the december challenge

Opa Gangnam Style

http://www.jibjab.com/view/2ejmDtDYQ4OCwY9sLSkWqA

How I feel right now.

Yep. This is exactly how I feel about boarding a plane in 2 days to go home. Can't I just stay in Utah? I don't want to go back to the drama, isolation and busy work. 

UGH. 

the road less traveled

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

And be one traveler, long I stood

And looked down one as far as I could

To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,

And having perhaps the better claim

Because it was grassy and wanted wear,

Though as for that the passing there

Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay

In leaves no step had trodden black.

Oh, I marked the first for another day!

Yet knowing how way leads on to way

I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I,

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference. 

Robert Frost

We all come to times in our lives when the path we are on splits into two possible decisions. Go left and  a series of events unfolds. Go right and a completely different reality is at hand. It's scary when we arrive at these moments in our lives. This is where I find myself today. 

I've always hated change. I hate uncertainty and trying new things. I hate being forced to make a choice when I can't completely weigh all my options. I hate that feeling of regret that creeps into my stomach and my mind and tells me that no matter what decision I choose, it will ultimately be the wrong one. I hate not being able to turn to anyone for advice because everyone has their own opinion and bias on what I should or should not do with my life. But what is my opinion? How do I figure that out?

So what's the decision that is plaguing me this time? The decision of where to go to here. What path do I walk down this time? 3 years ago I made a choice. I was sick of this town I had grown up in. I was sick of feeling caged and held back by all of the familiar settings that had molded me into a shy, introverted hermit. I was 21 years old and I knew names, but not people. Faces, but not the stories behind them. I wanted to not just say I was alive and young, but actually feel it. Finally, this feeling boiled over inside of me and I found myself on my school's website applying for admission. I can see myself sitting in my living room figuring out the admission process when my mom came down the stairs and asked me what I was doing. When I told her I think she was surprised, and maybe a little sad. She sat there with me though and walked me through the process. She didn't let her opinions or fears or feelings hold me back. She just helped. That's one of the things I miss most about her. Her selfless desire to help me at any cost. 

Weeks passed and I got the acceptance letter in the mail. This was happening. The girl who had been afraid to sleep over at people's houses was going to move across the United States without her family to a place where she knew no one. It was terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time. My life had been painful to this point. I was bullied mercilessly in school and it had beaten me to the point of self doubt. I was afraid of everything. I was afraid of people. I questioned everyone and everything. I still do. But this decision at the time I was certain about. I could move across the country and recreate myself. I could start over. I didn't have to be afraid of my own shadow and everyone else's anymore. I could be me...whoever that was.

It came time for me to pack. I remember going through my clothes with my mom and trying on almost every outfit in my closet. My mom would sit back and tell me how things looked and we just talked. I knew she was sad I was leaving. It didn't sway me though. I get angry at myself now looking back at those moments because, although I was unaware about what events would unfold in the next couple years, I was selfish. Mom helped me pack my car and soon my dad and I were on the road. All I could think about was that my life was finally beginning after 21 years.

Dad and I arrived in Boston 5 days later. I remember coming over that bridge on Memorial Drive in Cambridge and seeing the skyline for the first time. It was new, even though it was old and it was beautiful, even though it was a little rough around the edges. I felt at home. Mom flew to Boston and met Dad and I at the hotel. I can close my eyes and still see Mom standing at the drop off by the front doors of the hotel when we came around the corner. I was so happy to see her. I needed her.  

The days that followed found Mom and I driving to the school that I had blindly applied to and setting up my dorm room. Sometimes when I drive up the windy road leading to school I think about my mom and I being in the car together and seeing that sign for the first time. I remember the excitement. I can still see mom and I parking the car at the top of the steps in front of the dorm and carrying my stuff inside while mom unpacked it for me. I remember it like it was yesterday.

I was fine until some of the first ice breaker activities started to happen. I found myself falling back into my same patterns. I was scared to put myself out there and talk to these strangers that I didn't know. Old habits die hard I guess. I remember going back to my new room (that looked like a prison cell) and crying. The next morning I drove back to my parents hotel. I can still see myself standing on the balcony outside our room convinced that I hated it in Boston and I wanted to go home. Dad was ready to pack the car up and start our journey back. Mom on the other hand, as always, was my voice of reason. Mom took me aside on the balcony, out of earshot of my dad, and told me I should probably give it more of a chance. She told me that if I really wanted to go home, she would be elated and they would pack the car and we'd go, but she didn't want me living with regrets. She didn't want me getting home and realizing I didn't try hard enough and always wondering what it would have been like if I had stayed. (Mom if you can see me writing this now, know that I love you and you're the only reason I took that step).

I decided to stay. I remember hugging my parents in the car garage at the hotel for the last time and driving away. As I was driving out of the garage I can remember looking up to where our room was and seeing them standing out on the balcony and waving at me and my mom blowing me a kiss. And so my journey began. 

My first year in Boston was amazing. I met some incredible people. I did amazing things. Went places and traveled around the east coast. It was a dream. I was living a fairytale. I made friends. People liked me for me. It was something I had rarely felt in my whole life. I wanted more. At the end of the year I didn't think I was going to be able to go back to Boston. My heart hurt. I didn't want to have to say goodbye to all the people who had finally accepted me for who I was. I had finally started to learn my place in this world and now I was being ripped away. It didn't seem fair. What I didn't realize at the time is that everything happens for a reason...and God has a plan. 

A month after getting home my mom was diagnosed with Diabetes. It was a complete life change for her, but she knew that she needed to take better care of herself so she started taking measures to switch up her diet and the activity in her life. Around late July I made the decision that I had to go back to Hellenic. I had to continue my journey that I was on to self discovery and happiness. My journey wasn't complete. Then complete disaster struck. 

August 4. 2010- Mom was diagnosed with cancer. Our family doctor wasn't 100% sure that the mass that showed in the ctscan was cancer, but most times when there is a mass in the pancreas, it is. Right then and there I knew I wasn't going back to Hellenic. My mom's health was WAY more important to me. She had been my rock, my support, my guiding light my whole life and now she needed me. I was not going to desert her. Many months of surgery, recovery, chemo, radiation, and ups and downs later, mom was determined to be cancer free in April 2011!!! We were all so excited. She went back to work, and life seemed to carry on as it had before she had been diagnosed. It seemed the nightmare was over. 

Then I fell apart. My whole purpose for months had been taking care of my mom, and now, I had lost my purpose. I started to get headaches every day at a certain time that made me feel like I was going to lose consciousness. I stopped being able to drive cause I would get too dizzy. I barely left the house, or got out of bed. It was the scariest thing that has ever afflicted me. I was in a tunnel and I couldn't get out. Mom finally took me to her doctor. I was diagnosed with severe anxiety disorder. The doctor gave me medication to help with the anxiety. 

The first day I took the medication I have never been more sick in my whole life. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I was nauseous beyond belief. I couldn't see straight. I was hot then cold then both at the same time. I thought I was dying. The next day it was a little better, but then something came over me. What was I doing? I didn't want to be a slave to a pill for the rest of my life. I wasn't doing this anymore. I made the decision right then and there that I was not going to take the medication anymore. I stopped the next day.

I don't know if the pill changed my brain chemistry for a bit after that or what happened but I had really strange thoughts and dreams for a while. I was in a dark place and I had to fight my way out. I went back to Boston in May to visit my friends and it all came clear what I needed to do. I needed to finish my journey. That's where I would find happiness. Mom was better. This was my time. In August 2011 I made the trip back to Boston for school. I was so happy. This is where I was meant to be. Then the beginning of October my mom called with bad news...the cancer was back. I cried in my room for hours. This was a nightmare. I needed to go home. I couldn't leave her. But she wanted me to stay in Boston. 

She came and visited me for my birthday as she was going through chemo and she was so sick. But she fought through it to make me happy. I can't go into details cause I'm still in denial and I haven't accepted or faced a lot of my memories, but that time I shared with my mom in Boston I will never forget. It was a memorable trip for a lot of reasons. It was a changing time of my life. A friendship I had was beginning to blossom into something more and my mom's approval to take the friendship to the next level was asked.

The relationship happened. It was through that relationship that I was able to cope with the next months of my life. It was through that person that I was able to not fall apart. Regardless of where life takes me I will always be thankful for that person and what he did for me. I needed him. When my mom passed away on April 28, 2012 my life screeched to a halt. Everything changed and I didn't realize it at the time. 

I think I went into shock. I went into auto pilot and was just going through the motions of life. Summer came and went and it was time to go back to Boston again. By the end of the summer I didn't want to leave Utah. I had people who I had counted on who I knew were looking forward to seeing me. I couldn't let them down. When I got to Boston something just didn't feel the same. I felt out of place. I felt like I didn't belong. I felt old. 

I missed my friends and family in Utah. Eventually a month after school started my relationship ended. Unfortunately friends who I thought I had left with the relationship as well. I was alone. I had a few good friends who stuck by my side, but even the person who had gotten me through everything would barely give me a hello back when I said hi. Things ended on good terms. Why was this happening? 

So now, as I sit in my bedroom at home and think about going back to Boston on Wednesday, I just don't want to. I have to and I will....but I don't want to. I feel like Boston served a purpose for me. Boston was part of God's plan. He knew I needed support in my life for what was to come. He knew I needed to find myself and I did. I feel like Boston's purpose has been served and I need to move on. I can live knowing my mom was proud of me for making the decision I did. She told me she was happy I discovered who I was and got beyond my comfort zone. 

But now, I don't know what to do. I'm holding on to strands of memories of what Boston once was for me, but it will never be that again. I'm living in a world of shadows that dance around me everyday. It's not fair. Where do I go from here?

find your fellow bloggers...

I ran across this blog today: Coast to Coast. I started to read through the blog posts and one of them was finding fellow bloggers in your area. If you go to the link you can input your info for your blog and then find other bloggers. Pretty cool! :)

the fats of life...

Yes. I said "fats" of life. You ever promised yourself you'd never do something, only to discover you've done the exact thing that you promised you never would? If you answered yes to that question then you know exactly how I'm feeling right now. About 3 years ago I started a weight loss journey. I hate putting it that way because it romanticizes something that is nothing short of blood, sweat and tears...all three of which I experienced. During my "journey" (ugh!) I lost about 35 pounds. That wasn't my ultimate goal, but man was I proud of myself. I promised myself I would never gain those 35 pounds back ever again. I looked good. I felt amazing and I started to regain confidence that had been lost over a lot of years of eating my feelings and stress.

Speaking of eating my stress..I've had a lot of stress lately. Needless to say, a lot of late night trips to the drive thru, larger than necessary meals and more meals than necessary later...and well...hello again 35 pounds. I'm so upset with myself. I'm upset for a lot of reasons. First of all, I'm upset that I broke that promise to myself. I'm angry that I'm using my stress as an excuse to eat more than I need. I'm disappointed that I look in the mirror and I don't like how I look anymore. I feel stupid that with my family history of cancer, diabetes, asthma, alzheimer's, parkinson's, high blood pressure, and heart disease that I don't take better care of myself.

It changes now. I'm not in a place where I feel comfortable posting what my starting weight is. I know that some may say that's a sign that I'm not really committed to this weight loss jour....this goal I have, but I know I'm committed. Maybe when I'm down to my goal weight I'll tell you what my starting weight was...but as for now..I'm living this reality and I don't want to be more self conscious than I already am. I'm going to post updates every two weeks to keep accountability for my actions and to give myself enough time to actually see some results.

I don't want to lose weight just to look good, although don't get me wrong, that's definitely a big motivator. I want to lose weight to be healthy, to lower my risk of the cancer that took my mom's life. I want to start a new way of life where I would rather eat a salad than a Whopper with cheese. I can do this.

September 2010             December 2012

i guess...

I guess I was expecting you to be here. I guess I was expecting to come down the escalator at the airport and see you standing there waiting for me with Dad like you always used to. I guess I thought I'd walk into the house and smell your perfume and see you sitting on the living room couch with Olive and hurry and stand up and walk over to me and give me the longest best hug that only you could give.

I guess I thought that it was a nightmare and that coming home would change everything. I guess I thought that we would wait for dad to go to bed and go downstairs and talk and watch tv and both fall asleep on the couches in the basement. I guess I thought you'd be here for me to ask for help.

I guess I don't understand how after almost 7 months I still don't believe your gone. As I'm sitting here I still expect to hear the living room tv on and hear the pages of the newspaper rattling downstairs. I half expect to smell the eggs and potatoes that you would make on the weekends and hear toast popping out of the toaster. I still look to hear the door opening and you calling Olive to go outside. It's the simple things I miss and their absence kills me.

I don't like this new reality...and I guess I'm never going to like it, or get used to it.

I'm on a plane!

So today I'm traveling home. Yes. Right now as I type I am sitting on a plane using onboard wifi. Technology fascinates me! Here's another random fact about me...I'm the world's worst traveler. I always overpack. I always end up getting to the airport super late. I always end up getting the worst seat. On top of that I'm afraid of flying. An airplane through my eyes is not a device that allows you to travel home, but rather a death capsule flying through the sky. I'm nothing if not a pessimist. (There's a reason Nathaniel Hawthorne and Emily Dickinson are two of my favorite authors). So many new facts about me you are learning.

I can't help but feel that way. When I was 8 and on the way back home from a trip to Disneyland the plane I was on with my mom and dad almost crashed. I'm not exaggerating. It's not like we had a little bit of turbulence and I freaked out and have been emotionally scarred for the past 17 years. No no. The plane I was on went into a full on nose dive and we almost crashed. People were screaming and throwing up. It was traumatic to say the least. Ever since then I've been afraid to fly. I know this is a super positive thing to be thinking of right now as I'm sitting 35,000 feet above the ground. 

Regardless...I'm 43 minutes away from home. I thought I'd give the countdown since I've been counting down my arrival home for days now. I seriously can't wait to land in my hometown and see my dad and my family and sleep in my own bed and hold my dog. 

42 minutes now.....

Sidenote: There will be a blog post when I get home about my airport observations. I would write it now...but I'm cramped like a sardine in a corner where people can easily read what I'm writing....

says it all...

dorm living....at it's worst.

just stay calm. don't freak out. don't run out of your room like you want to and give everyone a piece of your mind. is it really necessary to cause a scene so everyone can hear? is it really necessary to scream a name out that i can't even say anymore? i hate being here. this place was my safe haven. this place was my home, my escape. now it's my nightmare.

i don't need this. i smell fake in the air and immaturity in the breeze. it disgusts me. there are a few exceptions to this...but overall the people here are unbearable. friends are now enemies...but maybe they always were and i never wanted to realize it.

it drives me crazy that i've written this entire blog post in lower case. it's testing my patience. i guess that's just par for the course at this point.

2 DAYS, 10 HOURS, 48 MINUTES!!!!

I guess I'm just a little excited to go home! :)

the missing piece.

Do you ever stand back and look at your life and wonder how you got to where you are in this moment? Right now It's 1:21 am (even though my computer says it is 2:17am) on November 11th and I'm laying in my bed thinking about when everything went wrong. It seems like it wasn't that long ago that I had my life together. All the pieces fit in place for the most part and I was content. Then, without rhyme or reason, my perfectly fitting puzzle was thrown in the air and all the pieces scattered and were left lost, mangled and destroyed. My puzzle will never be perfect again.

This time last year I was happy. My life had just changed for the better and something I had wanted for a long time had finally happened. It was the right place, the right time, the right person. And although everything else in my world was starting to fall apart, that one part of my life was still puzzle perfect. Then disaster hit. I can't explain in words what it meant to lose the biggest part of my life, or what it was to know that the person I could always turn to and who loved me unconditionally and gave me life, was gone, and never coming back. But my one section of the puzzle was still intact and it was holding me together.

It's different now. There is nothing left of my puzzle.

To the person who made my puzzle fit for so long...I have a few things to say.


"I never wanted to say goodbye. Standing late at night with you when you finally made our relationship official, I never thought I'd have to. I hurt without you. It's like the old saying goes, "You don't realize what you have until it's gone." Well, here I am crying and looking through photos on facebook and wondering where in the hell it went wrong? We were just in the lobby when I came to visit and you were picking me up and spinning me around cause you were so happy to see me. We were just in the North End having one of the funnest nights with amazing friends. We were just skyping over the summer and talking and singing ridiculous songs to each other and laughing. We were just at the baseball game meeting our "balloon couple" for the first time. We were just sitting outside the library and you were forcing me to tell you that I liked you even though you knew what I was going to say. We were just having our first kiss the night before I left for home. We were just going to dinners and talking and sharing inside jokes and secrets. We were just driving miles across the country together and waking up in the same bed next to each other. And now we don't speak. Or look at each other. And every time I see you I want to go back to the way things were. I want to have you in my life again. It breaks my heart that days and weeks and almost a month has gone by without talking to you. I just don't know how we got here and I don't know how to get back to a better place. I miss you and I still love you. I probably always will."

Sugar, Spice, and A Side of Spanakopita

I guess I should start by telling you a few interesting things about myself. Interesting is in the eye of the beholder...just remember that...

1. I hate trying new things. 
This is probably why I've always had such a difficult time starting a blog. It's something new, and foreign. Take me to a new restaurant and I'm totally out of my element. Drive me to a new city and I feel like a child who has been lost in a department store without their parents for days on end. Ask me to try a new hairstyle and I will take weeks debating and looking at pictures until I finally decide that I'm going to take the plunge...at some point. I'm not adventurous. I'm not an explorer. I'm safe.

2. Ice cream bars with the wooden stick gross me out.
Obviously a necessary piece of information you need to know before proceeding. I know this seems so strange, but literally wooden sticks gross me out so much. As a kid I would freak out at the doctor's office when they would try to use the tongue depressor on me to look at the back of my throat. I was sick...a lot...so this was a frequent occurrence. Why would I want that memory spoiling something as wonderful as ice cream by having that terrible wooden stick touch my tongue. ughhhh!

3. Doctors are my worst enemy. 
The last post got me thinking about my hatred of all things medicine. I hate doctors. I hate doctors offices. I hate the drive to the doctors. I hate the wait at the doctors. And I hate the procedures at the doctors. I understand they are sort of necessary for our survival, but they freak me out. And being the hypochondriac that I am it doesn't help. I get a minor headache and suddenly I have a brain tumor. My leg itches and I'm having a severe allergic reaction to something I ate. My nose is stuffy and I just KNOW that I'm eventually going to stop breathing and have to be rushed to the hospital. And the reason I hate doctors? They are the ones who would confirm my deepest fears of the diseases I potentially could have. It's an interesting life I live.

4. I think I'm on the CIA's stalker list because of my obsession about the Kennedy family.
Okay, maybe that's a slight exaggeration, but seriously I love them. All of them. I know there is scandal and tragedy and mystery surrounding them, but that's what makes them so intriguing. I want to be Jackie O. She is the epitome of class, poise, elegance and sophistication. I love that she was a journalist. I love that she married a man involved with politics. I loved that she grew up a New England girl and later became a New York lady.

5. I've been lying to myself for years about my career path.
At 5 I wanted to be a Paleontologist. (Yes...I would say that exact profession at five).
At 10 I wanted to be a Medical Researcher (I was convinced I was going to find the cure to cancer).
At 15 I wanted to be a Prosecuting Criminal Attorney (Saying "lawyer" was too simple).
At 20 I wanted to be a History Teacher (Hence my major).
And now at 25 I know I will become a teacher, but I finally realize that all along what I really wanted to be a was a news journalist. I love writing. I love current events. It would have been perfect.
In my dreams if I was good at math and art and computers I would have been an architect.

6. I love the cold.
It can be freezing outside and I'll have my window open. I'll be the girl wearing flip flops in the snow and have the AC on in a blizzard. I love bundling up in warm winter clothes and sitting by a fireplace drinking hot chocolate. I love the events that come along with the cold. Snow. Christmas lights. Tree lightings. Presents. Family. Boots. Coats. Gloves. Scarves.

7. I would live in PJ's if I could.
No, it's not a lazy thing. It's a comfort thing. Okay...it's a little laziness too, I guess. I love being comfortable. I love flannel and loose fitting clothes that I can relax in. I hate feeling confined.

8. I'm awkwardly introverted in big groups of people.
Stand me in front of a group of strangers and I can give a speech without blinking an eye. Ask me to teach a lesson to a group of high school students and I'll be excited at the opportunity to get up and talk to people I don't know. Put me in a group of people I know at a party and I become the most awkward person alive. Suddenly I don't know what to say or how to say it or what to do with my body. Am I standing weird? Maybe I should sit? Where? Umm maybe I'll walk over to the table and get a cracker....and then stand there for a minute and look around and coyly laugh at a joke that was told across the room.

9. I've never had a lot of friends.
I'm sure by now you've read the above facts about me and you're thinking, "Well no kidding you've never had a lot of friends. You're weird." Maybe that's true. I feel like I've always been an old soul. I've never connected with people my age. I was raised by my parents and spent considerable time with my grandparents and I was never around other kids. I was destined to be an adult before my time. I've been bullied. I've lost friends I thought I'd always have. But everyone comes into your life for a reason. And maybe they walk out of your life for a reason too.

10. I wish my life had a soundtrack.
It would consist of The Beatles, Billy Joel, Elton John, Eric Clapton, Kelly Clarkson, Taylor Swift, Adele, Carrie Underwood and maybe a little rap thrown in for some unexpected flavor ;)

Hello...My name is: Glutton for Punishment

To anyone out there reading this I must warn you of something right now. I'm not a blogger. I'm a serial quitter when it comes to stuff like this and I seem to always stop right when I begin to get a rhythm going with my writing. I want to say that won't happen this time, but if there is one thing I have learned, it's that nothing in life is certain.
So how did this come about? How did I end up creating yet another e-mail address to create yet another blog? Well it all began in my dorm room...

I write to clear my head. I'm not a big verbal communicator. I have thoughts pent up in my head like animals at a farm and they can't seem to travel from my brain to my lips. The lips are always bipassed and the hands receive all the thoughts directly from the brain to transmit to paper...or in this case...computer. Anyway, I started a journal where I would write a poem a day. I don't share my poetry really with anyone, but I let my good friend Alexis read one of my poems and she suggested I should start a blog.

So I did. And this is it. Welcome.