Journaling

Tonight I went to Barnes and Noble (again) and this time I did not leave without a new journal. Last week when I was there I coveted a specific one but didn't want to endure Marie's looks about buying it. Tonight my number one choice wasn't there anymore (I'll probably buy it online) but I bought my second favorite one anyway.

There's something about new journals that is just so promising. And I'm not even a journal writer. I'm a blogger. I tried to keep journals off and on in high school, and I even have one now that I use for the things that I can't post on my blog. There's not much in the current one because I kind of pride myself on being open and honest with the internet, which makes zero sense but it's how I feel. And I am really possessive over the current journal. One day Skyler picked it up and halfheartedly flipped through it and I freaked out, grabbed it out of his hands and hid it in my room. I was psycho.

Journals can be so embarrassing, too. I think I've read all of the non-current ones to Marie and it was way embarrassing. They detail my obsessions with different boys, my pissy drama queen teenage fights with my mom, and the disappointment life served me. My current journal was started soon after Dave broke up with me, so it details my trials with that, all my church conference notes (general, stake, etc.) and the most recent entries display my back and forth thoughts about Skyler and my sexual frustrations. I cringe reading over it and I imagine what would ever happen if I had a daughter happen upon it.

Right now I need to make a decision. Do I take the job as a conference assistant for a fourth summer in a row or not? I have another two days to decide. And my feelings on the subject alter depending on who I'm with and what my emotional status is. Tonight I thought that I would go back in my blog to see what my thoughts were the last two years I had been offered it. Alas there were no real thoughts concerning it. Did I just take it? If I were a better journal writer I think I would know my thought patterns back then. I remember the spiritual experiences leading up to me becoming a CA the first two years. I didn't know what I wanted my first summer and I prayed that if I were supposed to stay in Provo I would get the CA job. I didn't get the job and I told my friends that I was coming home just to be offered the job shortly after. I heard Lindsey's voice ask my if I was still interested and if I wanted it, and I hesitated until I remembered telling Heavenly Father that if offered it I would take it. Summer number two I wasn't even going to apply. I was so set to go off on a Welsh adventure. I had prayed months before about what I should do and I didn't get an answer. So I took Wales. And then when I heard Lindsey talking about the CA job I knew that I wasn't supposed to be going to Wales. Of course I had hoped that it would be because of a certain boy.

So I don't know. But I wish I knew what I had been thinking last year. And here's to a better journal keeping.

The Clinical Kind

I've avoided discussion about this for a long time, because it embarrasses me and makes me feel pathetic. But I feel like it's good for me to write/talk about.

When I was a little girl my mom spent a good length of time not able to get out of her bed. She just couldn't find it in her to do so. She finally went to the doctor and he told her that she had depression. She told him that she didn't feel sad and he replied that it doesn't always manifest itself as sadness. Following this incident was a long string of pills. I can also vividly remember going into my parent's bathroom while in elementary school and there was a magnet on the mirror that said "get happy" on it. Once I asked my parents what it was for, and it was to remind my dad to take his Prozac. Jacob has taken depression medication as well as having a long stint in counseling, and while Jason has not had any issues with depression he has been medicated for ADD/ADHD (I don't know which) and gone through counseling for anger management. My family has a long relationship in the psychiatric department.

In high school I fell into a type of depression. I was really stressed out and on edge. My mom would tell me that it wasn't normal to collapse on the floor in hysterical crying, but it was completely normal to me. I felt bad because I would make it through the day, come home and need to not think. And Jacob would be there asking me to play with him and I would get mad because I just couldn't. I was never once suicidal, but even when I was in elementary school I would ponder who would care if I died, who would cry, who would go to the funeral. Apparently I threatened suicide when my mom said that we were moving. But I know that I was never actually suicidal. One day my mom pointed to my leg as I bounced it up and down and casually asked "did you know that that is a sign of depression?". I lost it. I remember talking to Sam about how I was feeling and she said that there were alternatives to pills- like exercise. Obviously that never happened.

Then I finished high school. I slipped into a state of numbness. I didn't feel anything. I started Oxnard College and dropped out. I was too upset to go. I remember sitting on the couch in my pajamas all day doing nothing. Sam bought me flowers. I finally got a job. I did fine at first until I started to have anxiety attacks on the bus to work every day. I really slipped into a state of depression. I did nothing. I went to work, I came home, I watched TV and I did it all over again the next day. I didn't think, I didn't make plans, I moped. I couldn't handle it anymore so I quit. I got into BYU, I got a job at Old Navy, I came out of it.

I was fine for a long time. I'd get sad, but I never got like I had used to be. I finished my freshman semester and that summer and the next school year and summer without any real major problems. Then last year I fell into it again from October to April. Having such a great and uplifting summer really took me out of it again for the most part. Every once in awhile I would freak out because the Creamery was closed when I needed chocolate. But I managed.

I feel like it's back. I feel like I live my life in this world where there's a dark haze circling me that usually keeps at bay, and every once in awhile something will set it off and I become enveloped in this dark, depressing world. Some days I am completely happy. Some days I find myself walking into the kitchen realize that the dishes need to be done, and start to unload and load the dishwasher as I cry. Other days I hover in between these states. Most of the time I'm in the hovering state unless something really sets it off- a hurtful text, a snide or snappy remark, plans not working out the way I had hoped, dishes. And then I slip into the dark place and find that I can't do anything- I can't read, study, focus, do homework, clean. All I can do is cry, eat chocolate, mope, surf the internet, play Mahjong and watch movies. And some days I can barely find it in me to get out of bed. I know this is weird but I often feel like in my mind I have this mental disease and I find myself crying out "what is wrong with me?!?!!?".

Here's the thing: depression is real and I have it. It's not just the typical case of I'm-having-a-bad-day. It's an ongoing process. It feels (to me) like every day you're on a precipice and the slightest wind will blow you over the edge. It's always there and sometimes you get lucky and sometimes you don't. I don't take medication for it but I've thought about it. I'm personally worried that if I take it somehow I'll always think that I won't be happy without it. But it's a disease, and if you had cancer you would take medication for it. I tell myself that my medication is chocolate, dancing, French music and talking to Marie. Sometimes they work, and sometimes they don't. I've thought about counseling but I've had a couple of not-so-great experiences with it. The upside (for me) is that I am currently recognizing the struggle and exploring my feelings about it. Seeing the reality of the situation and trying not to succumb to the hazy dark feeling lets me know that I struggle with depression but I am not currently a victim to it like I was last year or in high school. Struggling with it shows me that I need to be careful so I don't fall to it again. I fight. I push it away. But it's hard. And I feel like a lot of the things on my blog tend to be negative, especially recently. And I feel bad about it. But I feel like when I'm in the throws of my depression stages that's what happens. The good doesn't get focused on, especially because when the good is happening I'm trying to hold it in before it goes away.

People Watching

Marie is the best people watcher that I have ever encountered. It is not out of the ordinary to be walking with her and have her whisper "platypus" (meaning beard) or "did you see _____ ?!?!?!" It's one of my favorite things about her and I strive to find more people breaking social norms as she does. One time we were at Macey's (the grocery store) and I spotted one that she did not: a real life African American Cruella de Ville. It's one of my best sightings.

Last night we headed to Barnes and Noble to spend some time studying in a pleasant, literate, intelligent, delicious smelling atmosphere. It's always a good choice. We sit in the cafe, laptop open and dying (no outlets- what the heck?), physics and math homework splayed out, drops of cocoa on the table- and people watch in between bouts of actual productivity.

People of interest:
The man with a normal sized torso and very short legs.
The man sitting alone rolling dice.
The man reading a magazine while listening to music and flailing his hands (sign language? air guitar? Who knows. [Marie: I think there's something wrong with him. No one in their right mind would do that in public]). He also had two of the same beverage on the table as if he were sitting with someone, but he wasn't.

And I know that there were others. But we were only in the cafe for two hours. And we had several good people to watch and be entertained by.

Whisper

Tonight I ran off to take a physics test. While leaving I realized that I needed a ruler and went back in the door to get one from Marie. It took a couple of minutes and I was already running late. I ran out again and I was only to the bottom of the driveway when I realized that I had neither my keys nor my phone on me. Although I was barely out of the complex I decided to keep going. Part of me told me to go back. The other part of me reasoned with myself that Heather is always home, Marie would be back from tutoring pretty soon after I had finished the test, I was already late and if I were to get locked out all I had to do was go to the two apartments directly above mine to sit in either Megan's or Lauren's/Harriet's apartment. I continued on.

Right before 10pm I finished my test and came straight to my apartment. As I approached the apartment I noticed that my entire side of the building's lights were off and Heather's car was gone (really? She never leaves the apartment and the one time I need her...). I tried my door anyway. Locked. I rang the door bell. Nothing. I awkwardly waited for Kelsi and Weston to stop kissing on the upper part of the stairwell and went to Megan's. No one answered. Lauren's/Harriet's looked empty and dark. I went back down to sit by the door. I tried not to cry. I had no way of contacting Marie, wasn't sure if David would be home if I tried to walk to his apartment, and had no desire to go back up the hill a third time today. And I had another test to study for and wanted to sleep. I thought about breaking in via the living room window, but it looked pretty sturdy. I could have gone next door to wait- but those girls are mean and probably would have yelled at me. I sat for a couple of minutes and remembered Marie mentioning that Heather had a spare key outside. But where? I sat on the stairs and looked around. And then I got up. And I looked in a place that I never would have looked before- and found it right away.

I remember a distinct time when I was driving with Boyd and Hayley to Rochelle's 19th birthday party. I left my purse in the car and shut the door, starting to walk off. I had forgotten to lock the door. Something told me to go back and take care of it, and it nagged at me, but I hesitated before continuing on. Just after I had decided to continue Boyd stopped and asked if we had all locked our doors. I said no and he replied that he really thought we should. I locked mine. Maybe nothing would have happened had I not locked my door. But it was such a distinct "did you lock your door, Miss Callahan?" that it was hard to shake off. That's how I felt as I continued on to the Testing Center.

I think that it is so easy to ignore the promptings of the Holy Ghost. I can easily write them off as being paranoid. But they are distinct impressions that I ignore. I've been wondering about certain things recently and my friends all give me the same answer: pray. I always respond with: I never get answers. Maybe I do but I don't recognize them. I write them off as my own thoughts. I think that tonight was a test that I failed. I did not heed the prompting to turn my butt around and get my keys. Either Heavenly Father was testing me on this, or He was reminding me exactly how I tend to interpret the Spirit. And even after I failed at this test, he created a way for me to get inside anyway, but guiding me straight to the spare key.

Advice

Boyd: If you or Marie need anything please call. Even if it's two in the morning.
Me: Do you have any advice for me about this summer?
Boyd: I'll think about it.
Me: Hayley?
Hayley: Ask boys on dates that you might actually marry.

She's the best.

The Most Mortifying Interview of My Life

This morning I woke up and lay in bed. I laid there for well over an hour after my alarm went off. I felt like crap. I did not want to face the day. I wondered why I felt like this and then I remembered: I had the most mortifying and traumatic job interview of my life the day before.

I have worked for On-Campus Housing for the last 35 consecutive months. That's just under three years. I have worked two Thanksgivings and two Christmases. Over three summers worth of employment I have been allotted 30 days off of work- of which I have taken maybe 15. I know a good chunk of the Helaman RAs, all of the Helaman HAs and most of the Helaman HA husbands and children. I know my managers and some of their children. I have worked to build up my relationship with members of RHA- not just with my beloved Skyler. I know the names of several residents that come to the desk and I know that Hannah, Mary, Karen and Bahaar will want study rooms, Shelby 1 wants her mail checked, Shelby 2 wants her ID printed out, Elizabeth, Bevan, Evan and Charlotte want their newspapers and Demarie and Noah want their packages. I am good at my job. I have tried my best to improve over the years. And now I feel humiliated and blamed and kind of wronged.

I sat in the Heritage Central Building watching hall advisers that I knew and cared for walk in: Libby, Spencer and Becca. Even Elizabeth would have done. My interviewers consisted of Lacey and Russ (Heritage HAs), Kevin (a Heritage manager) and Jennifer, the new Helaman HA. We shook hands and I sat down. The interview started off as just that-- an interview, but by the end it felt like an interrogation. They asked me if I had an area preference. I said Helaman but if they felt that I should be in Heritage I would take it. The asked me questions I expected: how to deal with monotony, things I did on unsupervised shifts. Then they asked me what my current supervisor would say was my biggest strength: personability (she has told me this before). And my biggest weakness: professionalism (again, Bev's word). And I told them that I recognized that professionalism was my weakness because I'm so personable (Bev again), and that because I recognized it I was trying to even the two out so that my weakness could become my strength. This is when the interrogation started as they asked how I was able to remedy this. I talked about how I chat less with Megan as we count out and how we still chat but we don't spend much extra time after counting out talking. I said that I'm trying to keep my personal life out of the office more. Then Jennifer abruptly (I recognize she used to be an attorney) asked how I could fix this over the summer and said she didn't quite understand what I was saying. I said that over the summer I would hang out around the desk less when I wasn't working.

Then came a question about how I will handle changes being made this summer. I talked about how I thought the changes they were making sounded great and how I know that any changes they've made in the past have been for good reasons and so I try to understand them and when I'm having issues adjusting I ask a hall adviser to explain why we made the change in the hope that I will see the benefits and be able to implement the changes better. They explained that something new this year was that instead of having ten days off we could take as many days between May 9-17 that we wanted and asked if I had anything planned requiring time off outside of those dates. I told them that I was planning on taking the MCAT at the end of July and I would need time off on that one specific day. I told them that I had a few days to choose from. They asked if it could wait until after the summer. I said that it needed to be taken by the end of August so it couldn't wait. They asked if I could take it during the days in May. I responded with a no because a test like this takes months to prepare for and I won't have time in the next two months, especially with finals, to study for it. Then Russ turned to Jennifer and said something along the lines of "a test like this is really hard and stressful. Jennifer, as someone who has taken the LSAT, what do you think?" Jennifer stared me down and asked when exactly I planned on studying for it. I said that I planned to study over the summer while I wasn't working. She said that I'd probably be stressed out. I said I understood that and that was why I had already started studying. They told me that this one day that I would need might affect my hiring decision. I then mentioned that I was thinking about taking a one credit class summer term (we are told we can take up to four) and that it was a lab that would require about 6 class hours a week (like a 3 credit class). Russ asked if I would drop it if I was hired and they asked me to. I was feeling attacked. I was told that we could take classes and that has always been the case. And now they're pretty much telling me that that is not true or an option. I said I would drop the class if I had to.

Then came the most attacked I have ever felt in a workplace, including time spent in Paul's office talking about sexual harassment and all of Tim's piece of crap complaints. The very last question was: What place in the drama that happened last summer did you take part in? I wanted to cry. None of those people worked closely with me last summer. They didn't know me. They had no idea what I went through. But I felt like I had been talked about in meetings. I felt like I was guilty of something that I never got to explain myself for. I wondered why they would even choose to interview me. I refused to speak about Tim, because how do you explain that to a panel of people that don't know and care about you? I spoke about Cole in regards to professional drama, and in personal drama I talked about how it was hard not to have a part in it when you work, live and eat with the same 9 other people every single day for four months. They become your best friends and there is drama, and the only way to avoid it is to back off from the group and not get to know them. Did they want me to do that? Did they want me to have a summer of loneliness because the scheduling makes it almost impossible to have friends outside of the job? Did they really want to own me- preventing me from taking time off, taking classes, taking the MCAT, withdrawing from the group?

I left the interview, found Rochelle and cried. I saw Skyler. I started crying more. David gave me a ride home and I practically broke down. What it comes down to is that I feel like I have given them three years of hard work and good customer service- and the second I really have an issue with one of my coworkers (out of around 40 total) management bows down to that one coworker to find fault with me and they never took the time to ask me what was going on. Did they even want me to want the job? Because I left the interview pretty much decided that not only would I not get the job, but that I didn't even want it anymore. There is no one more qualified for this job right now, and because of Timothy I will not be getting it- or I will be getting it with a crap load of conditions.

Was the drama question a standard question that every returning CA was asked? I asked Skyler, David and Ariel. None of them were asked the question. It was literally just me.

And now I would like to tell my side of the story, as I would have done had one person approached me about the situation, outside of an interview.

The first time I met Tim was when he came to the Helaman front desk for his CA interview. I liked him right away. We chatted for a bit and he was funny, charming and personable. When he went into his interview I remember thinking "I hope he gets the job." I was excited for the summer when I would get to know him better. I remember him in training, wearing a boot because he was having issues with his feet because of ballroom dancing. After training Ariel took most of us to the Cannon to use up the rest of her dining dollars. We sat around the table, and I'm pretty sure that I was sitting with him right next to me on my right. He was funny. Blake asked if any of us had ever gone to speech therapy as children and Tim said that he had but he didn't know why. Inside I laughed. I liked this guy. As the next two months passed I was enamored with Tim as a person. I was upset that I wasn't a boy because I wanted to hang out with Tim, Blake and Skyler all the time. I much preferred them to the girls. I got to know Tim well. We had fun together. We went on two dates. I enjoyed them. The summer had quickly turned into my favorite one ever. I felt like I could relate to Tim and experiences that he had had. And I specifically remember one crazy, stormy, windy night that I felt were the elemental representation of what I was feeling inside. I was lost and tormented. I laid outside on a small knoll between Taylor and Stover as it rained, crying. I saw Tim's light on. I called him because I needed someone and I felt so alone. I trusted him that much. He didn't answer. I sent him a text asking if he was home. He responded an hour later saying he was going to bed. I am well aware that I was not his responsibility, and he very well could have been busy. But I remember being hurt because he wasn't there when I needed him. And it wasn't just that he was busy or didn't respond to my text for awhile. But when he said that he was going to bed there was no question of why I was wondering if he was home. Most people (in my experiences) would have said something like "I'm going to bed. Why, what's up?". There wasn't any of that and for some reason I felt like I didn't matter. And from there everything went downhill.

There was the time my brother stayed with him for a week. Tim became paranoid that Jacob was in love with him, which is understandable because Jacob has a thing for men and he was very touchy that week- but he was touchy with EVERYONE male and female. Jacob wasn't in love with Tim. Jacob had found a friend that he related to and looked up to. Jacob had found a role model. Then there was the time that Tim told Erynn how much he loved her new hair color, just to talk about how awful it was the next day to someone else. There was the time he freaked out on me because I dared to tell him that I had already refolded a blanket that he was refolding again because he believed it wasn't good enough. And there was the time he yelled at me from across the desk in front of a room full of people and cussed at me that caused me to spend the next half hour crying and the half hour after that trying to get a hold of myself, missing the custodial/CA party altogether. By the time that Bev told me that I wasn't going to be the student coordinator, but that Tim would, our friendship was already over. Him getting the job I had wanted for two years was just icing on the cake. I knew it wasn't his fault and I tried to be okay with him getting it over me. One night, when he was trying to make up with all the girl CAs after everything came out (he went to the other girl CAs before he came to me- even though it was really only me he needed to make amends with) he told me that the job for him was an answer to prayer- as if having thousands of dollars in scholarship money wasn't good enough and he still needed more to buy his designer jeans. I thought- does he really not think that I have been praying for this job all summer long? What about my prayers? Where are my answers? He told me that when offered the job he was concerned about how I would feel and so he "took time" to think it over, and only decided to take it when he knew that I would not be the second choice. He told me that. Like it was supposed to make it better- "I wouldn't have taken it if you were second choice but you weren't even on the list." And where was his heart when he decided that it was okay to tell our mutual friends that he had gotten the job while I was still hoping that it was mine?

Still, I believe that all could have been forgiven. I really do. I like to think that I am good at forgiving people with a little bit of time. But he was a pompous jerk. He had this air about him that he was better than other people. And as a student coordinator he wouldn't let me do my job as a desk attendant. He talked over me, he told customers that I would do things for them that I knew we didn't do. He complained about me (with lies) to my coworkers and friends. He reported me to Paul. Then came out even more things- stories from Jacob and other people about his character and his morals that disgusted me and made me think that he was the equivalent of Satan on earth.

The sad part is that it makes me sad. I had made a really good friend and in a short space of time the relationship we had was torn apart. I've grieved over this. I know that Tim is not a good person and I've grieved over the fact that we're not friends anymore. I ask my Heavenly Father how I can go about forgiving him. I ponder it all the time. I read Ensign articles on the subject. I want to forgive him and I don't know how. And I find it difficult, if not impossible, to forgive him when what happened last summer is still affecting my life. I want to move on but I can't when he sits beside me waiting for me to do something wrong so he can report me to my managers. I have had reasons to report him to management and to the Honor Code. And I haven't. I've left him to sort through his crap. I have tried to leave him alone. He hasn't shown me the same respect. He has broken my heart too many times to tell. And he doesn't even care. It doesn't seem to bother him at all that we were once such good friends and now he spends his time complaining about me to my bosses that used to be my friends, that used to think highly of me.

How could I explain this to my interviewers? How I could I explain how hard it is to lose someone that you used to care so much for? How do you explain how much you want to forgive and move on and struggle to do so? How do I shoulder the blame for everything that happened between us while he gets off free? Yes, I was overly dramatic. I was hurt and felt slighted. But no one stopped to ask what happened or why I felt the way that I did. And that is what made the interview unbearable, because no one in that room, in that entire building, on that entire hiring committee, knows how I feel about the situation. And they don't seem to care, as long as they can be assured that it wouldn't happen again if they chose to "give me another chance." Tim sits at the front desk with the job that I'd wanted for so long, with job security, knowing that he can leave for the entire summer and come back to the same job where everyone believes that he is the most amazing thing to bless Helaman Halls with their presence. There is no redemption. There is no equality. There is no forgiveness.

Credits

If I get my research credits waved then next school year I have a grand total of 26 credits to take. 13 credits a semester. Most seem like they will be pretty intense, which is why it is good that it only needs to be 13 a semester. This fall brings with it medical school interviews (hopefully...). And I'm getting more and more nervous/anxious that my time here at BYU is coming to an end. And yet, while so many things are uncertain in my life and in my future (including what I'll be doing this summer), there is one thing that I know I want to do. Next summer, after I finish all my remaining classes, I want to take more classes. All the classes that I've always wanted to take but haven't had the time/luxury to do so. After trying to plan my last fall semester's courses I find myself browsing all the other ones to determine what I want to take next spring/summer.

I love the idea of living in some cute house/apartment near campus, working or not working (probably working) and taking any combination of the following:
Bookbinding
Stained Glass
Composing Personal History
Writing Creative Nonfiction
Intro to Ceramics
Intro to Photography
The American Novel
The Short Story
French
Family Meal Management
Floral Design
Women in Art
Modern Art
Aerobics
Swimming
Self Defense
Some kind of dance class...

It just seems like that would be the best summer of my life, and would be perfect right before going to med school. I would love to lay around doing art/literature in the beautiful weather, wearing skirts and feeling something like...


Lena, from The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. A girl can dream, right? And it would be nice with or without Kostas. And Greece.

Babies

One day Rochelle and I went over to Blair's to visit and to meet her daughter Elise. At one point Blair looked over at me and said (in the least judgmental way possible): "Just to clarify, you don't like babies, right?" I told her she was correct and we moved on, Rochelle holding Elise.

I've thought about this a lot. Several of my bosses have had babies and while I thought they were cute and wanted to hold them, I came across as not wanting to. With Camille pregnant I was excited to meet little Noah. But I let everyone around me believe that I hate babies. This is false. I do not hate babies. I am terrified of babies.

My youngest sibling (Jacob) is only 18 months younger than me. We weren't close to my extended family growing up. During my youth we were not active in the church. I didn't grow up around babies. So I'm not used to them. They make me uncomfortable. And they mostly make me uncomfortable because I don't know what to do with them. I don't think that I hold them right, I freak out over whether or not I can correctly change a diaper, I don't know what to do when they cry and I'm kind of nervous about being thrown up on. They're little and seem to be breakable. I feel clumsy and I worry that parents will realize how inept I am (heck, a three year old realized I was changing his diaper wrong). And, as pathetic as I feel about admitting this, I don't want to come across as "that woman". You know the one. The one that "ooh's" and "ahh's" over babies and their drool. I don't want to be stereotyped as a Mormon woman that wants only to have a family (a wonderful thing but not what I see for myself). And... I don't want people to realize how much I want my own babies/children because it might never happen and then I come across as even more pathetic than I am.

So now Camille and George have a baby. And he cries a lot and he seems to always want to be eating or having his diaper changed. But he's a baby and he's cute and when I'm around him I have this urge to pick him up and hold him. But I restrain myself for all the aforementioned reasons. Also because I don't want to be the annoying person that comes over to only see their baby (Sam once mentioned that she hated that people first addressed and hugged August before her).

But anyway. Marie and I went to meet Noah and to see how Camille was doing and then a few days later we went back for her surprise birthday party. And I held him. Both times. And there is photographic proof:



Sincerely,
Jessica, the Closet Baby Lover

P.S. Here's Marie!

Overwhelmed

Yesterday I was tired. But I sucked it up anyway and went to work and my microscope lab.

I sat through another home teaching visit (this time without Marie) with one of the most smug men that I have ever met who "challenged" (I'd like to say all but forced) Marie and I last month to bear our testimonies to each other. This month I made a joke about how I don't want to be "challenged" anymore. They asked me if I thought God could provide a missionary opportunity for me. I said yes, because He has in the past. The smug one then asked me to share my story. It was the last thing I wanted to do but feeling like I couldn't say no I shared a very personal story about my dad with them. At the end of the lesson they "challenged" me to pray for more missionary experiences. I asked if they were going to continually "challenge" me every single month and the smug one went on about how I don't have to do anything they ask but God knows if I don't do it and it is between me and God whether or not I do. Not true when you ask every week if I have fulfilled the challenge yet- it's not about me and God it's about me and the smug home teacher. He then went on about how he was "inspired" to challenge me. Maybe he felt the need to challenge me, but had it been inspired I think I would have felt the spirit telling me it was so. I didn't. I felt awkward and pressured.

Afterward Skyler came over to replace Marie for chicken pillow Monday. I went visit teaching and I still get the feeling that the girl doesn't like me. Then I went for donuts with Skyler and on the way back he sang along to "Just the Way You Are" and told me that that was how he felt about me. I told him I didn't believe him and he seemed to get offended. I explained how I had just read this article in the Ensign about this woman who didn't believe her fiance when he told her that he loved her because she believed that she was unlovable. I believe that I am not beautiful, not lovable. We spent some time on the couch, me crying, him listening, about how I'm going to medical school in a year and a half, and I will most likely be unmarried, alone, and unhopeful that any man in good standing with the church will want to marry a girl like me, overweight, educated, feminist, ambitious, rebellious, rough and rude.

There was a knock on the door. I made Skyler answer it while I went to put my little exercise clothes on because I knew it was Megan and I didn't want her to see me laying over Skyler's lap crying like a child. We went to Zumba where I did my best to shake my bum, follow the steps, stay caught up, and tried my best not to look like a fool. I don't know how successful I was but I believe that it's the improvement that counts.

I got home and stayed up until midnight finishing some reading that I was behind on for my Developmental Bio class. I attempted to paint my nails. Even after letting them sit for 20 minutes somehow they still weren't dry, and now they look like a piece of crap. I went to bed, exhausted, feeling worthless, with semi-dry nails that now have some sort of pattern on them from my pillowcase.

I woke up at 7:30, got out of bed around 7:45. I thought about not going to class but I went anyway. I was in and out of consciousness for the entire thing (embarrassing). I walked home knowing that the second I walked in the door I would want to collapse into a nap but couldn't, because the kitchen was a disaster area, yet again. I got home. I turned on some James Blunt. I opened the kitchen window to air out the nasty smell of rotting food from the leftovers I took out of the fridge last night and didn't take care of. I started putting a large amount of Heather's dishes into the dishwasher. How often do I have to casually mention that we should all rinse our dishes and put them straight into the dishwasher? How often do I have to do the dishes before she realizes that she never runs the dishwasher unless it's half full from me loading it and needs to be ran? How many times do I have to hear her thank me in a condescending way for cleaning the kitchen, making it sound like I never do when I clean it at least once a week and do the dishes at least every other day and do the majority of the trash taking out? How many of her not dishwasher safe pans will I wash for her so they're not all over the stove or sink? I'm tired of it. I'm tired of doing her dishes and cleaning the entire kitchen after dinner group. One could argue that Marie and I contribute to the mess. Over the last three day weekend Heather went out of town. I cleaned the kitchen the day after she left and it was practically spotless until after her return. I can't do it anymore.

I wanted to take a nap. A brief, hour long nap before my next class so that I could stay semiconscious for the rest of them. And instead I cleaned up after my childlike roommate, who doesn't go to church half the time and still gets asked out by guys in the ward that she's never met. And she's crazy. And she will probably be married long before I even kiss another person.

And for some reason, it just seems like the story of my life. And in case you were wondering, the sentence that defines my life is: "This would be romantic if it wasn't with you."