From a conversation with former roommates, I gained an image of myself stepping matter-of-factly up to as strong, clear waterfall and simply reaching my arm out to let the droplets cascade over my skin, embracing the experience of surrendering to the rush.
This has come back to me recently as I've entirely switched careers--again--and had to literally step forward and learn material I never imagined myself needing to understand, let alone master well enough to become licensed in. And here I sit, having gained one new professional qualification since the beginning of October (the Series 7) and prepping to add another before the end of the week (the Series 63.)
I'm grateful for the confidence I have gained in myself that enables me to make these stepping motions, one foot in front of the other, moving into the next section of my path.
I still hate the awkwardness of not being good at new tasks; I find it painful. I buckled under the weight of my own incompetency when I started a new job in the summer of 2016. I had not pushed my comfort zone at work in a few years, and writhed at my lack of proficiency for what seemed like endless months.
I'm grateful to see that this time around, while I still dislike being unseasoned, I no longer afraid. I find that I have gained the ability to walk into the newness with trust in myself and my God to carry me under the waterfall to the other side.
I hope this confidence will be with me as new challenges arise. With the new year, we plan to move forward with seeing a fertility doctor and exploring what our options are for starting our family. We have one more appointment this year, at the end of this month, that will likely be the final news that IVF or other similar treatments will be the only avenues for us to gain a child through the combination of our DNA.
I pray to step forward into that reality with the same knowledge that I can make it to the other side, amen.
Monday, November 13, 2017
Thursday, October 19, 2017
I'm gonna say it
I am terrified of people. I don't trust easily. I expect to be forgotten, ignored, and shamed. I am inside the shell of myself very deeply.
I would like to change these things.
I would like to change these things.
Saturday, July 8, 2017
I'm Nervous to Write
Actually nervous! I can hardly believe it. I've put down the pen for so long that I'm afraid I won't be anything to say in my own voice with my own words. I never thought I'd feel this, haha!
I've got a lot of things on my mind; mostly people and how hard relationships can be, really. I just don't get people sometimes, and I don't understand very well how to reach out and repair bridges. I also struggle to want to, I think because deep down I don't believe it should take that much effort to maintain a friendship. I'm such an introvert that reaching out when things are fine is hard to begin with, so when I'm not sure of where I stand with someone or if I have no idea to resolve a disagreement...
Instead, I just want to express that I am grateful for my husband. I've been extra-super-mega emotional the last week or so, with at least three different crying jags and he's borne it well. I don't know that these kinds of emotional wrecks would be so rare if I didn't have him. I'm much steadier on the whole than I used to be and I think he's had a lot to do with that. He gently encourages me to take care of myself so I'm better centered and balanced, and still loves me even when I drive him mad with illogical perspectives and hurt feelings that I can't keep inside anymore. I don't deserve him.
I've been thinking for the past few months, maybe a year, about how much more reserved I am than I used to be. I like to feel quiet inside, with all the turmoil I endured as a teen and in my early 20's. Less contact with people = less likelihood of getting shaken up inside, haha. I don't know how much of that is healthy or not--I suspect that it's more unhealthy than not, but I'm not in a place where I feel like changing it. I've got a core little group of people and that's all a need or want right now. I can sense that there is a lot of sadness inside me which motivates this degree of reservation (which is why I think it's more unhealthy than not) but I'm done with guilting myself to push forward and run faster than I have strength. If that means having less contact with the external-to-myself world, then so be it. The way I feel will change at some point again, and I'll seek out socialization when I want to. I already do, on the days it's actually something that interests me, and while those days are pretty spread apart, that's what keeps me from worrying overmuch about sinking into some sort of debilitating depression again.
Mornings. I hate 'em. Not because I wake up exhausted (although I do,) but because I struggle to make myself use them. Jay goes to work at 7:30, so I drive him there, drop him off, then promptly go back to bed until I have to get ready to start my shift at 10:30. I was doing better when my shift was earlier, even when it was just one hour earlier, but since that has changed about a month ago, I've stayed in bed later and later each day. This last week has been the worst. I've left my bed at 10 three times, and I've got to leave by 10:10 in order to be clocked in on time. I've not been late, but that is way too little time to get ready and mentally adjust yourself to deal with people, co-workers and customers alike.
Part of the reason it's been so bad is that I had surgery to remove a small cyst last week and my body is extra worn out working on healing from that. A larger part, though, is that I don't want to get up. Bed and sleep are safe and comforting.
I'm waiting for this depression to pass, and working to allow myself room while it does. Love you!
-K.
I've got a lot of things on my mind; mostly people and how hard relationships can be, really. I just don't get people sometimes, and I don't understand very well how to reach out and repair bridges. I also struggle to want to, I think because deep down I don't believe it should take that much effort to maintain a friendship. I'm such an introvert that reaching out when things are fine is hard to begin with, so when I'm not sure of where I stand with someone or if I have no idea to resolve a disagreement...
Instead, I just want to express that I am grateful for my husband. I've been extra-super-mega emotional the last week or so, with at least three different crying jags and he's borne it well. I don't know that these kinds of emotional wrecks would be so rare if I didn't have him. I'm much steadier on the whole than I used to be and I think he's had a lot to do with that. He gently encourages me to take care of myself so I'm better centered and balanced, and still loves me even when I drive him mad with illogical perspectives and hurt feelings that I can't keep inside anymore. I don't deserve him.
I've been thinking for the past few months, maybe a year, about how much more reserved I am than I used to be. I like to feel quiet inside, with all the turmoil I endured as a teen and in my early 20's. Less contact with people = less likelihood of getting shaken up inside, haha. I don't know how much of that is healthy or not--I suspect that it's more unhealthy than not, but I'm not in a place where I feel like changing it. I've got a core little group of people and that's all a need or want right now. I can sense that there is a lot of sadness inside me which motivates this degree of reservation (which is why I think it's more unhealthy than not) but I'm done with guilting myself to push forward and run faster than I have strength. If that means having less contact with the external-to-myself world, then so be it. The way I feel will change at some point again, and I'll seek out socialization when I want to. I already do, on the days it's actually something that interests me, and while those days are pretty spread apart, that's what keeps me from worrying overmuch about sinking into some sort of debilitating depression again.
Mornings. I hate 'em. Not because I wake up exhausted (although I do,) but because I struggle to make myself use them. Jay goes to work at 7:30, so I drive him there, drop him off, then promptly go back to bed until I have to get ready to start my shift at 10:30. I was doing better when my shift was earlier, even when it was just one hour earlier, but since that has changed about a month ago, I've stayed in bed later and later each day. This last week has been the worst. I've left my bed at 10 three times, and I've got to leave by 10:10 in order to be clocked in on time. I've not been late, but that is way too little time to get ready and mentally adjust yourself to deal with people, co-workers and customers alike.
Part of the reason it's been so bad is that I had surgery to remove a small cyst last week and my body is extra worn out working on healing from that. A larger part, though, is that I don't want to get up. Bed and sleep are safe and comforting.
I'm waiting for this depression to pass, and working to allow myself room while it does. Love you!
-K.
Thursday, May 4, 2017
Roses Bloom on Their Own Time
I was reminded recently of an image that taught me a lot when it first came into my life, and it just came back to me:
A hand, gently trying to help a rose bloom more quickly by tugging on petals in an effort to help them separate.
This is not how nature works. Roses bloom on their own time, and trying to "help it along" damages the flower more often than not, destroying what it could have been.
Sometimes, the best path is truly to step back and let the rose bloom into what it was always made to be. Sometimes the brave course is waiting and trusting that the Being who made the rose is wise to let it reach its beauty without any meddling. Sometimes, there is a reverence to the experience of waiting.
It can be enough to simply wait, trusting in the process to come to its fruition; Amen!
A hand, gently trying to help a rose bloom more quickly by tugging on petals in an effort to help them separate.
This is not how nature works. Roses bloom on their own time, and trying to "help it along" damages the flower more often than not, destroying what it could have been.
Sometimes, the best path is truly to step back and let the rose bloom into what it was always made to be. Sometimes the brave course is waiting and trusting that the Being who made the rose is wise to let it reach its beauty without any meddling. Sometimes, there is a reverence to the experience of waiting.
It can be enough to simply wait, trusting in the process to come to its fruition; Amen!
Just writing to write tonight, so don't expect too much.
I am tired of looking at screens--I do it all day at work now since I've changed jobs, and then come home and usually watch Netflix for a while, then have to set my alarm on my phone before I go to bed, and it just feels like I'm looking at them ALL THE TIME. My eyes are stuffed with little boxes displaying light and boxes of color and words and it's giving me a headache and drying me out.
I want to see blue skies and feel air on my skin and feel like my own mind is the one occupying my skull again. I feel burdened with thinking about other stories than my own at night while I watch the flicker and feel my life slowly trickle away. Surely this is not what I came here for!
I feel restless, too, since computers are an inescapable tool that I need to use, even for this kind of self expression. I feel like my body is wasting away for want of use, worn, despite the fact that I'm trying to get up and use it. There is this visceral lack of motion in my life at the moment; this lack of connecting in a physical way, with a few exceptions. It makes me tired, thinking of what I have not interacted with in the outside world recently...
On the other hand, I am glad that I feel more centered internally again. I no longer feel lost, like I'm starving for light and don't know how to invite it anymore. I think visiting my mission and sharing the people there with Jay helped with that. Also reading scriptures again has helped, especially since it's been in the morning. I feel peaceful and ok once more with where I am spiritually. That was a long time coming! I felt like a spinning, uncentered lump of clay on the throwing wheel, bump bump bumping against the hand trying to steady me, for quite a while there. It is relieving, like a breath of air, to feel myself again, and I am grateful.
Guys, I really don't have much else to say. I'm grateful for the patience that was given me and the perspective that comes with time and the chance to cool off. I'm excited to see my sister when she visits in few weeks and I am enjoying that book The Intentional Family by William J. Doherty.
That's it.
I want to see blue skies and feel air on my skin and feel like my own mind is the one occupying my skull again. I feel burdened with thinking about other stories than my own at night while I watch the flicker and feel my life slowly trickle away. Surely this is not what I came here for!
I feel restless, too, since computers are an inescapable tool that I need to use, even for this kind of self expression. I feel like my body is wasting away for want of use, worn, despite the fact that I'm trying to get up and use it. There is this visceral lack of motion in my life at the moment; this lack of connecting in a physical way, with a few exceptions. It makes me tired, thinking of what I have not interacted with in the outside world recently...
On the other hand, I am glad that I feel more centered internally again. I no longer feel lost, like I'm starving for light and don't know how to invite it anymore. I think visiting my mission and sharing the people there with Jay helped with that. Also reading scriptures again has helped, especially since it's been in the morning. I feel peaceful and ok once more with where I am spiritually. That was a long time coming! I felt like a spinning, uncentered lump of clay on the throwing wheel, bump bump bumping against the hand trying to steady me, for quite a while there. It is relieving, like a breath of air, to feel myself again, and I am grateful.
Guys, I really don't have much else to say. I'm grateful for the patience that was given me and the perspective that comes with time and the chance to cool off. I'm excited to see my sister when she visits in few weeks and I am enjoying that book The Intentional Family by William J. Doherty.
That's it.
Wednesday, March 8, 2017
Being in the Present
I've been thinking about this post since December.
I got together with some old roommates from my first year of college on the 28th (which I remember because that's my niece's birthday, :). ) We met at my apartment to catch up and then went to a new restaurant in town to eat street tacos--the first time for one of us, a favorite dish for me, and an ordinary food for the other. I got to snuggle the first one's second baby, and I told them about our infertility situation, and the third told us about wanting to meet someone. It amazed me, that such different women with such different situations could be there together and it could feel right to me. It could feel like home. They are part of my home.
I have this defense mechanism, you see. This thing I do to keep myself from hurting too much. I live in the present, and I work hard to do so. It takes mental and emotional effort, and there's been a casualty in this choice. I'm not good at keeping friends.
I wrote this poem in high school, and although I'm not remembering a line from the second and third stanzas, I remember the rest. It is probably the only one of my own poems I've come close to memorizing other than one about my Dad:
Lost a friend today
Or was it yesterday?
Just sort of slipped and spread apart.
Ours is now a hallway friendship--
Casual smiles, unconcerned hellos.
I am too scared to reach out
and snap us into meaning again.
Living in the present keeps me focused on the things I can influence. It stops me from being sad about events that happened years ago and getting scared about what might happen in the future. It grounds me. It makes me able to function, but also makes it so reaching out and back to people from "before" is foreign and stretches the muscles of my emotion into unfamiliar shapes.
My life is segmented into sections--high school, Snow years, before mission, mission, after mission, dating Jay, married life, changing to new job. The people from each of those periods are pretty segmented, too. I can list those associated with each point quite easily. And I don't talk to more than about two from each. Too much energy, too much to handle. Not them, but my feelings regarding them. How much it takes to be involved and vulnerable with more than a handful at a time. I'm not good at it. I rip too easily. So I focus. I stay in today and try not to think too much of befores.
December 28th is a day I remember because it wasn't entirely like that on that day. It felt right. It wasn't so emotionally taxing to reach back and out to where those friendships started and who I am now and how that integrates with what and who I was.
And on the ride back to my apartment? I was saying thank you to the girl who made it happen, and she told me that of course she would reach out when she's in the state; that we matter to her so much and helped make her who she is today. I didn't know she felt like that. I didn't know I felt like that and that it would mean so much to hear another human share the reciprocation of what I had been unable to define. She said that whenever she hears Changed for Good from Wicked, she thinks of us Snow girls. It made me cry in relief; in gratitude that someone else felt the same, in happiness that I got to hear it.
Being in the present comes at a cost--friendships lost and laid aside. I'm grateful that in this case, I didn't have to pay it forever.
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...
-Changed for Good, Wicked
I got together with some old roommates from my first year of college on the 28th (which I remember because that's my niece's birthday, :). ) We met at my apartment to catch up and then went to a new restaurant in town to eat street tacos--the first time for one of us, a favorite dish for me, and an ordinary food for the other. I got to snuggle the first one's second baby, and I told them about our infertility situation, and the third told us about wanting to meet someone. It amazed me, that such different women with such different situations could be there together and it could feel right to me. It could feel like home. They are part of my home.
I have this defense mechanism, you see. This thing I do to keep myself from hurting too much. I live in the present, and I work hard to do so. It takes mental and emotional effort, and there's been a casualty in this choice. I'm not good at keeping friends.
I wrote this poem in high school, and although I'm not remembering a line from the second and third stanzas, I remember the rest. It is probably the only one of my own poems I've come close to memorizing other than one about my Dad:
Lost a friend today
Or was it yesterday?
Just sort of slipped and spread apart.
Ours is now a hallway friendship--
Casual smiles, unconcerned hellos.
I am too scared to reach out
and snap us into meaning again.
My life is segmented into sections--high school, Snow years, before mission, mission, after mission, dating Jay, married life, changing to new job. The people from each of those periods are pretty segmented, too. I can list those associated with each point quite easily. And I don't talk to more than about two from each. Too much energy, too much to handle. Not them, but my feelings regarding them. How much it takes to be involved and vulnerable with more than a handful at a time. I'm not good at it. I rip too easily. So I focus. I stay in today and try not to think too much of befores.
December 28th is a day I remember because it wasn't entirely like that on that day. It felt right. It wasn't so emotionally taxing to reach back and out to where those friendships started and who I am now and how that integrates with what and who I was.
And on the ride back to my apartment? I was saying thank you to the girl who made it happen, and she told me that of course she would reach out when she's in the state; that we matter to her so much and helped make her who she is today. I didn't know she felt like that. I didn't know I felt like that and that it would mean so much to hear another human share the reciprocation of what I had been unable to define. She said that whenever she hears Changed for Good from Wicked, she thinks of us Snow girls. It made me cry in relief; in gratitude that someone else felt the same, in happiness that I got to hear it.
Being in the present comes at a cost--friendships lost and laid aside. I'm grateful that in this case, I didn't have to pay it forever.
I've heard it said
That people come into our lives for a reason
Bringing something we must learn
And we are led
To those who help us most to grow
If we let them
And we help them in return
Well, I don't know if I believe that's true
But I know I'm who I am today
Because I knew you...
Who can say if I've been changed for the better?
But because I knew you
I have been changed for good
So much of me
Is made of what I learned from you
You'll be with me
Like a handprint on my heart
And now whatever way our stories end
I know you have re-written mine
By being my friend...
-Changed for Good, Wicked
Silence
I went to Urgent Care today to get a dressing changed and noticed something while I was there.
The exam room I was waiting in had a door which connected it to another exam room. As I sat down to wait for the doctor, I heard through the door exclamations of, "Oh! Ow. Owowow! That HURTS! OWWW!" It wasn't dramatic, just another patient on the other side of the door, getting themselves through the pain. It made me think, because I don't do that.
When I'm experiencing pain, I get quiet. I tamp it down before I realize I'm doing so. It's reflexive. Compulsive, maybe.
Hearing someone who had no problem sharing how hard it was to feel the way they did made me remember back to a time with my former roommates where we sat around and took a pop psychology sort of story-quiz together. We shared our answers to all the different scenarios in the story, then laughed together as the meaning of our answers were decoded.
One of the questions was what you would do if you were on a horse in the desert near a ravine and saw a storm coming along the horizon. I said I would go into the ravine and find the best shelter I could to hunker down while waiting for the storm to pass over me. The storm represented problems, troubles, trials, and difficulty. And there I was, hunkering down. This is the definition of my silence, my repressed cries of pain. I'm just waiting it out-- at least I've learned it will pass.
But I think there could be more. The feeling I get when I think about hunkering down... It's the same feeling I had yesterday when I went into Urgent Care to get the cyst on my tailbone drained. It's the quick sucking in of a painful breath and the water flooding my eyes but not spilling over as my body quietly shakes with the shock of the sensation; the painfully clenched fists and tremoring muscles and the breathing breathing breathing to make it through one more moment; focus in, focus in, focus in. Closed flickering eyes tightened mouth and breathe breathe breathe deep until it stops.
There's something more than nerves that hurt in that.
The exam room I was waiting in had a door which connected it to another exam room. As I sat down to wait for the doctor, I heard through the door exclamations of, "Oh! Ow. Owowow! That HURTS! OWWW!" It wasn't dramatic, just another patient on the other side of the door, getting themselves through the pain. It made me think, because I don't do that.
When I'm experiencing pain, I get quiet. I tamp it down before I realize I'm doing so. It's reflexive. Compulsive, maybe.
Hearing someone who had no problem sharing how hard it was to feel the way they did made me remember back to a time with my former roommates where we sat around and took a pop psychology sort of story-quiz together. We shared our answers to all the different scenarios in the story, then laughed together as the meaning of our answers were decoded.
One of the questions was what you would do if you were on a horse in the desert near a ravine and saw a storm coming along the horizon. I said I would go into the ravine and find the best shelter I could to hunker down while waiting for the storm to pass over me. The storm represented problems, troubles, trials, and difficulty. And there I was, hunkering down. This is the definition of my silence, my repressed cries of pain. I'm just waiting it out-- at least I've learned it will pass.
But I think there could be more. The feeling I get when I think about hunkering down... It's the same feeling I had yesterday when I went into Urgent Care to get the cyst on my tailbone drained. It's the quick sucking in of a painful breath and the water flooding my eyes but not spilling over as my body quietly shakes with the shock of the sensation; the painfully clenched fists and tremoring muscles and the breathing breathing breathing to make it through one more moment; focus in, focus in, focus in. Closed flickering eyes tightened mouth and breathe breathe breathe deep until it stops.
There's something more than nerves that hurt in that.
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