'Nam

Back in my previous life, my wild youth, I decided to spend a summer in SE Asia.  It was paradise.  Made Hawaii look like Kansas.  Anyway, it was an amazing summer spent half dressed, hair in pigtails, hitchiking my way around southern Thailand.  I was free and it was an amazing last summer 'as a kid.'

my commune

The summer was drawing to an end and one of my boys told me about this place in northern Vietnam called Halong Bay.  'Tex, you should go, you'd dig it.' 'Is it safe?,' I asked.  'Naah, not really. But you can handle it.' Off I went.

I hopped a $5 flight from Phuket to Bangkok ($10 for first class...nah), and then bought a real bonafied ticket on Air France from Bangkok to Hanoi (i know, right?).. since when do the french fly have direct flights like that.  Anyway, I landed in Hanoi and handed the cab driver at the airport a printed out copy of my pre-booked hotel.  seee.....i was thinking ahead.  well, he took me to his friends house instead.  oh joy.  i got out and ran and found another hotel.  About an hour later, I decided I had better find some food. I headed out on the streets, looking for a minimart or something but was met with a very dark, very cold city.  Men were grabbing me, women were spitting on me, and all I could see were bars.  I later learned that a single gringa is considered a prostitute there. joy.   Instead of drowning my fears in the hard stuff, I think I managed to find a candy bar or something.  I went back to my hotel and was greeted with weird fruit. i ate it.

weird fruit

Enough of that, I then realized I needed to find a way to Halong Bay (a couple hours away, on the coast).  I wandered into this travel agency at about 11pm...you can imagine. I paid $27 and signed up for a 3 day tour, hotel and food included, of Halong Bay.  I would be picked up in front of my hotel by a bus at 7am the next morning and dropped back off 72 hours later for me to catch my flight back.  win.

The next morning, I woke up to some strange fruit and this view out my window.  I felt like I had gone back in time.

Hanoi at 5 am

I went down and sat with my backpack (filled with no clothes.. only swimsuit-ish material..not sure what I was thinking) and awaited my new adventure.  A kid on a moped drove up and motioned for me to get on the back.  'Tour?'  'Yeah' he said.  What would any sane woman do (with one arm in a sling, mind you, from a recent attempt at driving a motor cycle), I hopped on the back and off we went.  About 10 minutes later we stopped, he told me to get off, and drove away.  hmmm.  had i been scammed? i saw a van and walked up, seeing young and clueless gringos with backpacks similar to mine.  some tiny man said, 'i now your tour guide. get in.'  sure, why not.

Three hours later we arrived at the coast and my mouth dropped.  These amazing, vertical, rock structures were sticking out of the ocean as far as the eye could see.  I was led to some strange restaurant and fed more rice and then on to a junk boat.  I headed up to the roof and spent the next five hours laying on top, in absolute awe as we sailed amongst quite deservedly, 'one of the seven wonders of the World.'  I remember radiohead was playing in my ipod.

We were taken off the boat, put onto little boats and sailed in and out of caves and crevices, very James Bond.

Every so often we would see little house boats. No really.. actual looking houses floating!! fascinating site, I tell you.  What is even more fascinating is that these home are no where near land.. as in these families' entire lives are spent on the water.  They fish, then eat, sail over to the school, which is also a houseboat, and live entirely land free.  I stared in awe at these children and the life they must live - oh the things they are protected from, oh the things they are deprived of... kind of.  what a way to live.

We sailed to this big island called Cat Ba and they offered me the choice of spending the night on the boat (with the rats that I had spotted all day), or they would pay for me to have a room in a hotel on the island. sounded glamorous. i took it.  well that turned out to be a dirty piece of foam (no sheets) in a room that took me about 30 minutes before I could handle the smell and shut the door.  the water was brown.  i felt like shera but awoke to this.

and this

and this

for a moment i thought they drugged me and took me to ireland.

I enjoyed my time on the island immensely.  Some guy said he would take me on a hike up to the top of those beautiful mountains and I agreed.  why I am not dead in a vietnemiese jungle I don't know.

how i found the guy.

on top of my mountain. still no clothes.

I met some brits, ate something more than rice and here's the best part...found a beach all to myself.  I walked and walked to the far end, but there it was, up against some cliffs, gorgeous and beautiful and DESERTED.  In this time of my life, I was being pulled in a million directions, always needed for some paper or some assignment and the thought of spending a day on a beach where absolutely no one in the World could find me sounded like heaven.  It was.  I still remember that day.  I remember the sound of the ocean. I remember the sunset.  It was a dream.

view from my beach

That night I decided to splurge and found a really nice hotel that would give me a room for $35.  it was a palace!  I emailed mom and told her where I was, was still alive, and not to worry.  She called about 10 minutes later.

'dressed' for my flight home

From that wonderful day, turning out to be my last day in Asia, my last day as a kid, I took a junk boat back to the shore, a van back to the city, a cab back to airport in Hanoi (whose driver, again, first tried to take me to his house instead), a plane back to bangkok to pick up my luggage that was in storage, a flight (standby!!!) to London, then on to Chicago, then to St. Louis, and finally home to Dallas where I arrived bronzed, beefy, happy, injured, and ready to be an adult.

Asia, you are missed.

I look back on these escapades of mine (there are many) and wonder a few things:
1 - why did I have the need to go so far away
2 - what was I trying to hide from  
3 - how on earth am I not dead
4 - how lucky I was to have my flight benefits and absolutely no fear
5 - i really did put my mother through quite a bit of worry
6 - no wonder I'm sick!

Tonight I am thinking about that wonderful place, that wonderful summer, that little boy on the houseboat whose face I will never forget, that nasty piece of foam, that amazing deserted island and realize that I really did live a life's worth in my first 25 years of life.  no wonder my body has decided to retire.

ps, i have no idea who this chick is or how i ended up dressed like this

My first day at a big girl job.

Well, my first day back in a long, long time.  So that interview I had a few weeks back at Intermountain Healthcare went well and I tried it out yesterday.  It's just a summer gig, just to raise some money so I can hopefully not live in a tent in Austin (although if that is what it takes, I'm willing).

They asked me to show up at 8am, Monday morning.  here we go - already too much.  I slept most of Sunday and went to bed early Sunday night.  No one ever sleeps too well the night before a new job, tossing and turning, too scared you are going to sleep through your alarm.  I woke up about six, and figured I had might as well get the ball rolling.  I left at 7 and made my way downtown, parked in the garage and made my way to the top of that really tall building to get my badge.  Turns out you can't even open the door to the place without getting buzzed in - data people can be so dramatic.

I met with a really nice man who got me started on a project, going through a list of open ended responses and coding them into one of five main topics - not hard, a little mundane, exactly the way I like it.  I just don't have the mind anymore for writing code.  Anway, it's amazing how quickly the office life came rushing back, hour after hour of staring at a computer screen, bi-hourly ADD-induced walks to the water cooler to avoid insanity, in short - a perfectly comfortable, well-paying job that I...hated.  I remember spending 12, 15 hours everyday at that, sleeping under my desk for an hour or two overnight, thinking I was really going places. Office life, you really just aren't for me, are you?

Five long, long, long hours later I was done with that project and told them I should probably be heading home.  They were expecting that and I think they were happy with my work.  They actually don't have any free desk space in their department so were wondering if I would be willing to do this from home. Absolutely.  Perfect.  One of the hardest parts of the day was getting all dressed up, driving, parking, yada yada yada - pathetic but true.

I drove home and slept for 6 hours straight. 5 hours of work for 6 hours of sleep.  It was a good reminder that I really am not up to that life, no matter how bad I want a stable income.  Yeah, I could probably do it a day a week here and there, but no more. And that's okay.  My easy, at-home gig that a 8th grader could do...perfect.

Be Healed

‘Pain changes us but not in the way healing teaches us.’

 Healing.  Selfishly, I will freely admit that this is something I have given quite a bit of thought to.  Tonight I realized something – to be healed and to be cured are far two different things.  What am I really after?  So much more than a magic pill or a miracle surgery - so much more was damaged than just the old body.  If this were physically gone tomorrow, would everything be fixed?  Even though I can't physically change things, there are parts of this, all of this, that can be healed now.  If I'm up for it, that is. 

I don’t exactly pray to be healed, not anymore at least. Oh, I used to, in the beginning.  In Africa when I there was so much work to do and so many who needed me, the message I could share.  I begged God to put me back together, I pleaded, even.  This stubborn little bug I had come down with was nothing compared to the trials I saw daily, hourly, from these people.  I was convinced that this was a test of my selflessness and I would prevail.  How foolish we are when we try to reason with the Lord and His will for us, His plan for us.  That wasn’t the test at all, oh what was the test – it was a lot about the word ‘no,’ – it still is, but it was also a huge exercise in humility, in meekness, in long-suffering – to look at those people in the eyes and realize I was just as weak as them, as low, as desperate, as scared.  I’ve never been too good at tests, though and I’ll spend the rest of my life figuring out how I did, how I'm doing.

Anyway, I think one of the reasons I don’t pray for a miracle cure, let alone a healing, is I’m afraid that the answer will be a very swift and clear no.  Not in this life.  I’m not exactly sure I could handle that and I realize the good Lord knows it.  There is always hope, there is always time.  Yet even if it is just not meant to be and is not going to ever happen (and that would be okay, I would still live a very blessed life) – but yeah, I’d prefer not to know that. Line upon line, precept upon precept.

Perhaps, deep down, I just don't think I deserve to be healed, that I’m not worthy of it or that others need it so much more than I.  Wait, that changed subjects at the end of that sentence, part of me thinks that selfish, wicked, stubborn, critical, negative ole me just doesn’t warrant one.  I’m not fishing for anything here, but if I’m being honest (which we all know I can be a little too much of that on here), that thought has crept in my mind. It’s just a thought, it’s there, and I’m sure I know from what power it came from.  Satan, get thee hence.

 Tonight, I was thinking, maybe I’m too scared to be healed. Maybe I'm just not up for the work it is going to take to really come out of this having gained what I needed to - there is just so much to learn.  I read a great talk tonight by Elaine S Marshall. I am soooo not one of those people that reads past talks but this one just found me and I know it was no coincidence.

‘Healing hurts,’ she said.  I hadn’t thought about that. The surgery need to cut out the bad part will make the pain worse, first, and then so much better, so to speak.

‘Healing is active.’  It doesn’t happen overnight and it certainly won’t come unless you are working towards it.  It's not going to come in a pill bottle and it's not going to come unless you are humble enough to know what do with it.  The Lord can't speak to us unless we are still enough to hear Him.

‘Healing is private.’  I get that.  As is suffering, usually.  No matter how many amazing family and friends I have around me (and I do! I do!), most of this road I have to walk on my own. It gets lonely, it gets overwhelming, but these are the battles we have to face head on, solely relying on (after realizing it's there), our own strength and resilience.

‘Healing is not healing by abandonment. It is not only private, it is sacred.’  It is the miracle of the Atonement working, it is the power of the human body finding restoration, it is physical, it is definitely emotional and it is spiritual. It is God's work.

How do I say this...  Sometimes healing takes on an entirely different form and many are healed right out of this World.  How I wish such things as cancer could be undeniably cured and no would have to suffer a long and terrible illness before being taken from this Earth, young mothers leaving behind their children, babies succumbing before they ever knew this life.  It is tragic, it is horrible, it is confusing. I think the Lord wants us to see these things with an eternal perspective, however, that there is so much life in the hereafter, some are just needed there sooner than others.  In the end, we are all healed.

 “No pain that we suffer … is wasted. It ministers to our education, to the development of … patience, faith, fortitude and humility. All that we suffer … , especially when we endure it patiently, builds up our characters, purifies our hearts, expands our souls, and makes us more tender and charitable, more worthy to be called the children of God … and it is through sorrow and suffering, toil and tribulation, that we gain the education that we [came] here to acquire and which will make us more like our Father and Mother in heaven.”   Orson F Whitney

Tonight I knelt down and asked to be healed.  And then I asked it of myself.  In whatever form or time it may come, I'm working really hard towards it.

The First Grader

Netflix it. Watch it.  I miss that place.

Support Group

Wasn't that title just so grabbing?  No, it was great, I promise!  Last summer I learned of a support group they have here once a month for CFS patients.  I rolled my eyes.  And then I wondered how on Earth they have anyone show up since we're all to damn tired?  (answer: people rest up for weeks for this night and they also record it and show it online).

I'm going again, siting in the back, not saying a word and just listening, mouth dropping in awe repeatedly.  They get it! They really get it!  Down to the tiniest little detail, they get it.  I imagine how cathartic it must be for someone dealing with an addiction to be able to go to such a safe place and feel completely unjudged by an audience, what a refreshing place that must be for them.  Anyway, some nights they just have forums where the group leader (a psychologist and CFS sufferer for 30 years) leads a discussion and asks questions, other nights they have a panel of people, and sometimes they have the doctor talk.  The doctor, Dr. Lucinda Bateman, is one of the most knowledgable CFS specialists in the World.  She came into this field after losing her sister to it years ago and now runs a clinic entirely dedicated to treating, and often just listening, to CFS patients and conducting research.  You may wonder why I haven't been in to see her yet.  I've been on her waiting list for years - years people.  Bless her heart for trying to help.  Is she?  Eh, she's trying really hard to help treat symptoms, and she definitely understands and is really good about getting people approved for disability, etc.  Could she cure us? no.  not at this point in time. Yet it's not for lack of trying.

Anyway, the support group, I always leave feeling completely oh, what's the word, justified? maybe. validated? that's better.  understood. yep.  And grateful.  I do not have this illness nearly as bad as others and I thank my God for it.  Many come in wheelchairs, many spouses or family members come representing their loved ones that haven't been out of bed for years.

Last month's was a doozy - they called it 'CFS Miracles.'  Lots of people showed up, far more than many, thinking a miracle cure would be announced.  Instead it featured a panel of 8 very sick CFS sufferers and a huge accomplishment they had achieved despite being sick.  One talked about having a child, how she had struggled with the decision for years, how everyone had told her how selfish she was to bring a child that she wouldn't be able to take care of well enough into this World, yet how she did it, and does it, anyway.  Is she a normal mom? no. Her husband takes her son to a full-time babysitter every morning on his way to work and sometimes, maybe a day or two a week, she is well enough to pick up in the afternoon and spend time with him before dinner.  To afford this, they have moved into her parent's basement. Is it ideal? no.  But she's a mom, and this little boy adores her and is loved so very much.  good for her. that's bravery.

One wheelchair bound young woman had recently published a book, another had finished her degree.  Yes, all miracles.  I think the one that has stuck with me the most was of this older woman, very quiet and not too sure as to why she had been asked to speak, and her story.  She had come down with CFS 30 + years earlier, a busy mom to 4 young and rowdy boys.  She couldn't get out of bed, she couldn't move, some days. Doctors back then definitely had no idea and offered no help. After a while, her husband simply gave up on her and 'depression' and left her and the boys behind, with nothing.  I tried to imagine what that was like for her and couldn't stop the tears.  She talked about trying to raise these children, trying to put food on the table when she didn't have a car to drive or the strength to walk to the market, and especially not the funds.  Somehow, someway, she did it.  She raised these boys into smart, hardworking men that look back at their mom with nothing but love and great respect. She was not a failure, she did not fail them, she got through it, under and over it.  She kept saying that she did nothing special and definitely wasn't any miracle worker but I care to wholeheartedly disagree.  To me, doing what she did, feeling how she did, is nothing less than miraculous.

It was hard to hear these stories, especially the 'before I was sick I was a lawyer' stories. or a triathlete, or a med student, or a park ranger or whatever. you could hear the hurt in their voices.  almost shame.  but there they sat, offering up their accomplishments. to the world, these may not have seemed so amazing, yet to us, they were amazing.

slow enough to think about things

I finally woke up from a month ago.  Sure, yeah, I haven't been asleep the whole time - but I sure haven't been awake.  I've found it usually takes about a month to recover from something big, a move, a wedding shot, anything big like that.  The busy April and May and then all of the packing and flying out here, yeah, that was big.  So for the past month I have been awake for a few hours of the day, but asleep or just plain out of it for the rest. And that's okay.  It's just the way it goes.  Some things are worth that price. Coming out here to the cool mountain air - definitely.

Now that I am starting to emerge, my brain is getting going again. And as usual, it begins with a little panicking. What am I doing here?  Is it okay that I'm here?  Isn't there something I'm supposed to be doing?  Am I a burden here?  What happens now?  yada yada yada.  I keep telling myself, over and over again, I am here to rest and it is just damn fine. end of story.

I sure wish I could kick this whole 'I don't work a nine to five or have kids so therefore I have no purpose'....thing.  It is definitely not the Lord telling me that, it is society, or my own perceived notion of what society deems a successful human to be.  Deep down I know it really doesn't matter what you do as long as you are happy and fulfilled, money included or not.  my oh my I had no idea how deep I dug into that former notion.  I really, really needed a reality check. here it is.

I've noticed if I hang in there, insights and little opportunities come in their own due time.  But they only come little by little, and you definitely have to be still and patient enough to notice them.  I have a job interview on Monday. I think.  Everyone is so excited about it but I'm treading very lightly.  First of all, it has to do with my old life, the research part of it.  Second of all, it has kind of been orchestrated by my grandmother's unfailing determination - the boss goes to church with her.  Ever since I graduated school a long, long time ago, this man at her church would always ask about me and he would always want to talk about my plans for medical research as this is what he does for IHC (Utah hospital chain).  Now, things have changed so much but when your grandma calls and says this man really wants to talk to you...you call him...just to get her off of your back.  I talked to him a few months ago and was very clear about my limitations but he assures me that he is just looking for some part-time help on his studies, things I can mostly do from home, and projects that don't require writing code.  I'm here, I'm in need, I'll go talk to him.  We'll see. It may be a good chance to earn a little extra cash for Austin.  Grandma thinks of this as my absolute salvation and solution to all of my problems. it's not.  but it could be a good fit so off I will go to find out more.  Do I bring a resume?  Do I list full-time sleeper as a credential?

Speaking of Austin - I'm still going, baby.  Everyone and their dog has told me what a terrible idea it is, how I have so much support here in Utah, how I'm not well enough, how there is no way I can afford it, and that I should just stay here.  yeah, sure, I could.  But I'm not.  Doesn't feel one bit right.  Head back to Dallas? Big no.  That feels about as right as a move to Afghanistan, about now.  

I could do what everyone else thinks I should do with my life. Or I could do what I've known I should do for years, as scary, impossible, challenging, unrealistic as it may be. I'll admit, the doubts have come lately.  How dare I dream so big with such a finite limitation.  I can't work more and solve the problem, can't take on a few more jobs there and make it work, can't forget about the problem or pretend its not there - I've got to tackle this one head-on, sick and all.  I've got to make it work.

I'm sure most people have, or will, at some point in their lives, have to do something like this, they'll have to do something for them and only them, something that makes absolutely no sense to anyone else.  At a certain point, you just can't handle everyone else telling how to life your life their way - you've got to finally head out there as you, on your own, barely standing, and just make it.  I finally got to start living this new life of mine.




In a year from now, I hope to be able to look back on these words with a really big smile.  And a whole bunch of crazy stories about how I did it.

You're allowed: one really bad mood

Oh I was in a doozy today.  I went to stay with my sister for a few days and neglected to bring, um, my 'happy pills' as I call them. I'm down to such a low dose these days that I didn't think it would matter that much and didn't head back for them.  should have known better by now.

those things mess with your brain! (obviously) but seriously - i was not in a good place today.  i told my shrink a month ago that I'm convinced those things are making me depressed.  he did not agree. more overly-opinionated comments on that whole topic later.

I had a lovely tech support chat for an hour last night that almost did me in. I hung up and was out of breath.  too much talking too loud on speaker phone, too much trying to understand each other, too much.  I could not calm myself down, I felt like I was on speed or something (exactly what happens when they try and put on those add pills..oh that's another one for ya to look forward to).  I laid down and started to shake.  I eventually fell asleep but had a few of the CRAZIEST dreams I have ever had.  These babies could be screenplays for box office busters.  nuts.  all of my lost energy must be escaping to my dreams because they are insane.  anyway.  I woke up feeling like I had slept about a minute and then thought I was witnessing the first earthquake utah has had (maybe I should google that but I'm just gonna type on).

The whole room was spinning, shaking, and there had to have been a 10 lb ball inside my head bouncing from side to side.  standing up was a whole other story.  I made it to the kitchen, hanging on the walls (i think thats what those were) and grabbed some chow. blood sugar.  everything can be blamed on low blood sugar in my quick to react mind and thus I excuse myself to eat more than I should.  food didn't stop the spinning.  laid back down.  confused.  i feel like i'm gonna pass out all the time but this was not that...the earth was moving people.  i broke down. grabbed a coke.  i poured about  1/4 of it into a coke before i had to hit the deck.

i'm gonna admit, it was scary.

Oh but that trip to the healthy food store! it was right down the street and I needed to go there so I could  start cooking (and cooking healthier at that), and become nice and tiny and healthy and energetic like mai pet.  Yeah - I could still swing that I told myself.  I got up to get dressed and after trying to put my pants on in such a state of earthly movement, I quickly realized that tahini and I were not going to make friends that day. i said no.

Then I had a little light bulb. that blasted pill!  I have only been on it a few weeks (last one that I was one for 5+ years is now showing to cause people massive heart problems) and i must have forgotten to put the bottle in my bag.  but that means I had only missed one day of it.  sheesh these things are powerful. now i needed to get home to the pill.  this is when I should call for a ride. like i'm 14.  no one was around (and I was happy I didn't have to tell my story) so I decided to get in the car. and pray.  i poured more coke and woodrow and I crossed our paws.

I got there. it was ugly but I took the side streets and made it. I was full on shaking like a leaf when I made it downstairs and swallowed the blasted thing.  for the next couple of hours my little quake continued, along with thoughts of being really fat, really useless, really ugly, really tired, really misunderstood, yada yada yada.  oh and it was hot.  play your violin.

what did i do?  after a couple of hours the earth decided to still and I decided to get outside.  everyone always says if you are tired, depressed, ornery, get moving and get some exercise.  I drove and drove (fully intending on ending up in Sundance...that place can cure cancer) yet I went a different direction and headed for the mountains a bit further north.  prettiest little spot. prettiest light.  woodrow and I walked and walked and walked. and you know what?  it worked.  i came home a different person and decided to tackle some dreams again.

exercise vs pills (or the lack thereof)?  interesting idea.

happier and much more grateful thoughts coming soon.

to my 20 year old self

dear...you. 

oh, you are one hot mess, my dear.  but you don't know it yet so ignorance is bliss at this point.  25 is gonna kick your ass but let's not get ahead of ourselves.  At 20, your potential has no limits.  You are trying to take on the biggest, boldest plans your imagination can come up with and at this point, that means moving to Europe for the summer.  You'll be heading to Geneva, Switzerland to intern for a really big um, non-profit of sorts and oh my, you think this is really cool. and impressive.  but you are terrified.  Your dad is going to take you to the airport for your flight to Zurich, hand some francs over to you, give you a big hug and wish you luck.  Fighting tears, you say goodbye and suddenly feel very small, and very young.  now it was time to walk the walk baby girl. 

You'll land, take a cab to your apartment, walk in the room and burst into tears. It's 20 square meters ( a steal at $1,100 a month!).  The bed folds down from the wall and it hits all four walls when out.  You call home and cry to your mama.  'Go to church,' she'll say.  HOW ON EARTH WAS I EVEN SUPPOSE TO FIND IT?  That was Saturday night, and the next morning, you'll get up and find the bus stop that is suppose to take you to two other bus stops that will take you to the english speaking branch.  You'll walk up the path and run into 2 second cousins that are backpacking through Europe and decided to stop by.  You'll meet lots of people that day that will help you, support you, teach you how and where to grocery shop and how you are going to get to work the next morning.  That's the church, anywhere in the world, it's all the same.

You have a great summer, you work hard, get quite mistreated by the French for your citizenship (pretty much verbally abused for the whole Texas thing), but you'll get by and learn the need to whole your head high.  You'll move in with a family out in the country in a small house in a field of sunflower fields and those are the fields you will run through every afternoon after work, passing them and into the woods that you loved and probably shouldn't have.  Oh what a summer that will be and you'll come back home a whole lot wiser than you left.

You'll head back to school, you'll write the boys, finish up your general ed's and oh how I wish you could stop and realize that this year will be the last calm and healthy year for well.. a long time.  Next summer you'll be at BYU-Hawaii, NOT relaxing, spending endless hours in the math lab as you take Calculus 3.  You'll spend your 21st birthday in an 8 hour calculus exam, stubborn you studied so hard and just won't give up on those problems.  You'll fail the test but pass the class with a 69.5.  score.

Your friends are going to get married now.  All of them.  Well, most of them, in the next year or two. Be happy for them, happy for their timing and be nice to their husbands - it is they who now have to share their wife with you, not the other way around.

You'll head back to school and decide to double major in Statistics. Why.  Do yourself a favor and don't do it.  Admit it, you just like the way it sounds.  You'll hate it. You'll hate every minute you spend on it and even though you'll study 70 hours + for those DAMN stats tests, your resulting grades in the 20's and 30's aren't because you didn't try, you tried harder than everyone else in that class, it is because  this just isn't for you, admit that, swallow your pride and walk away.  Dare to stand on your own two feet and fight the pressure to be perfect in every way.  But you won't.  It will force you nearly to a nervous breakdown and start that terrible habit of yours of doing so much that you'll be scared to stop, even for a second, and ask yourself what's really wrong.

The parental units.  It's just time.  It's for the best.  You've wanted this to happen for so long so here it is, honey.  Despite the necessity of it, it will rip you apart. Hang in there, make it through that first year. Things will be so much better in time.

Your senior year of BYU will come close to killing you.  It's not normal for 21 year olds to have to lose gallbladders due to stress induced gallstones.  Stop!  Stop right there and breathe! Add another year!  Walk away!  You're not wonderwoman!  Oh and all of those promptings about a mission - yeah, stop debating with the Lord about them and open your eyes to depths further than you can see.

Off you go to DC, off to graduate school at age 22.  Oh you feel so ahead, so with it.  Why does it all feel kinda wrong?  It is.  Your heart is not in this.  Yet, you will trudge through, treading water every second of the day.  Please stand up for yourself.  Your 20 hour a week internships will soon turn into 90 hours, don't let it.  It is not normal to work a 90 hours a week (for free) and go to school full-time at night. Those two all-nighters you pull every week isn't dedication and sacrifice, it's because your head is so full of chaos you get nothing done. ever.  Honey, no one should have to sleep under their desk at night, those are dues that just too much to pay.

Time will march on and the next summer you'll find yourself in Thailand, half-naked and hitchhiking your way around Asia.  Stop here and realize what an experience that is, how free you are and yet, how naive.  The things you will see there will haunt your mind for years to come.  You will be fearless and yet young, as if those things are separate.  Write this stuff down.  Write about that hotel you stayed in that didn't even have sheets, just a dirty piece of foam.  Write down about those people, how even their graciousness survived.  Oh, and your cab driver in Vietnam is going to try and kidnap you and take you to his house instead of your hotel.  Get ready to run.

You'll finish grad school. At graduation you'll feel relieved, proud, but empty - something will be missing.Your love affair with the city will be your most valuable degree from this experience and that's plenty. I beg of you though, put down the smith stubbornness and just put in those papers.  What a door that will open.  Only good, just do it.  When you pull up to your stake president's house to turn those things in and sit in the car for 30 minutes paralyzed in fear, yeah, that's what they are talking about, nothing truly great happens without that fear.  That stuff is what makes a life.

Africa.  Holy.  Sacred. Wild. Dirt. Famine. Suffering. Disease. Humility. Gratitude. Pain. Confusion. Peace. Colors. Atonement. Raw. Scary. Joyful. Amazing. Blamelessness. Acceptance. Inspiring. Defining.

Leaving Africa early will come close to doing you in.  It will hurt, it will sting.  With those airplane wheels leaving the African soil goes your with it your will, it's okay - your work there was done.  Please don't blame yourself.  Don't think about all of the people six more months of work could help. it wouldn't.  it wasn't meant to be.  hold your head up, cheeks - turn the page.

The next few years you will wait, and wait, and wait to get better so you can go back to that life. yeah, the one you hated.  You'll go to any doctor that you can, tell your sob story and beg for a magic pill.  It doesn't work like that honey and oh, how I wish I could spare you the disappointment, mistreatment, belittlement and degradation that awaits you. Doctors aren't  gods.  They practice medicine and it is just that. Yet one after the other you will go to, leave in tears and  head home to make more appointments. You will furiously wait to wake up better one day so you can go back to your old life.  Honey, that one's gone.  That person is gone.  Time to start over and live the new one right in front of you.

Some huge lessons are going to be taught to you through this quiet time of rest and guilt, though.  One, we really are all equal.  You'll head down to the county hospital's open clinic and wait for hours to see a nurse that has never heard of your condition and will refer to a specialist.  The specialist will have an appointment for you in just over a year's time. (thanks medicaid, it's been fun).  You'll meet people in the waiting rooms of these places and have quite a discovery, they are all just like you.  Not in the highest moment of their lives, in need of aid and not judgment, sick, afflicted, addicted, and simply asking for help.  You are not better than them, you are not more deserving than them.

Years will go by and you will struggle, suffer and have some really hard days.  There will be times you will be so sick that death would be welcome but you are tough, you are stubborn, and now, finally, you are open and vulnerable to be taught.  listen. learn. realize the Savior's arms around you and get through each day the best you can. You might not have worked a 9 to 5 and come home to a bonafied home of your own but that's okay, it's not a race and that certainly isn't the only one to run.

Some of your friends will start to leave. It's okay, they just can't handle it anymore.  Too much gray, too much unvalidated by modern medicine, must be in your head, they eventually think, this is getting ridiculous, doctor's can't find anything, i'm a working mom and i know what it's like to be really tired.  The game of you hiding your illness so they won't have to be inconvenienced by worrying about you can only last so long. it's time. let them go.  the problems are much deeper than they might appear.  Hold your head up high and let them go.

The big 30 will approach and you'll wonder what on Earth happened in the last 10 years. What happened to that concrete plan you laid out? What is the result of all of that hard work?  It happened. It's over. That was a different time and you are a different you. Be grateful for that. Learn to see the beauty in that.  The hope and flick of light you are feeling is there for a reason.  It's time to be happy, it's time to be hopeful.  You may be sick for a very long time, you may not - either way it doesn't matter.  You are finally you.  and it's right.

kisses,
beef