On Getting Over It (Or What I Wish I Could Have Told Carolyn Two Years Ago)

This is a story I'm telling because I feel like it needs to be told.

Two years ago, I was just starting my master's program. Two years ago I moved into a new house in a new neighborhood with new roommates. Two years ago I was still in love with somebody that I used to know. And two years ago, I was forcing myself not to be.

Let me tell you how that went: horribly.

I knew that the feelings I had were "ridiculous," that "it'd been a year for Pete's sake" since we'd broken up, and that any rational, mature person would have moved on by now. I knew the feelings I had were getting in the way of happiness and in the way of enjoying other relationships. I knew they were keeping me from moving on. And so I dealt with them the best I knew how: I pretended like they weren't there.

I threw myself into other relationships; I covered up my feelings with other emotions like frustration, anger, bitterness, ambivalence, pride, exasperation, exhaustion; I told myself all kinds of lies about how I was better off without him and blahblahblah.

And of course deep-down I believed none of it.

And worse yet, forcing myself to not be in love with him was a kind of self-betrayal. Not only was I not dealing with the fact that I was heartbroken enough about the situation, but I was adding to the heartbreak by lying to myself, by treating myself like I wasn't mature enough to take the truth (that I was still in love with him), by treating myself like my feelings didn't matter, by pretending my dreams for our future together were meaningless and silly. Because they weren't. They weren't meaningless and they weren't silly, and all this prattle about how weak I was for not being able to just let them all go at the drop of a hat was insulting the quality of my commitments, the promise I mean when I say "I love you."

See, the sneaky and horrible thing about forcing yourself not to love someone anymore is that love is one of the most pure, unselfish, beautiful things a human being can feel. And to tell myself I was weak for feeling that? To think less of myself because I had love in my heart for someone, especially when it was for someone who didn't love me back? I should have been celebrating my capacity to love, but instead I was rejecting it and abusing myself for feeling it.

So finally I gave up. I said, "You know what, I love him, alright? And right now, that may be a dead-end, but it is what it is and I'm tired of lying to myself."

And then, interestingly enough, my sadness morphed into something different. It became beautiful sadness, it became productive sadness, it became sadness that was enlarging my heart and adding to my sympathy and bringing me closer to people instead of dividing me from them.

So I let myself love him. For years. I let myself be okay with that.

And you know what I learned? I learned that it's okay to love someone who doesn't love you back. It's okay to let yourself feel that, it's okay to be heartbroken,

But your heart, it is a sacred place, a place where you should be safe, a place where you can be honest, a place where you can find truth. Of all people, don't lie to yourself. Your heart is too good to you to treat it that way. It’s fine to put on a front for the sake of social niceties and your dignity and such, but in the quiet moments, when you’re alone with your heart and your fears and your dreams, you need to be honest. You need know that that is a place you can always rely on and return to to get your bearings, to muster courage, to heal. Let it be a refuge, where you alone can look your feelings squarely in the face, accept them, and make peace with them. Then you will have the tools you need to overcome.

And always listen to your deep-down. You cannot slay the dragons in your life by pretending they don't exist. Face the dragon. Accept the facts. The way to cross an ocean isn't to climb on the first log or hunk of flotsam you can find and push off. You will only drown. The way to cross an ocean is to look it squarely in the face--to know its deceptions and its dangers and its Bermuda triangles and its benevolences--to know all of it--to study the stars, learn the maps, memorize the tide charts, accept it for what it is, love it for what it is, and then one bright morning, when it has become part of you, the sea will call and you can finally shove off the shore into the brave and open waters.

And so here I am, two years later, peacefully, gratefully, and happily on the other side of that ocean. Finally. Finally.

And you know what was the final piece to my healing? It was this:

I remembered who I am. I remembered that my dreams were beautiful, that the courage I'd mustered to love him was incredible, and that whatever else was lost when we broke up, those things--the beauty and the courage and the love--were not lost. I remembered that those are things inside me and they are things I will carry with me wherever I go,

and best of all, those are things I will carry with me to whoever I go.

Queen of the Sink (and Other Stories)

And today I learned how to disassemble a sink.

(Carrot peels + our disposal = no good. Hence, an opportunity for me to learn how to unscrew pipes and fish out food and force myself not to throw up when warm and carrot-chunky water comes gushing out the pipes, over my hands, and splatters in the pan and onto the cupboard walls under the sink. Just this much closer to being a steel-stomach mom someday.)

Other things I'm proud of from this week:
1. Getting gas last night instead of putting it off again. I always put off getting gas. I've never yet run out of gas, which is why I perpetuate this unsavory habit, but I live in constant fear that one of these needle-on-E days, my gas tank will revolt and say, "We've had enough of your bad habits."
2. And I went to get gas attired in black stretchy pants and socks. I was already in my car, it was late at night, I was comfy, and I knew if I stopped at home to "make myself presentable" before foraying out into the world to fill said gas tank, that what would actually happen is me crawling in bed and going to sleep. Hence, in my stockinged feet and stretchypantlegs, I went to the gas station. No shame. And apparently no fear about my socks touching gas station concrete ew.

...

.....

Wow, five minutes later, I can't think of anything else to add to the "proud of" list. Things I'm not so proud of though? Eating that whole pan of brownies (what the?!), watching reality t.v. with the roomies (I don't regret the roommate part, just the reality t.v.), staying up 2+ hours too late every night (serious problem people)...(what is this, confessional? I seriously need a theme for this blog or else this is what it inevitably denegrates to: Carolyn's Confessions. I guess you've gotta say them somewhere.)

Sigh.

Tomorrow is Mumford & Sons' new album. (Here's stuff I've written before about this band that I love so much.) You better believe there's gonna be a celebratory Music Monday tomorrow.

On Fear and Faith and Living a Life that Isn't At All What You'd Planned

Flavigny-sur-ozerain

Marseilles

Nice

I am here, utterly and sublimely happy, with some beautiful news:

I have been called to serve a mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to teach the gospel of Jesus Christ. I'll leave in February and will serve for 18 months. (You can read about what a mission is here.)

Oh...

and I'm going to France...Southern France to be precise. (!!!!!!!!!!!) Southern France to learn French, and to eat crepes, and to serve the God I love.

This thing is so beautiful to me that I can hardly think about it.

This mission may come as a shock to a lot of people. I'm 26 ("old" for girl-missionary standards), I am just finishing my graduate degree, and I'm dating like a million guys (joke. I'm not.). In seriousness though, I've kept it pretty quiet, this decision to go. But it's actually been in the works for quite some time now--"officially" since March, but secretly (meaning heaven only knew about it, not even me) for quite some years. So when I finally decided to go, I kept these things close, and thought about them, and prayed about them, and felt the kind of peace that only comes when you are making the best decision you have ever made in your life.

So I want to share some of the thoughts I've had in this process. Maybe it will help someone who is making a similar decision. Mostly I share this, though, because it is beautiful to me, and I want you people that I love to know about it.

....................How I Decided to Go....................

I resisted going on a mission for a really long time. It wasn't in my life plan for myself. I'd never had any desire to serve. In fact, I'd go as far as to say I had anti-desire to serve a mission. Growing up, I remember some of my friends would talk about how much they wanted to be missionaries, and I remember thinking, "Please don't let that be what happens in my life." (This may or may not have everything to do with the fact that I have control-issues when it comes to my life plan. This also has to do with a mean little thing we call pride.)

I recognize that this aversion is a bit strange. I love the message of the gospel of Jesus Christ. I love studying my religion and talking about it with others and teaching it. All the sweetest moments and truths in my life have come because of this gospel, because of my faith. It is who I am. So naturally you'd think I'd be readyreadyready to apply to serve a mission as soon as I turned 21.

And yet I had no desire to. I just felt like it wasn't something I wanted or needed to do.

But again and again the feeling would come, almost naggingly, that I needed to be open to serving a mission. And again and again, I'd smother it with thoughts that I didn't need to, that it was my choice, that what I really wanted to do was get married, etc., etc., etc.

But I felt that there was something out of place in my life, that there was a greater happiness that was eluding me because I was holding back parts of myself, that there was some purpose that I wasn't yet filling. So I decided to face it.

I knew that because I'd already decided that I wasn't going to go, my prayers inquiring what God wanted me to do were getting me nowhere. I knew that I would only be able to get clear direction from God once I could honestly say in my heart that I was willing to go if that's the answer I got.

And then came one of the biggest battles thus far in the inner-life of Carolyn: getting my stubborn little heart to a place where I was willing to be open to possibilities that weren't what I'd mapped out for myself. In the Book of Mormon, there's a story of a man named Enos who goes into the woods to pray to God. He says he wrestled before God, before he was able to receive forgiveness for his sins, before he was able to really communicate with God. I wrestled a lot. I cried a lot. The closest metaphor I can think of is a metalsmith hammering out a piece of steel.

But here's what I finally realized: me having thoughts to serve a mission was only because that choice would open me up to greater happiness. God directs us in paths towards happiness, so so gently. Those thoughts I kept having weren't demands from a God intent on controlling my life and forcing me to do things I don't want to do. Instead, they were promptings, nudgings, from an infinitely kind and infinitely patient God, who was trying to show me a higher path for my life than the one I would have chosen to go down.

When I realized this and was able to hand my will over, not just in my head but in my heart, that's when things began to take shape.

I won't go into the details of the myriad (seriously. myriad) of tender kindnesses that were poured over me in this decision process. In the time I was making the decision, there were lots of moments when the anxiety and fear would bubble up in my throat and nearly choke me, and I'd have to force myself to not think about it. But in every one of those moments, there was someone or something (even if it was just a thought or a prayer) there to give me a hand up, to encourage me, to quiet my fears. 

And eventually all that fear passed. Thank heavens it passed. And it has been replaced with the sweetest of peace, about my life, about my decision, and best of all, about myself.

And you know all that stuff about not wanting to go? Let me tell you how I feel now: 180 degree turn. Now it’s all I want. A year ago, it would have been literally impossible for me to imagine myself saying that and meaning it. But I do. And isn't that the miracle of it all? That our hearts can change?

Another story (my favorite, actually) from the Book of Mormon, in one of the most beautiful metaphors I have ever known, talks about how hearts change. A man named Jared and his family are driven from their homeland. God directs them that there is a land "choice above all the lands of the earth" that He wants to carry them to. To get there though, they have to cross the ocean. So they build boats that are water-tight, top and bottom. They make airholes so when they "suffer for air" they can unstop the holes and breathe for a while. But they have a problem--no light in the vessels. 

So Jared's brother (who's spearheading this whole project) cries to the Lord and says, "I have prepared the vessels for my people, and behond there is no light in them. Behold, O Lord, wilt thou suffer that we shall cross this great water in darkness?" 

And the Lord responds, "What will ye that I should prepare for you that ye may have light when ye are swallowed up in the depths of the sea?" 

So the brother of Jared goes up to the mountain and makes 16 small, white, clear stones. And the scripture says, "he did carry them in his hands upon the top of the mount, and cried again unto the Lord, saying: O Lord, thou hast said that we must be encompassed about by the floods. ...Behold these things which I have molten out of the rock. And I know, O Lord, that thou hast all power, and can do whatsoever thou wilt for the benefit of man; therefore touch these stones, O Lord, with thy finger, and prepare them that they may shine forth in darkness; and they shall shine forth unto us in the vessels which we have prepared, that we may have light while we shall cross the sea."

So there the brother of Jared is, praying, with these 16 little stones in his hands, asking for God to touch them and make them shine with light.

And the Lord stretches out his hand and touches the stones one by one, and they shine. And Jared and his family make it across the ocean and reach the land of their inheritance, the land "choice above all other lands."

***

I guess what I'm saying is that we are all each of us on a journey to a new land, to becoming the people we were meant to be. And that journey sometimes takes us right through the heart of great and terrible tempests, of fierce and furious winds, of mountain waves, even to the very depths of the ocean. And we start this journey by bringing 16 roughhewn stones to the mountaintop and praying that they will be made light and holy, that they will carry us across this ocean to our "promised land." 

I guess what I'm saying is that I know that Jesus Christ can do that. I know He can change hearts. I know He can bring light to questions and doubts and fears that previously darkened our lives.

And that's why serving a mission for Him is the best decision I have ever made--because I will get to teach that message of hope to those who are looking for light in their journeys.

.....And Now a Word on What I've Learned and What I Believe.....

I've learned (yet again) that God is patient. I am slow to come around sometimes, slow to realize what the best paths for my life are, and then slow to get the guts to actually do them. But God is patient. He blesses all our attempts at goodness. He makes our tiny efforts overflow in benevolence and plenty.

There are no obstacles--on land, sea, or heart--that we cannot overcome through the divine and tender kindnesses of God.

I believe Joseph Smith was a prophet of God. I believe the record that he translated, the Book of Mormon, is a true account, another witness of the divinity of the Savior, of his love for all people. I believe that it is through Jesus Christ that all wounds are healed. I believe that it is through Him that we become like Heavenly Father--pure as He is pure.

Learning of Jesus Christ fills me with love for others, with joy, and with solid peace in who I am and in who I am becoming.

I want to serve a mission because there are questions of the soul--the kind that keep you up at night, the kind that gnaw at who you are and call into question everything about this whole “life” thing. I have had these questions, and I have found answers to them through learning and living the gospel of Jesus Christ. And as I grow up, I realize how many people have these kinds of questions. I realize that these questions only grow deeper with age. I want to find those people who are looking for answers but don't know where to find them. I want to share what I know, in the hope that it will resonate with them and help them, as it has me.

For instance, these are some questions that the gospel of Jesus Christ has helped me answer:

• Why should I get out of bed today?
• How do I get over incapacitating heartbreak?
• How do I forgive someone?
• How do I forgive myself?
• How do I get over xyz bad habit?
• How come on some days I feel good about myself and on others I feel the opposite? How can I feel good about myself more consistently?
• In this crazy over-scheduled world, what would be the best thing(s) for me to invest my time and energy in?
• How do I know which messages (from media, friends, authority figures, and myself) I can trust and which I shouldn’t?
• How will I measure success?
• What lifestyle will bring me the deepest, longest-lasting joy?
• What’s going to happen to all these beautiful relationships I have once we all die?
• What kind of a person do I want to be?
• How do I renew hope when all darkness gathers in around me?
• What is the purpose of all my striving?
• What is most important to teach my (someday) children?
• How can I repair broken relationships?
• Is there a God?
• Who is He?

And now as I write this, I realize how many of you I’ve been friends with for so many years and yet have never “officially” invited to learn about these incredible things. I guess I figured if you were curious, you’d ask. So here’s my official invitation. I believe in Jesus Christ. I believe in the gospel of Jesus Christ. I believe this gospel was restored to the earth, for us to learn and live and love and prepare to meet Him again.

Yep. Best decision I've ever made.

givin blood like a BOSS

One thing's for dang sure: I will never forget my blood type.

Here's why.  Because every time I get near a needle (either in real life or just in my mind), I pass out.  Not exaggerating, people.  All blood rushes out of my face, I turn green, I go clammy, I think, "Aw crap" and then I'm gone.

Sometimes vomiting accompanies said passing out.

But today, oh no. Today I gave blood like a BOSS.

I had to get my blood typed. (Deep breath.)

So I stopped by Wendy's for a little natural-cut fries with sea salt (really Wendy's? Are all six of those words necessary?) and a frosty to get my blood sugar to a non-fainting level.

Drove myself to the clinic.

Waltzed right past the huge blood-red sign on the wall: BLOOD DRAW STATION.  (Really clinic? And was the red really necessary? How 'bout the all-caps? How bout the words "blood" and "draw" and "station"?? Might as well just write "Bloody Hell" which is what such a station is to me. Surely "A Helpful Place" would suffice. Or maybe "Land of Rainbows" with a metallic, sparkly rainbow background cerca the pencils I had in fourth grade. All of these options would be better than "BLOOD. DRAW. STATION. (OF DEATH.)".)

Looked the nurse squarely in the face and said, "I pass out every time needles go in my body," to which she said, "... Really?  Like...every time?"  "Yes lady.  Every time."

Followed her to a paper-covered cot where I would lie and probably go vagal.

And guess what happened:

I gave that blood like a pro.

Didn't pass out, didn't go clammy, didn't throw up.

Blood Draw Station: 0
Carolyn: 1

The Life Aquatic (with 8 Carters)

So sometimes you just need a little more super-hero in your life.  Like when we all went scuba diving and gave ourselves scuba super-hero names.  (Recommendation: if ever, ever, ever you get the chance to learn how to scuba, DO IT.  It's amazing down there.)

just watching the fire take the mountain

From my porch tonight.

If yours was one of the 500 homes that were evacuated in the last 24 hours, what would you take with you?

bravery points

Today I met someone I've been meaning to meet for all year.  He's my campus person--you know, the person that you see everywhere?  No matter if I'm on the fifth floor or the second floor of the library, or in the Wilk eating lunch, or walking past the JFSB, he's there too.  It's a little creepy just how "everywhere" this kid is.  (Granted, then that means it's creepy how I'm everywhere too, so...)

And I'm not exactly sure why I've noticed him in particular, out of all the people I'm sure I see with similar frequency.  He's got good style.  And kinda walks like he's in charge of the world but doesn't really care too much.  And he's always talking to people.  And his hair kinda does that swoosh thing.  I know, creepy details.  But I'm telling you.  I see this person everyday.  Which is more than I see my roommates sometimes.

So I finally went up to him (because I don't think I'll have another chance), and i said, "Hi.  I don't know you, but I see you everywhere, and I always tell myself I should meet you so I can at least say hi.  I'm Carolyn."  His name is Craig.  He's graduating.  I'm graduating.

I bet we could have been friends.

i would like to bring the following to your attention:

a sampling of lines from the last five songs i have listened to:

i've got a twenty dollar bill that says no one's ever seen you without makeup. you're always made up.

back in school they never taught us what we needed to know--like how to deal with despair, and someone breaking your heart.

if you ever loved somebody put your hands up. now they're gone and you're wishing you could give them everything.

everything's gonna get lighter even if it never gets better.

i finally made it, i made a clean getaway.

driving home from the grocery store, i put in my sister's ipod. leave it to rosie to provide a little classiness to my listening for the evening. please compare the above lyrics with a smattering of the frank sinatra i drove home to:

When somebody loves you
It's no good unless he loves you all the way
Happy to be near you
When you need someone to cheer you all the way

Who knows where the road will lead us
Only a fool would say
But if you'll let me love you
It's for sure I'm gonna love you all the way.

what a charmer...

my point is this: no wonder we're all so jaded about love! all we listen to is music about the demise of love! i say, change your listening habits, change your life.

p.s. i did two brave things this weekend:

1) i knocked on a professor's door for the first time ever. i was trained that if the door is closed, it means they're unavailable, but i am a grad student (? as if that holds clout?) and it was during his office hours after all! talking to professors always freaks me out. pretty sure every time i've left a consultation, i say out loud to myself as i'm walking down the hall, "good job, lady!"

2) i asked my first citizen if he wouldn't mind me taking pictures of his children swinging in the park. i introduced myself as a photographer and explained the situation (that i'm on assignment...sa-weet!). he acquiesced to my request. (mike if you're reading this, i know what you're thinking--just because i gave candy to that one kid at the fireworks show does not make me a creeper.) this required bravery because he was a stranger...it would have been easier to not approach him, to take mediocre pictures from afar...but i'm committed this year to keeping myself nice and out of my comfort zone.

false conceptions of time

SCENE: melissa, seven years old, playing carolyn a song she wrote on the guitar.

melissa: "you play the guitar, carolyn--you should be famous. but your life is over. too bad."

carolyn: "wait, what? my life is over?"

melissa: "yeah, you're old. all you have left is to get married, and then you die a few years after that."

camille: "no, melissa, she has a long life ahead of her! think of how long mom and dad have been married!"

melissa: "yeah, they're going to die as soon as carolyn gets married."

[uncomfortable pause]

melissa: "sooo....what should i write my song about?"

carolyn: "why don't you write it about how my life is over?"

melissa: "your life isn't over! you might not even get married! you might be a nun!"

and that thought is supposed to comfort me? either i get married and die, or else i live a long, nunly life? awesome melissa, thanks.

but you know, when she said, "your life is over" the first time, it cut me to the quick--oh my oh my. you know that song by baz luhrman, the sunscreen song, about how "in 20 years, you'll look back at photos of yourself and recall in a way you can't grasp now how much possibility lay before you"? not to mention images of uncle rico throwing his football into the sunset? yes, these thoughts all came rushing forth with frightening ferocity.

so here's what i think: there are two ways to look at life:

TAKE ONE: the "i coulda been a contender" approach. man, i have missed so many opportunities. i could have really gone far with ballet/piano/ballroom/spanish/art, but none of them really took off. if only i had really applied myself!

TAKE TWO: i have an ENTIRE LIFE plus ETERNITY to learn everything i want to! enter photojournalism class and ballet class, enter deciding i can be famous at 24. man, i'm just a youngin'! and i'm well on my way to learning everything there is to know about everything AND becoming famous and married in the process, which are apparently the two most important things to life-happiness, according to a seven year old girl. what an adventure!

ON THE ROAD: Salt Lake-->North Platte

1:58 pm, Tuesday, Coalville, Utah: “Clouds that look like mountains”

It’s a bit of a daunting feat, this driving across the country. Almost like climbing mountains. Farther to go than I can wrap my mind around. Often I pause and think, “What in the world am I doing?” Not just in the driving aspect, but in the moving to DC part too. I have no job, no plan…all I have is a car full of clothes, a rice cooker, somewhere to sleep once I get there, and a guidebook to the District. This may be one of the braver moments of my life. Walking into the dark. But it doesn’t feel like darkness. Especially not as I’m driving through the back hills of Utah, rolling, green, lush with the secrets of under-development, fuzzy with brush, clouds bigger than the hills, a monochrome of whites and grays and silvers. And everything bathed in sunshine. No, there is no darkness here. Just hopes high as the clouds and eyes green as the land. And green insides for that matter, in every sense of the color.

Huge lightening storms tonight through Nebraska. Makes me think of chasing tornadoes and playing pirates when I was a kid.

Lesson learned tonight: don't let mom drive after dark.

my first basketball game

it went like this.

five girls in pink shirts, stretching on the sidelines, giggling about how funny it is that none of us have ever played basketball before. "hehe, we're so brave, hehe."

enter the other team. all of whom were over seven feet, and were wearing intramural champion shirts from previous years. i'm pretty sure darth vader's imperial march was playing in the background and everything slowed way down as they walked in.

one of them had horns.

and then, because i cannot say it better than our own favorite coach did, here are ray's words:

He Ping Pings Return...

So...a couple nights ago, I was asked to be a coach again. I was a soccer coach this last semester for a group of my friends (girls) who have never played sports before. Needless to say, basketball is a bit more technical than soccer.

Originally, I was told that I couldn't coach their team because I don't know enough about basketball. My response: "I played in Junior Jazz and watch the Jazz all the time. AND, my brothers are really good!" (should be credentials enough). Well, Katherine finally begged me to come and coach them mainly because:

1. I am nice and only yell encouraging things.
2. I am ok with embarrassment.
3. I just love it so much.

So, we stumbled onto the basketball court (Nicolina wore a skirt). As we were waiting, our much-anticipated opponents showed up. They were hard to miss. They looked much like this:



Well, you can imagine the panic that ensued. I suggested that we all run away as quickly as possible. Everyone was in agreement...except Liz. "We are not running away. I have never forfeited before." Oh great. So, to the death it was.

I started to pump myself up and cheer the girls up. We could handle this. Then their coach showed up. Yup, Noah Hartsock, the BYU basketball player. Even I looked stupid now.

Well, here are the highlights of the game:

1. Carolyn wanting so desperately to foul someone and not knowing how. At one point, she was waving her arms frantically in front of the girl she was guarding and barely touching her. She then asked the girl, "Can I even do this?" The girl just laughed. Paige and I were dying on the sidelines. Carolyn just smiles, shrugs, and runs down the court.

2. Katherine SCREAMING at the top of her lungs every time they stole the ball from her.

3. Alisha had her jersey on backwards.

4. Suzie telling the other team to be nice before the game even started.

And at half time, we had 3 points. I proceeded to tell the girls that we were going to set goals that were specific, measurable, and achievable. Our goal: 10 points by the end of the game.

End result: We lost 89-12.

And we totally exceeded our goal!