For Nakai

     Tomorrow I will get dropped off at the MTC and begin my mission. It doesn't seem real at all. I know I can do it, but its the anticipation that is killing me. All the saying goodbye that I have to do is really wearing me down. Last night I said goodbye for the next 18 months to my boyfriend, Nakai. It was probably one of the hardest single things I've ever done. We spent a long time cuddled together crying and anticipating how much we will miss one another.

     I was going to make this post about going on a mission and all of the general build-up and anticipation and how much I wish it didn't have to be so hard to leave everything and everyone, but I've changed my mind. This post is for Nakai.


     While it is true that when I first met you, I had zero interest in you, I am so glad you changed my mind. If I had known the night that I met you what we would become, there wouldn't have been a doubt in my mind whether or not to stop vegging on the internet and change out of sweatpants. I wouldn't have even started doing that. I would have already been there, waiting for you, if I had known.

     I wasn't easy to convince. I was very much into someone else at the time, and spent far too much time telling you about how things were progressing with him. Sorry about that. But you were persistent. You kept coming over to hang out with my roommate and I, and I kept finding myself lost in conversations with you. Looking back on when you told me you had feelings for me and I rejected you, I can't tell you how happy I am that you didn't give up.

     I realized that when I was with you, I could be myself more than I could be with almost anyone else. I said exactly what I thought and what I felt, and you took it all in stride and kept wanting to be with me anyway. That is why I fell in love with you, and its why I fall in love with you more every day.

     To you, I can admit every fear, every weird question or concern, every random thought. And you still love me. I can be honest, sometimes brutally so, and you still love me. I can be arrogant or naive, and you still love me. I can mess up and cry and get angry, and you still love me. How am I so lucky?

     These past months with you have been unbelievably happy for me. Even when things go wrong, you are always there to hold me and make me feel better. While I'm gone on my mission, even though you won't be there physically, I know I can still count on you. Knowing that you love me is enough.

     I want you to know how much I love you. I don't think that there are words I could say or write to really convey what I feel about you. I can't even believe how much I feel about you. It fills me to bursting. To love you seems like the best and most natural thing I've every done. I've been honest and told you that I've had doubts before, but now I have none. The next 18 months will be long for both of us. But they will be worth it, and we will be stronger because of it. You are the love of my life, Nakai. I miss you already.

   

Real

     The world is full of cheap imitations of happiness and love. It sells a million different things all dressed up as a "good time." The range of products goes from cologne, fad diets, and clothing, to porn, drugs, and alcohol. Everywhere you turn there is some ad claiming to have the key to your happiness. Take this to be skinny! Wear this to become desired! Buy this to feel good! And we pour or money into so many things in a vain effort to be happy.

     This past weekend I was in Las Vegas visiting Nakai and his family. I plotted with his mom and flew down to surprise him. He and his family live outside of of Vegas itself, but while I was visiting, they took me to see the fountains and ride a roller coaster and do some other harmless things on the Strip. Even though we didn't participate in any of the partying or sex culture, it was everywhere. Every other billboard advertised some kind of club with "hot," "sexy," or "nude" show girls and male strippers. The rest of the billboards raved about the hotels and all of the entertainment options they had to offer: liquor, shows, dance clubs, room service for your every beck and call. People walked along the streets dressed in strange outfits or very little outfit at all. Everything was about intensity, the "next big thing," presenting the right appearance, and feeling good.

     While I appreciated that Nakai's family was making an effort to make sure I was having an enjoyable time, the Strip made me feel sad about the world. The goings-on there aren't isolated to just the Strip. The filth is everywhere. Society glorifies fake happiness and promotes sexuality in any form above love and loyalty. It's all so selfish and empty. Companies and people sell this empty pleasure so they can make money and search for their own empty pleasure. Everyone is looking for a way to feel happy, but all they get is something fleeting and fake.

     Thinking about all of this can make one feel awfully depressed, but that isn't my intention. The point I want to make is that there is real love and there is real happiness in the world. After our time on the Strip, Nakai and I sat together on his couch and talked. I told him about the thoughts I was having about how much real happiness and real love have been leached out of the world. As we talked, I realized that even though the world is rotting inside and out, there is still good to be found. What I have with him is real love, not some cheap imitation. What I have with friends and family are real connections that bring me real happiness.

     Even if I had none of those things, I still know that there is true peace to be found. The gospel of Jesus Christ is the only way to real and lasting joy. I believe that and I know it with all of my heart to be true, and that is why I am going to serve a mission starting next month. I want to teach anyone who will listen that they don't have to keep searching for another new way to feel good and that they don't have to buy into emptiness anymore. Nothing else will ever measure up. Nothing that money can buy will ever be as good as something as real as the gospel.

Another New Year

     I started this blog last December. When I look back on the things I wrote in the first couple of months on this blog, I tend to cringe and shake my head at myself for posting such silly things.  There are some that I am okay with. One such was about my New Year's resolution. I decided to make it more of a theme, which was to live every day more fearlessly. I'm a worrier, and I tend to overthink too much, so I wanted to be a bit more spontaneous and to take every opportunity that came. I failed at that a lot this past year, but I also succeeded a lot too. I applied it to small things, such as deciding that, what the heck, I'll come sledding even though its cold outside and warm in here. I ended up having a ton of fun because of decisions like that. I also applied it to big things, too. I was afraid to get attached to just one person again, and didn't want to date a single guy, but eventually I let go of my fears and changed my mind about Nakai. Dating him has been an amazing decision. I'm so lucky to have him in my life. 

     Some of the decisions I've made haven't turned out so great, but the good far outweigh the bad. I'm far more apt to wish I had done something than to wish I hadn't. Living  a year more fearlessly has been wonderful and has made me better. 2014 has been a whirlwind ride and SO much has changed between when it started and when it ended. I was a bit prophetic in my New Year's post last year when I wrote:
I don’t know if I have ever lived a year that has ended so differently than it began. I’m sure 2014 will be just as transforming. I will need to be much more fearless this year than I was last year.
     The New Year's theme idea was successful for me, so I plan to do it again. I'm going to keep working on the fearless thing, because it's still a work in progress, and probably always will be, but I'm going to add a bit more. The theme of this year is to be kind and classy. 

     Kind as in the sense of Christ-like love for everyone, saying only nice things about others and looking for the good in everyone, being the sort of person that people like to be around because I'm nice, and showing love to those around me, especially to my companions and investigators. 

     Classy as in showing respect to everyone, acting in a way that earns respect, being always honest in all I do, being the bigger person in a disagreement by returning hate for love, listening carefully so that I can learn, and not being quick to anger. 

     I'm going to tack on an abbreviated version of last year's resolution as well, and promise to myself that I will continue to work on being brave and on taking every good opportunity that comes. 

     Happy 2015, everyone! 

Long Time Coming

December 17, 2014

     On multiple occasions on this blog, I have related the woes of my efforts to serve a mission. I've talked about how my plans sometimes go completely awry, and about how some ordinary days are a bit surreal because of what they might have been. I began this journey over a year ago. In November of last year, I began slowly working on my mission papers. Slowly, because I didn't plan on turning them in for a few months, but I was excited to start anyway. On February 25th, I turned in my mission papers with my availability date set as June 25th. 

     I waited and waited for my call, and it wasn't until mid-May that I finally got the news. Because I had just begun to take an anti-depressant, I would have to wait 6 months so that the medication would be stabilized, and it could be determined from there whether or not I was fit to serve. I was heartbroken to learn the news, but I knew it was the right thing. Before beginning the anti-depressant, I knew, deep down, that I wasn't in any shape to serve a mission. I was hardly in any shape to do anything. 

     The next six months were wonderful and difficult at the same time. Wonderful because of the people I met and the things I experienced and the lessons I learned. Waiting six months was absolutely what I needed to be doing. Difficult because every day I thought about what I would do when the six months were up. I wasn't really sure anymore that I actually wanted to serve a mission. I looked into doing a semester abroad or taking an extended humanitarian trip as an alternative. I prayed and studied and worried, and finally decided that yes, I still wanted to go on a mission. The next question I had to decide was when. I didn't know if I should go as soon as the six months were up, and fall semester had ended, or wait another few months until I had finished winter semester as well. I prayed and studied and worried about that question, too. A very spiritual experience while in the temple one day became my answer, and I decided that I would go as soon as possible.

     When I relate my story to others, a common response is for them to tell me how strong I am, and to tell me how impressed they are that I kept at it and pushed through and decided to work toward a mission despite my setbacks. But the truth is that I don't feel strong because of it. This journey and struggle has been long and hard and I almost gave up many times. I all but decided not to go over and over again. It has been very very hard. 

      However, after so many long months of waiting and wondering and deciding, the day has finally come that I have received my mission call. When I opened the mailbox, I didn't think it was real. It had been so long that I almost didn't think it would ever actually come. I wasn't overly excited to see it, either. I was nervous beyond belief. Seeing the call in the mail suddenly made going on a mission real. I couldn't believe I was actually going to leave my friends, family, boyfriend, school, and entire life behind for 18 months. It was terrifying. When I opened the envelope and read my assignment, though, all of the fear and nervousness went away and I only felt excitement and joy. 

     I have been called to serve in the Washington D.C. South mission and I leave February 4, 2015. I couldn't be happier. 

True Story

December 14, 2014

      It was late Thursday night, or early Friday morning. The first time I left, my boyfriend Nakai walked me home just like always. He came with me the hundred or less yards between his apartment and mine to make sure I got home safe. I hate walking in the dark by myself, so I appreciate that he always does it. Soon after getting home, I realized that I had left my phone at his apartment. I knew he had work in the morning, so I wasn't likely to be able to retrieve it until later the next afternoon, so I decided to run back to get it. For a split second before walking out the door, my hand hovered over my pepper spray and my roommate considered trying to convince me to wait until tomorrow. But both of us must have rationalized that his apartment wasn't that far away, and that I would be fine.

     I literally ran over to his building, because the weight of the 2 AM darkness was pressing around me and sending every fiber of my being into a cross between panic and full alertness. When I got over to his apartment, his roommate let me in. Nakai (an amputee), had already taken off his prosthetic leg and looked nearly asleep, so after finding my phone under his couch, I decided I would be fine this one time if he didn't walk me home. I left his building and began running back to mine.

     There are two buildings between the one Nakai lives in and the one I live in. I was almost to the first of these two when I heard footsteps pounding behind me. I ran faster, but whoever the footsteps belonged to caught up and tackled me to the ground from behind. A voice in my head kept saying, "Get up get up get up get up. That's the most important thing. Get up!" I managed to scramble up from the ground and face the man who had attacked me. I stood frozen for a moment, for some reason unable to react, until the same voice in my head said to me, "Slap him!" So I did. I hit him as hard as I could across the face. The whole time, completely on autopilot, I yelled, "Get away from me! Let me go! What's wrong with you!" over and over and over. After I slapped him, he looked at me and said, "You bitch."

     That look he gave me has been haunting me for days. It comes back to me in the vivid flashbacks that sending me into a shaking, sobbing mess on the floor. It was not a look of hatred or pain or anger. That look was one of pure entitlement. He looked at me with eyes that said, "How dare you slap me? You are nothing. You are not human. I have every right to do whatever I want to you, because you are not a person."

     After I slapped him, I turned to run to the nearest building, but found that the door was locked. I pounded on it and kept screaming at him to leave me alone, and he came and grabbed me around my arms and chest from behind. The voice returned, telling me, "Elbow him. Now grab him." I did as the voice instructed, driving my elbow into his stomach, and reaching down to grab, pull, and twist his nuts. At that moment, I began to have the sinking feeling that if I didn't get away soon, it was over for me. My screams at him turned into loud pleas for help, and he suddenly let me go and ran away.

     I took off like the devil was after me, dry sobs wracking my body as I ran, terrified that he would change his mind and come after me again. I made it to my apartment and attempted to punch in the code to unlock the door, but was too shaken. I pounded on the door until my roommate let me in, and collapsed into her arms. She called a friend of ours to come over and give me a blessing as I called 911. Our friend, who only lives down the hall, arrived about a minute before an officer came over to get a description form me.

     I'm shaken up, covered in scrapes and a few bruises, but otherwise alright. I've been having vivid flashbacks that make me think of what could have happened, and that make me stop functioning for a few minutes as I sob into Nakai's arms. He has been constantly with me, making me feel safe again. I hate to be alone, and for some reason crowds make me just as uneasy. Everyday I feel a little better. When I talk to people about my experience, I feel strong and proud of myself. All alone, I think about how it could have ended, and afraid of it happening again.

     Despite being a terrifying and traumatic experience, I feel so so blessed. That voice in my head during the attack was most definitely the Holy Ghost guiding me and reminding me of the things that I learned in my self defense class last semester. As scary as what happened to me was, it could have been so much worse, and I thank my Heavenly Father every day that it wasn't. I have been surrounded my the love of my family, my friends, my roommates, my ward, and my boyfriend, Nakai. They have all helped me to feel safe again, and also to feel more like myself. There are bad people in the world, but there are also so many good people too.
   

Biggest Fear

December 10, 2014

     I have a big, deep, consuming fear. Sometimes I manage to talk myself out of it and insist it doesn't bother me, but that's just a lie I tell myself to prove I'm strong. 

     My biggest fear is not spiders or snakes or the dark. It isn't men who might take advantage of innocent girls. It isn't that I won't graduate from college or that I'll run out of money to do so. It isn't that I will be told no a second time in regards to serving a mission. All those things illicit some level of fear in me, but none quite break me like this one does. 

     What I am afraid of most is not being taken seriously. 

     I know it sounds stupid. And I know your going to say, "suck it up, because that's the way the world works." And I know you're right. I face it every day and it hurts me still. I am looked at and degraded to nothing more than a face, or angry eyes, or someone too young to really know much, or as just someone who's only significance is her relationship to someone else. I am stripped of my person-hood over and over and over again. It doesn't matter how much I am intelligent, or a good conversationalist, or nice, or honest, or spiritual, or anything. 

     Recently, when asked to come up with things to describe me, some people close to me could only come up with, "you have a boyfriend." That cut me to the core. What about me? Haven't I been your friend? Can't you see me as anything else? Can't you take me seriously? 

    I know that I make mistakes and that I'm not perfect. Sometimes I need someone to tell me that I'm wrong, even if I argue back. But there is a difference between just calling me out individually, and talking about me behind my back for months before giving me a full blown lecture and making me feel like dirt. I don't need to be judged for my choices, and I don't need anyone to think they know what I should be doing with my life better than I do, because they don't walk in my shoes. I try so hard to tell myself that I don't care what other people think about me and what they are saying to each other about me, but that is the biggest lie I've ever told myself. And that's because of my fear. 

     If people are judging me behind my back or even to my face, they're not taking me seriously, and I feel like little more than an empty shell of a human, devoid of anything worth contributing. 

     I am so utterly terrified of being seen as stupid or incompetent or worthless. So scared that any contribution I make will be ignored and set aside. I am so worried that I won't ever be taken seriously, and that I will never be seen for who I really am and what I can really give. 

     When people look at me, I want them to see an individual with a personality and quirks and things to contribute. I don't need people to think I'm perfect, because no one is. But even imperfect people have things to offer. Even imperfect people are people. Even I can be taken seriously. 

Time Machine

      In the past few months, I've missed quite a few opportunities to post something here. I had one post that was in its draft form and had every intention of publishing here, and then suddenly the subject matter became pretty insignificant. And then I could have written about what made it insignificant. But I didn't. And then time passed and more exciting things happened and I have too much to write about, but I don't like really long posts about five different things. So I'm going to back up a little and write a few posts about a few different things over the next few days and try to catch up.  My blog is now a time machine and we're going back a few weeks. Stay tuned.