Saturday, September 3, 2016

my roses

It just works out for some people, ya know?

They get the "fairy-tale" ending which seems perfect - is portrayed on facebook/instagram as perfect - and so I wind up thinking, "Geez, their life is perfect. My life sucks."

Part of me becomes angry - the other part jealous - but actually, it's sadness.

I've written about this before - and it's probably bordering on the "beating a dead horse" side of things - but my life is NOTHING like I imagined it would be.

I am mormon. I believe in the gospel teachings of my church - but I do not like/enjoy/believe many of the cultural aspects of my church. From super young - like 6 - I was taught that I would "grow up" - "get married" - "have kids" - and that was it. More details were added around 12 - I would "grow up" - "find a righteous man to marry in the temple" - and "have kids." 16 came with more details: "grow up" - "go to college" - "serve a mission if I wanted" - "come home and marry a man in the temple" - "have kids." And that's as far as it got me.

Well - most mormon kids go off to BYU in Utah. I thought that was what I was "supposed" to do, because that's what everyone else was doing. I got in to BYU in Utah and Idaho - but couldn't stop crying until I decided to go to UTD here in Richardson (GO COMETS!). Then I worked for a few months and decided to go on a mission. So I went - and came home sooner than anticipated because my mental health declined. After a few years at home, I moved out and was working. I wish now I had better appreciated the freedom of this time. It was not without it's problems, but I had so much of what I didn't even know I wanted. Then I became so depressed, I wanted to kill myself. And so I moved back home. I heard the term "boomerang-kids" used the other day and it broke my heart. Gosh, I don't want to be that. Looking from the outside in, I can see how it would be easy for someone to assume that's what I am. But there are so many more obstacles that have led me to being home. And as far as my love life goes, it could be compared to the Sahara - with tumble weeds and geckos.

So you see, nothing is like I thought it would be. Nothing is like I was told it would/should be. My path has been messy and ugly and hard.

And life changing.

I don't think the "me" before all of this knew her limits/needs/desires.

I have a mind of my own. I have skills that are mine. I am better able to cope with the shitty parts of life. I have a more realistic understanding of what life is.

Things got raw Tuesday and I had to dig in and use my skills. I left my darling sisters in Utah for teaching/schooling, Wednesday I attended the funeral of my sweet friend's brother - and because the emotional toll of all of this wasn't enough, my monthly visitor arrived Wednesday afternoon. Since the car wreck back in 2014, I have had terrible periods. This month has been no different. By Thursday I couldn't stop the pain or the insane amount of bleeding. I was miserable. I had been gone from work for 2 and 1/2 weeks and didn't feel like I could leave that night - so I stayed and endured pain, blood, nausea, and the puking urge. It was hell. I thought I was going to have an episode or legit pass out. My parents came and drove me home and I collapsed into bed. In my religion we can get blessings. I asked my dad to give me a blessing for the sick and afflicted. I could feel God's presence. I felt relief. And the words spoken were comforting.

One part in particular has stayed with me, "Rachel, not many people in this life suffer with their bodies the way you do. The purpose of this suffering is to bring you closer to your Father in Heaven. You will be healed. You will know the things you need to do to bring healing to your body."

God knows my suffering. It is to bring me to Him. *deep breath* Ok, I am willing to accept that. I am willing to suffer so that I may know God. This does not mean I will be happy or joyful through the process. But I will do it - with my best attitude. And my best will change from day to day.

As I was laying in bed trying to breathe through the pain, Dad asked me if there was anything he could do for me. I said, "Would you bring the flowers that are on my dresser over here to my nightstand?" He said it was an odd request but did it. Because often it's the little things that bring the most joy. Holding a sleeping baby. Standing in front of a fan on a hot day. Looking at roses.

My life is F A R from picture perfect. And every time I think I have a handle on things, something else pops up. But, that's life. Life was never meant to be easy - though I do enjoy the easier times - it was meant to be a place for learning, for growth.

And that's what I'm doing, everyday.


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