Trying Harder

It's very early on a Friday morning.  In fact, it's so early that it was Thursday less than an hour ago.  I should be sleeping, but instead I'm worrying about work.  There is so much going through my head that I can't express or even sort out enough to make sense of.  What I know is that I'm so unhappy at work that the thought of going there in a few hours almost makes me cry.  The clearly defined position I accepted last year has turned into one of nebulous responsibility, resulting in frustration, discouragement, and a general anxiety that I'm doing something wrong at any given time.  I very much dislike feeling this way. 

When I took the job, I felt very strongly that it was an answer to many prayers over several months.  Everything happened so quickly--I took all those events as a sign that it was the right direction for me and I should accept whatever they offered.  Several months later, I find myself doubting that decision nearly every day.  I don't know why I'm there, I don't know what my job actually is, and it's starting to wear on me so much that I'm not sleeping well and I dread walking into my building.  Despite my uncertainty and doubt, I definitely know that staying at my previous job would have been very bad for me, so I'm trying to stick it out without complaining.  Another friend is suddenly unemployed, which makes me feel worse for disliking my steady job with good benefits.

I don't even know what to do or how to start feeling better about everything.  I keep looking for other work, but I know my chances at a better job are slim right now.  Unlike the other members of my team, I did not go to school to be in this industry.  I have no desire to get an MBA, and a degree in business administration makes me cringe.  I'm stuck here, though, and I have to figure out parts of my job to like or I'll become even more depressed and anxious about it.

If God wants me to be happy, and He guided me where I am now, why am I so miserable?  Why do I feel like calling in sick all the time?  Why do I fantasize about getting in a car accident or slipping on the icy sidewalk and missing weeks of work?  Why am I told to do a project, but not given enough information to do it correctly, and then get scolded for asking clarifying questions?  Why, when I'm encouraged to ask clarifying questions, do I feel like I'm being punished for "pushing back" when I DO ask them?

I don't understand what's happening, and I wish I could figure it out.  No one likes someone who can't do anything but complain, and I'm afraid I'm turning into a constant complainer.  I feel somehow guilty for feeling like this, but I don't know how to fix it.  I'm praying that I'll find things to be happy about, and that I'll be able to be consistently cheerful and kind no matter what is dumped on me.  It's exhausting, though, and I hope I can figure all of this out soon.  The light at the end of this tunnel is very, very dim right now.

Adoration

Speaking of things that hit you sideways, Campbell got married a few months ago.  We'd been good friends for a few years, and then early last year he kind of fell off the planet.  He was there for me when my engagement broke up, and I was there for him when the same thing happened to him.  I always felt safe with him, safe and appreciated, so it was hard when I realized we were never going to get married.  I still wonder why, but I got some clarity talking to his cousin this past spring.  The conversation started out awkwardly but eased up as we went along; she was concerned about how I was taking the news of his engagement and I felt I could trust her, so I told her it had been a little difficult.  She said that she and her husband had wondered why Campbell had never dated me; apparently, he talked about me all the time.  In her words, he adored me.  Why, then, didn't he choose me? 

 

My silent, agonizing question was answered as his cousin went on about his fiancee:  she needed to be rescued.  Campbell's fiancee had been married before, to an abusive and manipulative man, and she needed to be rescued from that trauma.  One thing I know for sure about Campbell is that he would NEVER hurt a woman.  He is incredibly protective--protective to the point of doing violence to another person.  When he found out more details about what my ex-fiance had done, he told me that he was willing to break my ex's nose if he started bothering me again.  Another time, we were talking and when another man walked past and gave me a leer that I didn't notice, Campbell put his arm around me and glared at the guy until he stopped looking at me.  I'm not the biggest fan of violence, but it is nice to feel protected when you're with someone.

 

Campbell needs to be the hero, and Mrs. Campbell needed a hero.  I'm glad she found such a good one.  I don't need anyone to rescue me from a bad situation anymore (although it would be nice if someone out there had an extra $200K to give us), but I really want to be adored by someone.  Adored enough that he wants to be with me and no one else.  Thanks to Campbell, at least I know I'm worthy of that kind of love, loyalty, and respect.

So much unsaid

The last time I wrote a post for this blog was the first week of December. I wrote about how I'd really love to just tell someone flat out how inappropriate her asking me every month if I was pregnant was.

The ironic thing, I was actually pregnant at the time. I was five weeks six days pregnant. Miraculously our first round of IVF had worked. We would see our baby's heart beat for the first time two days later. And in two weeks I would have a D&C because our baby had died at seven weeks three days, one week before Christmas, one week before we had planned to surprise our families with the wonderful news we'd been gleefully keeping secret since Thanksgiving.

Two months later, a month ago Saturday, our second round of IVF would also miscarry.

Part of me wants to scream it all from the roof tops. Women need to know they are not alone with infertility. People need to understand why it is I won't go to that activity or can't do them that favor right now. I'm barely keeping my head above water most days, and the other days I'm only not drowning because my husband is holding me above water.

And the other part of me does not want to deal with the constant pity and questions and platitudes that don't do any good and often times actually hurt.

The two things I want right now are to be pregnant with a baby I'll get to wrap in a quilt and finish my dissertation proposal (in that order). But I'd settle for insurance coverage that covers more than just two IVF tries in your lifetime.

This was so not the post I planned to write today. Which means either you needed to read it or I needed to write it. I promise my next one will be happier.

What I'd really love to say.

The last time you asked me if I was pregnant I replied by pointing out that you certainly seemed interested in my sex life. Which you denied. However I pointed out that if you were asking about a pregnancy you were in fact asking about my sex life.

I thought that would be the end of it and you would realize questions like that are not appropriate.

And then last night you asked me if I wanted to hold a new baby to see if he would "rub off" on me. Apparently you have not learned. You probably think you're cute and innocent.

You are not.

The decisions of when and how many children to have is between the husband, wife, and God. It is a private, personal, sacred decision.

When to have a child and how many children to have are private decisions to be made between a husband and wife and the Lord. These are sacred decisions—decisions that should be made with sincere prayer and acted on with great faith.
Elder Neil L. Andersen, "Children," October 2011 General Conference

Your cute comments and questions are actually highly inappropriate. You have no idea what you are talking about. And it is because of your comments and questions that I will never confide any of my struggles to you.

Difficult Weekend

While my entire immediate family, except me, gathered together with my brother, my brother's wife, and my brother's wife's entire immediately family for a Thanksgiving meal back in The Homeland, I sat with some friends I've known for less than six months. Well, two friends I've known for less than six months, one of their girlfriends who I just met last week, and some family of hers I still am unclear of her relation to (besides the one that is her mother). Yet another year as a Thanksgiving orphan.

While I'm incredibly grateful I didn't have to resort to ordering Chinese and eating alone, I really wanted to spend Thanksgiving with friends or family I've known for longer than that. Maybe next year I will.

Unfortunately, the rest of the weekend has spiraled downwards for me. I've spent time with other friends, relaxed, tried to be productive, attended the temple, and reflected on my blessings. It was a fairly typical weekend. Last night, however, just I was about to go to bed, I was hit with a sudden and intense loneliness worse than I've felt in quite some time. I missed my family, I missed having someone to hold/be held by, and I was angry at all the men who have taken me for granted, hurt me, and let me go.

Unsurprisingly, I didn't sleep very well. We all have our own brand of loneliness - mine comes from living thousands of miles from my parents and siblings and grandparents and the family dog, hundreds of miles from aunts and uncles - alone in my own apartment, which I love most of the time. I have friends, close friends for sure, but no default, always there needs me as much as I need them kind of friend. It's just me against the world right now and there's a lot on my plate that I'm trying to face on my own right now.

And it's hard.

It's so hard that when I reached into my fridge tonight for some vegetables, I got so overwhelmed that I had to close my refrigerator door, sit down on my dirty kitchen floor (dirty because I haven't had time to clean it and certainly no one else will be doing it), and just breathe on the verge of tears for a couple of minutes. It didn't last long, but it was a low moment.

Maybe it's the hormones combined with the holiday (yay menstruation!). Maybe it's just that I'm really stressed with my professional life right now. Maybe I'm just lonely.

Thank you for reading this far. Posts like this are what this blog is about after all - the secret thoughts of the frustratingly single. I'll get through this. I always do. In the meantime, I'm going to try and get some sleep. I just hope my subconscious wants to play nice tonight.

Who does she think she is?

I wasn't planning on discussing Sk8er Boi here again, but that was before he announced on Facebook that he's in a relationship now. Not only did they go "Facebook public", but he actually posted about how it might upset people because he said he wasn't going to date anyone for awhile but he is and he cares about her.

I actually think he was talking to me.

And guess what? I was a little upset. Less than two months after he ended things with me because he wasn't ready to be in any relationship, he has an official girlfriend and they went Facebook public, which I never quite was and we never did.

I guess it was me after all.

I spent most of Friday really mad. At him. At myself, since I was mad that this still made me so mad. And, as always, at the situation. Why does she get to be his girlfriend when we could never make it that far? Why would he let an accomplished, intelligent me go in favor of whoever this girl thinks she is? Why am I judging someone I don't even know? (She came into his life during our relationship, but we never actually met.) When is it my turn?

RAWR.

I felt better on Saturday, and I've felt even better today. This development in his life changes nothing in mine. I have no reason to believe he was lying to me at any point, so I guess he really didn't think he was ready. They're a better match anyway, since we were so unlikely. He did care about me then. Eventually I'll get over the fact that he's sharing intimate things with someone new, and eventually I'll get to have some of my own intimate moments again. As I said then, it really did come down to bad timing and an unlikely match. One day I'll get those right.

In the meantime, I had a nice little chat, in person, with a new crush today. We met a few weeks ago, and even though we hadn't seen each other in almost two weeks he randomly added me on Facebook last night. He must have been thinking about me . . .

Disappointed

I was able to spend my evening in the temple after a day of (bits of) reorganizing and dejunking and I felt SO GREAT after I was done in the temple, and then I went to the store and was hit with a wave of disappointment. I'm not entirely sure what set it off, but I know part of it had to do with the sudden awareness that someone avoided me and I don't know why he did. He flashed past my peripheral vision on his way to the check-out and by the time I realized he'd walked right past without even a nod, he was gone. He also isn't following my Twitter feed anymore, which just added to the disappointment. I'm fully aware that sometimes I whine and complain on Twitter--it's a defense mechanism, I guess, so I don't take it out on people within a physical radius--but I've tried really hard to be positive or at least funny. Maybe I'm not positive or funny enough, but then I saw a group of friends at a wedding reception last night who kept telling me how positive and funny I was. Go figure.

As I ate my very late dinner of peanut butter toast and a glass of milk, I got to thinking about other recent disappointments:

David tells me how great I am, asks when I'm going to visit him, consults me on his house remodel, says if he had a million dollars he'd buy me a new car, tells me I'm pretty. . .and then vents about how he can't find anyone pretty/smart/faithful enough to marry.

Campbell hasn't talked to me in more than 3 months and I don't know what I did to earn his repulsion. The last time he talked to me, he mentioned how he hadn't been able to find anyone to interest him so he was resorting to an online dating profile--keep in mind he said all this while showing me pictures of his family and sitting right next to me on my couch and complimenting my outfit and remembering conversations we had months ago and winking at me occasionally. What gives?!

The General obviously thinks I'm too old for him, even though we're barely a year apart. I saw him this week, too, and he updated me on his life after giving me a great big hug, but I know he's more interested in chasing 20-year-olds (and acting like one) than in someone who can meet him intellectually.

Ken has known me for almost 20 years and is one of the funniest and sweetest people I know, and on the rare occasions we actually see each other, we seem to get along pretty well and have a variety of mutual interests. There's probably potential for something at some point (I know that could be the case with a lot of people), but we live 40 miles apart and I'm not nearly as athletic as the girls he probably wants to date.

Super Girl seems to change her personality to exactly match whoever she's dating, and this time is no exception. It's bad enough that I'm worried I won't even be able to talk to her again without feeling like I'm being judged for everything from what I eat to the books I read. She's a strong, independent woman who has done SO much to improve her life that it kills me to see her subsume so much of herself just because she's seeing someone new. I feel like I've lost the close friend I had a couple of years ago, and I don't know if it's even worth fixing now.

Diane moved back to the state to live with her parents and transfer to another job, and I am almost emotionally exhausted just thinking about her living in the same city as me again. Needless to say, I am ignoring any attempts on her part to renew a relationship of any kind. Just because you forgive someone doesn't mean you have to let that person back into your life, right?

So, I am having one of those rare "why aren't I good enough" nights. I feel exactly good enough in the temple, exactly good enough around a few people, but there are times I wonder what in the world is wrong with me--am I not friendly enough? Don't I laugh enough? Do I have hobbies that are too weird? Is it a turn-off that I love cats and babies? Should I make more of an effort to wear mascara every day? Am I too smart or opinionated? Am I too much of a homebody? Am I just too old?

Sometimes I honestly don't understand what part of me is so horrifying that no one wants to spend any time with me.

Why I'm NOT a mom

Unexplained.

That's the one word answer to why.

After trying for a year on our own we were officially labeled "infertile" by the medical community. I'm never one for labels, but that one really hurt. And I've shed several tears about it.

Since the beginning of 2011 I've averaged one doctor appointment a week. Sometimes I get a week off but that generally just means two the following week. Try working your schedule around that. Every week someone is poking something into me - needles, speculums, ultrasound wands. I've actually mastered the art of peeing in a cup now too.

And after all that the answer came back - unexplained. Both of us work great. But for some unexplained reason we just aren't working together.

Every prayer I offer is a plea for guidance, understanding, and peace, as well as children. I've spent nights wondering if I'm not worthy to be a mom, which I know is crazy. I've cried that I can't fulfill the commandment to "multiply and replenish the earth and have joy therein." I feel broken. Even though medically speaking I'm not.

We have told a few people what we are going through, but that number is extremely small. The last thing I need is bad advice ("just relax and it will happen", "just stop trying and it will happen"). The last thing I need is everyone asking how things are going. A few people who need to understand my schedule a bit know just that I have some health issues we're working on.

I've lost my innocence about the miracle of birth. It's no longer something that my husband and I do together. It's something that's going to involve medical equipment and sterile things and more poking. The odds of us finding out we're expecting in the quiet of the morning (with my new found peeing in a cup talents) and being able to be the only people who know and revel in that miracle for a while are pretty much zero at this point. Now it'll be more poking, a blood draw, and a phone call.

We've lost a lot so far. I'm just holding on and hoping I don't lose my faith.

And that's why I'm not a mom.

Found dead at home

Every so often you'll see a news story about an old person who was found dead in their house, several weeks after they died. Those stories always shake me. That someone could go that long before they are found. Because you automatically wonder how long you'd be dead before somebody found you. When I lived alone, it honestly could've been weeks. And that's just sad and scary.

While there was no news story about it, that is what happened recently to a man I knew. He lived alone. He'd never been married. And one night he fell and hit his head. They said he died instantly. But it wasn't until almost three weeks later that a family member found him. I take comfort in knowing that at least he wasn't alone and injured that whole time.

The internet is an interesting place. As this news spread among all those of us who knew him, it was very strange for me to see the responses.

This man often gave me the creeps. He was often inappropriate around me. He made me feel uncomfortable in my own home and so I asked the bishop for him to not be my home teacher any more. He kept giving me advice on what I needed to be doing to get married, which seemed a bit odd since he'd never been married himself.

But to others he was memorable for different, better reasons and he was their family's favorite home teacher.

It's strange that one person can be the source of two very different reactions. It made me wonder if I'd missed something about getting to know him. I am glad he will be remembered so positively by others.

That void next to you

I recently read this line on another blog where they were writing a letter to their future husband:

I miss you and I may not even have met you yet. Is that weird?

I can relate. There were times for several years before things really got going with HP and me, even before we met, where I missed him. The best way I could describe it was like there was a void next to me, a big hole where he belonged.

I'd feel it in the passenger seat next to me when I was driving and it was as if I could reach my hand over and grab his. In fact, I often did reach my hand over into the seat and just make a fist as if I were holding something. I thought that perhaps I could reach into the void and whoever it was that was supposed to be there would feel me reaching.

I felt it at church from time to time. There was someone who was supposed to be sitting next to me. And I made sure I put my books on the other side of me from the void to leave room for him when he arrived.

A few months before HP proposed to me, I stopped feeling that void. It had been filled.

Have you ever read Shel Silverstein's "The Missing Piece"? Finding your missing piece, filling your void, can be quite the adventure. And the end is almost always unexpected.

My Dope Box

Relationships are a lot like recreational drugs. They both make you feel good, make you forget the outside world, and help you not be alone during the bad times.

Consequently, coming off them is also very similar.

For example, it's a week, a month, or even a year since your breakup. You think of something that you know your ex would appreciate and you pick up the phone to call them, only to remember that you can't. Because you broke up, and, for whatever reason, are not on speaking terms.

It sucks.

Sometimes the craving to call them is so bad, you have to call someone else, anyone else, just to get it out of your system.

Just like drug withdrawals. Instead, they are person withdrawals. Your brain is still programmed to want to share your life with that person, and it's hard to resist doing so.

Fortunately, just like drug withdrawals, it gets easier over time. You find comfort in other things and people, hopefully healthier outlets, and the desire to call that ex dulls, and the pain of not being about to do so eases. Every once in a while, you might still get a craving, but they pass quickly. Of course, it's hard to remember in the heat of a particularly poignant craving, but it really does get better.

Another similarity is the dope box. For a recovering drug addict, their dope box might include a marijuana pipe, a joint roller, a syringe, or whatever paraphernalia their particular addiction required.

My dope box is a little cedar box that contains a year's worth of love notes, and probably should contain a certain pair of earrings. Of all the things I've collected from boyfriends past, these are the things that are just too personal to actually use or display. I do have some gifts for boyfriends past that I have out or use, like some jewelry, a book, a glass sculpture, and they often do remind me of the ones who gave them to me, but not like the notes or that pair of earrings do.

And I just can't bring myself to get rid of it.

Like a successfully recovering addict, I have no intention of doing anything with the items in my dope box. Every once in awhile, I might see it and read an old note or two, but I mostly keep it tucked away, with a mental note of sentimental value and a reminder of how far I've come since then.

I miss the writer of those notes sometimes, but I don't crave him anymore. In fact, since the writer leaving on a mission was the reason we broke up, I was prepared in advance for the relationship's end, which could be likened to a nicotine patch or a step down program, if I were to keep making the metaphors.

Incidentally (meaning I was planning this post before I found out), the ex I was most addicted to just got engaged, and I'm feeling rather unsettled about it. I don't want him back and I don't usually crave him specifically anymore, but it's still weird. It also means that all of my ex-boyfriends are engaged or married, leaving no one in the same single predicament I'm in. That probably deserves a post on its own. Also, sadly, the version of this ex that I know wasn't ready for a temple wedding, and hearing that he's getting married in the temple, I don't really believe he's ready, even though enough time has past that he could be.

You can, honestly, be addicted to anything - food, drugs, sex - anything that stimulates the pleasure center of your brain. As always, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem.

I'm home!

This. This is the absolute worst part about being single. I didn't have roommates after college (long story, perhaps I'll share), but I can't imagine them being much better because they all have their own lives.

I hated having something exciting to share and not having anyone to turn to. I hated having a bad day and not having anyone that would notice and give me a hug.

Someone go hug Snoopy. Someone go be excited that he's home.

It wasn't my fault

There is in the news right now the sad story of a young woman who went for a run in a park and instead was raped and murdered.

Elsewhere someone said that this happened because she went running by herself.

Did you catch that? She was raped and murdered because she did something.

Things like that get said frequently in our society and few people ever think of what it really means. It's blaming the victim. It's taking total control and responsibility away from the evil man that did that. It's a symptom of the idea that men are merely sex animals who can't control their urges and so it's up to women to stop them and if the man isn't stopped then it is somehow the woman's fault. It's saying that men have no control, no choice in the matter as to how they act. Do you see how wrong that is?!? Do you see how degrading that is to men?

And yet it is such an underlying belief in our society that rape, assault, and molestation are rarely reported because the woman believes she's to blame. That what happened to her was somehow her fault. If she hadn't worn that outfit, or been in that place, or smiled at that guy, then none of this would've happened to her. Yes, we can avoid dangerous places, but dangerous people don't confine themselves to well labeled places. And no means no. The words coming out of a person's mouth should mean more than the shirt they are wearing.

We are all responsible for our individual actions, including the bad people who do bad things. They have responsibility for their lives just as I have responsibility for my own (and my own is plenty enough responsibility for me without worrying about the lives of everyone around me).

I am a runner. And I will continue to run and enjoy it. And my heart and prayers will go out to those parents right now.

And what happened to me all those years ago. It wasn't my fault. I didn't make him do that. It wasn't my fault.

My life is not my own

A young man died in a cave in Utah recently. Those kinds of stories are always sad for me. A young life cut short. But it was the line that started, "He is survived by..." in the news article that really got to me. Aside from parents, siblings, and friends, he left behind a pregnant wife and a small daughter.

I almost teared up reading that sentence.

Before getting married, my life was mine. I could set my schedule. I decided where I went. I decided what my goals were and how I pursued them. And if I were to die I would leave behind friends and family, but it would not greatly changed the identity of anyone. My parents would still be parents. My siblings would still be siblings.

But that's all changed now. I still set my schedule, I just make sure someone knows about it now. I'm still me, but there's someone who it effects now. And now, if I were to die, HP would not just lose a friend, he'd lose his wife and he'd be a widower. He'd have a whole new label to who he is.

Whenever I have heard stories like this young man in the cave before, I always felt that I've spent enough of my life alone already, I should be able to get to spend a lot of time not being alone now. I don't want to tell someone what they should do with their life, but there's a part of me that breathes a sigh of relief when he tells me he thinks his scuba and sky diving days are over.

Not giving up!

(I'm a little unfocused because of fatigue and sitting at a desk for the last 9 hours, so bear with me. I also plan to write more extensively about my feelings on this in another blog.)

I recently had a conversation with my dear friend David about his friend (and my former friend), Diane. He said it appears as if Diane has a boyfriend, but he's worried because this boyfriend also appears to be non-LDS. I know in some other faiths, it isn't a big deal to date or marry someone outside your belief system, but for us, it is. We believe that in order to be married eternally, in order to keep all our covenants, we need to marry someone strong in our faith and be sealed in the temple. The covenants you make in the temple are important and sacred, and not to be treated lightly, not even when it comes to romance.

What struck me about David's story is that Diane might be giving up. She might have convinced herself that no good LDS man is going to want her, so she might as well go with the guy who does. Now, if this all works out, that's great...I think. I may no longer be friends with her, but I don't want her to give up her goals and ideals just to be kissed by some guy! I don't want her to give up eternal marriage for a relationship that might not take her there! I want to shake her (and the other women like her) and say "don't you understand that it's not worth it?!"

I know there are times when this all works, when a couple from different backgrounds and faiths can live happily ever after without any pressure to join or leave a religion or confusion about what belief system their children will follow, but it doesn't always happen that way. I don't want her to get married, thinking she can convert someone, spending all her time and energy trying to change the mind of someone who isn't interested, or who is just using her, or who just married her to have sex. I've seen that happen with family and friends--over and over again, it ends in a bitter divorce that causes serious damage to self-esteem and confidence. I don't want that for her. I don't want her to give up.

Look. The only kiss I've had for the last 3 years was a stage kiss with a man 12 years younger than me. So what? It's just kissing. It's not the end of the world.

Quite frankly, kissing (sex, marriage, whatever) is not worth giving up my covenants and giving up on Heavenly Father's promises.

I will not compromise.

Lacking a Default

Most people have a default person - the one person they can just about always count on to be there when they want to hang out, talk, go to an event, or just watch tv. This doesn't mean that they do everything together, just that there is always someone around they can be with if they so choose. Usually, the feeling is mutual. Each person is the other person's default. It can be their best friend, a roommate, or a family member. The luckiest among us are those whose default is their significant other.

For example, for Roxie, it's HP. For my brother, it's his best friend. Trixie may not have just one default, but she lives in close proximity to her family and other friends she has known and loved for years. Roxie, Trixie, and I all have each other, but mostly just for talking. Meredith Grey and Christina Yang.

In the past, I've had a default. For a period of time after I graduated from high school, I was either in a relationship or had Trixie. Or both. Or Trixie and a male best friend. I almost always had someone with whom I could spend time, and they wanted to spend time with me and we'd make lots of time for each other. No matter what, I always knew someone was there, and even if my usual default weren't, I lived rather close to my family and other good friends (like Roxie!).

Except now. I moved far, far away from anyone I've ever known, and even though I've been in this new city for nigh on four years, I still don't have anyone like that. No one here has been there consistently enough to be considered my default yet.

It's ridiculously hard. I do have friends and it's not like I never spend time with anyone else, but there is no one person I can always, always count on.

I try. I do. I make time for people. I go out and get to know them. I invite friends out and they invite me, and a week in which I never see or speak to my local friends is fairly rare. It's just not the same friend or even group of friends, not for long.

And besides just being patient and knowing that something will give sooner or later and that I'm not really alone, I don't know what else I can do. I am grateful for the time I do have with others, and I try to make the most of it.

I very definitely need my me time and I'm usually comfortable with how much time I spend alone, but the times I really want to spend time with someone else, I wish I knew who I could always call.

Feeling Out of Place

I have been a member of a family ward since fall 2005 when my singles ward was discontinued due to dwindling membership--apparently, most of the ward members had moved to college wards and the 57 of us left were pretty well permanently settled. Some people found the adjustment very difficult because it is hard to go from a ward where so many of your peers are actually your peers and are going through similar things, to a ward where you may be one of the only (if not the youngest) single members. It's easy to feel out of place after so long in one situation.

I was one of the lucky (optmistic?) few who was looking forward to the change. It's fun to be with young single adults, but it's also fun to be with families and retired couples and teenagers and babies. I had had enough of singles wards; while the change itself came quickly, I was ready for it and transfered my records back to the ward I grew up in and in whose boundaries I still lived.

It's been great for the last four years. It really has. I've had the opportunity to serve in wonderful and varied ways. I had a wonderful bishop who gave excellent advice when I was engaged. I had a safety net when the engagement fell apart. I've been able to interact with my former Primary and Young Women teachers as an adult on (nearly) equal footing. I've held babies, played pianos, sung in the choir, congratulated teenagers on graduation, and played the organ for funerals. I've loved nearly every moment of it.

However, I realized last weekend at a Halloween party that even though I enjoy my ward and the people in it, I still don't quite fit in. Not quite. I'm not just off my mission, I've never had children, I'm not a widow, I'm not divorced, I'm not married, I'm not engaged. I am single, working, making plans for the future, and, according to some, have all the time in the world to play. I can participate in quilt groups and Primary programs and Sunday school classes all I want, but I still won't quite fit in. While I'm 90% just fine with that, there is a little part of me that longs for a movie buddy who doesn't have to find a sitter. I would love to be in Sunday school and not hear the teacher talk about her relief that her daughter is getting married before she turns 30, as if we're in "Logan's Run" or something. I would like to never have to answer the question "so, are you dating anyone?" again. It's hard to let things slide with a joke or a clever remark, but I do it over and over again. I'll keep doing it because it's the only way I have to get through the harder times, and because it's much more polite than saying, "will you leave me alone about it?! Worry about your own life!" or "no, I don't party all night or run around all day. I'm a responsible member of society and an adult despite my single status."

Honestly, there are Sundays I'd rather stay home than go, but then I remember that it's the doctrine that I love, the Savior, my Heavenly Father, how I feel when I take the Sacrament, the peace the Holy Ghost brings...all those things are more important than some of the strange attitudes I've encountered.

Still, it will be nice when I have a family of my own--although I'll still feel a little out of place because I won't be a young mother having children at 22. :)

October is always hard.

Sometimes, even though I know I should have gone to bed well over an hour ago, I stay up trying to put off the inevitable turning of the Earth toward a new day, just because I know that the next two weeks are going to be very hard.

I know I'm going to pay for this later, because my body doesn't enjoy getting less than 8 hours of sleep (I know exactly how spoiled I am that I have the luxury of that much sleep...), but I can't seem to help it:

My brother and his family are moving several states away before Halloween and I don't want to think about it because it's so sad. He has to go where the work is, and the work just isn't here. I hope they come back someday--it's tearing me apart that I won't get to see them and their precious children every two days. I'm so glad I know that we ARE an eternal family no matter what distance this Earthly life puts between us!