Let Go

It's been a while, it's possible no one will even read this or notice it's here, but nonetheless I am going to post it. I've been wanting to start all over from scratch, but I can't figure out to delete this blog. Of all the times I've trashed journals and regretted it, I should know that it's OK to have logs of the past. Even if they are embarrassing, or just completely heart breaking to read. So this post is like a new beginning, maybe now I can post again without obsessively worrying that the other posts are too juvenile.

Trish Parsons – Feb. 2, 2011 – Creative Writing – Kristin Abraham

There once was a place I called home. I remember the rooms were big, but the memory seems small. I remember spending most of my time there, playing my guitar and reading my bible and singing while a few dozen 12-15 year olds hopped up and down to the beat of the music. What did it all mean to them anyway? Did I even care? Or was I too preoccupied with the next chord change? Was I too preoccupied with the boy I desperately wanted to be my friend? I didn’t love him in that way, I just wanted his friendship, and he shot me down. I can remember many nights feeling anxious in that place, right before worship would start – did I remember that we changed the key? Can I even remember any concrete images? What I mostly remember about that place is the people, and the feelings I got from being there. When I think about it and the physical space it occupied, I see lots of red chairs, lined up in a row for people to take their seat. I see an old switchboard, and drinks on the table. I remember an arcade game, and a foosball table. I remember red tablecloths, and a punch bowl. I remember the parking lot. It was big, it seemed big anyway on those Wednesday nights when all the cars left, and came back in an hour. There was a fence that seemed to serve no purpose at all. There was the AMR right next to the church building. And on the other adjoining end there was Kiddie Kollege, where my mom works. I remember the huge office space, with cubicles that seemed insignificant. I remember chairs, big comfy chairs with ottomans. And I remember the bathrooms. I remember the urinal in the men’s bathroom, and the sofas in the women’s bathroom. I can hear girls laughing, gossiping. I can hear boys yelling. I can smell that unpleasant smell of adolescent body odor, and I can taste the Starbursts I always ate.

I can remember crying when my best friend told me she was going to have to move. Even now, after so long I still feel tears wanting to break free. I can remember feeling embarrassed for crying so hard, and wishing I could hold back but knowing I would want to cry even after the initial disappointment wore off. I can remember feeling displaced once she was gone. Who was I without her? People used to call us Bush and Try instead of Trish and Bry and I remember how much that irritated me, but once Bry was gone, I missed it. I remember feeling like it was all such a show, and I remember wishing it could be simpler. I remember that feeling when I decided I would never go back. It was heartache, but it was peace.

I’ve let go now, and I feel much happier but looking back there exists a sadness. It existed then though, too. Someone in class says they are a recovering Catholic. I’m not a recovering Christian, I’m just recovering from an experience that consumed my life completely, and then left me dry all at once. Up in the mountains I prayed for peace within myself, and I think I’ve received it, just not in the way I was expecting. That church was everything, and I‘ve realized an institution should never be everything. Institutions are made by the hands of human beings, and human beings fail. I wrote a six-word memoir that first day of class – Church hopping, God wasn’t there often. I’m sitting in front of a mug I made, and I wrote on it – “The Divine in me blesses and honors the Divine in you.” God lives in me, not in that church. God lives in me, and the things I do are a reflection of that. I have chosen to make sacrifices for a power greater and bigger and stronger than me, not for a weak institution. Not for a church run by a male pastor who looked the other way in passing because image is everything.

blasted chivalry

It's such a complex thing because in my mind I want men and women to be equal. Of course there are obvious things that make us total different beings, but all at once we are the same. I feel that chivalry denounces the equality. I do not need a man to pay for me, as I have my own money. While it's nice every once in a while, I see no need for it all the time, and in tern I think the woman should pay for her man too! Then, as I examine this, I see the flaws in my thinking, or the hypocrisy in my thinking perhaps. When a man pays for me to see a movie or whatever, I feel like he is treating me well. BLASTED! Money does not equal good treatment. Then when I go to a movie with a fella, that is just a friend, and he pays for me, is there a need to explain that this is not a date? For what reason? And if I were to pay for him would he feel the need to explain it is not a date, if he didn't see it as such? I feel if a fellow is always opening doors for me and chauffeuring me around then that ruins the equality! However, I do quite enjoy such treatment! In some sense, I do feel as if chivalry doesn't denounce equality, because women show men their love and affection in other ways. Quite frankly, I don't have any examples of that, but I know it's true. Women show love through quality time and men tend to show love through acts of affection, wooing his lovely lady by opening doors for her and paying for her and so on. It's awfully distressing to me at the moment because I seem unable to see the light of chivalry. Perhaps, it is because, I have grown up so independent. Well, I have grown up in a family that strives for independence anyways, and therefore I sought it for myself. Chivalry seems to be stripping me off that and I don't really like it! Here comes another counterpoint, God does not call us to be independent. This realization hit me like a hammer when my car broke down and I had to bum rides from my friends and family, which I wasn't bumming rides at all, I was accepting help from people that love me, and that is not at all a bad thing. So then, is chivalry accepting help? Is there light in chivalry as long as the woman is helping the man as well?

Anxiety, Toilets, and Coffee

If you know me very well at all, you know that I have to pee ALL THE TIME!

Seriously, ALL THE TIME!

It's ridiculous. It's been like this for as long as I can remember, but recently it's gotten worse.

I get afraid to stay hydrated, because if I am drinking enough water I have to pee even more.

It's a bit of an odd topic, I know, but I really have no shame, seeing as how if you spend any time with me, you'll find out either by the fact that I make many trips to the bathroom, or you'll hear me complain about it.

About 2 years ago I had a procedure to fix this issue, and it did squat. I woke up from the anesthesia feeling like I had to pee, and I couldn't go! It was terrible!

Normally, I just have to go maybe every hour, which is a lot. But lately, I'm not even kidding you when I say this, it's every 20 minutes at least. I can hold it, and not have to go right away, but I have the feeling of having to go somewhere around every 15-20 minutes.

I go to the bathroom several times during the course of my morning. One of those times being directly before I leave for school. Once I get to school, if I want to make it through first hour somewhat comfortably, I have to go before class. Then after class, sometimes during class. After second hour, and third hour. IT'S OUTRAGEOUS!!! And it's not just like a little tinkle, it's a stream, a river. A lot.

I came to the conclusion that it has something to do with the fact that I am anxious ALL THE TIME! My muscles are always tight. My body is hardly ever relaxed. So I feel like I'm holding it in all the time, which then must make me think I have to go. I've tried to solve this by taking deep breaths, and not flexing those muscles down yonder. It's not really something I can just do, I have to think about it, so it doesn't happen very often. I told my mother about my frustration, and my theory, and she said it's the coffee. So I'm currently fasting from caffeinated coffee, and caffeine in general. It's only been two days, so I can't say much. So far it hasn't helped anything at all. I actually think I'm more relaxed when I do have caffeine in the mornings. Of course, that could just be me justifying my coffee addiction. I'm going to keep going with this for a while, and see if any improvement comes about, however I'm just really irritated with it in the meantime. I don't really know what a doctor would tell me anyways. I do NOT want to get on any anxiety medication, or bladder medication. I tried bladder medication once and all it did was make my pee orange. I'm pretty sure all anxiety medications have severe depressive side effects. AYE AYE AYE!!!! I just want to visit the facilities a normal amount!

Sunrise Sunset

"When I go for a drive I like to pull off to the side, of the road, turn out the lights, get out and look up at the sky.

And I do this to remind me that I'm really, really tiny, in the grand scheme of things, and sometimes this terrifies me, and it's only really scary cause it makes me feel serene in a way I never thought I'd be because I've never been. So grounded and so humble and so one with everything. I am grounded I am humbled I am one with everything."

It's so amazing to me, to live in WY and have the opportunity, the freedom, to drive off when I fanacy and watch the sunrise, watch it set. Doing this is an act of worship, not only that, it's an act of praise. I thank God that I am blessed to experience the beauty of the WY sky. I thank God that I have the freedom to drive off on my own, get out of my car, and look up at the sky. No matter how many summer nights go by, the sky always amazes me. The beauty of it. The size of it. Thinking back to what I love about Nicaragua, I realize something that you can't appreciate there, like you can here, is the sky. The sky here is so outrageously open, so big. I love to drive off into the country, off of Horse Creek, past the point that the road starts to narrow. Traffic is scarce, city lights are inconspicuous. It never tires for me, regardless of if I drove off to watch it every night, it would be a new spectacle to admire every time.

What's even more amazing for me, is that I have the freedom to do that. My parents just let me drive off, with hardly a word.

"I'm going to watch the sunset."

"OK, enjoy."

: ) Simple as that. They trust me completely. It's fabulous, and I'm grateful.

"I am just a speck of dust inside a giants eye"

Reverse

I have returned safely from Nicaragua.

The first week was brutal, and I was nearly regretting my decision to go. I missed home, I was worried about my parents for some reason, hoping they were OK. I was frustrated because the dynamics of the team was, well, frustrating. There were 2 couples, and then several family members. They all had each other to lean on, I felt a bit lonely. I was missing Bry, however, at the same time thinking if she had been there I wouldn't have tried AT ALL to reach out to anybody else. By the second week I started becoming more adjusted, and have a better experience. By then though, it was almost time to leave. I always depart feeling like I could stay longer. I was ready to get away and not have to travel by the buddy system anymore, but I'm not adjusting back into life here very well. I went to The Maxx to get my paycheck, and I had plans to do some other things around town, but after I left The Maxx I had this incredible sense of anxiety and all I wanted to do was go home. It's really hard for me to wrap my head around all these choices available to us in the United States. Everyone searches for what makes them an individual, what seperates them from others. I've always been big on that, finding my originality. Now though, it kind of sickens me. Not to say it's a bad thing, it's not at all, however it just seems so insignificant. The clothes that I wear do not in any way make me who I am. The music that I listen to is nearly a small fraction of me. I don't know, it just seems that self expression can be so selfish. Shouldn't we discover our talents, and use them for selfless acts of love, instead of gloating about them? I find it interesting how sometimes, just to fill dead air, we tend to drag on about ourselves. The music we listen to, the movies we watch, the television we do, or in some cases, don't watch. I suppose this is all a part of natural conversation, but sometimes it just sounds so obnoxious to me. Sometimes dead air is a good thing. If you are comfortable enough with someone that silence isn't awkward, rather peaceful, that is awesome. If you are comfortable enough with yourself that you can rest in that, even more awesome. Why are we always looking for things to say? I guess maybe this is all coming from a place of embarrassment, feeling silly about things I myself said to fill dead air.

Speaking of which, something I realized is that Nicaragua is an experience in humility. You learn your strengths, your weaknesses. You become embarrassed because you mabye can't do as much as others. You run straight into the conrner of a roof, fall on your tush, and feel like a doofus. Then you cry about it like a baby. It's all very humbling, you learn to laugh at yourself.

Nicaragua this year was a learning experience all around, more than the last 2 years. It wasn't as new and exciting as my first trip, so I had a lot of time to just wander off into my own head. I learned I value getting time to myself, I value being able to do things by myself, without a buddy. I learned that I don't really know where I'm going, or much of what I believe in. I learned God can't do all the work for me, I have to be willing, and I haven't been. I learned I've made it all too complicated, and if I could just simplify it all I could be at peace. It should be as simple as this: Love the Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, all your mind, and with all your strength.

That is all it takes.