Solitude

I have grown to hate being alone with my thoughts. I used to love to sit and think about life and solve the world's problems in the privacy of my own head. Now, I just try to not think. I wish I knew what to tell myself. Sometimes I really hate being an intensely private person. I wish I could just tell the world my problems and have them magically solve themselves. Too bad I know that will never happen as long as I'm in control of my head.

Latest Painting

I like to consider myself an artist. At one time I was quite good. Any more, it's simply dabbling, and sometimes I feel it's mediocre dabbling at that. Here is my latest painting.

I was doing a series of non-representational monochromatic abstract art. I'm not really sure how this one sneaked in.

Migraines

I hate migraines. For many reasons, most of them painfully obvious. The one thing that I really, really, really hate about migraines, though, is how they effect me. You see, some people are immobilized, some people get light sensitive, most people get the general symptoms. I, however, get stupid. Migraines effect my cognitive abilities. There's no other way to put it: they make me stupid and disoriented. For that reason they are more than just painful and immobilizing, they are potentially dangerous. If I'm somewhere and forget how I got there or what I was doing it may take me a good while before I can remember it.

The first time I noticed this I had been suffering from the standard symptoms, but they had finally abated, so I walked the mile to the grocery store. While in the middle of the store I suddenly could not remember how I got there, what I was doing, and (scariest of all) where I was. It was in that moment of panic when I realized what was going on. Since then, when ever possible I don't go anywhere when I have a migraine. I like to pull up a spot of floor and do nothing.

However, my migraines come in waves. So, I'll be suffering for a while, then it will seemingly go away, tricking me into trying to go somewhere or do something before coming back even stronger. Not to be fooled this time, I decided that I would work from home today. I got up at 10, feeling much better than when I went to bed at 8 the night before, and logged on to my work computer. I was very productive today, putting in a full 8 hours. Ok, a full 7 1/2 hours, but basically!

Now, the stupid thing is back, and I'm only moderately tired, and completely out of medication, and I have no doctor to call for a prescription.

Hey, I wonder if Rite-Aid has my prescription. Maybe I'll give them a call.

Active

I was talking to a friend this weekend about Mumsy. I don't remember exactly what I said, but she asked, "Is she as active as you?"

That simple question got me thinking: am I active? Would I consider myself an active person? I guess I would. huh.

Lunch Interviews

I had another lunch interview with a candidate today.

When we got our food I looked at his plate, on the right he had steamed veggies, the left was a mound of delicious looking mashed potatoes, and right in the middle he had this grilled trout. Even the trout looked good.

As he picked up his knife and fork to eat I couldn't help but notice the way he seemed to tear apart the super moist looking fish. It was kind of gross. Nothing, however, could top the moment when he used the knife he was holding in his right hand to shovel his mashed potatoes into his mouth, while the fork in his left went unused. Fortunately, he happened to glance down at his plate, because I think my jaw hit the table when I saw him do it. Worse still, was he did it multiple times! If this was for a position that would require eating with clients he would have lost the job right there. As it was, I had a hard time focusing as he talked with his mouth full, and chewed (no shock here) mouth open.

As soon as I dropped him off for his next interview I called up Mumsy and thanked her, profusely, for teaching me how to eat. I know 3 year olds with better table manners! Oh. My. Gosh!!

Humanitarian Kits

Since my new calling (job at church) is Family Home Evening Co-chair, I'm responsible for coming up with fun and exciting activities for a group of about 20 people to do on a Monday night. This week we decided to do a service project, but we couldn't come up with anything. At the last minute I decided that we should make hygiene kits (directions can be found at http://providentliving.org). I needed to get the supplies, and didn't have a lot of time (since I decided Saturday night at 11). So, when I got home from work I rushed to the local drug store. I decided that we were going to make 40 kits. Here are the contents of one kit:
HYGIENE KIT
2 unbreakable combs (no sharp handles)
4 toothbrushes (packaged)
1 tube of toothpaste (6 to 8 ounces, no pumps)
2 bars of soap (approximately 3.5-5 ounces each)
2 hand towels (Use new 15-inch by 25-inch hand towels. Please do not use dish towels
or washcloths.)
Place items in a heavy-duty, one gallon sealable bag. Remove the air
before sealing.

So, I bought what I could, and ended up wiping the store out of toothbrushes and some brands of soap. I couldn't find any hand towels though, so I still have to buy those.

I went up to the cash register, in a hurry, but still understanding that there may be other people who also wanted to check out sometime this decade. As I took the items out of my cart I grouped them as best as I could. Midway through this process a young girl and her mother joined me in line (The cashier quickly called for someone else to come to the front to ring them up), followed by some guy. The little girl whispered to her mom, "Why does she have so many toothbrushes?" (I happened to have only 40 in the cart!) "I don't know," her mom whispered back. The guy behind them jokingly commented, "Somebody sure has a lot of teeth!"

I took this as the perfect opportunity to answer the girl's question with out making her mom uncomfortable. I smiled and said, "Yes. Actually, my church makes humanitarian kits, and this is for that."

"Oh. Are they going to shampoo their hair next?"

"Well, maybe. There are kits for that, too."

At this point the other cashier arrived, and the mother and daughter left. The guy, who I had assumed was with them, stayed in line behind me, as I was almost finished by this point anyway. We chatted a bit before I paid, gathered my new purchases, and ran out to my car, hoping I could make it to church on time. I threw my bags in the trunk, hopped in, buckled up, and started the engine when I heard someone knocking on my window. I glanced up, and it was the guy from the line! I was afraid I had left something in my rush. I rolled down the window and he asked: "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Uh, no, I don't."

"Would you mind if I asked you out sometime?"

"Uh, sure."

It went on from there, he got my number, asked if I lived on the island, paid me a couple of complements, and then was on his way, as I tore out of the parking lot headed to church.

I have to give him mad props! How nerve wracking that must be to ask out this total stranger at the drugstore. We'll see if he calls. Even if he doesn't, it's cute that he asked.

Mothers

I was asked to speak in Church on Sunday. The topic: Mothers.

I really hate being given that topic, especially on Mother's Day. The reason behind that is simple, really: there are three kinds of Mother's Day talks, and only three; and after being in the Church for as long as I have, one has pretty much heard every variation of the themes. They are as follows:
1. My mom is the greatest mom, ever. Blatantly false. My mom is the greatest mom, ever.
2. The mothers of the "Sons of Helaman" were amazing women. Very true. Completely indisputable. But, there are a limited number of scriptural references to said women, and only so many different ways they can be read.
3. Someday when you (and possibly I, depending on the gender of the speaker) are blessed enough to be a mother...Thus effectively leaving half the congregation to pick their fingernails, and annoying those women who don't plan on being mothers, for whatever reason.

Given those choices I knew mine had to be different. So, I decided to make a list of every mother mentioned in the Scriptures. I stopped right around Naomi (yeah, I didn't get very far). Why did I stop? I suddenly had a better idea: I would talk about the three mothers who have affected us all.

So, without further ado, here's my talk (I speak from outlines, rather than writing the whole thing out, so this isn't exactly what I said, but the general ideas are there).

Three Mothers
There are three mothers who have impacted us all greatly:
1. Eve — The Mother of all Living.
2. Mary — The Mother of Christ.
3. Our own mothers.

First: Eve.
In the Encyclopedia of Mormonism we read:

Eve, first woman of earthly creation, companion of Adam, and mother and matriarch of the human race, is honored by Latter-day Saints as one of the most important, righteous, and heroic of all the human family. Eve's supreme gift to mankind, the opportunity of life on this earth, resulted from her choice to become mortal (Quoted in Campbell).

Eve gets a bad rap, you know, the whole fruit thing, but in the end, she had to do it. She had to partake of the fruit, so that we could come to this mortal state.
It is important here to note, that Eve was not less than Adam, nor was she his better.

The original Hebrew text is...enlightening. The word that has been translated as "help meet" is a combination of two root words: ezer and k'enegdo.
The word ezer also combines two roots: the first meaning "to rescue" or "to save"...
The second Hebrew word, k'enegdo, is identified as meaning "equal (Campbell)."

Thus we see, Eve was Adam's equal. His partner in the vital role they would play. For, neither one could bring about the Fall alone. They understood that, and that is why Adam, after Eve, partook of the Forbidden Fruit. They needed each other, and we needed the Fall.
In fact, Eve rejoiced in the knowledge of her actions. We read in Moses 5:10-11, "And in that day Adam blessed God and was filled, and began to prophesy concerning all the families of the earth, saying: Blessed be the name of God, for because of my transgression my eyes are opened, and in this life I shall have joy, and again in the flesh I shall see God. And Eve, his wife, heard all these things and was glad, saying: Were it not for our transgression we never should have had seed, and never should have known good and evil, and the joy of our redemption, and the eternal life which God giveth unto all the obedient (emphasis added)."

Next, let's talk about Mary. She was the mother of Christ. What an amazing challenge that would be — imagine being the woman who is raising the Son of God. The Savior of the World and all mankind. How humbling that must have been. Mary, as we know, was incredibly faithful. We read in Luke 1:38 of her humility and faithfulness. This is right after the angel of the Lord has appeared and told her of her divine roll. She was a little surprised, but, this was her answer: "And Mary said, Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word. And the angel departed from her."
We also know that Christ loved her. As He hung on the cross, dying, He said to Mary, "Woman, behold thy son!" and to John, the Beloved, "Behold thy mother (John 19:26-27)!" It was so important to Christ that His mother be cared for, that He made sure she would be.
It's interesting to note, we have no reliable historical account of Mary in her later life.

Lastly, our mothers. I made a list of many different kinds of mothers, and there are far more than I have here.
There are the mothers who gave birth to us. And the mothers who raised us, they may or may not be the same person.
There are mothers who are always there when we need them, and mothers who are never there.
There are stay at home mothers, and mothers who work outside of the home.
There are mothers who are affectionate, and mothers who are aloof.
There are mothers who are Saints; and there are mothers who are less than Saints.
There are mothers with lots of kids, with few kids, with one kid, with no kids. But, most importantly, they impact us. These mothers have had some influence on our lives. Even if they were never around, they have impacted us.

This Mother's Day let us all think of these mothers who have affected us. Eve, the mother of all living; Mary, the mother of Christ; and our mothers, whether our own, or one that we stole from someone else. These mothers have impacted us, they are important to us, let us always be thankful to them.

Campbell, Beverly, Collegium Aesclapium address, April 1993 or "MOTHER EVE Mentor for Today's Woman: A Heritage of Honor," Collegium Aesculapium 1994, pp 37-49. Full text can be found here

Book

As mentioned before I view gift-giving as an art form (one where I happen to excel). The most important part of a gift is the thought that goes into it. Why do I bring this up, again? Simply put: the following two experiences.

OfficeCrush
I was sitting at my desk Thursday, madly trying to get some work done when my office crush (BookGuy) came over and offered me a welcome interruption.

He greeted me: "I come bearing gifts. Well, gift."

"Huh?"

"You know that room where all left over items end up for anyone to take?"

"Yeah?"

"Well," he informed me, "I was just up there, and saw this and thought you might like it." With that, he handed me a book on cd. What book? you ask. The Secrets of Judas. Now, I don't know anything about this book, and he certainly doesn't either, but he does know that I'm super religious (this is the guy about whom this post was written, incidentally, I really need to write up the story I neglected to mention, since it plays a vital role in this story...), and he happened to see it, and picked it up for me. Totally sweet. This only adds to the reasons I think he's cute.

Ironically enough, as he stood there he noticed my sign and started to ask.

"Don't ask. Trust me. Just don't ask."

"Ok, then... I won't."

He didn't. Thank goodness!

Roommate
Remember that one time when I had the best roommates in the world? We lived in Zion and everything was perfect, until one of them had to run off and get married? Well, the other one just got married(!). I'm super excited for her. She's living out this way which gives me an opportunity to give her a wedding present. The only problem with that is, I hadn't bought it, yet. So, today I went to her favorite store to pick up a few things.

I wandered into The Body Shop to pick up a few items that I know she loves. As I was smelling the home fragrances employee A came over to ask me how things were going, and try to sell me more crap. She asked what my favorite scent is, and I told her, "Actually, they give me migraines, so they're not for me. My old roommate just got married, and so I thought I'd get her a wedding present." "Oh, how sweet! They give you migraines? That's not good!" Exit A, stage left. 30 seconds later, enter employee B, stage right. "So, what's your favorite scent?" "None of them." I really just wanted to be left alone so I could shop in peace. It worked. Exit B, stage right.

I kept shopping, looking for things I know she likes, and thinks she might be willing to give a try. I picked up quite a bit of stuff, despite A and B's constant attempts to distract me.

As I was checking out B asked me if I have one of their frequent shopper cards. I said no. She was really surprised, since "You seem to know your way around the store pretty well."

"Well, I've been in here a few times."

"What's your favorite thing?"

I smiled. I wasn't going to tell her that generally, their products are ok, but not my favorite. "Oh, I don't know."

"Yeah, it's all good. And since you don't seem to have favorites..."

I wasn't going to let some complete stranger tell me I'm not opinionated! "Actually, I'm allergic to the room oils, they're for my old roommate. She just got married, and it was a sacrifice she made while we lived together..."

"Oh!" We wrapped up the conversation while she finished ringing me up.

As I left I heard B say to A, "That's so sweet! She, "

"Yeah, it totally is!"

You know that warm-fuzzy feeling you get when someone else realizes that you're amazing? Yeah, I got that.

Default Boss

My boss got fired, so we had an acting manager until he went back to the UK. Now, we have a very curious problem: He is moving over here to be our permanent boss, his boss is here, and only sort of involved, and our former acting manager who is our new boss is trying to manage us from the other side of the world (or, at least, 9 time zones away). This is all well and good for those of us who happen to be self-starters. For the non-self-starters, and the contractors this poses a completely different problem. Who do they turn to when they don't know what to do or how to handle a situation? Who do they ask for more things to do? It is times like these that a natural leader emerges. Either because they want to, or because others want it of them. In our current situation, it's because others want it. I have become the default boss. Yes, you read that correctly. Yours truly, out of no effort of her own has become the person people ask all their questions of, and the one who hands out assignments when the contractors get bored. Is this what I wanted? No way. I like not having to be a boss. I gave that up years ago, and haven't really missed it. Sure, I'm a great type "A", but dealing with other people's problems at the expense of getting my own work done — thanks, I'll pass. Oh well. I guess we do what we have to do. I just have to remember to keep referring things back to our boss, so that people don't start thinking I'm the boss, and so no one's toes get stepped on. This isn't a job I asked for, but I've got to make the best of what has happened.

Numb

I've become numb. Head to toe numb. I feel nothing, until I do. And then, the only thing I feel is anguish. No emotions until pain. I laugh, so I don't cry. When I'm alone, I try to not think, so I don't cry. My thoughts sneak up on me anyway. They ambush me when I'm not paying attention, wrestling me to the ground in submission.

I've talked to him, once. He couldn't wait to get me off the phone. I carry my phone with me — more obsessively than before. I check it whenever I hear a phone ring. I check it when I don't. I'm afraid I'll miss the next most important phone call I'll ever get. I don't expect him to call, ever. I hope he does. What will I say? I don't know. But, I should at least have the chance to awkwardly try to come up with something.

It used to be whenever I saw something he likes I would smile, fondly, remembering how his likes would turn into obsessions. Now, when I see them I want to cry. Sometimes I do. I can't avoid those things he likes, but I can't explain unbidden tears, either.

I want to tell him how much he hurt me. I know I can't. I want to just move on and get past this. I'm afraid I will forget him.

And, So, It Begins

I wasn't going to say anything. Nothing at all. I may yet remove this post all together, but what is writing to me, if not cathartic?

Sunday night one of my closest friends called me (ExOfNote). He had decided that he wanted to learn to fly — without the benefit of a parachute.

Fortunately, the Lord really does answer prayers, and he's still with us. Us. I should say 'them'. He's still with his family. He's shoved me away, shut me out. He wants nothing to do with me. I assume it's shame, embarrassment, quite possibly anger. I allow him these feelings, at least he's feeling.

I'm feeling, too. I feel that the next time I see him I'm going to throttle him for the anguish he caused me. I feel that I'll kiss him for still being alive. But, mostly, I feel I will forever be tortured by the terror I heard in my own voice as I screamed his name into the void that was, after he hung up on me.

I have replayed the most frightening two hours of my life in a continuous loop for the past three days. I try to fill my mind with work, with movies, with meaningless drivel. But it comes to me in my sleep, stealing from me those moments that should be a reprieve.

Mumsy suggested a suicide support group, but they all want the person to be dead. I haven't found a group that caters to the survivors of attempts. I guess they assume you'll be seeking comfort with your loved one. I need to tell someone, and I guess you're all it. Now, I need human contact, and I haven't been able to get it. I'm not close enough with anyone here to get that physical comfort I so desperately need.

As I think about seeking spiritual comfort I'm reminded of a feeling I had, not long ago. I had this persistent feeling of impending sorrow. Not anguish, not anger, but sorrow. I knew something was going to happen that would cause me deep sorrow. Could this be it? I'm not sure, but this torture sure doesn't feel like sorrow. Is there something more to come? I don't know if I could handle the additional emotional strain right now.

The only thing I know for sure is this: I'm in a place I never imagined being, a place where I don't want to be, a place where no one should ever have to be; and I don't know where to go from here.

And, so, it begins: the healing, that will never be complete.

Break

Last night something happened to me that I really need to put in perspective. It's going to be a while before I'm whole again. I don't know how long my memories will haunt me, but I fear they won't soon be gone.

I'll try to post, but if I seem to take a hiatus, it's not 'cause I don't love you, it's that I love too much.

With time comes perspective. With perspective comes understanding. With understanding comes healing. I hope.