and the slight hungover feeling that reminds me of the times when I have accidentally taken too much cough syrup before bed.

This weekend has been incredible when it comes to feeling the Holy Ghost. From Friday morning clear through Sunday night, it's been almost non-stop, body and soul immersion. Much of the time it's been with the same people: Friday at the LDC rehearsal and the afternoon devotional, then with my family and Ann at my sisters' Children of Eden performance. Saturday was LDC's performances in The Forgotten Carols with Michael McLean, so all day was spent rehearsing, performing, and spending time the wonderful choir members. Sunday was LDC's Thanksgiving concert with two other local choirs. Each experience has been incredible...each one has also left me feeling overwhelmed, building on one another until I now feel totally out of it.

This weekend I've been reassured, corrected, comforted, promised, reminded, and blessed multiple times in the past three days. It's literally too much to take in; as Sister Terry says, it's like getting a drink of water from a fire hydrant. WHOOSH!

How is it that something like this can take so much out of you? Usually the Spirit helps us to feel ready to take on the world, and secure in the knowledge that the Lord loves us. I know he loves me, but right now I just feel rather overwhelmed. Almost waterlogged...

Personally I'm very grateful for the experiences of the past three days, even though there are probably some people who could not figure out what was wrong with me when I started crying and couldn't stop (at The Forgotten Carols after our second performance...in short I was a bit of an emotional wreck). I've learned and felt so much. Now to sort it all out and prioritize what I need to change in my life.

Thank you to my wonderful friends and family who were there for me this weekend. To my mom and dad for coming to my performances, bringing me a box of truffles, and buying me a souvenir 20th anniversary CD of The Forgotten Carols (though I'm not supposed to know about that)...thank you. To my sisters for sharing their talents with the community and for coming to the Sunday concert...thank you. To Ann, Brady, Brad, Claire, Amanda, Sean, Kayla, Skyler, Brianna...thank you. (((hugs)))

nightmare...

I fell asleep this afternoon after having a not so bad day. I was doing alright, actually. Cried a little. Looked tired enough for people to guess that something was wrong (I wasn't trying to be consoled; I was just trying to make it through the day without falling apart). I even laughed and smiled and had a wonderful lunch with one of my dear friends. It was great!

Then I got home. I forced myself not to cry, not to think, not to do anything other than focus on how soft and cozy the bed was. It worked. I slept.

I dreamed about the situation that's going on right now. When I woke up, my first thought was, "Wow. That was a nightmare. I'm so glad it was just a dream."

Then I realized it wasn't a dream. It was reality. I'm not very happy about this. Just sayin'.

could be worse...

This post is stupid. Beware. But I'm doing it anyway.

Shattered. Devastated. On the upside of destroyed. Lost. Heartbroken. But despite it all, not surprised. Surprised at the pain, though. That does surprise me.

Dramatic and pathetic, I know that. But it's how I feel tonight. For example: 3 hours and 2 sleeping pills later, I still cannot sleep. I can't get it out of my head. I can't get it out of my heart. I can't stop thinking. And after a whole year of trying, I still can't let it go. Even though now I have no choice. I have to. But I can't.

It hasn't been the worst 9/11 ever. I'm thankful for that.