The Power of Connection

I came across this fabulous video from BYU's alumni services today, and it's too great not to share!


Some gems from Ron Clark, Director of BYU Public Affairs and Guest Relations:

"A bunch of our communication now, we're cheating ourselves a little bit because we're addressing a multitude of people all at once. We claim to have 1,000 friends on Facebook, and we're saying the same message to each and every one of them with no individuality. Gone is the feeling of one-on-one communication and feeling—actually being there to rejoice at someone's news or to commiserate with them for just a little while, and say, 'Oh, I'm so sorry. I'm here for you. I'm your friend. I'm your buddy. I believe in you.' It's all done through space, and we're losing so much of the identity—the individual identity in relationships. It's electronic emotion."

"Emotion does not dwell in a computer. It doesn't dwell in an iPhone. Sincerity cannot be felt that way. Honesty cannot be felt. Even an awkward use of words and phrases one on one that brings out the true nature of who we are and what we are is lost... You build friendships through networking, and a lot of those friendships you keep enjoying for years and years."

"There's nothing to be uptight about. They're people. They have the same basic apprehension that you do and the same awkwardness, and as long as you're the one that's willing to break that ice and walk in, and make a comment, make an observation, and then go to—even if it's a principle—you stick your hand out, you bring them in. It's a gesture of warmth and sincerity and friendship. I love it when people do that to me."

"It totally does away with the ability to be warm and kind and actually loving—natural, relaxed around somebody else. It makes them very, very awkward if you're uncomfortable. Then they spend time trying to make you comfortable and have you feel at ease because they know that they are certainly comfortable in your presence. You want to disarm them from having to worry about that, and if you can speak in a nice, comfortable, lower tone of voice without a lot of aggression—just a couple of warm shakes of the hand and a pat on the back of that elbow—it does wonders to open so many doors."

"Every one of us has a wit, and if we can find what taps that wit and how we can have an exchange of just a little bit of craziness... You find that common denominator that can make you both laugh. It's things like that that build that confidence, and the very first time you spend in their presence, you can have that. You can own that. You can own that friendship for the rest of your life. By the end of the day, we're hugging each other and we're looking in each other's eyes as real friends, and that's not an art. It's something that I want. It's something that I need. It replenishes my cup."

"We're better at communicating when we're natural, when we're being ourselves and being absolutely sincere and honest about why we want to ask a question. Loving people is one of the greatest gifts we have on this earth, and so many of us are so busy, we don't take time to actually love. I have come to find out the important things of existing and co-existing, and people is the common denominator. I cherish every relationship I have."

Spring Awakening

"Does a snake mourns the skin it sheds as it grows? Or a butterfly—does it hesitate when breaking free from its chrysalis and flying onward and upward?"

These are the thoughts I find myself pondering tonight. Glorious as it may be, growth means departing from the familiar and moving into the unknown, trusting that great things are ahead but not really knowing what that means. And for someone who struggles to let go of the reins, venturing into the unknown world alone is about as terrifying and uncomfortable as it gets!

The end of 2012 dovetailed with a life chapter's closing, and while I charged headlong into the new year with big hopes and aspirations... life had other plans (including two months of bronchitis). Six weeks ago I finally stepped into some semblance of a normal life, and... it's been a start-and-stop process ever since, relearning to what it means... well... to be me. 

I guess when you break a bone and reset it, there's inevitably a period of physical therapy, right? The fracture has healed, and that old, pesky limp is FINALLY gone, but the atrophied muscles have to awaken and regain their strength, and it takes so much patience and perseverance to get back to running and kicking and swimming and dancing and all those good things. And none of those will feel or function quite how they did before, nor should they.

Well... I suppose my heart, mind, and spirit are in something akin to physical therapy.

It's weird, picking up the pieces and moving forward into life again after a year spent on hold—breaking down to the core, working through heartbreaks, treasuring every moment with my sweet grandmother, transitioning into a new phase of complete independence. I didn't realize just how dearly I needed the connection and purpose and belonging I felt in Grandma's last months... and now... it's just me again. No roommates. No place in a family unit. No debt. No emotional obligations. I've never been so wholly independent in every sense—which is both liberating and isolating. 

As much as I try to look at everything as an opportunity... it's not easy. Most of the time I feel kind of lost. Keeping busy keeps my mind off of things... but I don't have the desire to push as hard as I once could. Busy is not a badge I like to wear anymore. Slowing down is great... except when it reminds me that I'm alone. Keeping the "nobody loves you" gremlins at bay is a frequent battle. I know in my head that I'm dearly loved by many... but when my days come and go with little meaningful connection to others, it gets tough to really believe that in my heart.

New friendships have helped immensely—I've been adopted into a wonderful group that fits so well, and we do dinner twice a week plus play games on Sunday nights—but there again, it's a mixed blessing. New relationships require patience and effort and vulnerability—and goodness knows I feel vulnerable enough as it is just existing these days! I'm finally authentic and comfortable in my skin... but what it means to "be myself" is new, too. I'm not who I was a year ago (or six months ago, even). Just skimming my blogposts from as recent as December... man. That feels like ancient history. Even the focus on my "30 by 30" list—who was that girl?! So much of it seems silly and trivial now in the grand scheme of things. Familiar, good things are snapping back into place, like a desire to bake again Sunday for the first time in ages. But the deeper, emotional things are all new.

And it's funny, because when I get out of my own way and just LIVE, I do wonderfully. People tell me I'm amazing frequently... and I'm not trying for that feedback. I'm just being myself. But when I think about it, that's when I second-guess and wobble and fall—getting scared, wanting to run away and hide in my condo, where it's safe. And don't even get me started on dating!!! So many false starts lately that ultimately lack real traction and potential... but hope still prevails. It'll happen when it happens, and when it does, it'll be glorious.

Meanwhile... I just keep trekking along. Usually I like imparting of some overarching insight or wisdom when wrapping up a blogpost, but this time? I got nothing, kids. I'm making life up as I go! And, really, I guess that's the best insight of all, because that's reality. It's all we're asked to do—no more, no less.

But I will leave you with a couple gems I've found of late:

"You're going to become more tolerant with time, and not only because you have more to tolerate in yourself. Because life will batter you and you'll have a surer sense of what's important and has meaning and is good."—Peggy Noonan, 

Wall Street Journal

And...

Lost and Found

Looking back at 2012, one theme sticks out: loss.

In the course of the past year, I lost hope for relationships with key family members (including straight-up estrangements for most of the year), lost a chance at love (although, if we're being honest, I dodged a bullet with that one), lost my health for several months, my team lost the election (grrrr!!!), and, a few weeks ago, I lost my grandmother, who was my family, best friend, and primary example in life. Oh, and just today I got the news that my grandmother's children are selling her cabin in Island Park—my lifelong haven and refuge—so that's another devastating loss for 2012. Even happy things, like moving to my delightful condo, involved loss—losing the happiest home situation I've ever had, living with my best friend in a place filled with joy and warmth.

So to you, 2012, I have two words: Peace out!

Now, onto the beautiful blank state of 2013 (which I'm kicking off with a one-night stay at the Hotel Del Coronado—hello, bucket-list item!!!)

I've decided that this new year is going to be MY year. As devastating as loss can be, it brings a certain degree of liberation. The voids left by losses can be opportunities to create better, brighter, beautiful possibilities—and I'm going to make finding them the focus of this new year.

Specifically:

• Finding Health and Wealth—Two of my biggest Achilles' heels in life seem to be fitness and finances. Honestly, both stem from a shared root issue: a lack of self-discipline and delayed gratification. This year I plan to attack both with a vengeance!
• Finding Love—And by love, I broaden that scope beyond romance, because love is so much bigger than that. My life is filled with love, and yet too often I either discount available love because it's not the source I crave (i.e. friends instead of family), or I get frustrated with love offered because it's not exactly what I want from that particular individual. I need to work on accepting what love people offer—no more, no less—while trusting in God's goodness to provide what I do need, even when it comes from unexpected places. (And if an unexpected place does happen to be that tall, dark, handsome "Mormon prince" I've been awaiting... well... fabulous!)
• Finding Meaningful Ways to Serve—Rebuilding my broken heart necessitated an inward focus for much of 2012, but I finally feel like I can breathe again! The dust is settling, and with that, I really want to get outside of myself. The two consistent services I did in 2012 were family history and temple work, which are incredibly fulfilling and fabulous, so I want to get back to those. But above and beyond that, I want to serve those within my sphere in whatever way possible. I have so much love to give and need to find great outlets for it.
• Finding My Voice—I've had an idea for a book bouncing around in my brain for ages now, but I still needed to gain some experience in order to pull it off. I think the time has arrived to put pen to paper and up my Writer (with a capital W) street cred by writing my book.
• Finding Peace and Comfort in the Atonement—Christ's Atonement is magnificent and marvelous, but as much as I appreciate it, I still don't fully tap into its strength and power, especially as a source of infinite love, peace, and comfort. I struggle to trust what I can't see, and that's a flaw that really needs to fall away this year.
• Finding Serenity in Uncertainty—Whew, trust is a BIG struggle for me, quite possibly my biggest. I have such a hard time believing things will work out, even when I have so many case studies of when they did. So instead I expend sooooo much energy overthinking and overanalyzing in an attempt to make certainty out of something inherently uncertain. Well, that has GOT to stop, because I seriously become my own worst enemy in those instances! Here's to letting go and learning to TRUST wholeheartedly, no fear, no regrets.
• Finding the Hows—It was a glorious moment a few weeks ago to realize that I've done it! I have, in many ways, become the woman I always wanted to be. It's such a wonderful feeling. Life is so much like hiking, and as the dust's started to settle on 2012, I've been enjoying the breather and the vista, appreciating how far I've come. Now it's time to get up and get back to climbing, looking for the specific, material ways to take that "becoming who I want to be" to the next level. If you're not progressing, you're regressing, and I want to keep moving forward into beautiful, wonderful things.

Here's to the most marvelous, wonderful, fabulous year yet, friends!!! Hope this next year brings you so much joy and love, too.

Weakness in Strength

You know the old adage, "When I am weak, then am I strong"?

Well... I've learned this week that the opposite is true:

When I think I'm so strong I don't need others... then am I weak.

In general, I don't rank pride atop my list of struggles or weaknesses. I think I'm a fairly humble, meek, teachable person...

... until I need help. It doesn't matter what the help is, really, either. Help with painting my condo or moving or even hosting a party. Someone to take care of me when I'm so rundown and exhausted, I accidentally starve myself for a week and go into diabetic shock. (Yep, that happened.) A hug and shoulder on which to cry while mourning my grandmother's death. Asking for the help I need is almost impossible. Somehow I think I should be able to do everything on my own, and if not, I'm failing.

That, my friends, is its own form of pride. And the last year - especially the last week - has compelled me to humility on that front.

I just like to tread lightly, I tell myself. Other people are busy enough. I don't want to make demands on their time and emotions. We're not close enough of friends that I can crumble in front of them. No one likes an emotional mess, right?

And, worst of all, I don't know how to be anything but strong. Even when I'm not, and when being strong is the last thing in the world I want to be.

So I'll admit it. Losing my grandmother is absolutely devastating. And while I genuinely felt so much support and comfort that first day, I also was at a total loss of how to react, and almost a week later, I'm still totally lost. There's no instruction manual for losing your sole earthly source of unconditional strength and support. I've been emotionally self-sufficient since the bottom fell out on my family when I was 13 and didn't have anyone to lean on - except for my grandmothers. Over the years I've built a phenomenal support system of friends, but my grandmothers had been there my whole life, and I felt like I could claim and expect their support. When Gram died a decade ago, I just rolled that closeness and emotional connection over to Grandma Doris. Without her, I feel so lost. Who do I have now? Add to that an additional 10 years with Grandma Doris in which we made that transition to an adult friendship filled with so many fun moments and important common bonds like temple attendance, and... wow. I still can't quite let myself "go there" and feel the shock because I worry I won't be able to pull out of the grief, especially with the full plate in front of me from now until after the funeral. And there's no one who I feel like I can ask to hold my hand through that journey, either, even as I'm getting more offers for help than I know what to do with. My family is soooooo "suck it up and deal" that I can't recognize when I need to stop going it alone - a not-so-good trait I inherited from Grandma. It is incredibly difficult for me to let go and let others take care of me, even when that's what I want and need.

I keep thinking about when I climbed Mt. Washburn this summer, something I proudly did alone. A few groups of fellow hikers invited me to join them along the trail, and while I did chat with them briefly, I always changed my pace to get back to doing my own thing. It was something I'd been wanting to conquer for decades, and I just felt like I needed to do it solo. But was I truly without help? Nope. California girl that I am forgot to bring a jacket, and mountains get cold, so Grandma sent me off with her windbreaker. And I'd forgotten my sunglasses at the office before heading to Yellowstone for the weekend, but my friend had forgotten his shades in my car a couple weeks earlier, so it was his sunglasses shielding my eyes. And that was actually a total blessing, because his were far better geared for athletic feats than my cheapy wayfarers. Most importantly, at the summit I discovered that the hikers before and after me all saw bears along the trail. Plural. I didn't see a single one, although I did notice their tracks on my way back down. Later I learned that Mt. Washburn is the one hike in Yellowstone notorious for bears... and I sure didn't have bear spray. But I had a Heavenly Father watching my back, even as I stubbornly tried to climb alone.

Well... lesson learned. Even though she's gone, Grandma is the voice in my head, and her love fills my heart. She can't give me her windbreaker when I forget my own anymore, but I can draw from her love forever. And there will always be friends there to lend their proverbial sunglasses to help me if I'm willing to take them up on it. The sunglasses wouldn't have helped unless I put them on my face, and my friends can't help me unless I let them in and take them up on their offerings of support. And again, most importantly, I have a loving Heavenly Father to protect me from dangers both seen and unseen. He wouldn't leave me without the resources needed to succeed and thrive in life. Here's to the next stage of life's climb: learning to lean on the love in my life and climb with the amazing company that surrounds me.

A Word on My Single Status

Friends, I feel like every time I say anything remotely related to dating or along the veins of saying that I'd like to be married, I need to give a disclaimer.

So I'm going to give this disclaimer once. Please listen and take note - and I'm sure your other single friends would concur.

Ready?

When your response to anyone's commentary on their own singleness is something along the lines of a platitude or patronizing remark about how "It'll happen at the right time..." or "Just have faith..." or "Aren't you so glad you can traipse around New York City while I'm at home potty-training an unruly toddler?!"

Please... and I say this with the most love in my heart possible...

Save your breath.

There.

I said it.

After 12 1/2 years of being in the marriage-obsessed LDS singles scene, believe you me, I've heard it all. I understand and appreciate that the comments and compliments are meant to lighten my load, but honestly, they don't.

Because I know undoubtedly that God is preparing an amazing, righteous, wonderful man for me. I know that he will be worth every bad date endured, every tear shed, every hope dashed painfully to pieces. The caliber of men I've dated in the last couple of years, coupled with the phenomenal guy friends in my life, assure me that there are still plenty of keepers out there. I don't opt into the "all the good ones are taken" philosophy. Mine's out there, and he'll come when he and I are both ready for it. Period. End of story. And I wouldn't have him come along a moment sooner.

Because if I'd wanted just to be married by now, I would be. I've had offers, guys. And I mean that pretty seriously, even if the relationships didn't have labels affixed. There's one in particular who would marry me this minute, and boy, I would be the most cherished, lucky lady in the world... except for that whole temple marriage thing. I can't budge there. Some things you just plain don't settle on.

Because when I say I could really use a husband right now to hold my hand as I face the passing of my grandmother, I don't mean it as an invitation for platitudes. You mean well. I get it. I appreciate it. But I'm not complaining. I'm just acknowledging reality. There is a difference. I want someone who will hold me as I cry. I need that now more than I ever have in my 30 years. There's not a person on whom I can call for that right now (well, in the same state as me, at least), and that stings. I'm tired of being strong and feeling like I have to do it all myself. I want someone who is mine forever and always, from whom I can claim protection, companionship, comfort, support, etc. and who I can, in return, love with all of my heart, who I can nurture and cherish, with whom I can just plain enjoy how fun and wonderful life can be. Even awful situations like a midnight ER run can be an adventure with the right company, as my best friend and I learned last weekend. Yes, I have amazing friends who are here for me. And I don't discount that. But they have lives - busy lives and families of their own. And due to how I was raised, my default assumption is that I'm bothering people if I ask anything of them. I've had a lifetime of self-sufficiency. I want someone to whom my life materially matters, and vice versa.

Because life is supposed to be a team sport. Remember that whole Adam-Eve thing about it not being good for man to be alone? It's right there at the start of the Bible for a reason - it's the most essential, basic part of this earth-life experience.

Because I am really, truly, blissfully happy with my life right now. It is amazing. I'm done waiting to let myself fully enjoy and embrace my happiness with life as it is right now. No more asterisks. No more "Everything's great... except I just need a good man." So please refrain from discounting my happiness and putting conditions on it for me, okay? My post about how blissful and perfect my Thanksgiving was this year elicited a comment about how "all it was missing was a good man, and that will come!" Gag. Me. I know she meant well, but... she really didn't need to remind me what I'm missing and then top it with trite words of "comfort." I'm not postponing my happiness. Please don't do it for me, either.

Because it'll happen when it's right, and really, honestly, from the bottom of my heart, I am not worried about it. Do you have any concept of the energy I've expended in the last decade-plus, worrying about dating and crushes and trying to read between lines and decipher what's going on in the minds of the objects of my affection?! Can you imagine the amazing things I could have accomplished by channeling that into something productive?! Yeah. I don't want to regret wasted time and energy anymore, either. And after the last year, I'm out of extra emotional energy for the wasting anyway.

And, most of all, because I'm not going to pretend the lack's not there anymore than I'll let myself be defined by it. It is what it is, just as much as I can't control my height (but I can improve my posture) or my grey hair (but I can dye it). I'll make the absolute most out of my current single status, but acknowledging reality is neither a whining complaint nor a cry for complimentary platitudes. I know why I haven't gotten married yet - I've needed this time to grow and learn. I am an amazing woman now, far better than I was a year ago, and I am sooooo glad I didn't meet Mr. Right a moment sooner.

Please join me in embracing the awesomeness of what's there and letting go of what we can't control. And thank you, as always, for your love and good intentions. I appreciate it.

Growing Up

"I could really use a manual for adulthood right about now!" I thought exasperatedly, unsure of what I "should" be doing. What do you do when the call to say final goodbyes to Grandma comes while you're en route to a dress rehearsal for tomorrow's big Christmas concert?

Well, if you're me, you go to rehearsal and then pull the all-night bedside vigil. So here I sit, kids, listening to cheesy Christmas music while Grandma sleeps, unaware I'm in the room. My fingers are always so cold in the winter, I don't dare even touch her, lest she wake.

But I sit. I wait. I think and wonder what lies ahead. How exactly are you supposed to handle losing the person you love most in the whole wide world? The one constant in your 30 years, the one sure source of unconditional love (tough and no-nonsense as she is)? My grandmother has become one of my best friends, and the reality that she won't be here much longer is something my mind and heart can't quite grasp.

She'll never get to hear how Thursday's date goes. I'll never play Scrabble or Yahtzee with her again, or eat waffles slathered in peanut butter and syrup with her while sitting at the cabin's dining room table, watching the early morning fishermen on Henry's Lake. We'll never attend a temple session together again, each nudging the other awake. But the never-evers are almost worse to consider. She'll miss my wedding. My children will never get to meet her, nor will my future husband. Would she think he's good enough for me? I'll never get to ask. What on earth will I do without her as an oracle of sage wisdom and advice on everything from family to career to dating to cooking to health? We have such different personalities, and yet, I am my grandmother's granddaughter.

She moves her head. I perk up, hoping she might wake so I can say hi, but she keeps snoring, and I keep waiting. And wondering. It's a helpless feeling, having absolutely no clue what to do but to sit. But sometimes, just sitting and being still are all you can do.

Defining Moments

Earlier today, I read this article about how a simple choice to head down a floor made the difference between being a victim or survivor to the World Trade Center tragedy. A quote in the piece is particularly chilling:

"Seemingly insignificant decisions a person made that day determined whether they lived or died. It's still something that's a bit hard to fully come to terms with."

This made me think of my own life. What split-second decisions have made a huge, life-shifting impact? Certainly nothing's been life or death, but there have been majorly disruptive moments, and it's funny to see the ripple effect these words and actions can have. Misjudging the distance between my moving van and the carport by a matter of inches cost me $300+ to repair, for instance - and the damage hit in a second. Boggles the mind.

Back in the spring, the wonderful guy I was dating felt the need to take a step back. His reasons were legitimate and, really, had little/nothing to do with me - but, being inexperienced and insecure, I let my tongue get away from me. In one sentence, I swiftly destroyed the immense potential that was there. In the moment, I didn't realize how huge a deal it was. It wasn't until I saw friends' reactions when I told them what had happened to the relationship - "You... actually said that to him?!" - that the reality of my mistake sunk in. It's haunted me daily ever since - this Sondheim piece aptly sums it up (and the plot of the show from which it originates actually examines the whole idea of defining moments, too):



You know what I love, though? My story isn't over yet. It's still in the process of being written. I don't know how it will end, ultimately, and regardless the outcome, things do work out, even if we fumble and misstep in the moment. I've seen so many split-second mistakes ultimately result in happily ever after. Not without tears and heartbreak and time, of course - but, in the end, things work out. They always, always do.

Sometimes the missteps are a matter of life or death. A moment's misjudgment behind the wheel killed a close friend and her father several years ago, drastically affecting many, many lives in an instant. I watched from a close observation point as her fiance and family grieved and dealt with the aftermath - but, eventually, they were able to move on. Her mother is happily remarried; her fiance is happily married to an amazing, dear friend of mine, and they have beautiful babies. Life goes on, and the broken pieces fall into place.

Earlier this year I had the blessing of attending a close friend's wedding, and it hit me during the ceremony that I was there because of a broken toe. Don't believe me?

Well, in 8th grade, while living in Utah with my dad, I broke my toe by tripping over home base and falling while playing kickball in my drama class. (Birkenstocks are not an ideal choice of kickball footwear, FYI.) Because of the injury, I left my bike at school - and when we came to pick it up that night, the back tire had been stolen. My dad was not a happy camper, to say the least, and he felt an appropriate punishment for my thoughtlessness was having to miss out on the 8th grade promotion dance. I, in turn, felt this was a gross injustice. After all, it wasn't like I got rid of the tire maliciously. Long story short, a HUGE fight ensued that ended with 13-year-old me shouting "Fine, I want to go live with Mom!" My dad handed me the phone with a warning that if I called her, that was that: one-way ticket back to California, end of story. My mother was one to make threats she didn't back up, and my father wanted to teach me that words carry weight. (Apparently I still need to learn that lesson... but... yeah.)

Although that choice had heart-wrenching consequences, it also led me to the women who are among my closest friends in the world today. Those friendships sustained me through high school, college, and into the present - particularly with those who live in Utah along with me, including the aforementioned bride. And, really, I wouldn't trade the strength or wisdom acquired through the hardship at home for the world. That experience has made me who I am today.

The "what if" moments in life may be haunting - they certainly give gravity to every moment in life - and at the same time, they're not the be-all and end-all. They act as the imperfect cracks that let God's grace shine through. He can bring light and joy into the messes we cause. Sometimes, as the song notes, there really is "hell to pay," but that price can be worth the wisdom and humility earned. We just have to maintain the perspective that, as Elder Neal A. Maxwell taught, "The cavity which suffering carves into our souls will one day also be the receptacle of joy." Oh, how sweet that joy will be when we embrace it and let go of the struggle faced in the split-second missteps.

Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving

Nothing summarizes my year of working toward hitting 30 better than these famed words by Charles Dickens:

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to heaven, we were all going direct the other way - in short, the period was so far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

Sure, he was referring to the French Revolution and grandiose things that changed the world. I'm just talking about 12 months of my life - but, hey, still applies. My 29th year was, in so many ways, completely devastating and heartbreaking - letting go of longtime hopes on the family front, battling the reemergence of longtime health problems, falling hard for someone and then being left puzzled by something lovely unraveled. Oh, and all of those came to a head at the same time. Overwhelming is an understatement! I literally cried every day for about six weeks during the worst of it. Basically everything between December and May is a hazy blur. I feel like I lost a season of my life.

But at the same time, all of that heartbreak came with immense illumination. I could never have become the stronger, more confident, more compassionate, more patient version of myself without wading through those experiences. More on that in #4.

And so, without further adieu, here's a recap of where I stand on each of my "30 by 30" goals:

1. Become a "True Aggie."
   
   
   DONE!!! Thank you, Patrick, darling. Taxes AND True Aggiedom all in one weekend? He's pretty amazing like that. :) We've been friends (and sometimes more) for almost a dozen years now, and I absolutely adore the guy. So glad we managed to make this happen before he moved out of state!
   
   
2. Visit five new states. Sadly, I failed on this one. I did add Georgia to the list, but that was all. Plenty of travels - Southern California, Seattle, Denver, Tetons, Yellowstone - but not much new territory covered.
   
   
3. Go on 30 dates.
   
   
   DONE!!! It was an amazing journey, too. More on that here. I've been on quite a few dates since then, too, and I love it! Dating is such a fun way to expand horizons and get to know people on a different level than in "the friend zone," even if you only go on a date or two with a person. Admittedly, it's taken me a long time to shake off the disappointment (and continuing confusion) of one of the guys, but I'm looking forward to diving into my new life in Orem, getting back out there, and making the most of my last year in the YSA world. (For you non-LDS folks, we get kicked out of singles congregations at 31. The pressure is on!)
   
   
4. Become my authentic self. DONE!!! This was, hands down, the biggest challenge on the list. It meant opening up a Pandora's box and working through the disappointments and heartbreak I've swept under the rug for a lifetime. But I stepped up to the challenge, and it's been the most rewarding - albeit heartbreaking - thing I've ever done. I've done well by myself where this is concerned. Am I perfect? No. But I'm doing my absolute best to be true to myself, and that's enough.
   
   Furthermore, I've learned that letting go, while disappointing, is sometimes all you can do. It's so, so, so vital for sanity's sake to recognize what you can and can't control, and to learn to be comfortable with the unknown. I'm still working on it, but I'm definitely better at it now than I was a year ago. And nothing is forever! Relationships - familial, friends, romantic - evolve and change. Goodness knows I've had enough people cycle in and out of my life at various times. So stepping away from a loved one for now doesn't mean they won't circle back later. The upside is that when they do circle back, it's because they realize your value. Chasing after them will never accomplish that. We all deserve to be loved and cherished by those we love and cherish. Reciprocity is sooooo important in all areas of life. Sometimes we'll give more than we take, but it should balance out in the aggregate.
   
   
5. Attend the temple at least 30 times.  DONE!!! I also started working my way through all the temples in Utah, and I've only got three left there (St. George, Monticello, and Oquirrh Mountain - although I have been to St. George and Oquirrh Mountain before, just not in this go-around).
   
   
6. Learn to ski. DONE!!! Well, attempted, at least. And I hated every minute of my miserable day on the slopes. But, hey, I did give it a try, at least.
   
   
7. Drive Route 66. Boo! Didn't happen. Honestly, I'm glad, because I've needed to have flexibility with my PTO this year. But I should be able to make this happen in the spring. I'm itching to hit the open road for a few weeks and explore!!!
   
   
8. Go on a cruise with my best friends. Nope. But at least Haas and I got to visit Tabitha in Georgia, which was lovely, and I now live 5-10 minutes from Rebecca (we both moved to Orem the same week!). I absolutely love these three women (only two pictured below - we need a more current quartet shot!). They are my foundation, and I am so ridiculously blessed to have them in my life! Hopefully we can get away for girls' weekends annually when their kids get a little older...
   
   
   
   
9. Be debt-free. Working on it - should be by 31.
   
   
10. Sew what? No, my sewing machine just kept gathering dust. But now that I have a craft room and a sewing table, this one should get in motion. After all, I've got a home to decorate now! Planning to make my own curtains and pillows for the living room.
    
    
11. Get at least one really, really good kiss.
    
    
    
    You'd think, right? 30+ dates with 20-something guys, and I should've managed at least ONE?! But I don't kiss quickly or outside the context of a relationship, True Aggie-ness excepted (and we were so down to business about it!). I did have good chemistry with one of the guys, but we didn't get past holding hands (awwwww... presh). So. Let's throw this on the list again.
    
    
12. Hike Mt. Washburn. Health problems sidelined me through much of the last year, and by the time my strength was back, I was too swamped to make time for these hikes. However, I will be accomplishing this one on my upcoming Idaho trip. [UPDATE: DONE!!! As my blistered feet can attest. Totally worth it, though. Veni, vidi, vici, folks. And guess who bought a National Parks pass?! Soooo excited!!!]
    
    
13. Hike the Y. See #12 - planning to go with Stacy soon, to make up for our failed attempt at graduation ages ago.
    
    
14. Hike Timp. See #12. My company goes every fall, so I figured I'd join in there, but it's not happening this year! So I'll have to get some friends to try this before it gets too cold.
    
    
15. Read 30 books. Hmmmm... close, but not quite. According to Goodreads, I read 20 books since last August. I might have missed reporting one or two in there, but still, I didn't quite hit 30. Darn!
    
    
16. Finish the Book of Mormon twice. Halfway there? I finished it once and am working on another go-around.
    
    
17. Get starstruck. Well... I downloaded a star app and did a good amount of stargazing this year, including enjoying the Perseid meteor shower in the middle of the night in the Tetons (one of the most exquisite celestial experiences of my life!). But I didn't study up on this like I'd wanted.
    
    
18. Lose 30 pounds. Boo, health problems! I didn't lose 30 more, but I did manage to maintain last summer's weight loss for the most part. I discovered the awesomeness of the paleo diet and really love how I feel when I'm skipping glutens and sugar - but it's hard to do that when you're crunched for time! Hoping to get back to that when things settle down in a few weeks.
    
    
19. Make time to WRITE. Nope. Heartbreak zaps all of my desire and sparkle to write. So beyond finishing a personal narrative from last summer, this didn't happen (although I did journal a bunch during the Mr.24-29 episode). And I'm still in repair, but hopefully I can make this a priority for my 30s in general. I love writing!!!
    
    
20. Just dance. Not as much as I'd like. I did discover yoga this year, so yay for that! I do best in a structured class environment, so I'm hoping to do zumba at the Orem Rec Center a bunch and get back in the swing of attending Ballet Blast, though. Feels sooooo good!
    
    
21. Sing, sing, sing.
    
    
    
    DONE!!! Ah! Finally! Another success. This one had a few success iterations, too - singing with Lehi Chorale last Christmas, taking voice lessons (if only for a little while), getting into the audition-only Mapleton Chorale for this year (we're a couple weeks into rehearsals, and I LOVE it!!!). Feels amazing to have choral singing back in my life again weekly. I quite love it.
    
    
22. Put my clothes away in the closet, not on the floor. DONE!!! Well... at least I was... and then I got close to moving and stopped caring, haha. But my new bedroom has so much space! I have a double closet that takes up the entire length of my room, complete with built-in shelves and whatnot. No excuse to not be on top of this.
    
    
23. Reinstate "Christa Dates." DONE!!! I go through busy-busy waves and need to get better/consistent with this, but one of the lessons learned with the health problems is to listen to my poor body and learn to slooooooow dooooooooown sometimes. So I've learned to make plans by myself, whether it be going to a movie, taking a canyon drive, or browsing the outlets in Park City. Extroverted as I am, that alone time is golden.
    
    
24. Stop snoozing. Bahahahaha... no. Such a hard habit to break! Still working on it...
    
    
25. Give up the Diet Pepsi once and for all. DONE!!! And then my life got insane this month with moving and traveling... and I got back on the bottle. Curses!!! I'll have to go through the withdrawal process all over again in a week, when I give it up again after Labor Day. Not a pretty sight, but I did feel better not needing the fix to wake up my brain.
    
    
26. Write in my journal weekly. Not so much - which is funny, because usually writing is sooooo therapeutic for me to process stuff. But I couldn't stand the thought of dealing with stuff in real time and then reliving it on paper. So... now that I'm back to good, I should get on top of this again.
    
    
27. Learn to poach an egg.
    
    
    DONE!!! My darling friend Emily was sweet enough to film a tutorial for me, and I did follow it step by step in order to make some amazing Eggs Benedict from scratch. So fun!!!
    
    
28. Make the most of my commute. DONE!!! I could've done this even more, but I did up my audiobooks and Church talk listening on the drive. It makes such a difference. Some of my favorites: the audio of Jacqueline Kennedy's interviews a few months after JFK's assassination, Tina Fey's Bossypants, and many a talk by Elder Neal A. Maxwell.
    
    
29. Run a 5K. I did two 5Ks this year - Color Me Rad back in April, and then the Freedom Run in July - but health problems wiped me out from running and training as I'd hoped. Actually, it was when walking the color run left me flat on my back in bed for two days that I realized something was seriously wrong, healthwise. And now I'm fine! Really need to make this happen for the 30th year.
    
    
30. Channel my inner Annie Oakley. Nope, and I don't even have a good excuse other than a busy schedule and other priorities. Hopefully I can go shooting with my cousin this fall.

Party of One

{This post along the lines of creative nonfiction / personal essay is something I penned in real time while waiting for Fictionist's Rooftop Concert in downtown Provo almost exactly a year ago. It was an interesting experience--I started writing without knowing how it would end. Thankfully, the ending came, and it was lovely. Enjoy.}

Under an open, blue sky, dotted with the hazy, thin clouds of waning sunlight, musicians checked the sound for the first concert of the summer atop a parking structure in the old-fashioned downtown of a college town. The crowd streamed in—pairs, trios, groups of all ages, families, college students, couples old enough to be the artists’ parents or grandparents.

At the front of the bunch sat two striped blue beach chairs—one occupied by a tall brunette in a lavender cardigan, the other filled by a purse, a book, a couple of blankets, and a bottle of VitaminWater Zero.

Alone.

At 28, rolling solo was hardly a new experience for the gal. Years before, after missing a much-anticipated Andy Warhol retrospective at the L.A. County Museum of Art for lack of a fellow aesthete, the freckle-faced 19 year old vowed to never skip an experience or adventure she craved, even if it meant going alone.

And she hadn’t. Growing independent and strong, she moved to Seattle alone at 20, savoring every second of that long two-day drive from her native California (minus those miserable two hours of food poisoning, of course—never get a shake from a roadside shack in Glendale, Oregon!). Alone she graduated from BYU and returned to California, leaving behind her best friends who had all wed or become engaged within a calendar year. Alone she’d made a career, taken trips, made major life decisions, and tried with all her heart to embrace the independence (and ignore the loneliness) that came with her singleness.

And now, alone she sat, uneasily awaiting her favorite band’s outdoor concert.

The empty chair wasn’t a ruse exactly—after all, her roommates said they might come, or she could possibly run into a friend… acquaintance… someone or anyone who’d appreciate a comfortable chair and warm, fleecy throw blanket.

Or, she realized with a resigned sign, she just might be alone in the crowd, accompanied by nothing but her blankets and an empty chair.

“How much longer?” she wondered as she scanned the crowd, a faint sadness tempering the warmth in her hazel eyes. The masses began to fill in all around, crowding in the space she’d so carefully reserved hours earlier. A handsome acquaintance passed by, and in his brown eyes she could read the question—“Is she alone?”—or at least so she thought. Another familiar face breezed past, an old high-school acquaintance offering a warm hello without stopping; he probably assumed that second seat was otherwise reserved. And even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t be spacious enough for him and his wingmen. After all, who goes to a concert alone?

“How much longer until I get a yes or no from Elise or Christina, until I know if they're coming?”

But the question went deeper.

How much longer would she have to be a party of one? How many more friends would fall in love, have babies, grow their families to two, three, four, five… while she stood on the sidelines, alone? How many more crushes and relationships would come and go, leaving her with a broken heart and the lingering question of whether she would have been better off not trying in the first place? The brides and grooms got younger each year; the friends’ children just got older and older instead.

Then a movement caught her eye—an auburn-haired mother struggling with a beautiful toddler daughter, searching for a spot within the crowd.

“You’re welcome to sit here,” the brunette offered, moving her belongings from the extra chair.

“Are you sure it’s not saved for someone already?” the young mother asked.

“No, it’s all yours,” she replied with a smile.

With that, the mother and her child settled in, promising to make room for the brunette’s friends when (“if,” the brunette thought with a twinge of sadness) they came. The women chatted, enjoying the sounds of the opening acts and the connection inherent in friendly faces and open hearts. The brunette’s friends did come—but first came the new friendship forged with the young mother and her baby girl, if only for that beautiful, warm spring evening. 

Unattached, solo, single—call it what you will, being a party of one is just being a party of one, no more, no less. But alone? No, alone is a choice—a decision to view life through the lens of heartbreaking isolation. And that evening, the brunette learned the valuable lesson that being a party of one doesn’t mean you have to be alone. 

It Gets Better

I'm just heartsick over the news that a 15-year-old boy fell to his death at my alma mater during lunch time today. The details are still fuzzy from what I've read in various news outlets, but the buzz I'm hearing on Facebook from fellow CV alumni is that it was suicide.

Few things break my heart more than teen suicide, something that hits too close to home. I don't talk about this a whole lot, but my brother and I were bullied pretty badly as children. Other kids chucked stuff at us as we walked home from school. We both got into fights. My peers told new kids to not be friends with me because it was social suicide. Other kids even accused me of cheating on standardized exams because I couldn't possibly have been smart enough to get into the gifted program -- I was weird.

And, admittedly, I was. I've been an old soul for as long as I can remember. I wasn't on the same page as the other kids, and I didn't have much help at home figuring things out, either. Looking back on my childhood -- pretty much everything before I left for BYU from my high school graduation, really -- makes me cringe to this day.

But it's not forever.

It's so hard to lack control over your life as a child, whether the issue be problems at home, bullying from peers, or problems you can't even understand (like one friend who dealt with the highs and lows of bipolar without any clue of what was going on -- and kept it to himself, too, so it's not like he was getting the intervention or help that could've made life easier). Other kids are cruel. Your hormones are going crazy. It's just plain hard.

But there's this awesome light at the end of the tunnel: adulthood. Finally, you can create the life you want -- find a clean slate (and some healing, hopefully, too), figure out who you are (warts and all),  and flock to people who fit. High school is such a small pool of personalities from which to draw, and there is a big, wide world of possibilities out there.

If there's one thing I wish I could tell every child and teen in a struggling situation, it's that things get better. It's impossible to get that sort of perspective as a teen, to really internalize and understand it. I've known people who chose to take their own lives. It's always made me so sad, wondering how they (or anyone for that matter) could lose hope so completely.

There is always hope.

No matter how bad things get, no circumstances are permanent. Suicide is a permanent solution to temporary problems, and it is a such a tragic waste of potential and possibilities. I wish this hope could be drilled into the heads of struggling teenagers by trusted teachers and role models along with their reading, writing, and 'rithmetic.

And I wish I could give them a hug.

Broken

Broken. Fractured, imperfect, disconnected, not functioning.

That pretty much sums up how I've felt for a while now. One failure cracked my heart deeply, and a subsequent series of smaller heartaches and disappointments compounded to drive the fissure into a fracture I just haven't been able to set and mend on my own. That, of course, leads to more feelings of failure and frustration, and... well... the cycle can be vicious.

While discussing this with a wonderful listening ear today, this anecdote by Pres. Boyd K. Packer came to mind (boy, am I ever glad I listened to that fireside):

A Broken Bird

Now, the last thing I want to talk to you about: a broken bird.

Over the years, as a diversion, I have carved wooden birds. Sometimes it would take a year to complete one. I would get specimens and measure the feathers and study the colors and then carve them. I would carve a setting for them. It was very restful. Sometimes when I would get unsettled, my wife would say, "Why don't you go carve a bird!" It was a very calming thing in my life.

Elder A. Theodore Tuttle and I were going into town one day. I had one of the carvings. I was taking it in to show someone. We had put it on the backseat. At an intersection, he slammed on the brakes, and the carving tipped upside down on the floor and broke to pieces. He pulled over to the side and looked at it. He was devastated. I was not.

Without thinking, I said, "Forget it. I made it. I can fix it." And I did. I made it stronger than it was. I improved it a bit.

Now, who made you? Who is your Creator? There is not anything about your life that gets bent or broken that He cannot fix and will fix. You have to decide. If some of you have made mistakes and you think you are broken and cannot be put together, you do not know the doctrine of the Church. You do not know what the Atonement was about and who the Lord is and what a power He is in your life.

This is His Church. We are His servants. We who hold the priesthood have His authority and power. We can perform miracles. We do not talk about them. Most of those miracles have to do with healing the body. The greater miracles are the miracles of spiritual growth and healing in the lives of every one of us.

All of us feel broken, disconnected, and flawed at one point or another. That's the only reason I share this -- if I knew I was the only person who felt like this, I'd keep it to myself, after all. To live is to experience moments of loneliness and discouragement. Thankfully, we have a Savior who knows us innately and will heal us if we turn to Him. He made us -- He can fix us and help us to be stronger and better because of the challenges we overcome.

One of my initiatives for 2012 is to study the Atonement of Jesus Christ, whether through scriptures, inspired talks by LDS leaders, or books like The Infinite Atonement and Believing Christ. I'm also reading non-religious literature about healing, compassion, shame resilience, and imperfection, all of which dovetail well with my doctrinal studies. Each day I'm reminded of the amazing Plan of Salvation our Father in Heaven created for us, which involved the Fall of Adam and Eve, creating that original disconnection between God and man. Man became imperfect, and no unclean thing can dwell in God's presence. Therefore, an Atonement was necessary, with Christ selflessly taking on the role of Mediator -- paying the price of our sins (as well as our sorrows, infirmities, grief, etc., all the sad and heavy things that weren't caused by a lapse in our agency) while extending infinite mercy and grace to us if we will follow the commandments God has spelled out that lead us back to Him. That knowledge makes all the difference in the world.

We might feel broken at times, but we're not like Humpty Dumpty, shattered beyond repair. Christ's perfect healing power can make us whole again. And for that, I will be forever grateful and awestruck.

In Which I Ponder a Ph.D.

"You really should consider comms studies," Dr. Pratte insisted.

All communications majors at BYU were required to take Comms 300: History of Communications, which involved a major research project. For what it was worth, my study of the changing perception of the American family as captured on the cover of TV Guide from the 1950s to the present (2001) caught the soon-to-retire professor's eye. I chalked it up to my being an American Studies major, trained to think outside the box and draw cultural connections. Dr. Pratte saw it as proof of a communications scholar - and from then on, he spent the rest of the semester trying to convince me to follow a research track that would take me into deeper levels of academia. He even had me present my paper at a conference - the only undergrad in the lineup, and a mere sophomore at that.

But there was no practical application for the communications studies emphasis. The only door you had after graduating was more school - and I had noooooo desire to get a master's degree! I just wanted my bachelor's. And my Mrs. Mostly the Mrs., really, but the pragmatist in me was also wise enough to know that whatever I graduated in needed the potential to pay the bills.

The only potential result of comms studies was more bills - so I stuck with print journalism. Which is ironic, really, considering its paltry ability to pay the bills... but that's a discussion for another day. 

Here I sit, a decade later, mulling over that conversation. Maybe Dr. Pratte was onto something. Maybe he saw something in my 19-year-old self that I couldn't see. 

Because now my 29-year-old self, in her first semester of grad school, has a Ph.D.-worthy research project idea that simply won't leave this overextended, already-all-over-the-place brain.

Lately I can't stop thinking about connection - particularly, as one song in the musical Rent puts it, "connection in an isolating age." These days we are more connected than ever before through digital means - and yet, we're more isolated and disconnected from one another. And we, as human beings, are wired for connection. We crave it. We need it to function. And too few of us are getting the quality and quantity needed to nurture our souls.

While the blame could be placed on those electronic means, I argue that the means are amoral tools - they exist not as agents but to be acted upon. They're tools, capable of good and evil. Their morality depends wholly upon their employment - and so, therefore, the burden of responsibility is on the user as well as on the designer of the methods.

I would looooooove nothing more than to delve into the psychology of interpersonal connection, the psychology of the brain's engagement with various electronic platforms, and then look at how those platforms could be altered in a way that fosters true interpersonal connection while mitigating the negative effects inherent in the electronic engagement.

Yes, this is the stuff that keeps me up at night.

But where can I find the time to get into it? And with what application or access? While researching a paper for my Utah State class that's due this week, I ended up downloading well over a dozen journal articles that look at psychology and social media. I want to study and analyze them - but with what time? My plate is so filled to the brim, I basically can only focus on whatever the next burning fire is, whatever deadline's slapping me in the face.

My research will have to wait. I can only juggle so much, and right now my focus is nurturing and building my career. Well, that, and finally attaining my Mrs. - in which case that would become my focus. I don't really see where a Ph.D. fits into the picture. All I can handle for now is slogging through my MS, one class at a time.

But that doesn't mean the idea is going to stop haunting me.

As I've learned (with help from Elizabeth Gilbert's TED presentation), when the Muse strikes, I have little choice but to listen - or to be haunted by knowing that I let a good idea pass by unrealized. That's why I end up blogging not one but two posts in one night when I really need to be writing a paper due the next day - it's like I have to clear those ideas out of the queue in order to move on with my life.

This one, though? There'll be no clearing it out for years, and I'm not quite sure what to do about it presently. But one thing is for certain:

I want a Ph.D.,

which thing I never had supposed.