Feeling Like Jello

I once ate Jello with chopsticks at the MTC. It’s not the hardest thing to do if you slightly break up the blocks so that there is something there for the chopstick to hold to.

My life feels like Jello. I think that I am falling behind in my classes although they seem to be all that I ever do. And even as I write that, I know that I spent more time watching TV this semester than I ever have before, and also a lot of time looking through job ads. God said that I needed to keep up with school, but He never mentioned how I would get through my  bills and that’s caused me to be a nervous wreck for a few months.

Although actually less stressful somehow, I just moved this weekend to another location in the city, pretty far away from the things that most people act like are important but closer to companies, businesses, and actually closer to one school. The amenities are resoundingly better than my last apartment, and although the commute to one school is much longer than it used to be, I get to deal with that next semester.

Today I am supposed to register for classes at the closer school and I have no idea what to attempt to get into. I want to do markup language coding and learn more languages so that I can mark up the way that I want to mark up and do things that help my projects progress and be happy. Personal happiness is a luxury now, not a right. It’s that elusive thing that living commandments is supposed to get you, and sometimes it just takes an attitude adjustment to get toward.

Nothing in my life is simple. I wish that it was, but instead, I feel like I am walking on Jello. God walked on squishier stuff, but I am starting to wonder if my current state of being is simply an attribute like a mark up language. I have some stability, but at the same time everything else flows around me and ignores me. Goes right past me and maybe that is a good thing.

All that I can see is that I have to hold on and do what God’s already told me to do. To live the commandments, I’ve turned down some really hard temptations, and when others would not listen to Deity, have been pushed aside akin to Miyagi’s wax on-wax off method. Whatever the method or reasons, I’m here now and am trying to figure out what to do with this lifetime.

Afterlife is easy: help with the gospel, do the right thing, keep on going. Done. Just work hard, and do as well as possible. Seems simple enough. All that I see for this life now is finishing school, making family history apps, working on the genealogy business, and otherwise paying bills. I wish that I could have a family, but that is dependent on other’s agency of which I do not have control and would not ask for that control to be had by me. Without someone else’s choices, my progression is limited in this life. It seems harsh, but it isn’t. Not everyone has the chance to marry. I think/thought that I will have that chance, especially as I am still fairly young. I’m young, but I have the weight of kingdoms on my shoulders and they hurt a little. I’d give my life for a good, honest, temple-worthy guy to help share the load and for me to share his load.

No matter what, I must keep going. There is no vice without a price, and in this case, I have avoided much and hope to be able to endure a lot more. God has said often that He expects a lot of me, and I don’t really know exactly what that is or how to get it done. How long did it take the Brother of Jared to figure out that God touching small stones could make light for the barges when crossing oceans? I mean, that’s REALLY creative stuff. I’m not honestly that good. I have an app. One app, and it could easily change the world. I feel like I am behind in everything that I do, but maybe I’m stuck in the DNA-style loop that seems to befit the fullness of times.

I don’t know what God wants me to do now outside of unpacking. Do homework, look for and apply to everything under the sun including scholarships, and become exhausted on a regular basis. Trying  not to drown.

Best from the GenealogyDr

Pressure

Last night, someone asked me if I was happy with what I was up to: two Masters, trying to find a new job, being super-busy with Church stuff, and otherwise under a lot of pressure. My answer didn’t really sound that good. I want to be obedient to God and because of that, I don’t expect immediate happiness. That just sounds bad. It seems like the point of doing all of this stuff is becoming happy, and I don’t remember what it’s like to be happy. I can remember gratitude, but at the same time I’m trying not to panic every second of the day.

Having problems isn’t really going to change. Everyone has issues, whether they’re health-related, whether it’s employment or family or school or relationships or whatnot. Some of the problems get solved, and a lot don’t. At least not in ways that are convenient or otherwise things that are “nice and fluffy.” There’s no puppy or reward for completing some of these issues. New problems come up to replace the old ones. While I like being a problem-solver, the solutions that I see to the problems are things that I can’t do anything about.

Maybe my worldview actually isn’t that bad. I do everything that I know to do, and I have faith in grace. I try to have a lot of patience because my life is non-ending pressure, and there isn’t adequate outlet for it. I don’t know anyone who is happy-go-lucky all the time. Attitude does have a lot to do with it, however.  Everywhere I go, I’m expected to be an example of my belief system. To literally live my religion as well as I can. People have perceptions of those in my religion that could be anything, and a favorable impression is the best thing that we can do.

We don’t persecute others and wish not to be persecuted. I feel sorry for politicians who ascribe to my belief system as politics is non-ending catfights and sorrow. I love peace, quiet when wanted, and a time to dance in positive manners when possible also.

Anything that isn’t perfectly in accordance with my belief system in my life makes me upset. This isn’t necessarily about other’s actions very often, but about my actions. Of late, there are myriad examples of things are not in perfect accord but all of them require things that are not under my control to correct them. I have built my own puddles and walls but I don’t own ladders and don’t have bridges. There is honestly no way that I can save myself (ha. not possible to save yourself, no, but wanting to make up for things- that is where I fall flat on my face and break my nose no matter how much I want to repent.) Saying that you’re sorry often is not enough on these things. It is paying things back bit by bit. I just don’t have the ability to do so now. That is the reason that I want a job besides paying bills.

It feels like the math concept where a line can get so close to zero, but never quite gets there. I feel frustrated that I will never get where I need to should be. Although I am grateful for where I’ve gotten so far, all that I can ever see is where I am insufficient and it compounds when looking at the different aspects of life. I see all of my errors and how I don’t have ways of fixing them. Some of these errors have been around for a while. While none of them bar me from participation in religious activities, I’m sick of having my soul eaten up by acidic pain, remorse, or guilt over things that I would change in an instant had I ability.

It’s like looking at the homeless people when going on or coming off highways or at major intersections and seeing their signs and not being able to do anything about it because of being on low fuel and not having cash or otherwise ability to do anything. I don’t care whether someone did things to get to the point where they’re at. Who hasn’t? God doesn’t look at someone and says, “Oh, you did this to yourself. I’m not helping you.” He looks at them, shows compassion, and helps them get to a better place: training or something else that changes people and helps them toward a better life. I desperately want to be better and to be clear, and it’s not happening. Prison isn’t just for cell inmates. I talk to God a lot, and He doesn’t bug me about the things that I haven’t been able to change. I think that He knows that I know them well and want to fix them and don’t have a clue how to do it currently besides what I’m already trying. I typically come back with more things to do, and my feet feel bashed because I don’t see how I can get them done when I need to get these things done…somehow.

When you’re capable, it seems like you become more alone. People expect more of you, and sometimes you have extremely kind friends who help you get from A to B, but most of the time expectations are that you will figure it out for yourself. That you will do something that will save yourself, or that you won’t mess up or somehow that you will see any or all dangers and not make any mistakes. Nothing will really get to you; somehow you’re superhuman. That is RIDICULOUS thinking. It sets an extremely unfair double standard on people and makes it close to impossible to recover. The world is a very cruel, cold, lonely, bitter place.

So, all of those judgements, whether they come from others (often the case), or come from internal sources (people usually tell me that I’m too hard on myself, but I figure that it’s better me being hard on myself versus someone else being hard on me- beat them to the punchline, as it were), it’s a LOT of pressure. Saturday and yesterday, besides asking whether or not I was happy, I had people who told me that I needed to de-stress. I would if I could, but I can’t, so… I can’t. I am responsible for myself. I have extremely good friends who are kind and thoughtful, but the only person putting me first is me. And that doesn’t work out that well, either. There’s only so much self-talk that a person can do to feel better, work harder, or otherwise keep going. I do believe in infinite capacity and that God can do miracles and all. I just wish that they came before I was literally falling head-first at the ground and I can’t see anything to catch me.

The falling head-first without security is how I have felt starting in 2005, but was more apparent after 2008. But that’s when everyone lost security and safety. 9/11 was the beginning of restrictions in the name of safety, but trying to be a good person, trying to pay bills, and advance in life feels like trudging through the swamp in the Never-Ending Story where it’s just almost too depressing for words. Governments are destroying themselves, laws are passed that give no one any rights and take rights away, and people are dying more often now than before no matter what kinds of medical breakthroughs attempt to extend life longer. My generation is not doing better than my parent’s generation even though their generation expects it and says there is something wrong with us if that isn’t happening immediately.

I miss being part of a family. Miss a support system that kept me safe. I was brought up so well, and I received such an incredible education. My home life was amazing, but there were definitely flaws, most of which I didn’t know until I was out of the house. Now, my generation feels lost. We want to hold to something. Anything with a feeling of permanence to it. I’m a little surprised that anyone gets married anymore, even though I definitely believe in marriage and people having families.

I see other people who can figure it out (jobs, families, progression in life), and on one side wonder either what’s wrong with me, or else what can I do to change things? (meaning changing myself, not wanting to change them.) That’s about the time when I put my faith back in the tool belt and keep on walking because I can still walk and I don’t know what else to do. If I was sick in addition to my current maladies, I think I’d break. I may be sick, but I haven’t been able to get to a doctor for a long time and I do my utmost to try to stay at least symptomatically-healthy. There may be worse things going on, but I literally can’t afford to find out right now.

Guess there’s one thing left to do at that point. When at the end of the rope, make a knot, and hold on tight. I have nothing left but faith, and maybe an Internet connection if I can pay the bill.

Best to all,

GenealogyDr

My New Book

I love it when movies inspire people to do good things. That is why I watch them, dependent upon the mood for the day. It’s 1:30AM, my roommate is asleep, and I am listening to the soundtrack from the Help over Koss headphones that I grabbed in the major move from six years ago. My writing style is anything but academic, and yet I’m having fun.

As for the title of this particular blog, anyone who is actually following it, (I think that there is one of you), you read about how I want to write a dissertation on trauma following death and perhaps how to get out of it. At least one close friend is against this. She is in the middle of her own issues and this is too close. I never realized before how many friends have recent deaths in the family. That is not why I chose this topic for the dissertation. I chose it because of my experiences of six deaths in seven years. From natural causes, from accidents, and one murder, death is a prevalent theme in my life of late. the last death brought unexpected closure to the series. I have no idea of the arch of the book for the dissertation, but in the meantime, I feel like I need to write a Memoir. That is the purpose of this particular introductory blog, and the scariest thing that I have ever done. I’ve talked myself out of it more times than I can count. The closest that I’ve gotten to writing it is 50 pages and an outline, all stored on the hard drive that just crashed. It would cost about $700 to restore the hard drive and I don’t have that kind of cash whatsoever. So, I get the privilege of starting over after writing the first four chapters.

I am not sure how different it will be seeing as the timeline is my own. The names are changing to protect innocent and guilty parties, but what I will write is all truth. No varnishing. No changing it up outside editorial license. I don’t know what good or more likely what ill it will do. Nice little LDS girls don’t write Memoirs. Well, maybe they do. Some phenomenal LDS female writers out there are my heroines. I don’t read LDS fiction, so I don’t know what there is outside of Ender’s Game. At least, I’ve read a couple of LDS books, but nothing since I was a later teenager. They’re not a massive influence on me. I like classics, quirky writers with heart who occasionally swear but get their points across. I do not intend on swearing. I need to write what I want to read.

So, this is the birth of Almost Ten Years at BYU: An Absolutely, Unbelievably True Story. Tagline: The Names are Changed, the rest is the same. My family may hate me by the time it’s done. That’s the one thing that I don’t want. I also don’t want law suits. Being careful of what I write is important. I also will be, as my mother used to say, “brutally honest.” This isn’t going to show a beautiful picture unless a person wants parts of the human heart that matter. I am an idealist. I completely set that forward right now. Although I  wish for no rudeness, and  not to be mean to people, there is a strong possibility that people will get hurt. That is what has kept me back for years. The people who say to just go ahead and write, you don’t know the implications. It means that you see how it could effect your family, and you think about how the concept makes a difference. Of course I care about the people who I’m writing about. I’m not sure why I need to write it, but it’s been on my mind off and on since maybe 2007? The hard part is writing when you’re not exactly sure what the end is, and tonality during writing… do you write like you were a freshman, or do you write as the wiser student who is finally finishing these years later? I love the story. Yes, I’m in love with my life, but that’s only happened due to severe trials and hardships or heart aches in the meantime.

My life now is so different from where it was back then. I learned and loved so much. I would never replace it, and couldn’t replace it with anything else. What does one semi-overweight white girl from DC who grew up LDS have to share with the rest of the world, especially about some weird, out-there place called Utah, combined with LA and NYC? Yeah, great settings, I’ll admit. My life feels like a chick flick. Gag me? *grins* I’m a bit different from most, if not all people, but I’m also the same underneath it all. My life is one lived in faith. Wonder if that could ever come across were this to become a movie someday. *shrugs* We’ll see. All that I know is that I’m the main one who could write my story. The post-9/11 under play when seen from someone who was close to a lot of the major events of the ages. Yes, I was close for proximity to 9/11. I was at the President’s Initiative on Race in 1998. I was at the Napster hearing at BYU and I lived near to campus when Jimmer caught the basketball world on fire. Things like that.

I served a mission in LA when the DC sniper was shooting literally close to my home. Technology and the world entirely changed when I was away in LA. Then, New York, and falling in love with that city. Coming back, and being independent and staying as strong as possible with the gospel. Things are hard, but endurance is good. What we create is a very good thing. I need to go to bed now, but those are some of the thoughts going through my head as I finally write this pre-write. I need to start somewhere. Better late than never. Bring it on. 🙂

The Genealogy Doctor