Can I have some?

welcome to my blog.

a place to post. a place to eat oreos. a place to vent. a place to heal.

i started this blog so i could use a different outlet besides munching on fattening oreos. as if that has done any good... *mind wanders to oreo package in the house...*

then i realized that oreos can be semi symbolic. if you are are that crazy about oreos that is. which... i am.

eating oreos is therapeutic for me. when i am struggling or when i need a pick me up. they have chocolate. and sugar. both of which help lift my mood. not to mention that i eat them soaked with milk, which is my miracle drink.

i post my posts to not only get stuff out. there may be people who read my blog who have been in the same kind of situations as i have. i hope reading them and knowing that others have gone through things like i have, will be to you what eating oreos does to me.

and yes. i didn't capitalize anything in here. i just felt like it. deal with it.

munch up.

Monday, December 19, 2011

Things on my mind

So, this will be somewhat random. But I suppose if you have stuck with me so far, you are probably used to that.

It's pretty funny how once school is out, I loose all track of what day it is. Almost instantly.

Being a primary teacher in my ward is an interesting experience. There are rowdy kids, there are more quiet kids, and there are kids that sit and listen, and even contribute to the lesson by answering questions. Some kids shift jobs depending on the day. Our rowdiest kids when we first became the teachers sometimes answer the questions now and listen to the lesson. But that often depends on the day.

One of the hardest parts of my job is I never seem to know when I have done an ounce of good. Sure I can go and sit next to a seemingly dejected student during the sharing time and rub a back. But how I am to know if it did any good? Especially when a child has a personality that refuses to show weakness or love or really anything but hate? One of my biggest problems, I think, is... well I have conversations with people in my head all the time. Sometimes when I am praying or trying to search for an answer, I am not certain if I am just simply having a pretended conversation with God or if I am having a real one. I just don't know how to tell if I am getting revelation or not. I can say that I have a "feeling" that this child needs me, she scratches herself pulling skin off for crying out loud. I have no idea if she is dealing with similar pain as myself, but well... there are signs.

I don't know how much I should say, but whatever the case, I wish I could know, know for certain, if I'm actually gaining revelation or if I'm just pretending to talk to God. It is well... you could maybe call it a habit of mine to talk with someone in my mind, answering the way I think they would answer. Sometimes I wonder if something is wrong with my mind.

All that aside, I hear a little elf stopped by today. I have yet to see what he brought, but Pro Boxer said that they were gift cards. The elf just happened to be our bishop. I'm glad that we can get more things for the kids than we did about a week ago. Yet I am also somewhat depressed like I am whenever I get blessed like that.

Which brings me (see, it isn't random!) to the next topic.

I prayed again on my knees. My own little personal prayer sent directly to Heavenly Father. There's that word. Father. I literally feel like a piece of trash thrown off at the side of the road to lie with the butts that people throw out of their cars. Or as I felt on the trip home from the bowl game, like a burned black ugly old building on the outskirts of happy valley. I, broken, burned up little ol' me, is not worthy to call God, Father. Call it irrational if you must. This is how I feel. And this is what my prayer pretty much was about. I was sobbing on the ground realizing that this is how I feel. I honestly don't feel worthy enough to have the blessing to call Him Father. I just don't. I don't deserve to be called daughter by Him. Despite all my depression, I have been able to see his blessings. I honestly have. But whenever I get blessed, it makes me feel all the more unworthy. It is a bit of a conundrum, but there you have it. I really don't know what to do with myself. Some survivors of abuse lash out at others longing deep inside for someone to come and love them despite their hateful attitude. I don't do that. I don't know if you could say that I physically abuse myself (though picking all the loose skin and scabs on my nose could possibly count). Me? I go inside. When I feel left out and want to join in, I just can't. I am too quiet, too shy, and just too darn un-opinionated to be able to join in. So I curl up and become invisible, numbing myself to the pain of being left out. I hurt myself, yes. I am aware of that. I abuse myself emotionally. I suppose having an awareness of it is the first step. But coming to the realization that I don't feel worthy to call God Father was an interesting one. It explains a lot of things. And realizing that, I think it is finally time to have another meeting with the bishop.

I'm working on it. I'm trying. Though half-hearted it may seem to others, I still am working.

One of these days I'll beat you, Satan. And maybe when that day comes I'll feel sorry for you. Maybe I already do. Hanging around here without a body with everyone else with one must not be a very happy situation for you. But one of these days I'll beat you. Because I believe deep down inside there is someone stronger than you, and I'm turning to Him. No matter how unworthy you help me feel.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

"Act of God"

One thing I enjoyed while reading through the paperwork to buy our house was how many "Act of God" moments there were to protect us, the buyers, should anything happen to the house. As far as I can tell the phrase was only put there to make sure they didn't leave anything out. Don't ask me how an earthquake isn't an "Act of God" however, that doesn't make sense to me.

Apparently a wind storm would be considered an "Act of God" by insurance companies. A few weeks back or so my hometown was swept with 100 mph gusts of winds. Yes. O.O Quite. The whole neighborhood lost many trees. Decks were wrecked and won't be paid for by the previously mentioned insurance companies because of course, a wind storm would be considered an "Act of God." *rolls eyes...

My parents lost three trees. THREE TREES!!! They didn't have any damage to their house or their neighbor's property lucky (or "Act of God"?) for them. But you know... those trees were my favorite. One of my favorite Christmas traditions was that we would get a live tree. I didn't like how it couldn't stay in the house as long as I wanted it to (I do love Christmas decorations), but I totally loved how we would plant it in the lawn when the ground wasn't frozen (well... I actually can't remember when we would plant the trees). Whatever the case, I totally loved how my house was surrounded by Christmas trees. My parent's started planting in the front yard on both sides and kept moving them back. They still have space to go as they have a rather large backyard. It was sad enough for me when they took the trees down on one side so they could upgrade their driveway for a parking lot. I saw the lack of trees for the first time today and I might have been close to tears. The house is totally barren now!! *sad face... :'(

When me and the kids packed up to leave today I was trying to explain to Bug why the house didn't have trees anymore (he said it was because someone chopped them down). I tried to help him remember the wind storm that we had (though certainly not as serious as my parent's town) and how we had to run to our house after school so that we wouldn't get knocked over. Bug had told me that our house wouldn't get blown over. :) I then told him that at grandma's house, the wind was much stronger and pushed over the trees.

What was his response to that?

"That's because the wind drank milk."

Yes, Bug. I suppose that is why the wind was stronger.

Thursday, December 8, 2011

Latest Crazy Project

So here is my latest crazy crafty project.
Tis a sweater. Well, it will be. At church quite a few weeks ago one of the nursery leaders asked me if I can knit sweaters. And I said yes. Turns out her boss (or her boss's wife, I can't remember the details) has had a pattern and yarn for a sweater that she wants made for a very long time, and just hasn't been able to find anyone to do it for her. So. Now I'm knitting my second sweater for a random person that I haven't ever met. Yes, I'm crazy. I am contemplating charging money for the time and effort involved, but as I didn't mention it from the start, I worry about mentioning it now. Not only that, but I have no idea how much I would charge.

Whatever the case, this is how it will end up looking... Supposedly.
So... all that said, I will be working on this for a while. I hope to get a lot of it done during the break, because I know I won't be able to get much done when school starts again.

I also have a lot of little projects on my list that I need to do. I should probably work on them before (as most of them I wish to give away as gifts) I spend too much time on the sweater. But now that I have finally gotten through the first skein and can estimate that I have enough yarn to make it I can work on the other projects without the sweater weighing too heavily on my mind.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

I'm gonna do it!

I'm gonna post! but... i don't really know what to post... hmm...

We are all finally becoming rid of the cold. Bug caught it first, then me, and I think Pro Boxer had it a little, and of course, Goof Ball picked it up at the end. Bug still has a bit of a cough, but it seems like it is taking me the longest to get over it. I'm not too surprised... Goof Ball even seems to have gotten over it. And he was the last to pick it up! Colds always hit me hard though, so yeah. Not much I can do about it. Though, here is an interesting phenomenon... Goof Ball seemed to get over it the fastest. Only about two days of serious hoarse voice and he seemed fine after that. The phenomenon? He probably drinks the most water of us all.... Hmm......

So. How am I doing, you ask? I have not gone to church in three weeks. Well... we have also had a least one of us sick during that time, and yeah... I was the designated one to stay behind. I also have not had one oreo in.... weeks. That's right. Weeks. I'm not even sure how long it has been. I have been doing more knitting, and serving with my sisters in TBS (the band service sorority). I have been turning more often to the Lord... though yet never really said any personal prayers on my knees. When I need to pray for family prayer those are on my knees, and well... they have slowly gotten more sincere. I even finally read one of the chapters in 3 Nephi when Jesus is there like my bishop asked me to do... I had forgotten that he had until one of my good friends to said to read one verse in the same book and report to her. :) She is trying to help me. Funnily enough? She has been through the same experiences as me, and she is WAY more positive about life than I am. I think I see a bit of my past self in her, and I wonder where I went.

So I guess in general, I'm doing better. Life moves on, I make friends with Japanese people and invite them to my house for Christmas. I somehow find something to get Pro Boxer for Christmas (he is REALLY hard to buy for!), and we contemplate getting.... a dog. Yes. A dog. We'll see how that goes. We still have to calculate how much feeding and caring for it would be. I really want it to be a teacup yorkie. People think I'm crazy and say that they yip all the time and get sick frequently. That may be so. And they are BLASTED expensive. That also may be so. But truthfully.... I think I would be scared to get any dog bigger than that, and they are so DARN CUTE! I don't particularly think that I'm scared of dogs. It just unnerves me when they jump up on me, and are heavy enough to push me down and I have no idea what they are thinking.

So yeah. That is our life in a post that is really random because I didn't know what to write before hand. Next semester will be filled with writing classes (hurrah!!! I didn't have ONE this semester and it has been killing me!), and I will be a TA of sorts for one English class for my absolute favorite English professor at my school. I'm really nervous about that as my main task is to read the student's essays and help them improve their arguments. I suck at that with my own essays... I don't know how much help I could be for them... And somehow... this teacher that I admire and respect so much believes that I will be great and he actually said "I have every confidence in your ability. That's why I chose you." Thanks. Way to put the pressure on.