Something I Am Thankful For

Original Posting: November 2011


This is not about what you've done

But what's been done for you

This is not about where you've been

But where your brokenness brings you to

~Tenth Avenue North, "You Are More"

The more I listen to this song, the more I feel this must have been written just for me. It rocks me every time I hear it; the video hits me in my heart every time I watch it, without fail.

–

As I am writing this, it is the night before Thanksgiving. I am home for the four-day weekend, and taking a much deserved break from constant homework and fretting over studying to express my thoughts in a way that's more meaningful than a Facebook status update.

This is only a brief respite; after tomorrow, which I am taking off from homework on pain of I haven't decided, it'll be right back to taking notes on the extensive reading and working on two big assignments for Philosophy (thank you, Father Pratt; really).

But that is later. Right now, I'm sitting here with my laptop on a tiny footstool which I have mounted over my leg. Mark Wagner is playing on my iTunes, and I have a big mug (not my favorite, unfortunately) of ginger tea at my right. After I finish this, I'll take off my current nail polish and redo it in a different color for the festivities tomorrow. Hopefully I'll be able to grab a moment to post this while I'm at Grandma's, but please don't be upset with me if this ends up being a few days late.

I'm not sure at this point where this post will go.

I guess the short of it is that I've been doing a lot of thinking about Thanksgiving lately. At first it was constantly on my mind because I thought my roommate from last fall would be coming to spend the break with me, but then it turned out she couldn't pull enough money together. We're hoping for March, now.

But Thanksgiving remained on my mind. I think it's because I was really looking forward to having the four-day break, to get ahead on my homework a little bit, and to get a break from my current roommate, and to maybe get started on my presents (most if not all of my gifts are going to be handmade this year).

But just now, as I sit here typing this up, I'm thinking about what Thanksgiving has meant to me at different points of my life.

Before I knew that I liked turkey, it was kind of a pressure. Everyone in my family would be enjoying the meal to the fullest extent, and I would be caught up in only mashed potatoes, jello, and cranberry sauce. Really, I only wanted the four days off from school.

Once my pallet matured, I finally began to look forward to the holiday for the reason many Americans do: the FOOD. Oh my goodness; white turkey meat; butternut squash; deliciously-herbed stuffing; PUMPKIN PIE. Not to mention nummy leftovers for days...

And you can bet I'll be bringing some leftovers back with me when I return to my dorm.

But this year, I started thinking about Thanksgiving for the name of it.

–

Even though both my parents grew up going to church, and they raised my brother and I with very Christian values, God didn't play an active role in our household. What I mean to say is, we never went to church; we never said Grace; we never went through any part of the Bible together. After I started going to a youth group a couple of years ago, I asked both Mom and Dad, nervously, if they were okay with me doing this. And you know what they both told me? They both said they wished they had brought me (and my brother) up with that experience. They both thought going to church would be good for me. And it has been.

Where I meant to go with that is, I didn't grow up knowing to be grateful for the things I had. I knew what it meant to count your blessings; I knew that you could be thankful for having every single cell of your body if you wanted to get extreme with it. I knew the pilgrim story. But I didn't understand the enormity of giving thanks to the One who brought you this far.

Anyone who's kept up with my personal life for the past seven, eight months or so knows that I've been having a rough time of it. I know there are people who have it much worse out there, but I want to make the disclaimer (if faulted) that hard times are relative. I was so unstable; I spent so long, so deep in that intense confusion, that I was terrified that I would never be able to get myself out of it.

Recently, I was spilling words into my diary because it had been a while. I wrote about how I felt like I'd forgiven my ex-boyfriend, and how I seemed to finally be over him, and how relieved I was that my personal struggles seemed to be melting away. I'd been writing in that diary a lot; I was more than halfway through with this one.

So, out of curiosity, I turned to the first entry to look at when I started. My heart almost stopped; I practically dropped the diary in shock.

The first entry was dated just three days after I broke up with my ex-boyfriend.

In six months, I had filled 60% of the diary.

My first diary took six years to fill; the second diary took five. All three are about the same size, maybe 4" x 5".

I couldn't bring myself to read more than the first couple lines of the entry. I'd gone cold, and I didn't want to read further lest I risk spiraling back downward again. Part of me wanted to stop the diary there. Just end it. Get a new one, to match the new chapter in my life. But I didn't want to leave the rest of the pages blank like that; it'd be such a waste.

So I picked up a whiteboard marker and ran it across the edges of the pages where my Season of struggle ended, and where my new Season began. When the diary is closed, a clear blue line marks the divide. On each of my diaries, I marked the starting and finishing dates on the first page, underneath the lines where you declare "This Diary Belongs To..." On the first page, for the first section, I wrote the end date. Then on the first page of the rest of the diary, I wrote my name out again, and the beginning date of the second section.

I'm sorry if that doesn't make a whole lot of sense... It's one of those things that's a little easier to show than tell, I guess. But it felt very symbolic to me. So I'm sharing about it here.

Maybe someday I'll have the courage to look at those pages in the first 60% of the diary. I pray that God will give me the strength when the time comes.

But... when I saw those few words that I did, read the despondency in them... I've said this before; I want to go back and rock to sleep the girl who poured all of those words out of her heart. Glimpsing that first entry made me realize how far I've risen up from rock bottom. I couldn't think anything; I was too stunned.

It's a long story that I've addressed in one form or another in several blog posts, and I'm sure I'll continue to talk about it for a while, because it's a period of my life that I know I won't forget easily. So I'm sorry if my constantly referring to it annoys anyone, but the simple fact is I'm still trying to understand everything that happened to me. I've already blocked a lot of it out, I think. It's moving behind me, like it should be, but now and then something will happen or someone will say something and I'll remember a detail and my mood changes. It's not going to go completely away anytime soon. There's a part of me that doesn't think it should; not until I can articulate what happened to sink me so low, and what happened to lift me back up.

It's easy to say that distancing myself from God for so long led to my fall, and that running to Him again pulled me back up. And honestly, that explanation works for me.

There's a voice that tells me I need to be able to phrase that in secular terms; maybe that's what I'm hung up on, and why I keep revisiting it all.

You know what? I think that voice is lying to me. It is the last remaining dredge of myself from when I was in a relationship with someone who absolutely refused to take God for an answer, and it needs to be put down because it is dragging me down.

All I can say with any certainty is that, after all the mental tricks, after all the peptalks I tried to glean from any source I could; I only began to transcend to where I needed to be after I made God a priority. He needs to be top priority; I confess I'm not quite there yet – and I could blame all the work I have to do for school but that's still not an excuse. Someone Who is around all of the time, seeing everything you do, Who you can't hide from, and for it all is ecstatic with everything you ever do and wants nothing but the best for you -- there is no excuse not to make Him top priority.

The other day, I was feeling really antsy; I couldn't concentrate on my homework because I was so excited about I don't even know what. Daddy God told me to look out the window, so I pulled up the blinds. It had snowed a few days previously, and though the snow had melted in a matter of hours with no chance of returning, the weather still looked snow-colored. Daddy said, "This is your life." And I felt so happy! I agreed; asked Him what He wanted me to do. He told me to go dance in it. 

Well, if you've never been to Washington or heard much about it, or if you've forgotten Washington is even a state (um, yeah, the West Coast isn't just California; don't forget about Oregon and Washington up here): Washington winters are cold. Though it's not as bad as Minnesota or Colorado (or the East Coast; woof), it certainly gets too cold to just go out and dance like a crazy person.

Long story short, I opened up a Christian radio station and had a spontaneous worship break in my dorm. I don't know what the people living below me thought was going on in my room, but I was having the greatest time! (Jumping up and down sounds very different from a squeaking bedframe, right...?)

Slightly off-topic, but it's relevant. When I went to Repossess in October (I don't recall if it's nationwide or not, but if you've never heard of it, it's basically a huge church service for Christian youth in the community), the pastor said during the sermon that God had given him a Word about a student rocking out in their dorm at college, starting their day by worshiping God. I completely received that word, and I receive it again now. While I hesitate at active worship in the morning (um, I don't think my roommates would appreciate being woken up at 6AM because "Beautiful One" came up on the queue), I did spend the first week or so of college listening to the Christian radio station while I ate breakfast. I'd like to do that again, but it tended to make me dawdle a little too much once I settled into the new school year. Maybe next semester...

Anyway, my spontaneous worship break made me think of that.

And to sum all of that up; God's become a priority in my life. Which is very good. I feel a lot better for it. I think the time may come soon enough, within a year or so, where I'll have enough confidence in my relationship with Him that I can include someone else in my life again. I'd really like to have spent a lot more time with my Bible, though. Maybe I can get on that over winter break. I don't think I'll be able to read the whole Bible (not without properly absorbing the Word), but it'll be a start. I recently joined Scriply, a Christian blogging community. One of my girlfriends told me about it; she writes a lot of commentaries, testimonies, all sorts of epic stuff. I look forward to when I feel like I have enough of a handle on the Word to be able to talk about it in my own way. Perhaps I'm there already and I'm just scared, but I know Daddy will call me to it when the time is right.

So... To abruptly get back to the topic... I hope it's clear enough how this entry all fits together with the title (ignore everything your English teachers ever said to you)...

What I am most thankful for is that I am here today, exactly as I am. I am thankful for the experiences I have had, regardless of how painful any of them might have been. I am thankful that I had the struggle, because I emerged from it a much stronger person. I learned a lot about myself through it all, including stuff I'm not sure I was ready to admit. I have a confidence that I definitely didn't have this time last year. I have a stronger sense of self-worth. I'm still introverted; I'm still not going to walk into a group of strangers (or even a strange party of one) unless you shove me into it. But I know I've changed; I know I've grown up. I think only time will reveal to me all the ways that this trial has shaped me, but why should I expect a seven-month process to turn up its rewards so quickly?

I am thankful to God, that He brought me through the most difficult Season of my life, into this new Season where I can feel so much Promise. I just know awesome things are in store for me, and the anticipation is exhilarating, when I stop to think about it.

This is my life. And I will dance in it forevermore.

Shine on~

♥Sarah

RE: For the Holiday Season, a Wishlist of Sorts

Original Posting: November 2011

Funnily enough, the other week I read a blurb on Yahoo! about dating site profile cliches, and why they don't mean a thing.

And then I thought of that post I made, and realized that there are places where I'm not telling anyone who I am, but moreso who I'd -like- to be, and how I hope he can bring me to become that person. Which is totally not the point of looking for someone to spend the rest of your life with. Yes, you can expose each other to new hobbies, but I think it's important to keep in mind that any changes wrought in you, come from you. I didn't change the way I look at my life because someone taught it to me; it was something I had to learn on my own.

But this isn't lecture time. This is about the erroneousness of that post.

So: I feex. If it's not addressed here, then it still stands as I originally wrote it.

–

He won't mind that I'm a child sometimes. There's a couple different ways I mean this. There's obviously the critical way, that sometimes I don't act my age, and I know I'm not acting my age, and at the moment I really don't care. The best way I know to express anger at this point in my life is to throw a tantrum and rage about it until I'm left huddled in my bed crying cos I feel so sorry for myself. Fortunately this does not happen often, but when it does, it's better to let me work myself to the crying stage before intervening... Just sayin'.

Then there's the way we all wish for, the young-at-heart way. The other week, I purposefully sidestepped bare pavement to crunch fallen leaves. I bounce on the balls of my feet when I'm waiting for things, or I sway from side to side to the music in my head. I love Hello Kitty, and stickers make me happy in a way that matching furniture never will. I still sleep with my teddy bear that I've had since I was an infant. I watch "My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic."

I won't play tag, and I won't play hide-and-seek. But I will ride in the tire swing, and I'll try my best to catch a frisbee. Leaf piles might have slugs, but snow angels are a-okay.

Video games are cool, but I think I'd prefer a game of Magic: The Gathering.

And he will listen when I'm being serious. I take life seriously more often than I make a game of it. I'm hoping that this will change once I find that balance between school and life. When I'm in "Down-to-business" mode, I don't generally appreciate attempts to get me out of it, especially when I legitimately have a lot I need to get done.

He doesn't mind spending the night in. I'm very much a stay-at-home personality. I go out to go to classes, to run errands (and I prefer to combine multiple errands into the same trip). I am rarely spontaneous, and though I know that a lot of people live on spur-of-the-moment activity, I am happy and comfortable being the type who knows what's going to happen at least a day or two ahead. I usually set out on my day having at least a semi-solid plan; maybe things'll get shifted around as I find out what my homework situation is, or maybe I can fit in a surprise event in because it turns out I have more time than I thought I did.

Maybe when I'm older I'll have a bit more confidence and will be able to maintain a looser schedule; for the time being, however, I have to keep a planner of my life or I'll forget things that I need to do. I need to know what's happening, to a degree, and even if it's that special someone, I'll still need some kind of notice beforehand. I foresee myself spending nearly all of my evenings – even Friday nights – at home with my knitting and a cup of tea. It'd be nice to have someone to cuddle with...

He knows that "fun" doesn't have to be active. This is one of the cliches that Yahoo! blurb talked about, cos who doesn't like to have fun? I guess the problem here is that no one defines "fun"?

I'm a pretty mellow person; about the fastest I'll move most days is a sprint up a flight of stairs or two because I won't have quite enough time to get to class if I don't. Or maybe a sprint to get my heart rate going and warm up if I actually have some time to work out. Or maybe they put on "Johnny B. Goode" at Oly Swing.

Anyway; I tend toward being a bit of a turtle when it comes to activity. Fun for me could be wandering around Olympia with a little cash in my pocket. It could be going on a nature walk when the seasons are changing. It could be sitting at my desk with tubes of paint and a flower in front of me. It could be putting one sticker on my stapler to release some creative energy because the burden of papers and tests don't allow time for much else.

Fun can be a stimulating conversation. I don't know what about; books, movies, music, the meaning of life, why pumpkin, egg nog, and peppermint make the cold Washington winters bearable... We could be chewing the fat about trivial things or hashing out the pros and cons of keeping our own garden.

If he's looking for a girl who finds fun in putting a necklace together one seed bead at a time, we're golden. If he wants a girl who'll get down and dirty with flag football... Well, there might be a crazy day where I will, but honestly he'd have better luck looking somewhere else.

–

This is a request to Daddy God, but I suppose it applies here, somewhat. I want to be secure in my faith and confident in my relationship with Him before I start a relationship with him. One of the big problems I had with my relationship with my last boyfriend is that somewhere along the way I forgot to put God first. God comes first. I don't need to qualify that with "needs to" or "must" or "should." Because it's eternal. God comes first. God is not the author of confusion, and that statement leaves no ambiguity to dispute. It leaves no room for you to wonder what could precede God in your priorities; nothing can.

And that's something I need to keep in mind. At this point, I can definitely say that I'm over my ex-boyfriend. And for some people, that's a green light to start dating again. I don't know about me, though. There are times when I think I would like to have a boyfriend again, and then there are times when it's the last thing I want to worry about. I've said this before and I'll say it again: I really don't have time or energy for a relationship, whether I want one or not. I need to focus on God. I need to focus on schoolwork and finding a job. I need to focus on me and my life before I include someone else into it again. Okay; if God has different plans and he throws someone into my path whom I can't avoid, then that's His plan, and who am I to deny His work?

For now, I'm feeling pretty darn good. Despite everything, particularly how busy I am with school and being unemployed, I've been quite content with where my life is now. I take that to mean that I'm right back on the path that God's laid out for me. There has to be a reason I'm feeling peace, right?

Until next time.

♥Sarah

On Forgiveness

Original Posting: October 2011

I ended up growing up not believing in apologies. I never meant it whenever I was told to say "sorry," therefore I never believed anyone when they apologized to me. I don't like telling people I'm sorry for anything I've done, because that would be admitting that I was wrong. I always tried to avoid being in the wrong, because being in the wrong meant that kids would bully and make fun of you.

But lately, I've been gaining more and more hints that forgiveness – giving and receiving it – is the most important thing for me to learn right now.

--

I thought, when I spent so much time at SMU feeling so good about things, that I was okay. But I think if there are still things that make me stop and turn pensive, and make me want to cry, then I should know instantly that things are not okay.

I thought I knew what was wrong – that I was merely not quite over my ex-boyfriend yet – but it turns out I wasn't quite right. It was more specific than that.

I've been holding onto grudges and guilt, for even more than a year. I've known it for a while. But I didn't realize how much of an effect it was all having on me.

Grudges and guilt. Neither is healthy, but both can be difficult to deal with if you're not used to them.

The grudge is obvious. I was angry at my ex-boyfriend. After we broke up, I had those four long months of summer to think about absolutely everything, as I'm sure I've said before, and I drew possibly erroneous conclusions. That he got a new girlfriend – whom he's admitted point-blank to me that he loves, is even thinking this might be the girl he wants to marry – so soon after we broke up, completely did not help. It felt so unfair to me that he should move on so quickly while I was stuck.

We ended up talking about it a little, very briefly, the other day. I could tell he was trying to get me to at least smile a little at first; I'd been very cold to him the last several times we'd been in proximity to each other, ignoring him and otherwise being rude. He initially didn't understand why I was acting like that – he thought he'd treated me well while we were dating, and to get that in return, as he put it, felt like a slap in the face. He texted me asking why, a few days before this conversation, and I just left it. I thought he shouldn't need to ask in the first place; since he asked, he needed to take some time to mull it over.

Anyway, he realized I wasn't going to smile for him. I just remained impassive, generally expressionless. Then he caved, got serious, told me he understood why I was upset with him – he had gotten caught up with this new girl, had forgotten that he had been my first boyfriend, for so long, didn't realize how crushed I would be for so long, didn't really consider my feelings. He never meant to, as he put it, step on my toes like that. Turns out he was pretty heartbroken after we broke up, for a while, and stuff happened there...

And then he apologized.

I had asked myself over and over again, what did I want from him? Did I really expect him to consider my feelings in everything he did now that we weren't together anymore? Did I really expect him to meet a girl and say, "You know, I really like you, but for the sake of my ex-girlfriend's sanity I don't think we should date for at least a few months"? Did I want an apology?

I told myself I shouldn't really expect an apology, because he was only doing as guys do; to guys, I'm just another girl.

But then he apologized.

I don't know if I can adequately describe the change from him just saying "I'm sorry." It feels really kind of lame to say that there was a total change... but there actually kind of was. It really does feel like this weight, of confusion and sorrow and rage and even some insecurity, has been lifted off of me.

I don't want to say that things are okay now as far as the ex goes. There are still some issues and complexes I need to work through on my own, or maybe with a little outside help, depending on what God reveals to me. But a lot of healing came out of those two little words that I spent so much of my childhood attaching no meaning to. I think it's because I could tell that he meant it.

This may be preemptive, but I think I'm starting to believe that maybe we can be friends again after all this is over... Yeah, definitely preemptive. I have a lot of suspicions to let go of, too... Blah.

--

I am not perfect. I make a point of never declaring that I am, because people tend to mock me for my faith when they find out my flaws, but I still need to stress that I am not perfect.

I try to be nice, or at least polite, to everyone. Being rude or mean puts a sour taste in my mouth and a bad feeling in my stomach. But sometimes I screw up.

One of my regrets for the past year regards a guy I dated briefly in high school. He was the first guy who ever asked me out, and we were able to stay friends after "breaking up." (I never considered us "together" in that sense – just casually dating.) I know he wanted an actual relationship – in fact after he took me to his senior prom he asked if I wanted to make it a relationship. And I didn't want to. And... well, I know that's something he always wanted with me. And looking back on it, I took advantage of that because, even though I didn't have any feelings for him beyond simple friendship, the attention was nice.

After I started dating my ex-boyfriend I found I had a problem – how do I tell him that I'm in a relationship with someone?! I really wanted to tell him to his face, and not over the phone even though he kept calling me... But it just never happened. Things got too busy, and then he stopped calling me. I assumed he'd found out through a mutual friend, and then... I let it go. It weighed on my mind until I stopped getting reminded that I needed to take care of this thorn. And then I never did.

I realized, just yesterday, that this is one of those triggers that's now subconscious. Honestly, I'd forgotten about him... But I know I've broken his heart multiple times and come out of them thinking I was unscathed. To an extent I was, but now I feel guilty.

I sent him an email today. Very sparse; just told him that a lot's happened in the past year, and I felt that I haven't been fair to him at all. I told him I was sorry and that I understood if he didn't want to to still be friends. Told him I was willing to discuss what had happened via emails.

I know now that I should have told him the first time he called after I got in a relationship with my ex-boyfriend, but... I was just too worried about the consequences. I hope things work out...

--

I'm well on the road to recovery, I'm almost there; but I still have demons that I need to take care of, things I've been avoiding that I need to face. They're being revealed to me one at a time as I walk through this Season. This is a Season of change and growth for me, and I need to step up to the challenge.

...

It is time for me to stop running. It is time for me to stand and fight.

♥Sarah

For the Holiday Season, A Wishlist of Sorts

Original Posting: October 2011

Happy October, everyone!

I love this month. The changing colors, the fall fashions (layering and adorable sweaters and knits, oh my!), the food (pumpkin!!!), and just everything about the fall season makes me feel so alive. Sucks that I have to be inside studying all the time, but what can you do? I'll play in leaf piles again when I have kids of my own. Or at least a husband. Or just, y'know, during such a time when I'm not killing myself over homework and I've gotten over my fear of slugs in the icky wet leaf pile...

Being an "adult" kinda sucks sometimes, really.

Not that anyone really pays attention to my blogging, but you view my new profile pic correctly; I dyed my hair! No pictures of the process, I'm afraid (though I did think about it), but I used pure henna to color it. I rather enjoy being a ginger; this was a very good birthday present to myself, and it turned out to be a lot cheaper than I thought. Good deal!

Speaking of husbands, I don't remember if I mentioned my friend getting married... but she did! I could dedicate an entire, separate-from-this blog to how awesome she is, but... Yeah. I adore her.

And while marriage is still very very very very very (times infinity) very way far off in the future for me, thank you very much... For all I've said lately about how opposed I am to the thought of romance in the wake of breaking up with my first boyfriend (um, yeah, still comfy with the heteroromantic asexual label over here), I would be lying if I said that I never ponder over what would happen if Mr. Right just stumbled into my path.

I've had lists of things that I wanted (tall, dark, handsome, and British), that I didn't want (full of piercings and covered with tattoos and a smoker), but I never had anything solid. There are things that I desire and things that repulse me, until I meet someone with those qualities and I realize it's just the opposite. But, in the interest of laying it out for myself, this is what I've got so far. Christmas time is coming up, right?

I don't know where he is. I don't know what he looks like, and I don't know his name. But he will be the perfect piece to fill the space in my heart that God left for him.

I'm taking a risk of being wrong. Maybe I'm being too bold. I hope I can be forgiven.

He will already know God, or he will desire to know Him. This is nonnegotiable. I fear negative judgment, so I am easily stifled. I know God is the only One with the right to judge me and I shouldn't give that right to anyone else, but I am how I am right now. I am afraid of being stereotyped for my faith, because I remember the stereotypes I believed about Christians before I became one. He doesn't need to be a particular denomination (I consider myself nondenominational); he just needs to have a relationship with Him. I tried to work around this for eight months with my ex-boyfriend; he didn't get a clue what I was on about with having faith in something until he got a new girlfriend. Go figure.

I hope he doesn't find my laugh annoying.

He will be a kid and pull me right alongside him... I'm sure I did my share of tearing around when I was a child, though I probably did it more quietly. I've forgotten how to do that; I've forgotten how to gaze with that childlike wonder at a caterpillar inching its way onto a leaf. I've forgotten about the floor being lava, about making couch forts, about snowball fights and squirt guns.

And I hope he can make me laugh. But if he can only make me smile, that's fine, too.

...But he also knows when to be serious. It's not joking-around time until I take my Serious Business face off. Sorry.

Go-to date: Pick a trail; any trail. Start walking. Talk, laugh, freak out at slugs. Repeat.

He can dance. Because I love it when a man can dance – ballroom dance, that is. If he can't dance, he wants to learn, and he wants to learn with me.

Go-to date, winter edition: Fill a mug with a hot beverage. Add fireplace and a comfy couch.

He won't hold things against me. I am particular; I feel things need to be a certain way, and sometimes these preferences are very trivial. Sometimes the things I choose to talk about are incredibly shallow, because I'm just trying to contribute. Sometimes I don't have anything to say at all; maybe I just don't feel like talking, and would rather sit and be quiet. I have a past, and it isn't all as happy and cheerful as I wish it could have been. I have baggage that I still don't have the courage to speak of to anyone's face, and while I try not to let it hold me down, I'm afraid it will be a part of who I am for a while. I am shy; I am introverted; I am thoughtful in the literal (and metaphorical) sense. I'm not strictly-speaking antisocial.

I hope he understands I'm a romantic traditionalist.

He will dump me before he manipulates me. I don't second-guess anything until afterward. I don't wonder if someone meant something else until the next day. I expect guys to manipulate my feelings because they're only looking for sex, but I haven't learned how to consistently notice it real-time. When I find out someone's lied to me, I take everything they have ever said to me as a lie, as well. I just want someone to be real with me; I am honest by default, and I only want the same from him.

I hope he forgives me when I won't open up right away.

He is spontaneous. That's the most succinct way I can put it. He can run on Mature all day, and then a magic wand rolls over somewhere and he wants to break out the crayons and a coloring book for a contest – winner chooses where we go out to eat. Maybe we sing Ke$ha and Katy Perry the whole way to Fred Meyer. Maybe he'll turn the line at the bank into a ballroom. Maybe we go crazy and have a capella worship in the streets with some friends, because we're young and life is just that good. Maybe we take our lunch breaks for a picnic at the park. Or, maybe he wakes up on Saturday and only wants to spend the whole day playing Mario Party.

Maybe his morning won't be complete until he's shared a mug of tea with me.

He has hobbies and obsessions. Sometimes these are one and the same for me, so they're one and the same here. It would be nice if we shared hobbies – I need an accessible crafting buddy in my life! – but we need hobbies apart, too. Maybe he doesn't know how to crochet and he'd like to learn. Perhaps he plays a mean guitar and happens to have a Little Martin that my little hands can wrap around. And maybe I'll die before I learn how to gut a fish and he hates the smell of paint; that's okay, too.

Maybe he'll surprise me by making dinner, once in a while.

I can bounce ideas off of him. I am a writer, and this will never change. But sometimes I need a sounding board when I get stuck. It'd be nice if I could ask him whether it's better to off a character or just let her move away until I find a better use for her; whether a guy of X age and Y family background would really refuse a hot girl for a date for Z reason, without him thinking I might need evaluation at a mental hospital (or cheating).

He has organic dark chocolate? I'll telepathically demand sharing. And he'll hear me, or else!

He won't mind the way I look. Because I'm not changing it for anyone but me. I'm probably going to be as flat as a board until I start having kids; my hips don't lie; my hair and makeup and clothes are my decision. I work out by choice and time availability. I eat healthfully by choice, and I will eat as much or as little as I want.

My family will love him; that's a given.

He won't mind my tastes in music and movies. And maybe he'll share some of them, and maybe he will introduce me to something new.

I hope he doesn't mind that my favorite singers are Owl City and Taylor Swift.

He'll know how to go on an adventure in our town. And he'll want to go on an adventure overseas someday. Maybe London?

Perhaps he likes Owl City and/or Taylor Swift, too.

He has goals. I don't know what they are yet, but he knows, and he's going to fight for them.

Perhaps he enjoys British telly and Joss Whedon.

And he supports my goals. I'm going to work in alternative/holistic medicine, goshdarnit! I know it's a bit out of left-field, especially for those who've known me forever, but it speaks to me. Other than writing novels and plausibly for a magazine, I can't picture myself doing anything else. Also, it'd be nice if he would want to help me with the fruit and vegetable garden I want to have someday!

Maybe he's looking for someone like me.

He's a family man. I love children, and I hope to have kids someday – whether they're born of me, or found by me. He'll be the man of the house, and he'll be the earthly father that every child needs. He's also a traditionalist: children are to be seen and not heard, polite and well-behaved. A naughty child gets a spanking and sent to their room, and no one gets dessert until they've finished their vegetables. Mom and Dad are boss, and that's final.

Maybe he's put me on his grown-up Christmas list.

He'll be the man. Sometimes I don't want to take a risk. Sometimes I want to stay safely in the feminine and let the boys be the boys. I'll come out and play Capture the Flag; I'm not afraid of cleaning up mold and taking out garbage. But I'm leaving roof repairs, the pickle jar, and any spider with a longer legspan than my thumbnail up to him.

Sometimes I wonder if I've already met him.

He's a gentleman. He doesn't have to hold every door open for me or always walk on the street side of the sidewalk, but I am a lady and I expect that he'll know how to treat me like one.

Maybe he's on holiday from the University of Edinburgh.

He respects my boundaries. Being in a relationship is not an excuse to touch me wherever he wants, whenever he wants. He'll ask me if he wants to try something, and he'll understand if I don't want to try it just yet; and he will leave drop the subject there.

Maybe he'll come across this post.

He's handsome. Kinda shallow, but yes, this is important. And he'll know it, but he won't be full of himself. He'd better look good in a suit!

Maybe he'll read between the lines.

He'll be confident, and he'll be kind. This is very important. I don't mean that he's a smooth operator who always knows what to say; I mean that he is sure enough of himself that he doesn't have to be jerk about it or step on anyone else. He respects everyone he meets. He doesn't play with girls' hearts just because he attracts them; he knows what he's looking for and he won't string girls along just because nothing better's available. When he does start dating a girl, it's because he thinks she's something special.

I hope he realizes I'm talking about him.

I'm sure there's more. But I'm half-asleep right now. I had midterms and a paper due this week, so I'm a little out of it. This seems a good enough place to leave off.

♥Sarah

On Running Away and Letting Go of the Reasons Why

Original Posting: September 2011

I am a ridiculous pacifist. If I perceive any – any – threat of conflict, I will do everything within my power and knowledge to avoid this, even to the point that this tactic will actually backfire.

I am also a coward. I am not only shy of conflict, I am scared of it; more rather, I am scared of whatever consequences may come of it.

I didn't realize that I had a tendency to run away until very recently.

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned before my plans to go to Bastyr University. For those unaware, it's a university that is basically centered around naturopathy. There are degrees in naturopathy/homeopathy, for traditional Oriental medicine, and a couple other things. Both undergrad and graduate programs are available. I have a fairly clear idea of what I want to do when I grow up now, and I decided that was the school I wanted to go to. They have a whole foods kitchen. That EVERYONE can use. Which is AWESOME.

My initial plan, which even now would still need to be solidified because I don't know what all classes are available or what I would need under my belt before transferring, but I thought I would complete this year at Saint Martin's University, and then I would transfer to Bastyr for my major, and then continue there for grad school.

This ran into a couple of problems that I was already aware of and that Mom made even more clear to me.

Bastyr, compared to SMU, isn't that bad as far as the total cost of tuition itself goes. The really painful part is the disparity in how much a person would have to pay out of pocket.

In choosing to go to SMU, I found myself very fortunate that I got a nice, hefty scholarship upon application that covers nearly half my total tuition so long as I remain a full-time student and keep my GPA high enough. Add other minor scholarships into that, and things are pretty reasonable. Yeah, I have to take loans, but it's very hard not to when you go to universities anymore.

Bastyr? A very large proportion of the financial aid to students typically comes from loans.

Hmm... in over my head twenty times in debt after six years of schooling there? I dunno...

But I thought I would be able to find enough scholarship money and such to help cover it, but now that I've been back at SMU for a month and know just what exactly I have to go through with my homework load and my other responsibilities and, um, having a life... It's hard to find the time. It was a stress that weighed on me more and more – here it is already October on Saturday and I haven't been able to dig for scholarships once since I started here again.

So then I had to do some thinking. I had to ask myself, was it really necessary that I start applying to Bastyr now? Was there a reason (besides content of classes) that I couldn't finish up my undergrad years at SMU and then transfer? It turns out I'm learning quite a bit more in biology pertaining specifically to what I want to do than I thought I would. And there are plenty of pre-med students here, so it can't be all bad, right?

Also, and this is very important: I like it here. I complain all the time about floormates and homework and minutiae concerning professors and minor inconveniences and occasionally roommates. But that's life; you're going to complain about the little stuff if you don't have anything really important to whine about. I love this campus; it's gorgeous, it's in the middle of civilization (well, Lacey... but Oly's a stone's throw away!) while still feeling removed because we're surrounded by trees on all sides, and I get a real sense of community because the student population is so low.

So I have very good reasons to keep on keeping on at SMU, but a part of me still wondered if it would be so bad to go so far away so soon. Somewhere in me I had a reason to leave, and now I needed to dig that out.

Turns out it had been staring me in the face for a very long time; I had stated it point blank to myself several times but never really recognized it for what it meant.

Going to Bastyr meant that I could run away from the person who hurt me.

I don't deal with the people who hurt me very well. I elected to go to SMU not only because I liked it here, but I knew that I would be running into a lot of the people that I went to high school with if I settled with a much cheaper community college. And by the time I finished my senior year, I was done with high school; I was going to get out of there and far away or so help me...

I've since made peace with most if not all of my high school demons.

Running away from my ex by going to Bastyr sounds a bit illogical when you consider that this is his last year at SMU, so what's the point, right? I realized that myself, pondered it, and then realized that, at the time, I had also wanted to run away from the place where I'd been hurt. I remember spending at least a part of my summer wondering if I could stand to be on campus for even one more year, retaining all of the memories that I have from the previous year.

And after I had been back here for my sophomore year for a couple of weeks, I realized that I was happy. Swamped with homework and deadlines and oh my God, how am I ever going to get it all done?, yes, but happy. The first week back on campus was the best I'd had in a very long time. I thought about transferring to Bastyr again and I realized that instead of being excited, I just felt sad. I didn't want to have to say good-bye to all the friends I've made here so soon, along with all the other previously iterated reasons to stick around.

The fact that my ex still has the one year here and thus I spot him around here once in a while doesn't really change the fact that SMU is my home away from my parents' home.

So I had a decision to make. I get mailings and such from Bastyr since I made an account at the website. I recently got a postcard announcing that they are accepting applications for next school year, and it was a wake-up call for how little preparation I've been doing.

So I thought about it.

And I have decided that I am going to stay at SMU for all four years before I go on to Bastyr. I just need to get comfortable with declaring that out loud (I have only said as much so far as "I'm playing with the idea of..."), because I have been telling people for the past couple months that I've been planning on transferring after this academic year is out. I hate to backtrack on my decisions, and that's the main reason I didn't want to change it so willingly. But the more I think about it, the more it really makes sense, and the more I think it's the right decision. It's a sacrifice of learning more about what I want to do as soon as possible, but I think I will get a perfectly fine basic understanding of things, at bare minimum, from sticking it out here. The more I read out of my biology textbook, the more I realize I had completely the wrong impression about college-level biology. So far it isn't anything I've never encountered before – more detailed, but certainly not alien – but it's all been very fascinating because now and then I spot a reason I should be paying attention to it for what I want to do.

I'm not used to making sacrifices, and here I've made two big ones in the past week or so. I texted one of my girlfriends that I feel like this is a Season for me to learn to make sacrifices and let things go. Especially letting things go; I am over the breakup, but I am not over my ex quite yet. I understand logically that I shouldn't be hung up over him like I still am, because the fact of the matter is that I can't expect him to still look at me the way he used to – because if we were meant for each other, then we would still be together, wouldn't we? And I know there's a good reason that things didn't work out – hell, I can give you a whole list of reasons I'm glad it ended! But there's still that little... if you've been in a long-ish lasting relationship where you got kinda crazy about each other and then broke up and then you had a very long time to think about absolutely everything that happened, you know what I mean. He took a piece of my heart, and I wish I could have it back

But more than ever, I've wanted to be able to just let him go. He is not mine, never was. It's not fair for me to keep thinking that if I just do one thing or another, I'll make him wish for me back and then I won't let him have it. But that's not fair; it's cruel; it puts a bad taste in my mouth. And in all likelihood it wouldn't even work. The most I can do is try to function in a way that I can look back and say that I didn't let it get to me. I didn't let it take me down (not forever).

So I'm thinking... even though making those sacrifices didn't feel like entirely good things at the time, I do feel like they're for the best down the road. I feel like I'll be glad I made those decisions.

And maybe... maybe, if I can learn how to make sacrifices like this, and learn to let thing like this go, even if only for a while... I'm hoping that continuing in this vein will help me progress that I will be able to let feelings, let grudges go. Sometimes I just end up forgiving the people who've hurt me, but that's usually because they haven't done anything that directly hurt me. If they have nothing to be at fault for, I eventually realize it and then I try to make it like I was never angry with them at all.

In the case of the ex, I haven't decided if he is indeed to blame for any part of how screwed up I was a few months ago. I know I was in a bad place just for not taking care of myself, so I can't determine at the moment how much his actions contributed to that. Never mind whether he was doing any of it on purpose, because I do wonder now...

But this is just the sort of thing that I need to learn to let go. I need to learn the bigger kinds of forgiveness. It's because I've never allowed myself to get into situations where someone or another is at fault for something and needs to be forgiven, that I'm not sure how to do it. I think it will be a while yet before I will be able to look him in the eye and tell myself that I don't blame him for anything at all anymore. I think I need to see if I can ever get past the issues and complexes that the relationship and breakup have left me with. I know it's going to be an incredibly long time before I'll legitimately want to be in a relationship again – I'm in fact perfectly happy declaring myself asexual for the time being. Maybe even aromantic, but all that's a whole 'nother ballgame.

To wrap up something I didn't realize was going to be this long...

Baby steps. God never gives us more than we can handle. I just need to walk by His side in this season of my life, and maybe sooner rather than later, I will be able to move on from everything that happened. I'll be able to put everything behind me. I'll finally be able to say without any shade of doubt that I have found peace again. I'll be healed.

All the best to you in this season.

♥Sarah

On Single-Serving Friendships

Original Posting: August 2011

Over the summer, I had the incomparable pleasure of hosting two students from Okazaki Women's Junior College in Japan. This hosting came as part of my duties for SMU's Cultural Ambassador program. I was a bit nervous going in. It's strange to think that after my fall semester roommate spent the three weeks of winter vacation with me, a weekend stay is still a big deal for my mom. The house needed to be straightened up from top to bottom (I wrangled my way out of most of it because I was simply too busy with ushering Mukogawa students around); we needed to have a solid plan that included meals and activities, and sleeping arrangements needed to be just right. Naturally things got a bit complicated once we found out we would be hosting two students instead of just one, but it was nothing we couldn't handle.

It's always a gamble when you invite someone new to share your space: I went through it with Mami; I went through it with Risa; and now I got to go through it with Naho and Naoko. I have been fortunate in having nothing but good roommate experiences so far; I'm just waiting for it to run out...

While Naho and Naoko were not roommates in the sense that Mami and Risa were, they were nevertheless people who would be spending the next 48 hours sleeping, eating, and generally just hanging out with me. And with these two, it was my job.

Fortunately, we got along quite nicely.

Language barriers can make things difficult, naturally. Neither girl was particularly proficient in speaking English (although Naoko often took the job of translator), and I'm not particularly proficient in Japanese even though I have been a learner for four years. We could bridge some gaps – and they both had their nifty dictionaries that all the foreign students seem to have and I really wish I knew where to look for them in America... (to the internet!) But something I have come to realize in my all-of-one year of experience with this sort of thing is this: True bonding happens with the things you do.

The first night that Mom and I met Naho and Naoko, we talked for hours over strawberry shortcake and green tea about their time so far in America, and about their homes in Japan. We laughed until we cried, and established inside jokes. I brought out "My Neighbor Totoro" to play in Japanese for them when it came time to take turns for showers before bed.

On Saturday, we went to the Bon Odori festival in downtown Olympia; I thought it would be interesting for the girls to see an Americanized take on traditional Japanese festivities, and we even saw other students from the CA program there. We actually got there about two hours before the dancing started, so we passed the time conversing with friends and sampling some Japanese food – hooray for curry! After eating, I showed the girls Capital Lake and the Olympia fountain.

Last year, I had the privilege to dance in the same Bon Odori festival; while I still had my happi (rhymes with poppy) coat, I didn't wear it this year because with my shorts underneath, it looked like I wasn't wearing pants! However, I did have a button-up shirt that my grandmother made with the leftover fabric, so I wore that instead. I did not dance in the festival this year, partly because I didn't quite remember the moves, but mostly because I felt sluggish; I had eaten dinner at home before I ate that curry. However, I did get pictures, and we did all have fun while we were there.

Sunday saw a bit of a disaster... I found out that morning that my ex-boyfriend had met a girl in Austria and was now in a relationship with her. I was crushed and angry and on the brink, and it completely derailed me. My parents got upset with me for sulking when I had a job to do, and none of that helped my attitude for the day. I walked on egg shells the rest of the day and wanted nothing more than to have the weekend over so I could go back to work as a CA. I felt like a terrible hostess and didn't know how to explain to Naho and Naoko what was wrong. They didn't force me to say anything; they sat and were quiet, and waited for me to come out of it. Then they made me laugh.

After I took the girls back, I tread carefully around Mom, who seemed to have decided to let it go for now. Either that night or the next day, she consulted me about giving gifts to the girls during the farewell dinner the following Tuesday; it made me feel better to know she wanted to include me in her plans. Naho and Naoko had given us both gifts the first night. I have gotten gifts from my Japanese roommates, and I got gifts from all the Mukogawa girls; it felt right to finally give something back.

At the farewell dinner, I realized how much I had already come to care for these girls over just that small, short weekend. We revived all the jokes, and remembered all the minutia of their personalities and tastes. We presented them with our gifts and they gave us handmade Thank You cards – which were absolutely perfect. I have them with me in my dorm right now; one way or another they will make it onto my dorm wall.

I didn't realize until I was leaving the dinner with them that it was good-bye. We all started crying without any prompting, and didn't want to stop hugging; didn't want to admit that it was the end of it.

I went through the same again with the Mukogawa group a week later; not realizing until the final moment when they all accompanied me from the bus dropoff to my car, that we were just trying to make it a little longer until we had to walk away, pretending for a few more minutes that it didn't have to be over.

It's hard to make that final farewell. I don't like making farewells; some people say "See you later!" And it's true that I can go to Japan, or they can come to America again. And, as I've said before, there's always Facebook. But I always feel sort of hollow afterward, like something's been ripped out of me and I have to find something to fill it back up again or I'll waste away. And it is true that something has been taken from me when that happens; a presence in my life that satisfied one need or another – or else why would they have come into my life at all? People leave and they take little pieces of you with them, but you also have a piece of them to hold onto for yourself. You only feel hollow until you find a way to fit those new pieces into the spaces of your heart those friendships left behind.

You know they're not a single-serving friend if their pieces fit just right.

♥Sarah