No Longer on the Cusp of an Anxiety Attack

I know. Yay me!!! Right? Life is beginning to even out and I know longer have t

he feeling that suddenly life will implode.

Okay. Long time since my last post. But now I know why C.

 Joe was flustered for much of the past two years. Grad school is tough. I want to cry a lot. I want my mommy and a blankie and the amount of coke slurpees I ingest on a weekly basis has increased since that fateful day I found the Maverick in West Flag.

Here's a quick update on life, as I'm sure in future posts I'll return to those rants you all know and love so well.

Since being in Flagstaff, I've turned into quite the party trick. And no, not that way. I'm quite the Mormon enigma in the English department. Here's a list of things that have been said to me:

"You're Mormon?! But... you seem so sane."

"You're Mormon?! But you dress normal... and you're cute."

"I knew this Mormon once. Yeah... he/she was awful/terrible/judgmental." (To which I responded, "Yeah. Me too.")

"Are you Irish? Oh no. You can't be Irish. You're Mormon."

"Yeah. One time, on Wikipedia, my brother changed all the L.D.S. entries to read L.S.D." (Admittedly, I chuckled at this one, and then used it to show that Wikipedia is NOT a credible source.)

"So how many sister wives do you have?"

"All Mormons do is spawn, Spawn, SPAWN!" (This last one being said in front of my entire Sex, Politics, and Reproduction class. Everyone, including my professor, started laughing. Then it was pointed out that I was Mormon. It was worse than the time I was asked if Mormons have horns.)

Besides all of these comments, and the others like it, stem from ignorance, they have been opportunities for me to stand up for myself and reaffirm my faith. I've been struggling with my membership in the church for about the past year, and it's nice to finally know that I do believe, otherwise, I wouldn't say anything at all. 

I would also like to point out that these thoughtless, unlearned comments are of the minority. Most of my friends, which is why they are labeled thus, are curious and supportive and wonderful. I go out to the bars to socialize and dance, and they buy me drinks in the form of cranberry juice. They understand my informed decisions just like I understand theirs. 

So, here's the part where I break the flow and do a quick rapid fire. 

I haven't liked living in Flag. I have not liked going to school. I miss home and my family. 

I went home this past weekend for the first time in two months. I almost cried when I got to Cedar. Through conversations with wonderful people, I realized that I could either wallow in my pity, or I could do something about it. 

I got back to Flag on Monday, which was my 23rd birthday. I felt refreshed and recharged and ready to apply myself with a new fervor. I only have three semesters left after this one, so I might as well make them worth it. 

When I went out with some friends Monday night to celebrate my exit from my mother's womb, for the first real time since moving here, I felt loved. There's a lovely group of ladies in my program and we lunch every Friday after class. A few of them came out to dinner and it was great. Since I returned, I realized I have not made a wrong decision. I made a decision that put me in a challenging, new position and I must act and adapt instead of react and whine.

The point is this: we may not be in the best of circumstances, but this is it, so why not smile and decide to be happy?

Anyways. Parting shots:

Listen to Explosions in the Sky. The song "Your Hand in Mine" might just change your life.

Spending a birthday at the Dinosaur Museum in Lehi is a fantastic way to celebrate life.

Being a teacher is the best job EVER! Especially when a student tells you you're kick-ass.

I think I like being Mormon.

Kissing is awesome!

Frisco Street Grill is my new, favorite restaurant. Come visit! I'll take you there.

Raft down the Grand Canyon. It's phenomenal. 

Find a Happy Place

Sometimes, being happy is a battle for me. I imagine myself as a stanch fighter in some kind of war, like the war at the beginning of "The Lord of the Rings" movie, fighting against the powers that would make me unhappy, because the key to happiness lies just on the other side of the opposing army. A weird picture to be sure, but that's what happens when you're a dork with an overactive, visual imagination.

Last February 14th, I was realized I had depression. Two days later, I was diagnosed with severe depression and severe anxiety. Writing, or saying, this on paper or out loud is not difficult when I share my experience with a trusted few. I knew that I would inevitably share this particular trial with many. And for some reason, I feel the need to share tonight.

The two months prior to that fateful day, and the three months after, were the hardest in my life. I have never known despair to that extent. I felt hopeless, helpless, miserable, and empty. I had nothing to give; I could only take.

But, and this is a big but, because I knew sadness to that depth, I knew that I could also experience happiness to that degree, and more. 

There is a stigma in many cultures, particularly in the Utah culture, that the word depression is a synonym for crazy. I think this is why I don't share my experience with many. I am not ashamed of myself, but leaving the sacred parts of my life open to the judgements and sneers of those who choose not to understand is difficult.

I heard once that we should not share sacred experiences with many, because they lose their sanctity, much like I shouldn't tell someone I'm in love with them when I really am unsure of my feelings. And although my trial with depression is sacred, I refuse to let an unhappy memory have power of my life. Instead, I choose to let it be a secure foothold in my life. A place where I know I have strength, courage, and experience so that it cannot be an unhappy memory anymore. Depression has been replaced with wisdom and love.

There are many things that help me now. I don't feel the need to share them. I just want to illustrate that sometimes my happiness is a choice and a battle. Today was a difficult day to keep fighting though.

The past few days have been really tough. I missed an extremely important grad school deadline and almost forgot another. I still have no idea what to do with my life after August, I feel like I'm in limbo, I feel like I can't do anything right, that people have no faith in me, and that if they do have faith in me that it's a wasted effort, and that all things that I have been trying to do "better" lately have been for naught. I feel depressed.

Maybe it's the time of year or the fact that the sun hasn't been out in a really long time, maybe I'm fighting what I'm supposed to really be doing instead of what God needs me to be doing, maybe I don't know what I really want. Maybe it's P.M.S.

I don't know. 

What I do know is that writing about this helps me. Sharing my experience does too. Maybe that's all I need to know right now.

A Death in the Family

"Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness." - Maya Angelou

Buster died this morning.

Buster is my iPod. My 80 Gig iPod that only had 4 Gigs left.

Perhaps it is because I anthropomorphize so many things in my life, but I feel like I've lost a friend. No, I don't have strange and salacious feelings for inanimate objects; I just think I'm lonely in general and not having Buster to keep me company on my walks to class or to listen to in the car reminds me that I am, in fact, lonely and alone.

This semester hasn't been anti-climactic or anything. There was nothing climactic about about returning to Cedar, about taking more undergraduate classes, about feeling like I'm stuck. People that I love have moved away and are doing different things - and I'm here. "X" moved. "Y" left. Our Dear Girl is off having adventures. My family isn't here. The few that are left I rarely get to see, or we go through the motions of a facade, for the sake of a pretense of a relationship.

I'm disappointed about so many things too. I had a crappy weekend preceded by a frustrating and sleepless week. I'm disappointed that I haven't connected with another person, or even God, in a long time. I'm disappointed in myself that I can't find balance and that for all my ranting about not needing a man that I still very much want one - and I'm disappointed that opportunity let me down too. I feel like I'm drowning in my classes. Every time I walk into the English building, no less than two people immediately ask me for something or where something is.

If I said that I was mourning for Buster, I'd be lying - Buster is the simulacrum of my loneliness and at the same time, a shield from it.

I'm tired. I want a good cry, but I'm blogging at work and they already think I'm weird. I want someone to crawl in bed with me and hug me til I fall asleep, because sometimes waking up by one's self is a lonely feeling, but I'll go home and sleep by myself tonight - Buster-less.

Today, perhaps, is just a bad day spawned by a bad week.

This weekend will be better. I'll turn 22. And even though I don't like even numbers, I know that it'll still be a good day. I know that I'll keep on until I too can cast off the chains I feel by being here, but still, today is a bad day.