Stuck

Blah. Blah blah blah. That's how I feel. Just blah.

I feel stuck. Like the world around me is moving fast-paced and I'm just sitting there, stuck. Ya know, like in movies? Where there's the character just standing there, and the camera moves around them and all the people moving in the background is a total blur? Yup. That's my life at the moment. Or so it feels anyway. And it makes me feel blah. Very blah. I hate waiting. Hate it.

It seems like everyone else I know is moving forward with their lives. They are dating, getting engaged, planning weddings, getting married, starting families. It's all totally normal. That's the age I'm at now. People get married and start their lives. They move forward. That's what happens. Only that's not happening to me.

I get to listen to date stories from other people. I get to be excited about other people's engagement while I "ooh" and "ahh" over other women's engagement rings. I get to help other people plan their weddings. I get to go to other people's bridal showers, and bachlorette parties, and other people's weddings. I get to watch everyone else around me move forward.

I don't get to plan my wedding yet. I've been with Thomas over four years and we're not even close to that point in our lives. We still have a whole flippin' year till we're even back together! Okay, it's a little less than a year now, but still. I have a year until my life gets to start moving again. I'm stuck. Frozen in time. I don't even get new dating stories. I don't get to make new memories of us together.

I truly do love hearing about stuff. I don't mean to sound bitter. I love hearing my friends getting engaged or dating a new boyfriend or girlfriend. I love "oohing" and "ahhing" over engagement rings. I love going to bridal showers. I really do love it. But I get jealous. I get jealous and bitter that I have to wait. I've been waiting for forever it seems and I still have forever more to keep waiting. And it makes me bitter. At least this moment, right now, it makes me bitter.

It's Tom's 13 month mark today. That's a big day. Today marks the point where we've been apart more months than we have left to go. It's truly all downhill from here. And next month marks the point when I can count down the months left on my fingers. And the month after that marks when we're in single digits for months left to go. And the month after that marks the point where we're 2/3 of the way done and only 1/3 left to go. The upcoming months are big milestones. And I'm excited. That's what I get to be excited about. Not about a date with my Thomas, or our engagement, or our wedding. I get to be excited about waiting. *sigh*

Oh, the life

Oh to be a missionary's girl. It is quite the life. Some days a beautiful gift, others an incredibly long nightmare you can't wake up from. And the latter is what it feels like most of the time. Unfortunately. Life as a missionary's girl is very much a rollercoaster.

It's starts on his Pday. A missionary's Pday (short for prep day - I think...) is their day to get things done. It's the day they write letters and emails amongst other fun things like go golfing, or bowling, or play sports. So, that's the highest point of the rollercoaster, the tip of the hill. Pdays are when you get to log onto your email and see his name in your inbox, and your heart flutters and the world stops - for the three minutes it takes you to read it. Then it hits you like a brick wall: that's all you get. For another week, those three minutes, that page, those words - that's all you get.

Unless you get a letter midweek. The letters are awesome, and you live off those letters. Words cannot explain the excitement and anticipation you feel every day you run to the mailbox with your fingers crossed and your heart racing hoping against all hope there will be an enveloped covered in his writing waiting for you. And when there isn't one, and you were really dependent on there being one, it is completely disheartening. Your heart sinks to your stomach and you just mumble to yourself: "Maybe tomorrow..."

When you are reading his letters and emails, you feel every emotion so strongly. You are filled with happiness, excitement, pride, sadness, love, longing. You hear his voice as you read, you can feel the passion he has, the excitement, and the joy he feels. You are more connected in those minutes you read his letters than at any other moment. It's as if he's right there speaking to you himself. You survive off of those letters, those words.

As much happiness and joy the mission brings you, and as close as you grow to your missionary, with the bright comes the dark. There are days where you don't want to get out of bed. You don't want to paint a smile on your face. You don't want to hold back the tears. There are days where you question what the heck you're doing, and if you really can make it all two years. You get lonely and depressed. You miss everything about him, your very best friend. You miss having him to talk to, to laugh with, to hold, to kiss, to play with, to be silly and have fun with. You miss everything. And it's as if you can truly feel a physical hole in your chest, a pain in your heart.

Those days don't happen often, but they do happen. And maybe, just maybe, you question if it's worth it. You start to doubt everything. You question if the amazing memories you have really were that amazing, or if your mind is exaggerating. You question if he really does love you as much as you feel he does, or if your heart is exaggerating. You worry if he's changing or if you're changing. Will your relationship really be the same when he comes home? You don't know who to turn to. Who would understand your doubts? Your fears? Your pains? That's the low of the rollercoaster, the bottom of the hill.

But then his Pday rolls around again, and you find your heart racing as you log into your email account. And those doubts and fears and pains you felt during that week, they all fade away. And the joy, happiness, and giddy feelings return. Your heart swells again with pride and love for this amazing man in your life. This amazing man who is so strong and has such an unshakable faith, that he is dedicating two years of his life to serving the Lord. And not only is he receiving amazing blessings because of it, but you get to have an amazing experience with him. You both get to grow stronger in your faith and much stronger in your relationship. If as a couple you can make it through a mission, you can do anything together.

What's a Sister?

I get that everyone plays a different role in different people's lives. For example, the kinda role I play in someone's life is different than the role I play in another's, and those two people will probably have different thoughts about me because they will have different experiences with me.

Take my sister. She's not a bad person. At least I don't think she is...she gets good grades, she's involved in school, she works hard at her job, she has a lot of friends. All of that together must mean that in general, she's a good person. And in other people's lives, probably most people's lives, she is seen in a positive light. But in my life story, she is a brat - and that's putting it nicely.

I don't understand. I have tried several times to make a relationship between us work, for years. We've never, in our entire lives, been on good terms. Perhaps when we were wee little youngsters, but for as long as I can remember, we've been arch enemies. I have tried to be a "sister" to my sister, but to be honest, I'm not entirely sure what that word even means. I've tried taking her out on "dates". I took her to Benihana's one year for her birthday. Another year I tried to take her shopping at Arbor Lakes. Some other time we tried doing a sister date at Salsaritas. What did I get for my birthday? A four page hate letter. Yup.

Things improved for a little while during the school year. She wrote me a letter apologizing for stuff and we went on a date to Red Lobster and out shopping. We talked on facebook back and forth. Things were good. I reallly thought summer would be different. I was wrong. Things have gone right back to square one. She's back to being a total complete brat. When I tried talking to her about it, about why she's so different now that it's summer when we had been getting along so great, she calls me a fake bitch and won't explain things to me because she says she can't even stand talking to me.

I get that in most people's life story she's a great person, but in my life's story, she's mean, nasty, rude, and inconsiderate. I'm not saying I'm perfect. Lord knows I've done my fair share of mean stuff to her. But that was before. Back when we were younger. And she won't let it drop. At least that's what she said in her hate letter to me, that the biggest reason was the past, and she just wouldn't let the past go. Which is frustrating, because life would be much easier for both of us if she did.

I feel like I shouldn't write about this, that it's not appropriate to talk about this situation in a blog. But who cares. Why have a blog if I'm not gonna be totally open? Isn't that the point of a blog? And if my sister reads this, then maybe it'll be a good thing. Maybe it'll influence her to act differently. Or maybe it'll really piss her off and she'll be even meaner. At this point, I really don't care. I go back to school in two weeks anyway.

Sunsets

So a while ago we had a pretty wicked storm pass through here, complete with tornadoes and hail and 80 mph winds. We had to spend a good chunk of time in the cellar beneath the stairs. It was wicked. After the storm had passed, the sun was starting to set, and the sunset was honestly one THE most beautiful sunsets I have ever seen. I took tons of pictures which I have taken the liberty to post for you to see and enjoy (if there's anybody actually reading this). It was breathtaking. I ended up telling Tom about the storm and the sunset afterwards and attached the pictures you see here to his email as well. Then we got to talking metaphores.

He explained to me that when he was reading his email, he thought the storm and sunset story is similar to going through life: we have to go through trials and hard times to get to the good stuff. The closer we get to happiness or the closer we get to living like Christ, the stronger Satan works to defer us from that happiness. His exact words, since I feel like I am not doing a good job explaining, were: "everything amazing we get, or closer to being like Christ we become we tend to have to go something difficult. But at the end it's so worth the trial!" I think he hit that right on the mark!

Then I was thinking more about metaphores and sunsets and life while I was walking around my neighborhood one evening and came to another conclusion. Sunsets are much more beautiful when there are clouds in the sky. If it is a perfectly cloudless sky, a sunset, though still pretty, is rather plain. The colors in the sky just lightly fan out across the sky, and there's not that many different colors, pretty much just blue and yellow. But when there are clouds in the sky, the sunset is a million times prettier. It reflects of the clouds and creates different colors and shadows, and it can be simply breathtaking. It can be pink, or blue, or purple, or red, or orange, or all of those together and more. It can something that stops and makes you fall in love with life and the beauty of the world around us.

I think that's the same with reaching happiness in life. If you cruise through life and (fortunately, though unlikely) never have any trials in your way, when you reach your destination, though the view will still be pretty, it won't be as breathtaking of an ending as someone who has endured through trials. When you have obstacles in your life, or mountians you have to climb, when you do get over those roadblocks, the ending is so much more beautiful and meaningful; your sunset is much more breathtaking. It may be hard, and at the time you may resent having to go through those obstacles, but in the end, it makes the life you've lived, the crazy ride you've been on, worth it all.

The Dream Life

I'm a history major and a woman, and therefore I have a respect for what women went through to get to where we are today. I appreciate them fighting for our right to vote, and for their hard work at getting us respect in workplace. I appreciate it all...but I have absolutely no interest in living my life as a feminist. Screw having a career and being a powerful business woman who makes as much, or more, as her husband. I dream instead of being a stay-at-home mom and a doting wife.

There is nothing in my life I want more (besides being sealed to Thomas in the temple for eternity) than to be a stay-at-home mom and wife. I want to spend my days raising kids and spoiling them with love and attention. I want to spend afternoons doing arts and crafts, taking them to the park or the library instead of working all day away from them. I don't want them to grow up in a daycare, I want them to grow up in a loving home. I don't want to miss their first steps or their first words. I want to experience everything with them.

I want to spend my days doting on my husband. I want to spoil him with homecooked meals and latenight lovin'. I want to spend my days making him know how much I love him. I want to build a family together. I want to walk into church together with our kids skipping in front of us and his arm around my waist. I want to own lots of puppies together and take walks as the sun sets with one hand entwined in his and the other holding a leash.

That's my dream life: the housewife. Call me crazy. Call me old fashioned. I don't care. It's what I think about all the time when I think of mine and Tom's future together. If things work out, and Tom makes enough to support our family without me needing to take a job, I would love to spend all day every day at home with our kiddies. That's my deam.