I'll be waiting

Well, I'm off to Kansas City for New Years! Actually, we're leaving in about ten hours, but in all actuality we'll be on our way by the time any of you read this. We're spending a few days with my mom's side of the family, and I'm super excited. I get to see Meghan and Caitlin, my 14-year-old cousins from Baltimore, and Bubba (also known as Cale) and Coralee, my cousin Ann's babies. It'll be my first time meeting Cora, and I can't wait! Ahhh so excited. Baby!

In case you were wondering, I had a very nice Christmas. We had Christmas Eve with my dad's family like always, this time in Blair at the Cargill headquarters (where my uncle Tom works). It was a really great space, the perfect size for us. And even though not everyone could come, there was enough room for everyone in our family - all 44 of the G family members! Good God, there are tons of us. We're taking over!

My cousin Rachel had her second baby boy just before Christmas, and my cousin Kristen is due at the beginning of January with a boy as well - carrying on the G family tradition! In case you didn't know, my dad's the oldest of 8, all boys. And then my generation is mostly boys as well, and now of course the first 3 great-grandkids are boys. Crazy crazy. But anyway, please keep my new baby cousins and their moms in your prayers! As far as I know, everyone's healthy right now, so that's awesome.

So like I said, I'll be gone for the next few days. I hope that each one of you have had a wonderful holiday (whatever it is that you celebrate) full of love and laughter, and I also hope that your new year is full of the same! Please stay safe, be smart, and have fun on New Years Eve. You're all in my thoughts!

I'll be home for Christmas

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.

No one will ever save you if no one can ever find you

So I've managed to make my life a total mess in the last few weeks.

I started thinking I could do something when all along I probably knew it was too late, and then I was crushed when I was told that it was, indeed, too late. I put myself through a week of unnecessary conversations and unnecessary tears and unnecessary worries. And I don't care what anyone says - I didn't get anything real out of it. If you'd like to provide me with an example of something I did get out of it, I welcome that. But I don't want to hear "I know you got something out of it. You might not see it yet, but you did." If you can see that so clearly, I'm going to need you to tell me what it was. Because I'm still not seeing it.

Anyway...

Then I decided to try to hide things from some of my friends, and...well...I mean, we all know I can't hide anything when it comes to my emotions, especially with the specific people involved. So I ended up hurting them and pushing them away even though that was the very last thing I wanted. I haven't heard from one particular person in a week and a half, and it's absolutely killing me. It's agonizing.

My stomach twists and my heart's in my throat every time I see I have a new email. I'm afraid that I was too late again, because I was ashamed and didn't know what to say. It was as simple as an apology, but I just couldn't figure out how to say it. And now that's all I can think about. I've spent a lot of time either in bed or on the couch, a lot of time crying, and a lot of time alone.

In the meantime, I've been trying to improve my outlook on things. I'm getting back to being on my way to feeling okay with myself. I'm forcing myself to listen to the wonderfully supportive people around me. I'm going to start trying to discern what parts of me are really me, and not just a combination of my parents. My mom always tells me "Ugh, you're so much like your dad" when I do something that irritates her, and my dad's response to when my mom and I fought was always "You're so similar that you just know how to push each other's buttons." I realized in my counseling appointment the other day that I've never really thought about identifying myself outside of that - I have my dad's eyes, my mom's complexion, my dad's short upper lip, my mom's voice, and a combination of their hair with my mom's color and my dad's texture.

But more than that, I identified myself with their personality traits too. My dad's passion, my mom's school smarts. My dad's interest in the humanities, my mom's interest in math. My dad's ability to dream, my mom's stubbornness. My dad's will to do everything possible, my mom's responsibility to the people around her.



Then if all that's from them...who am I?

So far, I think I'm one of Tilly's "Lost Girls" (see title, search song, listen).

I'm working on that.

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?

The National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, TN
The wreath marks the balcony where Dr. King was standing when he was shot.

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.

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

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.

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.

A couple things I wanted to remember from the National Civil Rights Center

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.

My 7th graders!

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).

With our special dinner guests

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.

The guys with Mr. Malden at the barbershop - don't they look great?

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?

My darling Ms. Bonnie!

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.

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.

If I ever get the nerve to say hello

Euphoric.

That's how I felt tonight, sitting on a blanket watching my hometown's fireworks show with my second family. With colors bursting over my head, shattering into a thousand little pieces of light, I wasn't even thinking about anything. Entranced by the fiery sky, I didn't feel the need to hold in my stomach, or to mess with my hair, or to sit in any particular fashion. I felt simple, innocent, happy. Euphoric.

As I reread my most recent post a few minutes ago, I couldn't help but notice how out-of-place the last paragraph seems. I apologize for that. I had meant to end it on a high note, but then I ended up getting all lonely and downhearted again. Life is good, and since I wrote that, all I've been feeling is...I don't really know how to describe it. This sort of...giddiness, maybe? Just feeling happy to be alive. There are so many things that I am able to do and so many things that I want to do and it's wonderful.

I have better friends than I could even ask to have - ones who send me letters, play songs for me that make them think of me, respond to my Tumbls, text me with random hilarious things about their days, and call on a random afternoon while they're driving home just to chat for a little while. I am so blessed to have this life.

Home is wherever I'm with you

Things I'm loving about home so far:

1. I can take a baaaath here.
2. I've read a hundred pages of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone tonight.
3. My parents and I had a good conversation over dinner.
4. I didn't have to pay for my dinner. ;)
5. I'm snuggled under my quilt reading, it's only 11:00 and I'm tired, and I can sleep in tomorrow.
6. I get to see some truly wonderful friends tomorrow.
7. I didn't have to buy my own groceries.
8. My parents are on a good spell, it seems. It's always nice when I don't have to be stuck in the middle of a pointless argument.
9. I get to see a bunch of my extended family on Sunday.
10. Although there's still an air of not really belonging here, I'm glad I am. It's not so frustrating this time.

You've been on my mind

Good things list:

• Bike ride tonight, to Iowa and back.
• My leg muscles seem to have remembered they exist.
• I will be extremely sore when I get up in the morning.
• An "I miss you" text that I really needed.
• PS - I miss you right back, and I can't wait to send you the package I'm planning.
• Made it to Scooter's with 10 minutes to spare before it closed.
• Wonderful time spent back at the Kiewit desk with Lance.
• His fambam is basically awesome. :)
• Can finally send in my RSVP for the wedding!
• (because now I know who's coming to it with me)
• Wishing Elane's and my schedules could not be polar opposites for just one evening.
• Back to living in Swanson!
• But I do really miss Kiewit...
• Going home this weekend.
• Seeing the mama, the papa, the bffs, and the extended fambam!
• So many tears in the last couple weeks.
• Yes, that is a good thing.
• It means I was moved or that I really truly love the people in my life (and miss them a ton).

Sick and tired of being sick and tired

(credit to Bill for the e-card)

My friend (a fellow diabadass and one of my closest friends) and I were talking one day, and we came to a realization…having diabetes messes you up.

A lot of diabetics (myself included) have had emotional/mental health issues in their lives. I personally have struggled with an obsession with perfection. One friend had an eating disorder. Another dropped out of high school. When you stop to think about it, having diabetes has a huge impact on your life.

I don’t know if it’s chemical - it could be, but I’m not so sure that it’s true. I think it’s more about having to fight to survive, relying on insulin to stay alive each and every day, being forced to live a stressful life full of needles and numbers. It’s the stares when you’re out in public, it’s the questions that you say you don’t mind answering, it’s especially the people who say, “I admire you. I don’t think I could do what you do,” because when it comes down to it, you either do it or you die. So you do it. You don’t think you can, but you have to.

Diabetes creates this anger deep down in you. There’s a feeling that you weren’t supposed to make it, that the fact that you’re alive when one of your very vital organs doesn’t work at all isn’t right. That you have to live like this forever (or at least until an adequate cure is found). That your disease is influencing your life enough that you’re making a career out of it. That people think they understand when they really don’t. That people would do anything for you not to suffer - your dad would give you his pancreas if he could, your mom would trade places with you in a heartbeat.

So yeah, in a way, diabetes messes you up.

I'd build you an empire

I am happier.

I won't lie to you - I'm not completely happy. There are still sad times to balance things out. But I'm getting pretty good at starting to recognize them...I can feel it coming, and now I have ways of dealing with it.

Right now, though...I'm pretty happy. There are reasons I can't discuss here, but some of you already know those. Some of you don't, but I'm okay with that. Bahahaha.

Other reasons:  I feel better about myself than I have in a while. There are lots of things I can improve, with both my health and my daily life, but I'm beginning that process. I have tons to do in the next few weeks, but now I feel like it's manageable instead of feeling lost and drowning in the work that I have to do. I think things are going to be improving with my mom, after the very tearful conversation we had the other day. I'm starting to be myself.

I'm starting to be myself.

Take your bags upstairs, tell yourself you still live here

How to return home.

I didn't want to be here. Honestly, I still don't really want to be here. I want to be back in MY room, the one where I do my real living - not the one here in this house, the room that could have been cut out of a magazine. Here in this town, the one that goes to bed at 10:30 and wakes up at 7, goes to the YMCA and runs errands at HyVee and Miller Pharmacy.

Why don't I want to be here?

To tell you the truth, I'm not really sure. I just want to be in Omaha.

I like Omaha. I like its sunrises and sunsets, I like its city atmosphere, I like the pedestrian bridge and Jones Bros. Cupcakes, I like that my friends are there. I like being on campus, especially those times when I have it to myself.

I think the issue here is less about spring break and more about summer. I don't want to feel so much like a child, the way I do here. My mom leaves me a list of things to do each day, including things like working out and doing the laundry, buying groceries, cleaning my bathroom, etc. If I was living on campus by myself this summer...I can just imagine it. I'd be so much more independent. I'd have work to do during the days, of course, but then I could go to the Farmer's Market or ride my bike to the pedestrian bridge and just sit for a while. I'd be able to take care of myself and not have to worry about doing things just to make my mom happy.

I might be growing up.

"It's a funny thing about coming home. Looks the same, smells the same, feels the same. You'll realize what's changed is you." - The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Babies make bad things better

Especially when they're adorably fat, happy, and lovable.



We went to the hospital again to see Uncle Mike. He had a rough day - his meds were giving him an erratic heartbeat (which is not favorable after a heart attack...), so he had a busy day trying to get that under control. The doctors switched his meds, but he's absolutely exhausted. He seemed like he was in a half-asleep state, and we weren't able to see him for a while. When we finally did get to see him, he was super nauseous. He looks just like my grandma did when she was in the hospital the last time I saw her...like I said, rough day.

BUT...I got to see Cale today. That made everything soooo much better.

I call him Bubba. He's such a chub, and it just fits him! I automatically call him that when I see him. My Aunt Susan (aka Bubba's grandma) heard me call him that, sooo long story short, Bubba is Cale's new nickname. :) Aunt Sue (NOT Aunt Susan, but my mom's sister Sue) said something about knowing a guy whose nickname was Bump because he was chubby - I don't really get that one. Aunt Susan was holding Cale, and she looked at him and said, "Cale, are you a Bubba or a Bump?" Cale immediately made this adorable little noise that sounded like he said Bubba! GAAAAHHHH CUTEST THING EVER. I love that little man so much.

So basically, rough day made better by a baby.

In addition, credit for making me feel better is also due to Steph. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much I needed someone to just focus on me for a little bit, just to be there and to listen. Also, to provide hugs. LOVE YOU.

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:

• 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

Much thanks to Bill, Chris, and especially Patrick, who were so comforting this afternoon.

Family pictures

Some ADORABLE pictures of baby Cale, my parents, and me :)

Wow, I look so much like my mom.
Babies. I want to hold them.



He kept attacking my face!

HOW CUTE IS THAT?

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.

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!)

I'll be home for Christmas

The worst finals week in the history of my life is finally over, and I am home. Thank the Lord.

I love Creighton and all of my amazing friends there, don't get me wrong. It's just wonderful coming home after a looooong week of stress and hassle.

I saw my baby cousin Cale today. :) That's me holding him this summer when I met him for the first time. He is SUCH a happy baby! Oh my goodness, I just love him so much! He's actually my cousin Ann Marie's son, so he's...my second cousin? First cousin once removed? I'm not sure. It's easier to call him my cousin.

Tomorrow, I shall see my BESTIESSSSS. I am so freaking excited. Rachel, Laura, and Corinne. Love love love. We're going to take the pictures we planned to take this summer, but now it's winter. We'll be taking them at Corinne's house, May Museum, downtown Fremont, and wherever else we feel like it. It's going to be a blast! Rachel's sister Megan (aka my sister Megan) shall be our photographer. To give you a preview, here's the epitome of my friendship with Rachel in photographic form:






Bahahahahaha. That was a fun night. Now you know all that you need to know about my best (home) friend and myself. :)

Also, I'll be baking cookies with friends Madi and Jayme, as well as their moms (Cozy and Diane, respectively) and my own mom and possibly Katie's mom Jodi. Katie unfortunately can't come, and neither can Marissa or her mom Marsha. Sad day. :( But it'll still be fun!

I'm exhausted. I got 3 hours of sleep last night, all thanks to Patrick. Pssssh. But in all honesty, it was totally worth it. What a great conversation.

Also, I had one heck of a morning. Between finishing room checks, packing my stuff, and checking out myself, it was extremely chaotic. I forgot a few things, but nothing I can't live without.

All is well on the home front. We got home from Uncle Mike and Aunt Sue's (where I saw Cale today) at 4:30ish? Maybe? Then the mama and I got groceries and Runza for dinner while Dad went to the warehouse to work on his car, or do whatever he does there. Then we came home and I took a bath in my itty-bitty bathtub, fell asleep for a few minutes after reading two chapters of Pride and Prejudice (which I'm re-reading over break). Since then, I've just been lying in bed typing this, texting Rachel and Corinne, and Skype chatting with Chris, who's leaving the Denver airport soon to finally fly home.

It's been a beautiful night, and I shall talk to you soon. But for now, sleep is calling me. ♥

Mess of Me

I'm exhausted. I have not slept enough in the past few days. Maybe that was the cause of my slight meltdown last night.

I feel a lot better today...probably because I've been around people all day. Picking people up from the airport, going to church/lunch/basketball game with my mom, eating dinner with some of my favorite people. Wonderful. :)

Loneliness lingers, though. It always does.

I'm going to go write a letter to you in my you notebook. Just so you know. Something to leave you with:

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.

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.

For Caitlin...

I found out earlier today that Caitlin, my 12-year-old cousin (twin sister to Meghan - they live out in Baltimore), either was or is going through emotions similar to mine. I can't believe it...she's twelve! Twelve. Seriously? I didn't know 12-year-olds could be depressed, let alone nearly suicidal. She's the one on the far left...this picture's from my dance recital last year, and we danced to Thriller. Thus the strange outfit. But anyway.

My aunt found some of my uncle's pills and a note in her room...I can't believe it. Caitlin said it was from a few months ago and that she's over it, but I'm not sure I believe that. She's gone to a couple counseling sessions, I guess...I wish I could talk to her about it, but I can't. She would hate her mother for telling my mom, and my mom for telling me, and me for asking about it.

I just wish...I wish that we could talk about it and make an agreement. I feel like if we allied it would help both of us. I guess that talk will just have to wait a while.