Home once again.
For once, I'm actually glad to be here. I know, odd coming from me, right? But it's not like the last few times I've come home. I'm excited to be on winter break, lying in my old bed that's going to make my back ache in the morning. I can't wait for Christmas with family, and I can't help but smile and sing along to the radio. I haven't felt excitement (or hope, for that matter) in a while, but I do now. I guess what's changed this time is me - I feel more like myself than I have in a long time, maybe the whole semester.
I don't know how to explain it, really. The whole semester went so quickly; the beginning flew by and I never was able to catch up, and suddenly it was finals week. Maybe it had to do with the depression I've been in all semester. Actually, that was probably it. For so long I just didn't care about things and didn't want to be around people, and it felt so strange and so horrendous and so fascinating all at the same time. I've never had a depressive episode last so long and be so steady before.
Last weekend, though, right before finals...I've been describing it as "waking up." Suddenly I was more aware of the people around me - I was realizing that I'm not the only person in the world who needs attention, I'm not the only person with problems, I'm not the only one who has things to figure out. I have friends, wonderful friends who deserve my attention and love, and I haven't been treating them like that.
(this is going to get a little heavy, just so you know)
So this is to apologize. Chances are that if you're reading this, you're a friend of mine. So to my dear friends, you are the best. I would go crazy without you, and I've told you before that you keep me alive every day. I need you to tell me to keep fighting, because otherwise I'd forget that a fight's even happening. (I keep picturing it like a war scene from a movie, like LOTR or something equally as awesome. Is that weird? Hmm don't care.) I am battling depression, and when I forget it, that's when I start losing. I am fighting to live, fighting the thoughts that say I'm not worth it, fighting the ideas that death would be so much easier, fighting the urge to just give up. I am fighting this, and the thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that you're at my sides fighting just as hard as I am, if not harder. You're the ones who keep me protected from the monsters trying to tear me down. You're what comes to mind when I think about the worst things, and I realize that I could never hurt you like that. I've known that hurt, and I can't let you feel that way. So I keep fighting. I keep fighting for you, and then I start fighting for me too. I will overpower this. It will be better someday. Hell, it's already thousands of times better, and it'll keep getting better. I'll have setbacks, I know. But somehow, I'll get through them with you there to hold me up. You are the most wonderful people, and I am so lucky to have you in my life. Thank you, and I'm sorry for not fully being me this semester. You deserve the best, and that's what I'll be giving you from now on.
You know, when people asked what changed in the last week, I kept saying that I didn't know. But Rachel helped me to realize it. It was all of you. It was you fighting for me, praying for me, supporting me. It wasn't that you just started, but that I finally figured it out. I can finally see it.
I love you all so very much. Thank you for being so spectacular. I hope you're enjoying your break so far, and I can't wait to hear from you.
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Monday, December 19, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
A new fantastic point of view
There do not exist in this world many things better than the look of pure joy on your friends' faces when they're happy to see you.
Whether it's after not seeing them for a week (or a month), returning to them when you thought you'd left for the last time, seeing them after only being away from them a few hours, or passing by them on your way to or from class...there's simply nothing like it. Okay, so this is getting awfully far away from reality for the rest of you, so I'm just going to explain what I'm talking about.
Before we begin, I want to let you know I'm going to get a little faithy here. If you don't want to read about it, I understand and won't be offended. I know I have a lot of friends who are atheists/agnostics/struggling with their personal faith, so I hope you all don't see this as me preaching to you. I'm just going to write about what I felt.
Also, how are Disney songs so fitting? (see this post's title, and keep reading)
Obviously, if you read my last post, you know that I went to Montgomery, AL, on a service trip last week over my fall break. At the time I wrote that one, I was unsure of how to feel about it. I started finally getting excited during lunch the day we were leaving, when I knew it would be a week before I saw the people with whom I was eating. As our departure time approached, that feeling kept building until I was nearly exploding with excitement an hour before we were supposed to leave. I was practically skipping to my room after class got out, and I finished packing and called my mom and was ready to leave half an hour later.
I was the first one from our group to arrive at the vans, which actually was probably for the best. It gave me some time to get all my energy out and settle down before I drove everyone insane. By the time we actually pulled out of the parking lot (on time, believe it or not!), I had returned to my original state - not necessarily excited or nervous, but ready to go.
We stayed in Columbia, MO, that night - a little less than 1/3 of the way to Montgomery - because Eric's parents were so incredibly kind and let us spend the night at their house (Eric, tell your parents thanks again!). On the way there, I had one of the potentially most important conversations I've had in a very long time. I've never spoken so openly about my depression with someone I barely knew...I've never spoken about my depression with someone I barely knew. I for once wasn't overcome with emotion while talking about it, and I was able to see things a little differently because of the questions I was asked. For once, I didn't feel like I was just talking at someone. My listener was interested and curious, and I'm assuming (correct me if I'm wrong) had never really experienced something like that before, so maybe they learned from it too. I hope so.
We went to the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis that Saturday. It's inside the hotel where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was shot, and the entire experience was so surreal. I stood just a few feet from that spot. I looked into the room where he stayed. What?
Saturday night, we arrived at Resurrection hungry, tired, and worn out from driving 12 hours that day. Somehow we all summoned up the energy to hang out for a little while, but I had to go to bed after a little while. We went to Mass on Sunday and heard from Fr. Manuel one of the most moving homilies I've heard in a long time. I've heard the reading ("Give to Caesar what is Caesar's and give to God what is God's") a countless number of times, but it never really meant much to me. To be honest, I'd associated the entire thing with money. Fr. Manuel spoke about giving ourselves to God, though - He made us, and we are His. (See, I told you it was going to get faithy) So it provided some food for thought, most definitely.
The second thing that struck me about Mass that day was the music. Previously, I'd always thought, "Why is Gospel music such a big thing? Do people really need to be entertained while they're at church? That's not what church is about." Uhh, hello Ali. You were wrong. Experiencing it firsthand made all the difference. I realized partway through Mass how full my heart felt...and if you've been following along, you're probably aware of the fact that I've been struggling with that for a while - struggling with actually feeling something in my chest instead of the pulling weight that's been there for a few weeks. I was happy to be there, happy to be singing along even when I didn't know the words, happy to be seeing all these other happy people. So something occurred to me during the Mass...maybe the South has been doing it right, using music to express their joy and praise for God. I mean, music is where I usually find my peace. So maybe it's not about being entertained during church - maybe it's about being fully present.
After Mass, we set up for the church picnic at a reception hall a few minutes away, and then we served and ate some really delicious food. By the end of it, the ladies at my table were force-feeding me the most delicious bundt cake I've ever eaten and pudding and other desserts. I think I gained ten pounds at that picnic alone.
Whether it's after not seeing them for a week (or a month), returning to them when you thought you'd left for the last time, seeing them after only being away from them a few hours, or passing by them on your way to or from class...there's simply nothing like it. Okay, so this is getting awfully far away from reality for the rest of you, so I'm just going to explain what I'm talking about.
Before we begin, I want to let you know I'm going to get a little faithy here. If you don't want to read about it, I understand and won't be offended. I know I have a lot of friends who are atheists/agnostics/struggling with their personal faith, so I hope you all don't see this as me preaching to you. I'm just going to write about what I felt.
Also, how are Disney songs so fitting? (see this post's title, and keep reading)
Obviously, if you read my last post, you know that I went to Montgomery, AL, on a service trip last week over my fall break. At the time I wrote that one, I was unsure of how to feel about it. I started finally getting excited during lunch the day we were leaving, when I knew it would be a week before I saw the people with whom I was eating. As our departure time approached, that feeling kept building until I was nearly exploding with excitement an hour before we were supposed to leave. I was practically skipping to my room after class got out, and I finished packing and called my mom and was ready to leave half an hour later.
I was the first one from our group to arrive at the vans, which actually was probably for the best. It gave me some time to get all my energy out and settle down before I drove everyone insane. By the time we actually pulled out of the parking lot (on time, believe it or not!), I had returned to my original state - not necessarily excited or nervous, but ready to go.
We stayed in Columbia, MO, that night - a little less than 1/3 of the way to Montgomery - because Eric's parents were so incredibly kind and let us spend the night at their house (Eric, tell your parents thanks again!). On the way there, I had one of the potentially most important conversations I've had in a very long time. I've never spoken so openly about my depression with someone I barely knew...I've never spoken about my depression with someone I barely knew. I for once wasn't overcome with emotion while talking about it, and I was able to see things a little differently because of the questions I was asked. For once, I didn't feel like I was just talking at someone. My listener was interested and curious, and I'm assuming (correct me if I'm wrong) had never really experienced something like that before, so maybe they learned from it too. I hope so.
We went to the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis that Saturday. It's inside the hotel where Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., was shot, and the entire experience was so surreal. I stood just a few feet from that spot. I looked into the room where he stayed. What?
 |
| The National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, TN The wreath marks the balcony where Dr. King was standing when he was shot. |
The second thing that struck me about Mass that day was the music. Previously, I'd always thought, "Why is Gospel music such a big thing? Do people really need to be entertained while they're at church? That's not what church is about." Uhh, hello Ali. You were wrong. Experiencing it firsthand made all the difference. I realized partway through Mass how full my heart felt...and if you've been following along, you're probably aware of the fact that I've been struggling with that for a while - struggling with actually feeling something in my chest instead of the pulling weight that's been there for a few weeks. I was happy to be there, happy to be singing along even when I didn't know the words, happy to be seeing all these other happy people. So something occurred to me during the Mass...maybe the South has been doing it right, using music to express their joy and praise for God. I mean, music is where I usually find my peace. So maybe it's not about being entertained during church - maybe it's about being fully present.
 |
| The whole group at the Resurrection church picnic: Mary Clare, Chelsea E., me, Eric, Nolan, Amy Andi, Chelsea L., Katie, Sarah, Anne, Garret, Anthony Teresa, Jessica, Kathryn |
Later in the week, we also got to see the National Civil Rights Center in downtown Montgomery (not to be confused with the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis). Its focus was on some of the people who were brutally killed during the Movement and whose deaths were important but maybe not well-known. It was very small and didn't take long to walk through and read everything, but I got more out of it than the museum in Memphis. At the end, it showed that civil rights has to do with more than just the Movement of the 1960s, that it's something the world is still struggling with tremendously. The very last part of the center was a dark room with a huge screen on one wall with countless names floating down to the floor. It was the Wall of Tolerance, the name of which I didn't really like (I prefer "acceptance" to "tolerance"), but I found it very moving to be inside that room. I wrote a lot in my journal that day, more than doubling the number of pages I'd used for my previous entries. It was definitely a powerful day.
Oh man. This post is starting to get way too long. Umm...summary of other things:
I got to hang out with a bunch of 7th graders at Resurrection School, and by the end of the week they actually thought I was cool - possibly because I broke out the Dougie in Sr. Gilda's classroom. They were pretty awesome kids, not gonna lie.
I drove around the city with a few others delivering food boxes to some elderly people, which was quite the experience - Ms. Viola was wonderful, telling us to stay in school and making it obvious that she was proud of us for going to college, even though we had just met her.
We had dinner with Ms. Taylor (from the Equal Justice Initiative), Rev. Graetz (the first white preacher to publicly support the Civil Rights Movement), Dr. Hardy (who had been heavily involved with the Movement starting in his teenage years), and Mr. Malden (Nelson Malden, NOT Mandela, who was Dr. King's barber when he lived in Montgomery).
We visited Mr. Malden's barbershop, where the guys trimmed the hairs on their heads. Anthony, Andi, and Garret got haircuts, and Eric got a straight shave.
We visited the home for disabled adults that's located just behind the church, where I met Bobby, who reminded me a lot of one of my cousins and was really cool.
We had dinner again with Mr. Malden, and also Fr. Manuel, Fr. Fred, Michelle (who was in charge of us for the week), and a few other guests.
We helped to organize and put on Resurrection's annual gala fundraiser event where we met Ms. Bonnie and Ms. Charlotte, and I have never felt so important to two women who I'd just met ever before. I got my Southern accent back for a little bit, and now it's a lot easier for me to slip right back into it (Ms. Bonnie sounds just like my Aunt Judy, who lives in the southern part of Texas). We may have gotten food poisoning from that benefit, but who knows?
A lot of us were sick on the way back this past Friday. Mine hit later than everyone else's - they were all sick in the morning, but I didn't get it until we stopped for fried chicken in Memphis that afternoon. It was (of course) worst while I was driving, but I had some Gatorade and water and slept when Katie took over driving for me, and I felt a lot better that night. We stayed at Eric's house again (seriously, Eric, you can't thank your family enough for all they did for us!) and got some really great bonding time in.
I had a couple more conversations that were really critical. I found a kindred spirit whose new friendship I treasure very much, the final drive back into Omaha was again filled with a conversation that was very important, and in the affirmations I received at the very end of the trip, I found something in myself. All these things, all these conversations...they helped me to uncover something. I don't know if I can define it accurately for you, but it's like the words people said to me that day helped me to find a beauty inside myself. It's still faint, but at least I can see it now. It's a new fantastic point of view, if you will. (eh, you see what I did there?)
"We left as strangers, but we became a family." (credit to Nolan for that one)
So did I come back changed? Maybe a little. But more than that, I came back rejuvenated, with a strengthened voice and a strengthened will to continue to be an advocate for those who are silenced.
This was by no means every detail of the trip - there are so many things I couldn't fit in here, things I'm keeping in my journal and my heart. I'd love to talk with any of you reading this about those things, but for now I'm going to have to be done.
With love, Ali G.
 |
| A couple things I wanted to remember from the National Civil Rights Center |
I got to hang out with a bunch of 7th graders at Resurrection School, and by the end of the week they actually thought I was cool - possibly because I broke out the Dougie in Sr. Gilda's classroom. They were pretty awesome kids, not gonna lie.
 |
| My 7th graders! |
We had dinner with Ms. Taylor (from the Equal Justice Initiative), Rev. Graetz (the first white preacher to publicly support the Civil Rights Movement), Dr. Hardy (who had been heavily involved with the Movement starting in his teenage years), and Mr. Malden (Nelson Malden, NOT Mandela, who was Dr. King's barber when he lived in Montgomery).
 |
| With our special dinner guests |
 |
| The guys with Mr. Malden at the barbershop - don't they look great? |
We had dinner again with Mr. Malden, and also Fr. Manuel, Fr. Fred, Michelle (who was in charge of us for the week), and a few other guests.
We helped to organize and put on Resurrection's annual gala fundraiser event where we met Ms. Bonnie and Ms. Charlotte, and I have never felt so important to two women who I'd just met ever before. I got my Southern accent back for a little bit, and now it's a lot easier for me to slip right back into it (Ms. Bonnie sounds just like my Aunt Judy, who lives in the southern part of Texas). We may have gotten food poisoning from that benefit, but who knows?
 |
| My darling Ms. Bonnie! |
 |
| If you ever go to Memphis and want some really good fried chicken, go to Uncle Lou's. Seriously, the Sweet Spicy Love sauce was amazing, and the place has been on the Food Network twice! |
I had a couple more conversations that were really critical. I found a kindred spirit whose new friendship I treasure very much, the final drive back into Omaha was again filled with a conversation that was very important, and in the affirmations I received at the very end of the trip, I found something in myself. All these things, all these conversations...they helped me to uncover something. I don't know if I can define it accurately for you, but it's like the words people said to me that day helped me to find a beauty inside myself. It's still faint, but at least I can see it now. It's a new fantastic point of view, if you will. (eh, you see what I did there?)
"We left as strangers, but we became a family." (credit to Nolan for that one)
So did I come back changed? Maybe a little. But more than that, I came back rejuvenated, with a strengthened voice and a strengthened will to continue to be an advocate for those who are silenced.
This was by no means every detail of the trip - there are so many things I couldn't fit in here, things I'm keeping in my journal and my heart. I'd love to talk with any of you reading this about those things, but for now I'm going to have to be done.
With love, Ali G.
Friday, June 10, 2011
Inside is not a heart, but a kaleidoscope
Too many serious posts lately.
So, I'm living in a building full of seminarians (175 of them) for the summer, in case y'all didn't know that. They're silent right now, which is awkward on top of the fact that they're already awkward in general. But it's interesting, you know? Even in their silence, I'm learning from them - I spent an hour in silence last night, and it was incredibly calming and serene.
I've had the privilege of meeting Father Michael Delcambre recently. He's been here for IPF (the Institute of Priestly Formation) for the past few days, teaching the seminarians. Sadly, he's leaving to go back to Louisiana early tomorrow, but I'm grateful for the chances I had to chat with him.
I don't have much time, so I'm going to make this quick. The main thing I've learned from Fr. Michael is to not only see the beauty in things we notice each day, but to try to understand why we noticed them. He calls it our "grace moment of the day." I feel like I'm not explaining this well.
It's a moment during our day when we can feel or see God in our lives - something that awes or amazes us. Does that make more sense?
Anyway, I like the idea of it. So I'm going to start doing it, journaling my grace moment each day. I think it'll be a good way to really examine the beauty in my life.
Sorry, I don't want to go all evangelical on you guys. This is basically just me rambling. But I just wanted to share that little piece of happiness with you. :)
So, I'm living in a building full of seminarians (175 of them) for the summer, in case y'all didn't know that. They're silent right now, which is awkward on top of the fact that they're already awkward in general. But it's interesting, you know? Even in their silence, I'm learning from them - I spent an hour in silence last night, and it was incredibly calming and serene.
I've had the privilege of meeting Father Michael Delcambre recently. He's been here for IPF (the Institute of Priestly Formation) for the past few days, teaching the seminarians. Sadly, he's leaving to go back to Louisiana early tomorrow, but I'm grateful for the chances I had to chat with him.
I don't have much time, so I'm going to make this quick. The main thing I've learned from Fr. Michael is to not only see the beauty in things we notice each day, but to try to understand why we noticed them. He calls it our "grace moment of the day." I feel like I'm not explaining this well.
It's a moment during our day when we can feel or see God in our lives - something that awes or amazes us. Does that make more sense?
Anyway, I like the idea of it. So I'm going to start doing it, journaling my grace moment each day. I think it'll be a good way to really examine the beauty in my life.
Sorry, I don't want to go all evangelical on you guys. This is basically just me rambling. But I just wanted to share that little piece of happiness with you. :)
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
I must become the lion-hearted girl
It's time to organize my life.
I've got five tests left of my first year of pharmacy school. Four of them are in two weeks (one Monday, two Tuesday, one Wednesday), and one is the next Wednesday. Until then, I have time to study a couple hours every day and really get prepared for them - I need to prepare for them. My grades have not been so hot this semester, and I definitely know the reasons why. Now that we're at the end of the year, it's time to take care of those reasons and do as well as I can. It all started today with my first 100% on a test this year! Too bad the class is pass/fail...
Outside of classes, there are things I need to take care of in my personal life as well. I'm more content with my life right now than I have been in a long time, which is really great. I have more and more days where I can tell myself I'm worth it, that I look nice, that I am someone to love. I told Scott last night that for once, I feel like I can do it. What it is I can do, I'm not quite sure...but I can do it. I'll figure it out. I'm still scared. I'm confused, and I'm lost, and I'm afraid. But that's not taking over my life right now.
Fear is necessary sometimes, and it tells us that we're doing something big, something that matters. It could be dealing with a part of your life you've never acknowledged before, or realizing that these people you love won't be here with you forever (or you won't be here with them forever), or deciding between living across the world for a while and staying with the people you need in your life. Whatever the source of our fear, the fact that it exists tells us that life is about to change, no matter what happens. Something's going to be different, and we've got to deal with it.
But we're not alone. We're never alone.
I've got five tests left of my first year of pharmacy school. Four of them are in two weeks (one Monday, two Tuesday, one Wednesday), and one is the next Wednesday. Until then, I have time to study a couple hours every day and really get prepared for them - I need to prepare for them. My grades have not been so hot this semester, and I definitely know the reasons why. Now that we're at the end of the year, it's time to take care of those reasons and do as well as I can. It all started today with my first 100% on a test this year! Too bad the class is pass/fail...
Outside of classes, there are things I need to take care of in my personal life as well. I'm more content with my life right now than I have been in a long time, which is really great. I have more and more days where I can tell myself I'm worth it, that I look nice, that I am someone to love. I told Scott last night that for once, I feel like I can do it. What it is I can do, I'm not quite sure...but I can do it. I'll figure it out. I'm still scared. I'm confused, and I'm lost, and I'm afraid. But that's not taking over my life right now.
Fear is necessary sometimes, and it tells us that we're doing something big, something that matters. It could be dealing with a part of your life you've never acknowledged before, or realizing that these people you love won't be here with you forever (or you won't be here with them forever), or deciding between living across the world for a while and staying with the people you need in your life. Whatever the source of our fear, the fact that it exists tells us that life is about to change, no matter what happens. Something's going to be different, and we've got to deal with it.
But we're not alone. We're never alone.
Monday, March 14, 2011
A song for Steph
"Here we are now with the desperate youth and pain - we're awakening." Made me think of you, darling, and how maybe both of our lives are being awakened now. With love ♥.
(The video's a little random, but I think it's kind of fun to watch).
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
I ran to the tower where the church bells chimed...
...and I hoped that they would clear my mind. They left a ringing in my ear, but that drum's still beating loud and clear.
I went to Mass with my mom yesterday back home.
I've been thinking lately that maybe church is what's missing. Maybe I just need to rebuild my relationship with God and the Church to figure out my life.
The thing is, I think I already have a pretty good relationship with God. But that means that I have my own beliefs...which are not necessarily the same as an organized religion's.
The priest focused his homily on foundations. The Gospel reading was Matthew 7: 21-27 - foundations. The wise man builds his house on rock, unlike the fool who builds his on sand. We're supposed to build our faith on the teachings of the Church, and it'll become our rock. With the Church as our foundation, we can't go wrong.
Right?
But I have my rock. My rock is made of the people I love. My rock is the belief that God is love - all-encompassing, unending, unwavering love. As Father Greg Boyle, S.J., said, "This is a God who's too busy loving you to be disappointed." I think God loves every person. He created us all, didn't he? Didn't He make us exactly the way we were to be made? So how could he possibly NOT love us? God loves us. That is my rock, my foundation.
Then why is the Church grinding my rock into sand?
How is it, then, that if we are supposed to love our neighbor, if God truly loves us...how does it possibly add up that we can't let love happen? Why can't people I love so much love each other?
Love is love. You can't tell people I love that they can't love each other based on which gender they are. You can't keep them from loving each other by withholding the ability to marry. That's not how love works. The heart works, regardless of a piece of paper. But it would be nice to allow them that sanctity, the ability to prove that they will love no one else the way they love each other for the rest of their lives.
Also, this is becoming a save-the-world rant.
We just sit there in the gorgeous brick building, filled with heat or air conditioning that's so plentiful we complain about it, listening a man wearing a robe stitched with sparkling gold-colored threads, under a crucifix hand-carved of bleached wood. What good is any of that doing for the world? Why do we have such nice things when so many people have none, and why are we enjoying them when we could actually be doing something worthwhile?
I felt like I needed to leave partway through Mass. Just run, drive away to where no one could hear me, and scream. Scream in frustration at living such a privileged life and not realizing how much I don't deserve until now. Scream in fear for the rest of my life, afraid to lose this. Scream in confusion, not knowing where to start to make sense of it all.
So all in all, going to church at home made it worse. Thankfully, I'm at Creighton, where a lot of people seem to feel similarly. A lot of those people happen to be my friends.
I think I need to start going to St. John's more, but not St. Patrick's.
I went to Mass with my mom yesterday back home.
I've been thinking lately that maybe church is what's missing. Maybe I just need to rebuild my relationship with God and the Church to figure out my life.
The thing is, I think I already have a pretty good relationship with God. But that means that I have my own beliefs...which are not necessarily the same as an organized religion's.
The priest focused his homily on foundations. The Gospel reading was Matthew 7: 21-27 - foundations. The wise man builds his house on rock, unlike the fool who builds his on sand. We're supposed to build our faith on the teachings of the Church, and it'll become our rock. With the Church as our foundation, we can't go wrong.
Right?
But I have my rock. My rock is made of the people I love. My rock is the belief that God is love - all-encompassing, unending, unwavering love. As Father Greg Boyle, S.J., said, "This is a God who's too busy loving you to be disappointed." I think God loves every person. He created us all, didn't he? Didn't He make us exactly the way we were to be made? So how could he possibly NOT love us? God loves us. That is my rock, my foundation.
Then why is the Church grinding my rock into sand?
How is it, then, that if we are supposed to love our neighbor, if God truly loves us...how does it possibly add up that we can't let love happen? Why can't people I love so much love each other?
Yes, this is turning from a religious rant into an LGBTQ rights rant.
Love is love. You can't tell people I love that they can't love each other based on which gender they are. You can't keep them from loving each other by withholding the ability to marry. That's not how love works. The heart works, regardless of a piece of paper. But it would be nice to allow them that sanctity, the ability to prove that they will love no one else the way they love each other for the rest of their lives.
Also, this is becoming a save-the-world rant.
We just sit there in the gorgeous brick building, filled with heat or air conditioning that's so plentiful we complain about it, listening a man wearing a robe stitched with sparkling gold-colored threads, under a crucifix hand-carved of bleached wood. What good is any of that doing for the world? Why do we have such nice things when so many people have none, and why are we enjoying them when we could actually be doing something worthwhile?
I felt like I needed to leave partway through Mass. Just run, drive away to where no one could hear me, and scream. Scream in frustration at living such a privileged life and not realizing how much I don't deserve until now. Scream in fear for the rest of my life, afraid to lose this. Scream in confusion, not knowing where to start to make sense of it all.
So all in all, going to church at home made it worse. Thankfully, I'm at Creighton, where a lot of people seem to feel similarly. A lot of those people happen to be my friends.
I think I need to start going to St. John's more, but not St. Patrick's.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Lost, fading to grey
My uncle Mike had a heart attack on Monday. Apparently it was a pretty bad one, because he's getting a quadruple bypass right now. Mom told me today, which is Wednesday (why do I always find these things out way after the fact?). I guess maybe she didn't want to stress me out too much, because I started classes on Monday. It's understandable, because I'm pretty stressed out now. I was supposed to call Diana, the PA from Dr. McCashland's place, to get more information about my biopsy, but I couldn't handle that. I'll call her when I get out of class and explain the situation. Heck, maybe I can just stop up there tomorrow and talk to her in person.
I don't have classes tomorrow, so I'm going to UNMC to visit Uncle Mike with Mom and Aunt Sue (who's currently on her way here). Until then, I'll do these things:
I don't have classes tomorrow, so I'm going to UNMC to visit Uncle Mike with Mom and Aunt Sue (who's currently on her way here). Until then, I'll do these things:
- straighten my hair finally
- go to dinner
- go to the basketball game
- have fun
- dance
- laugh
- come back and go to bed
- pray, pray, pray
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Where do I go from here?
Sometimes I just feel lost.
Like everyone around me knows exactly what's going on, exactly what they want.
This is why I hate going with the flow and being flexible. When I follow the rules and keep on the straight and narrow, I know what I want and where I'm going.
But then people have to complicate things. People who know what I don't know, people who are even worse at figuring out who they are than I am.
It's that second set that messes me up. I'm naturally drawn to people who need saving. I want to be a safety net, to be the one that someone credits for rescuing him (or her, of course).
But then...when will it be my turn to be saved?
Like everyone around me knows exactly what's going on, exactly what they want.
This is why I hate going with the flow and being flexible. When I follow the rules and keep on the straight and narrow, I know what I want and where I'm going.
But then people have to complicate things. People who know what I don't know, people who are even worse at figuring out who they are than I am.
It's that second set that messes me up. I'm naturally drawn to people who need saving. I want to be a safety net, to be the one that someone credits for rescuing him (or her, of course).
But then...when will it be my turn to be saved?
Saturday, January 1, 2011
A Year of Change
That's what it says on the front of the newspaper sitting in front of me. Howwww truuuue.
This year will be full of:
- friends that I love with all my heart
- being a good student
- exercise
- writing
- self-discovery
- love
- fun
- respect for myself
- respect for others
This year will be free of:
- gluten (yayyyy confirmation of celiac sprue)
- self-loathing
- contact with people who don't deserve it (I think we all know who that means)
- feelings of hatred
- chasing after guys
There we go. A year of change, 2011.
This year will be full of:
- friends that I love with all my heart
- being a good student
- exercise
- writing
- self-discovery
- love
- fun
- respect for myself
- respect for others
This year will be free of:
- gluten (yayyyy confirmation of celiac sprue)
- self-loathing
- contact with people who don't deserve it (I think we all know who that means)
- feelings of hatred
- chasing after guys
There we go. A year of change, 2011.
Saturday, December 25, 2010
A merry little Christmas ♥
Well, my 22nd Christmas has passed. It was the same as always, wonderful and filled with family, fun, laughs, and love.
Sadly, I don't have pictures for you. I didn't take any this year because Aunt Chris was taking them with her wonderful Canon EOS 60D, to which my little blue PowerShot does not compare. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate my little camera. I just want an SLR soooooo badly. But once she emails pictures out, and then once my mother forwards them to me, I will post them.
I love my family so much. ♥ We're all a little weird, and we all have our issues. Before Christmas, I was a little down in the dumps (as if you couldn't tell from my recent posts, not that anyone even reads this...). But then I was surrounded by family and happiness, and it's hard to be self-pitying anymore. At least right now. I am SO incredibly blessed. I'm not trying to say my family is perfect - far from it, let me tell you. But there's so much love there that it covers the mistakes made.
I hope your Christmas was just as blessed.
Oh, also...I have finally talked to my parents about the possibility of looking into an insulin pump. Yay! (It's a little sad, is it not, that I'm so excited about this. But I am!)
Sadly, I don't have pictures for you. I didn't take any this year because Aunt Chris was taking them with her wonderful Canon EOS 60D, to which my little blue PowerShot does not compare. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate my little camera. I just want an SLR soooooo badly. But once she emails pictures out, and then once my mother forwards them to me, I will post them.
I love my family so much. ♥ We're all a little weird, and we all have our issues. Before Christmas, I was a little down in the dumps (as if you couldn't tell from my recent posts, not that anyone even reads this...). But then I was surrounded by family and happiness, and it's hard to be self-pitying anymore. At least right now. I am SO incredibly blessed. I'm not trying to say my family is perfect - far from it, let me tell you. But there's so much love there that it covers the mistakes made.
I hope your Christmas was just as blessed.
Oh, also...I have finally talked to my parents about the possibility of looking into an insulin pump. Yay! (It's a little sad, is it not, that I'm so excited about this. But I am!)
Friday, November 26, 2010
Thanksgiving
I wrote this yesterday on my iPod, which sadly does not allow me to write on here. Thus, I was forced to type it into my notepad app, so here it is a day later.
Enjoying time with family, I'm reminiscing about other recent holidays. The one that sticks out in my mind was a couple years ago. Well, I guess it must have been at least three or four years ago now...I don't even remember much of it. We were in my mom's hometown of Woodbine, IA, where my grandma lived. I know it was Thanksgiving, because it almost never snows on Thanksgiving, but it was that day. My dad and I were taking a walk downtown. It must have been before dinner...the sky was still grey and white, so it couldn't have been past 4:00 or so. We went walking around town, my dad and I. It's the tiniest little town, so it didn't take long to go anywhere. We went down to the dentist's office where my grandma had been a receptionist. From there, we walked back toward the downtown area, two blocks away. We passed a house that was being built there on the south edge of town, where the hill overlooks the railroad. This house was incredible...stone on the outside instead of brick, all glass walls on the south side, copper detailing on the windows. Apparently and elevator was being put in, too. This palace did not belong in a town like Woodbine. Dad stared and admired for a while as I watched the light, fragile snowflakes fall, until we were too cold to stand still anymore. We walked to the gas station another block down the street to warm up and get sodas. It was there, sitting in the hard plastic tan and orange booth at the PetroMart, that my dad told me it would probably be our last Thanksgiving with Grandma Norma. She had been sick for a long time, just holding on for nearly ten years after Grandpa Pat passed away. I figured it was coming, but it was still a shock. I let a few tears fall, held my dad's hand, and let go.
I learned a lot about life that day. Especially about appreciating what's around you while it's there.
Enjoying time with family, I'm reminiscing about other recent holidays. The one that sticks out in my mind was a couple years ago. Well, I guess it must have been at least three or four years ago now...I don't even remember much of it. We were in my mom's hometown of Woodbine, IA, where my grandma lived. I know it was Thanksgiving, because it almost never snows on Thanksgiving, but it was that day. My dad and I were taking a walk downtown. It must have been before dinner...the sky was still grey and white, so it couldn't have been past 4:00 or so. We went walking around town, my dad and I. It's the tiniest little town, so it didn't take long to go anywhere. We went down to the dentist's office where my grandma had been a receptionist. From there, we walked back toward the downtown area, two blocks away. We passed a house that was being built there on the south edge of town, where the hill overlooks the railroad. This house was incredible...stone on the outside instead of brick, all glass walls on the south side, copper detailing on the windows. Apparently and elevator was being put in, too. This palace did not belong in a town like Woodbine. Dad stared and admired for a while as I watched the light, fragile snowflakes fall, until we were too cold to stand still anymore. We walked to the gas station another block down the street to warm up and get sodas. It was there, sitting in the hard plastic tan and orange booth at the PetroMart, that my dad told me it would probably be our last Thanksgiving with Grandma Norma. She had been sick for a long time, just holding on for nearly ten years after Grandpa Pat passed away. I figured it was coming, but it was still a shock. I let a few tears fall, held my dad's hand, and let go.
I learned a lot about life that day. Especially about appreciating what's around you while it's there.
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Bruises
We just spent two hours talking about death, dying, loss, and grieving in my Communications class. Wow, that sucked. I had to leave the room because I started crying.
Deaths really affect me. Even if I don't know the person very well (or at all), it still really upsets me to think about the family and their loss. I don't know why...I guess it just makes me think about the losses I've experienced in my own life.
When I was in first grade, my teacher had cancer and was gone for a large part of the school year. She died about a year later, and we went to her funeral because my mom was a teacher too. To my 7-year-old self, it seemed like the entire town was there.
My grandpa died when I was 8. I saw how it affected my grandma, who truly needed him in her life. They had been childhood neighbors, dating since high school, married for over 40 years. My mom was the one who had to take care of her after that.
My grandma, to all our family's surprise, lived for ten years and a month after my grandpa's death. She passed away almost three years ago, from complications from diabetes and obesity, as well as simply not taking very good care of herself. I was 18 when she died...the last time I saw her alive, I knew that it would be the last time. We had already had some scares in the year or two before that, so we all knew it was coming. I think my mom took me to the hospital that day just so I could say goodbye. I told her about getting my big scholarship to Creighton, and she told me how proud she was of me. The very last thing I heard her say was as we were walking out of her room - she called the nurse and asked for some strawberry ice cream. I think that's one of my favorite memories about her. God, I miss her so much.
Before that, though, I endured a friend's suicide. I was a sophomore in high school, and Brian was a senior. My best friend (Rachel) and I ate lunch with him and his girlfriend, Jane (who was just a year older than us), every day of our freshman year. It was pretty unexpected, and I think that's why it still affects me to this day. I used to think about him every day...now, it's at least once a month, if not a few times more. Every September 18th, I'm a wreck. The song I remember most from his funeral was "Lord of the Dance" because he absolutely loved dancing and performing, and he had so much faith. Green Day's "Wake Me Up When September Ends" was popular at the time, so that song always reminds me of him too. Looking back, we should have seen it coming. Brian had been taking medication to relieve his severe migraines, and I'm sure that was part of it. He suddenly broke up with Jane just a few days earlier, only a couple weeks before the homecoming dance, and when he tried to get her back she was too upset and said no. He left his favorite sweatshirt with a note saying it wasn't her fault in her car that night.
This year alone, my hometown has been shocked with four deaths...three of which were girls in my graduating class. Kelsey died in August from an epileptic seizure in her sleep. Tonya passed away in October from complications she was born with. Courtney was the only person in a one-car accident in the country between Fremont and Lincoln. Those three shocked me so much...they were in my class. I'm the same age as them. I think the worst part was the idea that it could have been me - I realize how much they're going to miss out on, how much I still have left to do in my life. The fourth death was Don Longacre. We took our cars to him to get them serviced - to the garage he owned with his son, Gary. Don's granddaughter Tanya, who is a year older than me, was in my dance classes for thirteen years. He was such a great community member, and everyone loved him. His death was pretty unexpected - he had a brain aneurysm and collapsed at the garage on a Thursday, and they took him off life support on that Sunday.
Combined with the stress that is this year, I was a total mess when these deaths occurred. I've been a complete train wreck of emotions with every death in my life. But now, it's helpful to look back and appreciate what each of those people brought to the world. I try to remember the great things about each one, and with every day it gets better. God knows what he's doing...I'm sure of that.
Deaths really affect me. Even if I don't know the person very well (or at all), it still really upsets me to think about the family and their loss. I don't know why...I guess it just makes me think about the losses I've experienced in my own life.
When I was in first grade, my teacher had cancer and was gone for a large part of the school year. She died about a year later, and we went to her funeral because my mom was a teacher too. To my 7-year-old self, it seemed like the entire town was there.
My grandpa died when I was 8. I saw how it affected my grandma, who truly needed him in her life. They had been childhood neighbors, dating since high school, married for over 40 years. My mom was the one who had to take care of her after that.
My grandma, to all our family's surprise, lived for ten years and a month after my grandpa's death. She passed away almost three years ago, from complications from diabetes and obesity, as well as simply not taking very good care of herself. I was 18 when she died...the last time I saw her alive, I knew that it would be the last time. We had already had some scares in the year or two before that, so we all knew it was coming. I think my mom took me to the hospital that day just so I could say goodbye. I told her about getting my big scholarship to Creighton, and she told me how proud she was of me. The very last thing I heard her say was as we were walking out of her room - she called the nurse and asked for some strawberry ice cream. I think that's one of my favorite memories about her. God, I miss her so much.
Before that, though, I endured a friend's suicide. I was a sophomore in high school, and Brian was a senior. My best friend (Rachel) and I ate lunch with him and his girlfriend, Jane (who was just a year older than us), every day of our freshman year. It was pretty unexpected, and I think that's why it still affects me to this day. I used to think about him every day...now, it's at least once a month, if not a few times more. Every September 18th, I'm a wreck. The song I remember most from his funeral was "Lord of the Dance" because he absolutely loved dancing and performing, and he had so much faith. Green Day's "Wake Me Up When September Ends" was popular at the time, so that song always reminds me of him too. Looking back, we should have seen it coming. Brian had been taking medication to relieve his severe migraines, and I'm sure that was part of it. He suddenly broke up with Jane just a few days earlier, only a couple weeks before the homecoming dance, and when he tried to get her back she was too upset and said no. He left his favorite sweatshirt with a note saying it wasn't her fault in her car that night.
This year alone, my hometown has been shocked with four deaths...three of which were girls in my graduating class. Kelsey died in August from an epileptic seizure in her sleep. Tonya passed away in October from complications she was born with. Courtney was the only person in a one-car accident in the country between Fremont and Lincoln. Those three shocked me so much...they were in my class. I'm the same age as them. I think the worst part was the idea that it could have been me - I realize how much they're going to miss out on, how much I still have left to do in my life. The fourth death was Don Longacre. We took our cars to him to get them serviced - to the garage he owned with his son, Gary. Don's granddaughter Tanya, who is a year older than me, was in my dance classes for thirteen years. He was such a great community member, and everyone loved him. His death was pretty unexpected - he had a brain aneurysm and collapsed at the garage on a Thursday, and they took him off life support on that Sunday.
Combined with the stress that is this year, I was a total mess when these deaths occurred. I've been a complete train wreck of emotions with every death in my life. But now, it's helpful to look back and appreciate what each of those people brought to the world. I try to remember the great things about each one, and with every day it gets better. God knows what he's doing...I'm sure of that.
Friday, November 19, 2010
Rediscovered
OH HEY.
Wow, I hadn't realized that it's been a year since I last posted. Insanity.
So...basically, my entire life has changed since November 2009.
First: I broke up with Ryan. Yes, I did the breaking of the hearts. It was the beginning of January 2010. We hadn't talked between Thanksgiving and Christmas break - a good three weeks - and I just felt like I wasn't in a relationship anymore. I was pretty upset about it for a while, and of course I still miss him sometimes, but not nearly as much. He's a stupid boy who didn't try hard enough, and I'm fine. In fact, I'm better than fine. I've rediscovered myself since January. I'm back to being me, not the me I thought I should be for him. That means I've rediscovered God, I've rediscovered beauty in life, and I've rediscovered passion. I'm not sure I'll ever be done figuring out who I am or what I want, but now I'm okay with that.
Second: I've chased a few guys since then, but now I've given up on that. Why should I torture myself trying to get guys to be interested in me when they're not? Ridiculosity, I tell you. Yes. Ridiculosity. I'm working on me now (like everyone tells me to) and someone will come along. Just look at me in that picture - so much happier.
Third: I've learned that patience is key - not just in dating and stuff like that, but in all things in life. More on that later.
Fourth: I'm in freaking PHARMACY SCHOOL. No more undergrad for me! It feels so weird to be in professional school. I'm going to have a PharmD. (doctor of pharmacy) degree three and a half years from now. What?!?! But yeah, those are my parents with me in that picture. Love love love.
Fifth: School is hard. Huhhh? I've never said that before. But it is. It's hard to stay motivated to study when it's all you do all week long, every week in the semester. And it's hard to listen when your professor has the heaviest Indian accent you've ever heard and speaks in broken English. And it's hard to listen when you have Facebook, Twitter, and Bejeweled at your disposal because you have a new computer that the school gave you and you're on it in class all day long.
Sixth: I'm an RA! I love Kiewit Hall and all my fellow staff members and residents. It's a wonderful life...made a little more difficult than normal what with being in professional school and all. But thanks to Res Life, I've got some great people around me who are helping me to develop and grow - Patrick's forcing me to write so that I can find my voice again, Steph is sooo supportive and such a great friend, and I've found my friendships with Shannon, Katie, Tim, and Eric again. Woo hoo!
So basically, everything's different. I have rediscovered my blog (yay!), I have rediscovered myself, and I am in the process of rediscovering my voice. Much love.
Wow, I hadn't realized that it's been a year since I last posted. Insanity.
So...basically, my entire life has changed since November 2009.
First: I broke up with Ryan. Yes, I did the breaking of the hearts. It was the beginning of January 2010. We hadn't talked between Thanksgiving and Christmas break - a good three weeks - and I just felt like I wasn't in a relationship anymore. I was pretty upset about it for a while, and of course I still miss him sometimes, but not nearly as much. He's a stupid boy who didn't try hard enough, and I'm fine. In fact, I'm better than fine. I've rediscovered myself since January. I'm back to being me, not the me I thought I should be for him. That means I've rediscovered God, I've rediscovered beauty in life, and I've rediscovered passion. I'm not sure I'll ever be done figuring out who I am or what I want, but now I'm okay with that.
Second: I've chased a few guys since then, but now I've given up on that. Why should I torture myself trying to get guys to be interested in me when they're not? Ridiculosity, I tell you. Yes. Ridiculosity. I'm working on me now (like everyone tells me to) and someone will come along. Just look at me in that picture - so much happier.
Third: I've learned that patience is key - not just in dating and stuff like that, but in all things in life. More on that later.
Fourth: I'm in freaking PHARMACY SCHOOL. No more undergrad for me! It feels so weird to be in professional school. I'm going to have a PharmD. (doctor of pharmacy) degree three and a half years from now. What?!?! But yeah, those are my parents with me in that picture. Love love love.
Fifth: School is hard. Huhhh? I've never said that before. But it is. It's hard to stay motivated to study when it's all you do all week long, every week in the semester. And it's hard to listen when your professor has the heaviest Indian accent you've ever heard and speaks in broken English. And it's hard to listen when you have Facebook, Twitter, and Bejeweled at your disposal because you have a new computer that the school gave you and you're on it in class all day long.
Sixth: I'm an RA! I love Kiewit Hall and all my fellow staff members and residents. It's a wonderful life...made a little more difficult than normal what with being in professional school and all. But thanks to Res Life, I've got some great people around me who are helping me to develop and grow - Patrick's forcing me to write so that I can find my voice again, Steph is sooo supportive and such a great friend, and I've found my friendships with Shannon, Katie, Tim, and Eric again. Woo hoo!
So basically, everything's different. I have rediscovered my blog (yay!), I have rediscovered myself, and I am in the process of rediscovering my voice. Much love.
Monday, March 16, 2009
A Distant Day
I'm dreaming
of a day when people
will accept people as people.
Nothing more,
nothing less.
I'm dreaming
of a day when we
will change collectively.
For the better,
not the worse.
I'm dreaming
of a day when you
will see yourself as beautiful.
Unique and lovely,
not weird and ugly.
I'm dreaming
of a day when I'll be able
to feel that way about myself.
Not perfect,
but content.
of a day when people
will accept people as people.
Nothing more,
nothing less.
I'm dreaming
of a day when we
will change collectively.
For the better,
not the worse.
I'm dreaming
of a day when you
will see yourself as beautiful.
Unique and lovely,
not weird and ugly.
I'm dreaming
of a day when I'll be able
to feel that way about myself.
Not perfect,
but content.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Sigh...I don't have a title for this one.
I apologize heartily for the lack of blogging these last two weeks...life has taken over my life. I've lost inspiration, lost motivation, lost...idk. I'm just lost right now.
I'm waiting for Friday, when I can go home and just BE for a week...probably all I'll be doing is homework, but I'm okay with that. I'm tired of going to classes right now...I just want the academic year to be over. I'm still enjoying it, mind you. I'm just at that point in the semester where I can't believe it's only halfway done and I still have a quarter of my freshman year left. And then I think, "Wow, I only have a quarter of my freshman year left???" I'm in-between, not sure, and relatively apathetic right now.
My grandma died a year ago today. I miss her so much that I can't bear it sometimes. I was really close to her, and I miss hearing her voice over the phone, and her hugs, and everything else about her...I can't be angry though. She was suffering a lot in the last few years of her life, and now she's back with my grandpa, the love of her life. I know they're okay...I had a dream the night of her funeral, and all I remember from that dream was seeing her and knowing it was her coming to say goodbye. It was strangely sad and comforting at the same time.
Then in August, I had another dream...this time it was both of my grandparents. My grandpa died ten years and one month before my grandma (February 1, 1998), and she was a wreck without him. But in this dream, I was back at their old house, and they came outside to greet me. I hugged my grandpa for the first time in ten years, and I told him, "Grandpa, I'm a college freshman!" He was so proud of me...he didn't say anything, but his smile was so huge...my mom was the first in her family to go to college, and he was so happy that I was following in her footsteps.
So that's how I know they're okay. I don't care what other people think. I don't care if dreams don't count as knowledge, or that it's just a trick of my mind. Don't bother telling me that. I have faith...and sometimes, those dreams are the only things that help me to keep that faith.
I miss my grandma so much...
I'm waiting for Friday, when I can go home and just BE for a week...probably all I'll be doing is homework, but I'm okay with that. I'm tired of going to classes right now...I just want the academic year to be over. I'm still enjoying it, mind you. I'm just at that point in the semester where I can't believe it's only halfway done and I still have a quarter of my freshman year left. And then I think, "Wow, I only have a quarter of my freshman year left???" I'm in-between, not sure, and relatively apathetic right now.
My grandma died a year ago today. I miss her so much that I can't bear it sometimes. I was really close to her, and I miss hearing her voice over the phone, and her hugs, and everything else about her...I can't be angry though. She was suffering a lot in the last few years of her life, and now she's back with my grandpa, the love of her life. I know they're okay...I had a dream the night of her funeral, and all I remember from that dream was seeing her and knowing it was her coming to say goodbye. It was strangely sad and comforting at the same time.
Then in August, I had another dream...this time it was both of my grandparents. My grandpa died ten years and one month before my grandma (February 1, 1998), and she was a wreck without him. But in this dream, I was back at their old house, and they came outside to greet me. I hugged my grandpa for the first time in ten years, and I told him, "Grandpa, I'm a college freshman!" He was so proud of me...he didn't say anything, but his smile was so huge...my mom was the first in her family to go to college, and he was so happy that I was following in her footsteps.
So that's how I know they're okay. I don't care what other people think. I don't care if dreams don't count as knowledge, or that it's just a trick of my mind. Don't bother telling me that. I have faith...and sometimes, those dreams are the only things that help me to keep that faith.
I miss my grandma so much...
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