\\

I had been set on marriage and family therapy. That's what I was going to do. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was an attempt to hold onto an old dream I had.

Time to re-evaluate: What am I passionate about? Where can I best use my talents?

People. I really do love people. I'm really shy but I do care about people. Actually, I care about them quite a bit.

So I'm considering social work (not that there aren't a number of other professions where people can show their love for people). There are so many things I could do with a MSW that involve helping others. In the process of researching social work programs I found something that sounded really awesome. A dual degree program for a masters of social work and public health! There are actually a few schools I've looked at that offer that option. It would take the same amount of time as a MFT program would take (3 years) and it sounds twentymillion times more like something I can be excited about. I think it's definitely something that deserves my attention.

Pseudo-Poetry

Words flooded to mind
Prepared excuses and apologies I thought I wouldn't be using.
(Why did I prepare them then?)
Everything has a reason.
I'm accepting I cannot control this.
I won't talk to you for maybe 28 months or so.
Maybe sooner if I'm lucky.
Maybe longer if I'm not.
Who knows what will happen during that time?
(Heavenly Father)
I'll do my part
And leave the rest to the people in charge.

----------

Stronger than my desire to belt out words
Is my desire to move my body
Leaping across the pavement
Gliding along the grass
Arms flying
Hair, a muted echo of where I've been,
Sometimes covering a face beaming
With hope.

----------

I guess this is peace. This whole not necessarily understanding everything but knowing it will be okay.

I think too much about him still. I mean, of course, it's been, what, a day?

We spoke last night on the phone for awhile as he tried to explain things to me. I gave some suggestions and he said they weren't possible. This is rough. And while I still don't completely understand it, I can accept it. And I will accept it.

It's so crazy how much I've been reminded just today that people care about me and that I'm not alone up here. A friend from spring term randomly contacted me on facebook to see how I was doing, I ran into a friend from back home on my way to class, and then on my way home I saw a wonderful family friend who is teaching at BYU this fall and he invited me for dinner with his family on Sundays. A sister missionary who served in Galveston called me up to schedule dinner sometime this week (this was partly my sister's doing!). Guess what! I'm loved! Even here in Utah! Haha

I still haven't eaten though. I just have no appetite. Not too sure about what to do about that.

It's Happened...

I've become one of those people.

You know the ones I'm talking about, the kind of person who becomes so hysteric that she practically shouts over the person trying to comfort her. That was me. Just earlier. Crying and yelling over the phone while my lungs struggled for air in short, loud, shallow breaths. That was me. Cutting off my parents with shouts of "There's nothing I can do!" and "I don't understand what he meant!" as they tried consoling me.

I deleted the message. The harsh bluntness with which you wrote couldn't possibly have been what you wanted to convey. I deleted it almost immediately. Read it once, twice, three times total and deleted it. It would've been hard to remember what you said last night if I kept that message with me. It's the ending note that lingers at the end of a performance. That's the one stuck in people's heads as they exit the hall. I want to try erasing it just enough so I understand there's nothing I can do to change it while at the same time remembering your hope, your kindness.

This is it, I guess.

It's really over.

Quote

"Do not lose hold of your dreams or aspirations. For if you do, you may exist but you have ceased to live."
-Henry David Thoreau

This was the quote I put in my senior yearbook under my picture. I really don't know what I was talking about. Did I even have dreams or aspirations then? If I did, I've totally forgotten them now.

I didn't go grocery shopping. I won't have food to eat this week.

I missed my three lecture periods for statistics last week which means I've missed a total of six lessons of new material. Monday is my last statistics class period and exams are Wednesday and Thursday.

I missed one of my D&C classes last week as well. At least I'm still caught up in the reading for that class.

I canceled a therapy appointment scheduled for last Wednesday. That was when I had decided I was beyond help.

I cleaned my room a bit today to get ready for my new roommate. I feel bad that her side of the room has the broken bookshelf. I feel like I ought to switch.

I have church tomorrow. And Brenden is going to call me in the afternoon to tell me what's going on. EDIT (08/09/09): Brenden is going to TEXT me in the afternoon to tell me he's not going to talk to me again.

Sometimes I get angry.

Family

Yesterday we celebrated Brenden's grandfather's 80th birthday. It was wonderful.

It's difficult for me to express just how grateful I am for and how much I love all of Brenden's family. They've accepted me with arms wide open. I've only felt this kind of connection with one other family besides my own and it's because I've grown up with them in my life. How could I feel so comfortable and welcome with these new faces? Brenden's grandparents have especially been wonderful to me here in Utah. It's been nice to be able to get away from school once in awhile and visit with family.

As Brenden and I made a birthday card for his grandfather on Sunday evening, Brenden asked me to do the writing since my handwriting easily beats his on any/every level of neatness. It had been so long since I wrote "Grandpa" in a card. And the simple act of doing it struck me with such a sense of belonging and family that I cannot even begin to express my deep love and sense of appreciation for Grandma and Grandpa Binns.

After Grandpa Binns opened his cards and gifts, he started telling us stories of his life, little things he remembered and things that his mother recorded about him when he was a baby. His stories made me so happy and being with the family as he shared them made the experience even more meaningful. I saw Brenden's youngest cousin sitting next to his grandpa and hoped he would remember that night.

I didn't have that kind of experience growing up. Since three of my grandparents passed away before I was four, I didn't hear many first-hand accounts of their lives. My grandfather who passed away when I was sixteen was a quiet, prideful man. He was a good man but still very prideful and stubborn. I think his pride restrained him from sharing many stories from his life in the Philippines where he was too poor to continue in school to become the doctor he always wanted to be or even stories from his life once he moved to the United States where he was too poor to support his family without government aid. I will always regret having not asked him more about his life. My grandfather was a wonderful man. He found his greatest joy in his family. And I'm finally beginning to understand why.

I love my family so much. And I loved being with Brenden's family last night and addressing them the same way I would as my very own family. When I was trying to get Grandpa Binns's attention, I said "Grandpa" and he responded easily. My own dear grandfathers will never be replaced but being able to say "Grandpa" and having someone respond knowing it was me who said it, allowing me to call him "Grandpa" as one of his own grandchildren... what an exquisite feeling! That saying, you don't know what you have until it's gone, is so true. Sometimes I want to just grab people by the shoulders and say "APPRECIATE THIS!" especially when it concerns family.

These days, these moments are never coming back. Soon enough we will all be old and wrinkled and telling our own tales to our children and grandchildren. I won't forget Uncle Matthew's face as he laughed at one of Grandpa Binns's stories. I knew that Uncle Matthew was Grandpa Binns's son but when I saw him looking at Grandpa Binns with so much love in his eyes and heard his laugh at his story, I really understood with an even deeper understanding that Uncle Matthew was indeed Grandpa Binns's son. They were not simply two adults sitting near me conversing. They were father and son talking, laughing, loving. It was beautiful.

Sometimes someone may complain about being known as "So-and-so's sister" or "so-and-so's daughter" wondering why people don't know who she is as an individual. And while I understand that frustration, I think the depth of our relationships define us more than our hobbies or talents. I know that being Reuben and Irene's daughter means more than the fact I enjoy reading. I know that being Reuben, Chris, and Stef's sister is so much more meaningful than the fact that I can create images on paper. Our relationships make our lives more meaningful. They make us as individuals more meaningful.