Today just got a lot harder to handle...

It crept up on me without realizing it.


Today is Brenna's birthday.



Brenna, my beautiful Brenna...taken from us almost a year ago...



She would be 19 years old today. She would be almost finished with her first year at K-State. She would be enjoying her cake (and probably naming it) and making memories with all her friends and family. She would be smiling.



I cannot claim to know what heaven is like. But I like to picture Bren surrounded by flowers and her loved ones that have gone before her. There would be angels too, angels to sing and dance with her. Today she would have the most epic of all cakes and she would share it with everyone else in heaven with her. I can just see her smile now...



God...I'm supposed to be going to bed but now I'm laying here crying and going through her photos on Facebook. Seeing her smile in those pictures breaks my heart...


How I miss her. She was just...wonderful. I'd known her since elementary school. We were never best friends, the kind that stayed the night at each other's houses every weekend or anything like that. But you didn't have to be like that with Bren. She loved everyone. Never did I ever hear her say something mean or harmful about anyone (unless it was her sister...and then it was usually followed by "but I love her anyway"). She had the purest heart ever known to man.


I will never forget her. She will always be in my heart until the day I see her again in heaven. There will be much rejoicing, I garauntee it.



So today, excuse me if I'm snippy or if I start crying suddenly. I'm going to do my best to smile and laugh and enjoy life like Brenna did but I can't garauntee I'll be able to. The pain is still too fresh.



So...happy birthday, Bren. I hope you have the best birthday party ever and I hope your cake is delicious. Sing loud, dance crazy, and stay you. I miss you so much, honeybunches...and I can't wait to see you again.

Peace is a Mystery and Love is a Four Letter Word

I'm sitting here on this lazy Saturday morning with my window open, my 80s music playing in the background, and I just love it.


There's that tiny voice in the back of my mind saying I have more important things to be doing right now and it's probably right but I just don't care. I feel a sort of sleepy peace just sitting here.


Peace.


That's a five letter word that I haven't spent much time with lately. Between all my schoolwork and papers, working two jobs in two different cities, and all the wedding planning I had done...I didn't have much free time left. The free time I did have I tried to spend with my fiance. When he was unavailable (which was actually pretty often), I would be watching movies or making random Walmart trips with my roommates and friends on my hall. I kept myself so busy I honestly did not have the time to just sit and stare out the window.


But now, the schoolwork is slowing down, my jobs are more manageable, and I don't need to plan the wedding anymore. At least not for another couple months.


Let me be frank here real quick.


I know the decision my fiance and I made to move the wedding to next year was the right one. We were not going to be able to handle it. Not with all the stress of money on top of just getting married and moving to a new city and trying to find jobs. It just wasn't going to happen. And I know that.

That doesn't mean I like it.


There is nothing I want more in the world right now than to be his wife. Even with all the stress of planning the wedding and making preparations for this summer, I knew it would all be worth it because he would be my husband and I would be his wife. Now it's all been pushed back. I feel as if all the hard work I put into planning was for nothing. It's not like he was that involved to begin with but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the fact that we were going to be married.

Don't give me that damn speech about how one year won't matter because we'll still love each other. I know that. It may sound cheesy and ridiculous but my love for my fiance will never diminish. It just grows stronger every day (even when he makes me feel so exasperated and frustrated...even then). I know the time itself won't matter because we're still together and all that jazz.


Maybe it's just my old insecurities about not being good enough coming back but...I feel as if I've failed (at least a little bit) by not being ready to get married this summer. I feel as if I should have been ready. He'll argue like he always does but I can't help the way I feel.


And it's not all the time. Usually those kinds of thoughts stay quiet and just creep up on me in the calm moments I have with myself. Those kinds of thoughts are the reason I don't like silence. Anyway...they're not always present.


Most of the time, I'm just sad. I was flipping through my planner and I saw the date, June 22nd, and the note I had written there: A day I will treasure always. It made me cry. That won't be my wedding day anymore. It won't be the day I marry the love of my life, my best friend. I'm going to be an emotional wreck that day this summer.


I went from excited, ecstatic really, to not wanting to hear or see a single thing concerning a wedding. This was especially hard since I was in charge of creating an 8 page layout for a wedding section in my school newspaper. Me and two other girls got all the ads (from businesses in the wedding industry), wrote all the stories (about dresses, stress, and commitment), and took all the pictures (of dresses, happily married couples, and brides-to-be). That was killer.


It was really hard to explain our postponed wedding to family and friends. Everyone's first thought was that there was something wrong and we were second guessing ourselves. While not entirely true, we were having some relationship problems. Lots of fights. Lots of crying (on my part, at least...no one can make me cry like he can...but then again, no one can make me smile like he can either). We were struggling.


And then we postponed the wedding. His face...he looked so relaxed after our talk. He looked at peace. I couldn't stop crying. I came so close to losing him...in fact, I thought I had.


So...I have two reasons why I agreed to postpone the wedding. One, because I knew it was the right decision. We would never make it if we didn't. We would end up bitter and probably divorced like my parents and I couldn't do that. I couldn't even imagine losing him like that or putting us through that situation. Two, because I will do anything to make him happy, to make sure I never lose him. I love him. Plain and simple. He is my other half. We weren't made for each other. Honestly, you can probably find people (actually I can name a few) who would tell you we're not good for each other or that we'll never make it. God did not make him to be mine or make me to be his. He gave us the opportunity to meet each other, to befriend each other, to fall in love with each other, to choose each other. My angel...he is my only choice. Not because there is no one else out there for me. Because I choose him and no one else but him. We have worked hard to make this relationship what it is today. By the time we get married, we'll have been together four years, engaged for two and a half. It wasn't easy. But it was worth it. I can tell you, without a doubt in my heart, that I love him. I would do anything for him. I would lace your shoe, paint my face bright blue, catch a kangaroo, or even go to Timbuktu. I'd risk everything for one kiss. I'd do anything. For him.

So now I'm doing something for him. I am waiting. I am healing. I am learning. I am doing whatever it takes to be the woman he deserves because God did not make me his perfect woman. I have to do that myself.


Darling, I know you're reading this (eventually...you're at play practice right now) but I want you to know...I love you.


I tell you that all the time, I know. And it's not to fill a lull in the conversation or because I'm afraid you forgot. I tell you that because I cannot say it enough. Those three little words are not big enough or complicated enough to explain my feelings, to get you to understand how much you mean to me. So I tell them to you...over and over and over again. And I plan to do that for the rest of my life.


I may be impatient and, honestly, sad that I will be your wife yet this summer...but it doesn't really matter. Not truly. All that matters is you. You being with me and me being with you. I love you, and nothing is ever going to change that.


*sigh*



Two heavy posts in two days...my soul is weary. Time to shower and clean myself up...the day is young and there is much to do. Now that my mind and heart are at peace, I feel as if I can take on the world. I'll start with the art museum this afternoon with my fiance and friends. Today will be a good day, if for nothing other than the beautiful weather outside.

Objective Correlative

The other day in my American Literature class, we were discussing T.S. Eliot's "The Wasteland" and Eliot's view on objective correlative. For those of you who do not know, objective correlative is using objects, ideas, or moments to remember emotions (basically).  My prof asked us if we had anything in our own lives that could be an objective correlative.



As soon as she said the words, all I could see was the shelterhouse at Crawford County State Lake.



Such a lovely thing. To the untrained eyes of others, a simple shelterhouse on the shore of a lake is just a thing, a summery thing, a simple summery thing.


To me, it is a lost thing, painful memories, and a bittersweet peace.


Just four years ago, the Crawford shelterhouse was my sanctuary. It was the only place I felt truly at peace. All my worries just melted away. I could spend all day out in the fresh air, relishing my freedom.

I had no idea how much my life would change just in a year.


The next time I visited my shelterhouse, it was May 2010. My family was celebrating, not just summer and Memorial Day weekend, but my father's recovery. He had been diagnosed with a rare brain tumor in January. After going through surgery, he had made a full recovery. I couldn't have been happier. I remember we planned to take some of my senior photos by my shelterhouse. I remember my mom spending most of the weekend hiding away in the tent, saying she felt sick, or faking a smile. I couldn't figure out what was wrong but my mother's mood swings weren't new to me. I pushed them out of my mind and concentrated on spending as much time with my dad as possible.


It was only a few days after returning home that I learned my dad had been having an affair and was choosing to leave me, my mom, and my two younger siblings for this other woman. My mother found out the morning we left for the campground. That weekend with my family by the lakeside was the last good and happy memory I have with my dad. After that, it was yelling and anger and crying and despair. I was lost. I remember feeling betrayed once I found out, not just because he had lied to us but also because he had acted like everything was okay the weekend before while my mom suffered from the burden of knowing.

My sanctuary lost a little bit of its glamour that year.


The next year, it hurt so much to be back at that place that I made a rash decision. I asked my cousin to help me forget. Not exactly in those words but he understood. He and his friend had access to alcohol. Between the three of us...well, yeah. Personally, I had two beers, two red Solo cups filled with a Mountain Dew Voltage/vodka mix, and another Solo cup of lemon-lime margarita. I was feeling pretty good after all that...all bubbly and easy-going. Shockingly enough, I did not feel sick. I remember everything that happened (unfortunately...I'm getting to that part). I remember being really giggly but I could walk in a straight line and I didn't slur my words. Apparently, I can hold my liquor. So could my cousin. He was perfectly fine the entire night, only passing out after his fourth of something (that I do not remember). His friend, on the other hand, could not. Before the alcohol, this friend had made it clear he found me attractive. At the time, I had a boyfriend (had actually just gotten him back) so I was uninterested and tried to avoid the guy when possible. With alcohol in his system, he got cocky...or horny...one of the two...or both. Either way, he tried making moves. Nothing besides trying to hold my hand or put his arm around my shoulder while my cousin was awake...but once he was asleep, the guy got ballsy. At first, he asked. "Can I see your boobs?" "Will you let me touch you?" The more I said no, the more demanding he became. "Let me touch you." "Have sex with me." This is how I know I was able to handle the alcohol. I did not cave in nor did I end up in a position I did not want to be in (well...anymore than I already was). Instead I slapped him and told him if he touched me, I would remove his favorite appendage. Thankfully, he listened then. He moved to the other side of the shelterhouse and fell asleep. After awhile I did too. Not much later, I was awakened by my cousin. It had rained and was now too cold to sleep in the shelterhouse. He wanted me to know that there was room in the back of his parents' van if I wanted to be warm. I didn't want to be that close to his friend but at the time, it was four in the morning, I was wet and freezing and I didn't want to wake my mom. So I climbed in. My cousin, sensing my discomfort, put himself between me and his friend. I am so thankful for that.


There are many reasons I don't talk about that night. In fact, the only person who knows what happened that night besides my cousin and his friend, is my best friend. And that's because I had to tell someone. Just to get it out there. I was so ashamed and confused by what happened that I couldn't even tell my boyfriend at the time. I knew he wouldn't approve of my drinking. The whole thing with my cousin's friend would have made him see red and he'd be out for blood. I feel as if I'm risking a lot by writing about this now because that boyfriend is now my fiance and he reads this. I know he'll see it...eventually. And I am honestly terrified of his reaction. I'm terrified of what he'll think of me for this. I want everyone to know that I regret everything about that night. I regret the drinking. I regret finding myself in the position I was in. I regret forgetting that there is more to life than the pain and hurt I was wallowing in at the time. Please don't be mad or disappointed in me because of it. Trust me, I've hated on myself enough for it. I wish I could go back and redo that night...but I also know that it was that night that started me thinking I needed a change. If it weren't for that night, I wouldn't have started facing my problems at the time. I was tired of hurting and had tried to find a way out of it. Instead, I realized there is no easy way to get rid of pain. It was a rough lesson but one I needed.


The next year, this past year, I was hoping to erase all of my unwanted memories concerning the shelterhouse. I brought my best friend and my fiance with me, the two people who had been there for me through everything even when they didn't realize it. I had hoped it would be another weekend of fun and freedom. But I was wrong. Turns out bringing two people who are very important to you, whom you love with all your heart, is a bad idea. I constantly felt like I was being torn in two. She wanted me to go exploring with her, go for walks, go swimming and fishing, just plain summer fun. He wanted alone time, romantic time, me and him time, time away from the heat and the bugs and probably my mother as well. I wanted both. There was lots of crying and yelling and arguing and stomping off. On top of that, we learned something terrible, something that still breaks my heart to this very moment.


The day we drove down to the campground, we found out that a friend from back home had disappeared while out for her run that morning. We did not know until much later that evening what really happened. Our friend had been stalked, hit by a car, put in the trunk, taken to a field, abused, and left to die in a creek in a field mere miles from my house. The man responsible was caught that night but it really didn't stop the hurt. Brenna, my lovely Bren, was dead. She had just graduated high school. She had big, beautiful plans for life. Instead, she left this world, cold and alone. It's been almost a year and I still tense up when I hear her name, I cry when I see her family, I crumple whenever the song "Beautiful Things" is played (that was her song...they played it at her funeral).


Once again, my shelterhouse was the setting. I still remember everything about that night. I remember getting the call from a friend back home. I remember having to tell my friend and fiance what happened. I remember sitting on the rocks and crying so hard I started to choke. I remember hearing my little brother call for my mother, "Mom, come quick! Chrissi just found out her friend died and she's crying!" I remember looking up at the stars and wondering why in the world would God take such a beautiful soul from this world when she could do so much good. I remember seeing her murderer as a monster who needed to die to make up for what he did. I remember it all.


All of those memories...triggered from a simple shelterhouse.


I won't be going back to my shelterhouse this summer. I will either be in Missouri with my fiance's family or I will be working in my home town. I'm still undecided on how I feel about that. Part of me feels hurt...I've been to this shelterhouse every summer for the past...six or seven years. It's the sign that my summer has truly begun. But at the same time, I'm glad I'm not going back. I need a break. I don't think I can face that shelterhouse right now...not after the past three summers.



This post was really hard for me to write. I actually started it yesterday right after my class but I had to stop. When I started writing it again, I kept having to take a break. I cried...a lot. I've sat staring at the computer, lost in memories, for minutes upon minutes before I realized I was in the middle of a word and I need to finish my thought. It was so hard to write all this down, to talk about the pain of losing my dad and Brenna, to relive my night with alcohol and him...to remember it all. I may not have wanted to write any of this but now that I have, the load upon my shoulders feels lighter. I'm still fighting the urge to delete this whole thing and I probably will every time I see it in my post list. But I won't. It needs to be here.


This needed to be said.



Please, dear readers, don't think any less of me for what I have said. This has all been in my past. I cannot change it now. I can, however, take the lessons I have learned and the pain I have felt and use them to make myself better. That is what I'm trying to do now.



"I finally got some sense knocked into me...and I've got the bump to prove it." - Simba


Yes, that is a Lion King quote but it fits right now. My eyes have finally opened to what was wrong in my life. I have the experiences, mistakes, and pain to prove it. It's time I change. And I'm going to do what needs to be done to make that happen.


Enough heavy talk for tonight. It has been an emotionally exhausting day. I need to go to bed so I can wake up fresh and rested for Bacon Friday in the morning. I'm even going to make the extra effort to look fancy. It's a new dawn, a new day. I'm ready to get better.


Starting now.


Goodnight. Sleep tight. And don't let the bedbugs bite!

Newsflash!

This has been one of the best nights I have ever had.


Italian Riverdancing Zombie Cell Phone Jenga and staying up late plotting murder with a shirtless Hugh Jackman.


That's all you need to know.



It was one of those "you had to be there" kind of things. But trust me, if you HAD been there, it would have been one of the best nights you ever had too.


Thanks, Abba. I needed that. Really.


To my fellow particpants, I'm sorry if, by the end, I seemed less enthusiastic. Wednesdays are my long days. I've been up since 6 after only 5 hours of restless sleep. And I was in pain (stupid back). But that was amazing. And I thank all of you too.


Until next time...don't forget to smile!

I may need toothpicks to hold open my eyelids...

I am exhausted.


This whole creepy dream thing...not cool.


It's like I'm reading or watching anything scary or disturbing before I go to sleep.


Two nights ago, I watched The Emperor's New Groove...last night I watched Mamma Mia. Sure, the emperor becomes a llama and there's all kind of mama drama...but nothing that should trigger those kinds of dreams.


Dreams of people dying, myself included...

They're so vivid and detailed...I still can't get them out of my head.


The one that's really getting to me today is hard to explain. It made perfect sense in my brain but on paper...it might not.


So I was camping with a large group of family and friends somewhere in the mountains. Now I know these people were supposed to be my family and friends but I didn't recognize any of them from real life. Except for one. My friend's dad...who died last year. He was in my dream. He was MY dad.

Anyway. So the entire group decides to hike to the top of the mountain. We find a trail that has actual stairs carved out of the mountainside. We start climbing. Close to the top we can hear the sound of waterfalls. So we start exploring. And we come across this system of absolutely gorgeous waterfalls. I pull out my camera and start taking pictures like crazy. I mean, it was absolutely breathtaking! Our group hears some sort of growling from the tree line and the next thing I know, people are scared, I feel someone nudge me in the back, and I topple over the main waterfall! I'm just falling and falling...I can hear the thundering of the falls and screams and cries from the cliff where my family still stands. But I'm just falling.


And then I wake up.




Creepy, right?



Yeah, I thought so too.



That's what I dealt with last night. I was actually excited when my alarm went off this morning. That is, until I went outside and saw the state of my car. With all my complaining about the snow yesterday, I didn't even think to go outside and clean off my car while it was daylight and I wasn't rushing off to work. 15 mintues later, my car windows were clear enough to see through (though my wipers are still frozen down...grr). Turns out that there's a lot of black ice in the dorm parking lot. Like a giant patch of it right behind my car. Joy. I almost took out the barrier fence when I backed up. I had to rev my car a bit to get over the hump of snow left from the snow plows and just happened to hit the ice patch. Luckily my brakes chose that moment to work exceptionally well and I did not crash through the fence and down the ditch. Still. My heart just about stopped from shock.


Now I've been sitting at work, doing homework, and wishing I was at home asleep. Or at least trying to sleep. I just don't have the energy to go to classes today. Or any day this week. Because there are only four days due to our extended Easter weekend. Yay. Only 4 days to go.


Thursday cannot get here soon enough.

I just have one thing to say today...

Bellybuttons.


That is all.

Whoops...

Soooo...I obviously fail at writing here every day.


It's not completely my fault. I've been super busy: spent all day Saturday shopping in KC, Sunday was church, lunch and more shopping, Monday and Tuesday I worked and was too tired to write by the time I got home...and today I'm finally sitting down to write again.


*shrugs* oh well. I'm still planning to write in this every day...I guess that choosing a few days before Spring Break wasn't the smartest plan on my part. I'll do my best to keep up.


Anyway...I'm not quite sure what to write about tonight...

I could write about how frustrated I am with my mother and her inability to let me be an adult and have my own life outside of her reach. Then again I feel like that's a post for another time...maybe when I have enough energy to vent about her.

Or I could write about how my fiance has spent the entire day watching Doctor Who and playing with his Legos when I had hoped he would want to do something with me. *shrugs* I'm used to him being like that though...it's just the way he is. And I love him no matter what.

Hmm...I could write about how I've started doing this daily workout thing. It's pretty nifty actually. It's five moves taken from yoga and ballet stretches that target your thighs, butt, and abs. I've done them three days in a row and they feel good. I don't like having anyone watch me do them though because you actually lie on your back and use the wall and it looks a bit awkward. Also, I'm pretty self concious when it comes to people watching me work out. But whatever. These stretch things feel good. Never thought I'd enjoy working out.

I could also write about how excited I am to get my hermies *grins* yes, you read that right. Last week I decided I wanted a pet. The next day I went to the mall and saw this kiosk selling hermit crabs. While I've never owned hermies, I've known people who have and I've always wanted to. So I made the decision to save up and become a hermie owner. I actually just got done reading a Hermit Crabs for Dummies book. I know it sounds lame but hey, I want to make sure my little crabbies stay alive and healthy. I dug out an old fish tank my mom had around the house and am going to clean it out tomorrow. I can't wait to get back to school and get the tank set up. Then I can get my babies!!! *happy dance*


Looking back at what I've written, I've talked about everything major that's happened to me today. Maybe not in detail but I did. Sorry, dear reader(s), I'm tired. And I don't have much to say. Some days will be like this. Some days I'll have absolutely nothing to say. Other days I'll rant. Or lament. Or rejoice. It will just depend. Have patience with me. I'm healing. And healing takes longer than just a couple days, weeks or even years. This is me starting over, beginning the healing process. I'll get there, just you wait.


Goodnight, world. I'll see you sometime tomorrow.