I never knew how much I could miss the way he looked at me.
I sat in a Denny’s late last night, talking with a perfect stranger and allowed myself for the first time in a long time to feel sad. Sadness is a sickness I once frequently succumbed to. There were times I felt that it was inescapable and that no amount of effort could make me feel better, it was one of those time things, in which I would just have to wait it out. I’ve learned this not to be true. As it were, happiness is not some destination or won at the hand of fortunate circumstances, rather it is the ability to find joy in whatever you have at the moment… which is a lot of hard work I’ve realized. It takes tremendous amounts of will power to reshape destructive thoughts into positives ones.
Last night however, I was sad. Not even the kind stranger and all his profound wisdom on life and the experience of it all could help pull my thoughts away from that moment. A single moment that tore through months and months of hard work, will power, and mind over matter.
“Of all the gin joints, in all the towns, in all the world…” he walked into mine. I smiled a genuine smile, I was glad to see him, it really had been so long, but I don’t think I could have ever readied myself for him to look at me the way he did. What once were loving blue eyes now wore a dark color of disdain. He even looked away feigning he hadn’t noticed me or recognized me. I should have let him be, that alone should have been enough for me to know that something was wrong, but it all had happened so fast, my mind had little time to make sense of it as it happened. I beckoned him to walk the few steps closer and say hi. Begrudgingly he sauntered over. That warm smile and big hug he would greet everyone with, me especially, was now a thing of the past. He offered me a hand shake. Still oblivious, I pulled him in for a hug… so cold and unwanted was this hug. Before I knew it he had scurried off to some dark corner, his friends lingering behind stared at me, dumbfounded as though they have no recollection of who I was… and that was that.
I don’t think I will ever forget the way he used to look at me… so much love behind his eyes and that half smile. Sipping on my water the stranger asked me, “why would you always go back to him?” I thought for a moment, because there were times that it didn’t make sense even to me why I kept going back. It didn’t even make sense to me why he kept taking me back. I’d never really been in one of those off-again on-again relationships until I met him. Why did I keep going back… then I felt my eyes burning. Two o’clock in the morning at a Denny’s in the middle of no where and I’m about to cry at my answer to his question.
“why would you always go back to him?”
“… because of the way he loved me and the way that I loved him.”
Love isn’t enough. Those sappy romance movies would have me believe that love can conquer anything, reality has taught me otherwise. Sometimes people really are just too different to ever be happy with one another regardless of how much they love one another….
I sat there and could not help but let my memories float back to the times when in the middle of a fight he would look at me, trying so very hard to be angry at me…. then he would smile that smile… and I would smile… and suddenly it was as though we both realized how much we loved one another and whatever the fight was about was insignificant.
The cold stare and so resentful was his hug, I knew in that moment that the love was all gone and in its place was a bitterness, a hatred even… that’s okay, it’s the natural order of things I suppose. I wish it were easier to forget the way he used to look at me, then perhaps I wouldn’t feel such mourning over the loss of it. I just know that I will always have love for him and if ever we should cross paths again I will greet him with a smile, no matter how much his eyes wear that shade of hatred … someday I hope he smiles back.
About Me
- Noelle Lani
- Life should be lived as play according to the phiolsopher Plato and me? I happen to agree. I am a very social person, I almost don't know how to communicate without flirting with people. I enjoy kicking back and spending a night in, but I'm also known for heading out for a night on the town, or just a midnight jaunt to the jungle gym. I believe that life is too short to be angry all the time, but you might often hear me complaining about some life stress. I think I just like to get things off my chest so I can move forward. Sometimes I write really dreary things because its easier and safer to be sad at the helm of my laptop, truly I am a happy person. I aim to be the life of the party, if I can get the crowd laughing and having a good time, then my work is done. It is my hope that my writing means something. I write because it makes me feel better, but at the end of the day if sharing one of my experiences can help someone else not feel so alone or help them learn from my mistakes, then I've created something worth while.
Sunday, December 30, 2012
Wednesday, December 26, 2012
Bittersweet Christmas
Another Christmas is drawing to a close. Even at my age I still find those last lingering minutes of Christmas to be marked with a touch of sadness. I believe that try as we might to hold onto the magic and peace of Christmas, I feel it so easily slips away the moment the clock strikes midnight on December 26th. Quickly the decorations come down, the spirit of cheer subsides, people go back to work, and life settles back into normal once more.
I spent this Christmas with my family, my siblings, my parents, and my sweet little nephew who’s enthusiasm for Christmas was nothing short of a breath of fresh air. My maternal grandpa passed away shortly after Thanksgiving, but in his passing I have found there are few words potent enough to describe my renewed gratitude for my family. As misshapen, haphazard and dysfunctional we may be at times, I would never trade them for anything. I truly believe that prior to this mortal life of mine, I sat with them in heaven, joking and laughing about the strange bunch we would be once we made it to earth.
This day today, while filled with lots of love and joy, was also bittersweet for me…
I remember many, many months ago ringing in 2012, the prospect of marriage nipping at my heals and frightening me to the core. At the time I had been in an almost year long relationship, a marriage seemed immanent. I don’t know if it was the idea of marriage itself that scared me. Perhaps it was the thought of being married to the wrong person or maybe it was the sacrifice of letting go of my beloved friends, my social circle. For so much of this past year I spent my time running from the shackles of marriage, and then something changed, as though my heart grew three sizes in one day.
I wont say that every single person we meet, we meet for a reason, but I will say that there are a few hand selected individuals who walk into our lives to serve us at a moment when we most need it. I spent a year and a half in one relationship, shying away at the very inkling of any sort of commitment, then turned around and spent a single solitary month with one person, who unknowingly showed me that marriage might not be so bad.
I say unknowingly because I don’t think it was his intent to teach me anything really. For him I believe it was happenstance, I was merely at the right place at the right time, but for me I felt that a greater cause was at work, because what led me to that very place could hardly be written off as a coincidence. Much like I found the idea of marriage terrifying, I found him to be equally intimidating. Those internal checklists we keep to ourselves, paying them little heed as no one in reality could ever meet such lofty and childlike wishes, I found myself slowly marking checks next to each and every box.
My excitement was muted by fear, if anything it felt like a cruel joke was about to be played on me and it was only a matter of time before the rug would be pulled from underneath my feet. Its hard to smile and breath in the moment when you are waiting to be someone else’s punch line. Now the fact he was gone as hurriedly as he came, means I was right in my foreshadowing. The question still begs however, was my negative prophesy brought to pass by my own doing? Was my strong belief in such a negative outcome the true culprit to our undoing? An answer I will never know, he left me with little to go on, not that I blame him really. It is not often that I have dealt the card of heartache to another, but the few times I have, I have doted out similar ambiguous answers, hoping in some way to spare that soul anymore pain than what is absolutely necessary.
I don’t know that I can pin these new found ideals about marriage all on him, because as I said, I don’t think he had any intentions of teaching me anything. I think what he helped show me is that marriage doesn’t have to be the ending of fun or the ending of all social life as we know it. Really though, I think it was his friends that really taught me this principle, as they were all living it. They were all so light hearted and full of laughter. I have never felt so welcomed by a group of people before. Instantaneously I felt a genuine love coming from each of them. Its funny, I spent even less time with them than I did with him, yet even now though I haven’t seen them, I still feel like they really care. People like that are rare and I wonder if he knows how fortunate he truly is to have them apart of his everyday life.
I think the other major thing I learned, and this one comes straight from him, is I should never settle. Its become increasingly difficult for me as of late. I feel like I have been finally bit by that marriage bug, the pangs of hunger ringing through my very core. I’m like a starved animal at this point, I’d take any scrap of meat thrown my way. The fact I recently turned 26 means I’m now on a proverbial downward slope. Jokingly I recite a line from one of my favorite poems, “gather ye rosebuds while ye may,” and yet it haunts me each and every time I return from one more failed first date. While the ticking of the clock grows louder and louder in my ears, I must be as patient as he has been. He taught me that my checklist, as little importance as I give it, really does matter and that there is someone out there that will hit each mark.
He taught me this because in reality he hit most of mine, not sure if he would have hit all of them because we didn’t spend enough time together for me to find out. I’m certain I fell just short of something on his checklist, which is fine, because he deserves to find a girl that knocks it out of the park and I’m no less of a person just because I struck out. Much like his friends he is a rare breed, but for me to believe that he is some sort of mythical creature where only one of which exists, well that’s just downright silly. Its easy to feel defeated when after having gone on so many dates, so little prospects have been yielded. I have to remind myself that it usually takes heaps of unsuccessful attempts before striking gold, sometimes I just have to dig deeper. Besides, you don’t usually strike gold twice in a row. I will not settle, that much I truly do owe him thanks for.
This all comes full circle and why I found the joyous holiday laced with just a hint of sorrow. It is the companionship that comes with marriage I felt myself missing on this day. Someone to wake up to and be the first person I wish a Merry Christmas. Someone to share the love of this holiday with, by returning to our families of origin, one with another, hand in hand. Someone to come home with and enjoy the final, lingering minutes of Christmas night… a husband is what I was missing.
Who knows though, I’ve always had better years when my age was an even number, I’m 26 after all. Maybe next Christmas I will get my wish.
I spent this Christmas with my family, my siblings, my parents, and my sweet little nephew who’s enthusiasm for Christmas was nothing short of a breath of fresh air. My maternal grandpa passed away shortly after Thanksgiving, but in his passing I have found there are few words potent enough to describe my renewed gratitude for my family. As misshapen, haphazard and dysfunctional we may be at times, I would never trade them for anything. I truly believe that prior to this mortal life of mine, I sat with them in heaven, joking and laughing about the strange bunch we would be once we made it to earth.
This day today, while filled with lots of love and joy, was also bittersweet for me…
I remember many, many months ago ringing in 2012, the prospect of marriage nipping at my heals and frightening me to the core. At the time I had been in an almost year long relationship, a marriage seemed immanent. I don’t know if it was the idea of marriage itself that scared me. Perhaps it was the thought of being married to the wrong person or maybe it was the sacrifice of letting go of my beloved friends, my social circle. For so much of this past year I spent my time running from the shackles of marriage, and then something changed, as though my heart grew three sizes in one day.
I wont say that every single person we meet, we meet for a reason, but I will say that there are a few hand selected individuals who walk into our lives to serve us at a moment when we most need it. I spent a year and a half in one relationship, shying away at the very inkling of any sort of commitment, then turned around and spent a single solitary month with one person, who unknowingly showed me that marriage might not be so bad.
I say unknowingly because I don’t think it was his intent to teach me anything really. For him I believe it was happenstance, I was merely at the right place at the right time, but for me I felt that a greater cause was at work, because what led me to that very place could hardly be written off as a coincidence. Much like I found the idea of marriage terrifying, I found him to be equally intimidating. Those internal checklists we keep to ourselves, paying them little heed as no one in reality could ever meet such lofty and childlike wishes, I found myself slowly marking checks next to each and every box.
My excitement was muted by fear, if anything it felt like a cruel joke was about to be played on me and it was only a matter of time before the rug would be pulled from underneath my feet. Its hard to smile and breath in the moment when you are waiting to be someone else’s punch line. Now the fact he was gone as hurriedly as he came, means I was right in my foreshadowing. The question still begs however, was my negative prophesy brought to pass by my own doing? Was my strong belief in such a negative outcome the true culprit to our undoing? An answer I will never know, he left me with little to go on, not that I blame him really. It is not often that I have dealt the card of heartache to another, but the few times I have, I have doted out similar ambiguous answers, hoping in some way to spare that soul anymore pain than what is absolutely necessary.
I don’t know that I can pin these new found ideals about marriage all on him, because as I said, I don’t think he had any intentions of teaching me anything. I think what he helped show me is that marriage doesn’t have to be the ending of fun or the ending of all social life as we know it. Really though, I think it was his friends that really taught me this principle, as they were all living it. They were all so light hearted and full of laughter. I have never felt so welcomed by a group of people before. Instantaneously I felt a genuine love coming from each of them. Its funny, I spent even less time with them than I did with him, yet even now though I haven’t seen them, I still feel like they really care. People like that are rare and I wonder if he knows how fortunate he truly is to have them apart of his everyday life.
I think the other major thing I learned, and this one comes straight from him, is I should never settle. Its become increasingly difficult for me as of late. I feel like I have been finally bit by that marriage bug, the pangs of hunger ringing through my very core. I’m like a starved animal at this point, I’d take any scrap of meat thrown my way. The fact I recently turned 26 means I’m now on a proverbial downward slope. Jokingly I recite a line from one of my favorite poems, “gather ye rosebuds while ye may,” and yet it haunts me each and every time I return from one more failed first date. While the ticking of the clock grows louder and louder in my ears, I must be as patient as he has been. He taught me that my checklist, as little importance as I give it, really does matter and that there is someone out there that will hit each mark.
He taught me this because in reality he hit most of mine, not sure if he would have hit all of them because we didn’t spend enough time together for me to find out. I’m certain I fell just short of something on his checklist, which is fine, because he deserves to find a girl that knocks it out of the park and I’m no less of a person just because I struck out. Much like his friends he is a rare breed, but for me to believe that he is some sort of mythical creature where only one of which exists, well that’s just downright silly. Its easy to feel defeated when after having gone on so many dates, so little prospects have been yielded. I have to remind myself that it usually takes heaps of unsuccessful attempts before striking gold, sometimes I just have to dig deeper. Besides, you don’t usually strike gold twice in a row. I will not settle, that much I truly do owe him thanks for.
This all comes full circle and why I found the joyous holiday laced with just a hint of sorrow. It is the companionship that comes with marriage I felt myself missing on this day. Someone to wake up to and be the first person I wish a Merry Christmas. Someone to share the love of this holiday with, by returning to our families of origin, one with another, hand in hand. Someone to come home with and enjoy the final, lingering minutes of Christmas night… a husband is what I was missing.
Who knows though, I’ve always had better years when my age was an even number, I’m 26 after all. Maybe next Christmas I will get my wish.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Let your heart be light
To everyone I send a wish
A joyous and happy morn
On this sacred day today,
The day which Christ was born.
May your hearts be filled with joy
Surrounded with lots of love
As we celebrate with one another
That glorious gift from up above.
Let us find through Him charity
And a way to share His grace
Be thankful for His life
Our sins He bore in our place.
I leave you with a final wish
To hold onto Christmas cheer
May we all remember him
Each and every day all year!
----
Merry Christmas everyone, it is my sincerest wish that all those I love know just how much I love them.
A joyous and happy morn
On this sacred day today,
The day which Christ was born.
May your hearts be filled with joy
Surrounded with lots of love
As we celebrate with one another
That glorious gift from up above.
Let us find through Him charity
And a way to share His grace
Be thankful for His life
Our sins He bore in our place.
I leave you with a final wish
To hold onto Christmas cheer
May we all remember him
Each and every day all year!
----
Merry Christmas everyone, it is my sincerest wish that all those I love know just how much I love them.
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
Hope for nothing...
“When hope is hungry, everything feeds it.” -Mignon McLauglin, The Neurotic’s Notebook
I’ve been thinking about hope a lot lately. When Adam and Eve bit into the forbidden fruit a knowledge was gained about the world, a world in which evil as well as good could now exist. To every yin there is a yang and it is in opposition we can truly appreciate that which is good, that which comes from our Father in Heaven… but that is what troubles me… where does hope come from?
Hope falls along the same lines as faith, both being a desire to believe in something, but faith is deeper in that it comes with much more confidence and conviction. Hope is much more fleeting, it being belief that something might happen, which still at its core, hope seems to be a righteous and good thing to feel. The opposite of hope is despair, yet all too often I find that it is that very hope that leads us to despair. There is that cliché saying to expect the worst but hope for the best, the theory driving the remark is that by expecting the worst possible outcome one will save themselves the dissatisfaction of getting their hopes up. But hope is an expectation. It is a notion that just maybe for once, that thing we have wished for will become a reality. But where I am stuck is that if hope is righteous, if it is good, then why does it let me down so much?
Hope seems to be a form of trickery designed by the likes of Satan. It only serves as a means to raise my spirits under false pretenses. The higher I go, the further I have to fall. It seems so unfair that he can use a feeling so synonymous with faith against me and lead me down a path of sadness and turmoil.
I think the reason I find hope to be so bewildering is because I struggle with revelation. I know that Heavenly Father has very personal ways in which He speaks to each of us, but in my three years as a member of the church, I feel as though I have yet to fully understand the way in which He speaks to me. There was a saying I heard once in relief society that rings so very true for me. The still small voice of the Holy Ghost was likened to the subtle sweetness of a grape. Sometimes in life there are moments when we experience a much more severe flavor, that of a jalapeño. No matter how we try to taste the grape, the jalapeño is just much too strong to taste anything else…
I have always been one to feel things deeply, often times I have feelings so strong that when I am kneeling and asking for an answer to a question that is plaguing me, I am so very hopeful for a particular response that my heart cannot hear what He is actually telling me. Its hard because in this sense I am my own worst enemy and end up getting in the way of myself. It is from there I begin to find what I think are answers from Heavenly Father all around me. I see insignificant encounters and slighted gestures as fated or signs that something more is happening. He must want me to hold out hope, why else would He let this keep happening?
It is as I said before. I think Satan knows how privy I am to being hopeful and how easily I can make much of something as simple as a coincidence, and so that is exactly what he provides me with. I think he is the one that wants me to feel hopeful, not Heavenly Father. He would have me believe that when my expectations go unrealized, my hopes dashed, that it is Heavenly Father who has let me down.
I think in its simplest nature all I need to remember is that everything good comes from Heavenly Father and everything that is bad comes from Satan. I will not be sad, I will not be let down, I will not be disappointed, because that is what Satan wants, he wants me to feel defeated.
That being said, knowing my weakness for hope, I don’t see myself trying to understand the spirit or ask for any sort of answers anytime soon. At this point I feel that my ability to translate and understand His messages is sub par, I think anything short of a note falling from the sky with explicit directions as to what He would have me do would just fall on my deaf ears, so until that happens, I will hope for nothing…
“I prithee send me back my heart,
Since I cannot have thine;
For if from yours you will not part,
Why, then, shouldst thou have mine?” - John Suckling
I’ve been thinking about hope a lot lately. When Adam and Eve bit into the forbidden fruit a knowledge was gained about the world, a world in which evil as well as good could now exist. To every yin there is a yang and it is in opposition we can truly appreciate that which is good, that which comes from our Father in Heaven… but that is what troubles me… where does hope come from?
Hope falls along the same lines as faith, both being a desire to believe in something, but faith is deeper in that it comes with much more confidence and conviction. Hope is much more fleeting, it being belief that something might happen, which still at its core, hope seems to be a righteous and good thing to feel. The opposite of hope is despair, yet all too often I find that it is that very hope that leads us to despair. There is that cliché saying to expect the worst but hope for the best, the theory driving the remark is that by expecting the worst possible outcome one will save themselves the dissatisfaction of getting their hopes up. But hope is an expectation. It is a notion that just maybe for once, that thing we have wished for will become a reality. But where I am stuck is that if hope is righteous, if it is good, then why does it let me down so much?
Hope seems to be a form of trickery designed by the likes of Satan. It only serves as a means to raise my spirits under false pretenses. The higher I go, the further I have to fall. It seems so unfair that he can use a feeling so synonymous with faith against me and lead me down a path of sadness and turmoil.
I think the reason I find hope to be so bewildering is because I struggle with revelation. I know that Heavenly Father has very personal ways in which He speaks to each of us, but in my three years as a member of the church, I feel as though I have yet to fully understand the way in which He speaks to me. There was a saying I heard once in relief society that rings so very true for me. The still small voice of the Holy Ghost was likened to the subtle sweetness of a grape. Sometimes in life there are moments when we experience a much more severe flavor, that of a jalapeño. No matter how we try to taste the grape, the jalapeño is just much too strong to taste anything else…
I have always been one to feel things deeply, often times I have feelings so strong that when I am kneeling and asking for an answer to a question that is plaguing me, I am so very hopeful for a particular response that my heart cannot hear what He is actually telling me. Its hard because in this sense I am my own worst enemy and end up getting in the way of myself. It is from there I begin to find what I think are answers from Heavenly Father all around me. I see insignificant encounters and slighted gestures as fated or signs that something more is happening. He must want me to hold out hope, why else would He let this keep happening?
It is as I said before. I think Satan knows how privy I am to being hopeful and how easily I can make much of something as simple as a coincidence, and so that is exactly what he provides me with. I think he is the one that wants me to feel hopeful, not Heavenly Father. He would have me believe that when my expectations go unrealized, my hopes dashed, that it is Heavenly Father who has let me down.
I think in its simplest nature all I need to remember is that everything good comes from Heavenly Father and everything that is bad comes from Satan. I will not be sad, I will not be let down, I will not be disappointed, because that is what Satan wants, he wants me to feel defeated.
That being said, knowing my weakness for hope, I don’t see myself trying to understand the spirit or ask for any sort of answers anytime soon. At this point I feel that my ability to translate and understand His messages is sub par, I think anything short of a note falling from the sky with explicit directions as to what He would have me do would just fall on my deaf ears, so until that happens, I will hope for nothing…
“I prithee send me back my heart,
Since I cannot have thine;
For if from yours you will not part,
Why, then, shouldst thou have mine?” - John Suckling
Sunday, December 2, 2012
Clarity, peace, serenity...
Clarity, peace, serenity…
It’s the most freeing feeling in the world when those three words find their way into your heart. Its so unbelievably true that He will make your burdens light, if you only ask Him.
I was driving home from the tanning salon last week. There’s really nothing special about the trip, I’ve made it several hundred times before. There’s an Arctic Circle, a grocery store, and a few other small businesses smattered about. The only notable difference was the last time I was in that very parking lot I was brazenly given “the talk,” ending in those fateful words, “its just not right.”
For nearly a month I had denied having any grief over the matter. It was a fleeting romance so brief it could hardly be called a relationship, a fling at best. Why pay it any more heed than he had? Yet there on that chilly night in the quiet of my car I sat recalling all the little things. The magic on our first date, all the trouble he went through to just to steal a kiss on our third date, an exciting little vacation where new friends were made, and finally a cold and swift ending there in a silent parking lot.
Suddenly my peaceful ride home was anything but. It was as though all the feelings I had so arduously worked to suppress were colliding within me and bursting forth through unconstrained tears. Confusion, hurt, loss, resentment, betrayal, defeat, helplessness, anger, and sadness… all at once. I was no longer numb and no longer apathetic, which seemed a far greater place to be then riddled and reduced to such a pitiful state once more.
Upon returning home the only thing I could bring myself to do was pray. It was hard for me to ask for His help in that moment. Not because of my struggles with pride, oh no, I was more than humbled by the situation. I just felt that so many times have I been on my knees asking for a reprieve from the sorrows of another departed relationship. How could I be here asking for His help with this again? I’m the reason I got into this mess in the first place after all, its my own fault I was as sad as I was. It just didn’t seem fair to ask Him to bail me out once more. To make matters worse my grandpa’s passing earlier in the week made me feel as though my relationship woes were silly and insignificant, not worth seeking help over. I could see my mom and her siblings needing far more comfort over the loss of their father than I needing a little help moving on.
Clarity…
Amidst the streaming tears and reservations about seeking His help, my apprehension easily melted away. My Father in Heaven wants me to be happy and by refusing Him the opportunity to ease my burdens, I was refusing Him the joy of helping me find that happiness. Beyond that I realized that I could be of no help or comfort to my loved ones during such a tragic time if I was so preoccupied with my own internal conflicts. I needed to let go of this for my family’s sake and my own. Clarity lead me, so I asked, “help me let go.”
Peace…
Not one more tear fell. My heart felt lighter, the beat slowing, steady and soft. My eyes began to dry while the throbbing in my head ceased. The once inescapable hurt was gone and I was more than okay. Clarity allowed me the courage to ask those four little words that in a matter of seconds changed my whole demeanor from the inside out. With peace comes hope, that night was wonderful, but tomorrow could only be better.
Serenity…
He granted me acceptance. I no longer had to torment myself over the fact that it didn’t workout. Memories can be torturous sometimes, like a field of landmines. You tip toe around because you never know when everything might blow up. Acceptance has a way of transforming those memories from daggers into daisies. I can smile in remembrance for what we had, accept that it is no more, and continue to hope I’ll find something like it or better one day. Serenity is freedom.
No burden, however big or small, is insignificant in His eyes. He wants me to be happy, He wants all His children to be happy. Happiness isn’t something that just happens though, we have to actively pursue it and be it.
He blesses us with things that we ask for and more often, He blesses us with things we fail to ask for but in all respects we actually need. I asked for comfort and received it instantly, but He also blessed me with kind loving people, that even though having only known each of them a short time, each reached out in simple ways. Feeling loved is all anyone really needs. Through them, my new friends, He was comforting me.
Someone asked me today in church, how I as doing. I genuinely smiled, a wave of recent events flashing through me, then I answered, “I am very well.” And I am. I am happy.
Clarity, peace, serenity…
It’s the most freeing feeling in the world when those three words find their way into your heart. Its so unbelievably true that He will make your burdens light, if you only ask Him.
I was driving home from the tanning salon last week. There’s really nothing special about the trip, I’ve made it several hundred times before. There’s an Arctic Circle, a grocery store, and a few other small businesses smattered about. The only notable difference was the last time I was in that very parking lot I was brazenly given “the talk,” ending in those fateful words, “its just not right.”
For nearly a month I had denied having any grief over the matter. It was a fleeting romance so brief it could hardly be called a relationship, a fling at best. Why pay it any more heed than he had? Yet there on that chilly night in the quiet of my car I sat recalling all the little things. The magic on our first date, all the trouble he went through to just to steal a kiss on our third date, an exciting little vacation where new friends were made, and finally a cold and swift ending there in a silent parking lot.
Suddenly my peaceful ride home was anything but. It was as though all the feelings I had so arduously worked to suppress were colliding within me and bursting forth through unconstrained tears. Confusion, hurt, loss, resentment, betrayal, defeat, helplessness, anger, and sadness… all at once. I was no longer numb and no longer apathetic, which seemed a far greater place to be then riddled and reduced to such a pitiful state once more.
Upon returning home the only thing I could bring myself to do was pray. It was hard for me to ask for His help in that moment. Not because of my struggles with pride, oh no, I was more than humbled by the situation. I just felt that so many times have I been on my knees asking for a reprieve from the sorrows of another departed relationship. How could I be here asking for His help with this again? I’m the reason I got into this mess in the first place after all, its my own fault I was as sad as I was. It just didn’t seem fair to ask Him to bail me out once more. To make matters worse my grandpa’s passing earlier in the week made me feel as though my relationship woes were silly and insignificant, not worth seeking help over. I could see my mom and her siblings needing far more comfort over the loss of their father than I needing a little help moving on.
Clarity…
Amidst the streaming tears and reservations about seeking His help, my apprehension easily melted away. My Father in Heaven wants me to be happy and by refusing Him the opportunity to ease my burdens, I was refusing Him the joy of helping me find that happiness. Beyond that I realized that I could be of no help or comfort to my loved ones during such a tragic time if I was so preoccupied with my own internal conflicts. I needed to let go of this for my family’s sake and my own. Clarity lead me, so I asked, “help me let go.”
Peace…
Not one more tear fell. My heart felt lighter, the beat slowing, steady and soft. My eyes began to dry while the throbbing in my head ceased. The once inescapable hurt was gone and I was more than okay. Clarity allowed me the courage to ask those four little words that in a matter of seconds changed my whole demeanor from the inside out. With peace comes hope, that night was wonderful, but tomorrow could only be better.
Serenity…
He granted me acceptance. I no longer had to torment myself over the fact that it didn’t workout. Memories can be torturous sometimes, like a field of landmines. You tip toe around because you never know when everything might blow up. Acceptance has a way of transforming those memories from daggers into daisies. I can smile in remembrance for what we had, accept that it is no more, and continue to hope I’ll find something like it or better one day. Serenity is freedom.
No burden, however big or small, is insignificant in His eyes. He wants me to be happy, He wants all His children to be happy. Happiness isn’t something that just happens though, we have to actively pursue it and be it.
He blesses us with things that we ask for and more often, He blesses us with things we fail to ask for but in all respects we actually need. I asked for comfort and received it instantly, but He also blessed me with kind loving people, that even though having only known each of them a short time, each reached out in simple ways. Feeling loved is all anyone really needs. Through them, my new friends, He was comforting me.
Someone asked me today in church, how I as doing. I genuinely smiled, a wave of recent events flashing through me, then I answered, “I am very well.” And I am. I am happy.
Clarity, peace, serenity…
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
What are you, twelve?
I’ve been feeling like I’m twelve a lot lately. I remember a lot about being twelve. It was the first time I started to play around with make up and fashion. Here I am on fast approach to 26 and all I can think is how I am stuck at age 12. I didn’t know how to do my make up then and I don’t know how to do it now. I often ask my sister to do my make up for me when I’m going out for on a special date. Every once in a while I’ll play around with the stuff, usually I just feel like I make my face look worse. Its funny, make up is supposed to make me feel pretty isn’t it? Instead it just makes me feel like I’m trying to hide from something or like I’m trying too hard.
I’ve never really been a high maintenance girl in that respect. I’ve never put too much thought into an outfit or how my hair should be worn. As far as fashion was concerned I lived in a Hollister bubble for three years. Working as an associate there, as far as I knew or cared, all that I really needed for an outfit was a pair of skinny jeans, a flannel, maybe a cardigan, and some flip flops. It was simple, which I liked. I’ve never been one to fuss over jewelry and ruffles, high heels and the such. I always had a rule of thumb, if I couldn’t wear it in the rain, then I had no business wearing it… kind of a weird rule of thumb now that I think about it.
I think somewhere during my adventures through adolescents I adopted this mentality of ease and comfort. I got this notion in my head that boys liked simple. The idea was to look good but not look like I had to try hard to look good, which translated to the T-shirt and jeans mantra. By all means I would have a few fancy pieces in my arsenal, but I’d only bring the big guns out if the guy earned it. I remember I had a guy tell me once that I was the kind of girl you could take to the demolition derby on a Thursday and the opera on a Friday, I took it as a compliment.
And yet why have I had such a sudden falter in my style? Me thinks its because I recently dated someone who dressed much nicer than I did. I don’t know how much he spent on clothing but it was a great deal more than I did. Suddenly my Hollister jeans and white lacey tank tops weren’t so great anymore, especially whenever I’d go walking around with mister designer jeans.
For a short time I was able to temper my insecurities, and why not, he was looking at me with those baby blues and telling me how pretty he thought I was all the time. I would’ve gone around wearing a paper sack if he’d just kept looking at me like that. It wasn’t until I met his friends and their wives… all the gorgeous, sophisticated, elegant, and poised wives. They all had such a style about them that just screamed grown up, confident, and independent… Suddenly my wardrobe felt so juvenile…
After returning home from a short vacation with he and his friends, I ran off to the mall with my sister, who unlike myself, has her finger on the pulse of what’s in. I spent quite a bit of money trying to make a little revamp in my style, it will likely take years to purge some of the Hollister stuff I have collected over the past three years.
The irony behind it is that even after I bought all these clothes, which in some way or another were supposed to impress my new beau, the exact opposite happened. My new clothes were supposed to make me feel pretty, they were supposed to make me feel like I was good enough to stand by this cool guy who dressed so well, and while he once looked at me with eyes so deep and compliments a-plenty while adorned in my adolescent and ill thought attire, here I was in my new well thought out garb, begging for some sort of sign of approval and I got a lack-luster, “you look nice.” In two short days the budding romance that had so much promise withered into an unforeseen cliché ending, pity.
I think the rejection has me feeling like I’m twelve though. These clothes yielded the exact opposite response that I wanted… do I really know that little about fashion? I am an uncertain twelve year old, trying on clothes every other night, trying to figure out how these girls, excuse me, women put outfits together. How do they carry themselves with such an air of confidence? How in the world am I supposed to be as confident as them when these clothes couldn’t even help me keep a man? Oh well, maybe it’ll make more sense when I’m thirteen…
I’ve never really been a high maintenance girl in that respect. I’ve never put too much thought into an outfit or how my hair should be worn. As far as fashion was concerned I lived in a Hollister bubble for three years. Working as an associate there, as far as I knew or cared, all that I really needed for an outfit was a pair of skinny jeans, a flannel, maybe a cardigan, and some flip flops. It was simple, which I liked. I’ve never been one to fuss over jewelry and ruffles, high heels and the such. I always had a rule of thumb, if I couldn’t wear it in the rain, then I had no business wearing it… kind of a weird rule of thumb now that I think about it.
I think somewhere during my adventures through adolescents I adopted this mentality of ease and comfort. I got this notion in my head that boys liked simple. The idea was to look good but not look like I had to try hard to look good, which translated to the T-shirt and jeans mantra. By all means I would have a few fancy pieces in my arsenal, but I’d only bring the big guns out if the guy earned it. I remember I had a guy tell me once that I was the kind of girl you could take to the demolition derby on a Thursday and the opera on a Friday, I took it as a compliment.
And yet why have I had such a sudden falter in my style? Me thinks its because I recently dated someone who dressed much nicer than I did. I don’t know how much he spent on clothing but it was a great deal more than I did. Suddenly my Hollister jeans and white lacey tank tops weren’t so great anymore, especially whenever I’d go walking around with mister designer jeans.
For a short time I was able to temper my insecurities, and why not, he was looking at me with those baby blues and telling me how pretty he thought I was all the time. I would’ve gone around wearing a paper sack if he’d just kept looking at me like that. It wasn’t until I met his friends and their wives… all the gorgeous, sophisticated, elegant, and poised wives. They all had such a style about them that just screamed grown up, confident, and independent… Suddenly my wardrobe felt so juvenile…
After returning home from a short vacation with he and his friends, I ran off to the mall with my sister, who unlike myself, has her finger on the pulse of what’s in. I spent quite a bit of money trying to make a little revamp in my style, it will likely take years to purge some of the Hollister stuff I have collected over the past three years.
The irony behind it is that even after I bought all these clothes, which in some way or another were supposed to impress my new beau, the exact opposite happened. My new clothes were supposed to make me feel pretty, they were supposed to make me feel like I was good enough to stand by this cool guy who dressed so well, and while he once looked at me with eyes so deep and compliments a-plenty while adorned in my adolescent and ill thought attire, here I was in my new well thought out garb, begging for some sort of sign of approval and I got a lack-luster, “you look nice.” In two short days the budding romance that had so much promise withered into an unforeseen cliché ending, pity.
I think the rejection has me feeling like I’m twelve though. These clothes yielded the exact opposite response that I wanted… do I really know that little about fashion? I am an uncertain twelve year old, trying on clothes every other night, trying to figure out how these girls, excuse me, women put outfits together. How do they carry themselves with such an air of confidence? How in the world am I supposed to be as confident as them when these clothes couldn’t even help me keep a man? Oh well, maybe it’ll make more sense when I’m thirteen…
Sunday, November 25, 2012
Folds in my heart
Hobby: as defined by dictionary.com
-noun
1. An activity or interest pursued for pleasure or relaxation and not as a main occupation.
Hobby: as defined by Noelle
-noun
1. A means to pass the time, easing boredom and keeping the mind preoccupied.
I have recently taken up the hobby of folding origami. Its weird that I have spent hours looking up how to fold small pieces of paper into flowers. Its interesting to think that four years ago the thought of me spending my nights working on such a meaningless task would have floored me, yet here I am, approaching the ripened age of 26 and all I can muster the will to do is fold some paper…
This month started with an ending. In typical Noelle fashion I have failed in yet another relationship. I played it off pretty cool, but truth be told it jolted me. I liked him a lot and it was truly uncanny the circumstances in which he and I met. I wont go into detail but suffice it to say that too many coincidences is no longer a coincidence. That being said there seemed to be so much promise and yet at a time when I was really vulnerable and I needed him, his affections for me had begun to fail. I tried to tell him right from the get-go, I am not without flaw and to treat me as such is to only set us up for disaster. But there were, at an end.
As I mentioned, I am nearly 26. I feel as though I have grown passed the fretful nights of crying over some boy who has rejected me. I don’t want to let myself feel that bad over someone who never really cared for me to begin with. I don’t owe him my tears. He got a piece of my heart but I have come much too far and survived far too many heartbreaks to let one more guy just wreak havoc on my life. There could be a touch of denial in those sentiments but I’ve no mind to pay it at this point. I don’t feel like crying every day, and that is a much welcomed feeling.
What is unwelcome is this apathy I have settled into. I have little to no motivation to get back out there and start looking for someone new. I could honestly care less, I don’t even have social niceties in me anymore. A week or so ago I drove 45 minutes away to attend a party a friend of mine was hosting. I more or less forced myself to go, thinking it would be just the thing I needed to lift me out of this funk. Instead I felt completely alone and uncomfortable around all the new people. What I wouldn’t give for a nice night in, just watching tv with someone. I was there for less than half the time it took me to drive there, not including the drive back. From there I decided that this whole dating thing is not happening for me, at least not in 2012.
In all honesty I have no business going out with someone. If there is one thing I can’t fake. it is interest in someone. I think even in my current state, if my mister perfect were to happen upon me, my heaven picked eternal companion, I would frighten him away. I feel numb. I feel insecure. I feel like a broken mess that no one should have to deal with. So I have opted out of throwing myself at anyone willing and able to take me out, because at this point it just wouldn’t be fair to them.
I don’t know that I have ever felt like I was ready for marriage. There were times before when I had dated guys and it was a fun notion to dream about every once in a while, but in all reality the thought of it frightened me. I was so busy for so long being young, fun, and single. I was free to go where ever and whenever, without so much as a single person to answer to. There was so much freedom in it. And now? Now I just feel like I am craving some stability and some certainty. I don’t want new and different, I just want something or someone I can always rely on.
I wouldn’t say I am desperate to be married, although on days like today it would seem that way. My grandpa was in a serious car accident… I said my goodbyes to him earlier at the hospital, when I left they were giving him pain medication just to keep him comfortable and doing what they could to keep him alive so that everyone near by would have time to make it there and say goodbyes… to say the afternoon was traumatic would be coloring it lightly. I’m grateful I was able to see him and at the same time I wish I didn’t have to see him that way. I sat there with all my aunts and my uncle, my cousins and my sister, all crying and hugging… something about this whole ordeal has me feeling rather needy… Its even harder when I quietly and subtly ask for help, just a little comfort, and am still denied it… I know that there is someone out there for me. Just like my grandpa in his old age, long divorced from my grandma, was able to rekindle a romance with a high school sweetheart, there has to be hope for me. Hope that like the comfort he found from that sweet woman, I will have from a loving husband. I will have a hand to hold mine when I am afraid or shaking from the burdening sorrows of loss. I will someday have those arms to wrap around me and hold me, and a soft voice telling me that it will be okay… I will have a priesthood holder, that can give me a blessing of comfort when troubling times befall me. I am hopeful that it will happen, I’m just impatient, and how I wish I had such a blessing already.
Until he comes along and finds me, I will continue to spend my quiet weekends here in my room, watching cartoons and folding small pieces of colored paper into flowers.
-noun
1. An activity or interest pursued for pleasure or relaxation and not as a main occupation.
Hobby: as defined by Noelle
-noun
1. A means to pass the time, easing boredom and keeping the mind preoccupied.
I have recently taken up the hobby of folding origami. Its weird that I have spent hours looking up how to fold small pieces of paper into flowers. Its interesting to think that four years ago the thought of me spending my nights working on such a meaningless task would have floored me, yet here I am, approaching the ripened age of 26 and all I can muster the will to do is fold some paper…
This month started with an ending. In typical Noelle fashion I have failed in yet another relationship. I played it off pretty cool, but truth be told it jolted me. I liked him a lot and it was truly uncanny the circumstances in which he and I met. I wont go into detail but suffice it to say that too many coincidences is no longer a coincidence. That being said there seemed to be so much promise and yet at a time when I was really vulnerable and I needed him, his affections for me had begun to fail. I tried to tell him right from the get-go, I am not without flaw and to treat me as such is to only set us up for disaster. But there were, at an end.
As I mentioned, I am nearly 26. I feel as though I have grown passed the fretful nights of crying over some boy who has rejected me. I don’t want to let myself feel that bad over someone who never really cared for me to begin with. I don’t owe him my tears. He got a piece of my heart but I have come much too far and survived far too many heartbreaks to let one more guy just wreak havoc on my life. There could be a touch of denial in those sentiments but I’ve no mind to pay it at this point. I don’t feel like crying every day, and that is a much welcomed feeling.
What is unwelcome is this apathy I have settled into. I have little to no motivation to get back out there and start looking for someone new. I could honestly care less, I don’t even have social niceties in me anymore. A week or so ago I drove 45 minutes away to attend a party a friend of mine was hosting. I more or less forced myself to go, thinking it would be just the thing I needed to lift me out of this funk. Instead I felt completely alone and uncomfortable around all the new people. What I wouldn’t give for a nice night in, just watching tv with someone. I was there for less than half the time it took me to drive there, not including the drive back. From there I decided that this whole dating thing is not happening for me, at least not in 2012.
In all honesty I have no business going out with someone. If there is one thing I can’t fake. it is interest in someone. I think even in my current state, if my mister perfect were to happen upon me, my heaven picked eternal companion, I would frighten him away. I feel numb. I feel insecure. I feel like a broken mess that no one should have to deal with. So I have opted out of throwing myself at anyone willing and able to take me out, because at this point it just wouldn’t be fair to them.
I don’t know that I have ever felt like I was ready for marriage. There were times before when I had dated guys and it was a fun notion to dream about every once in a while, but in all reality the thought of it frightened me. I was so busy for so long being young, fun, and single. I was free to go where ever and whenever, without so much as a single person to answer to. There was so much freedom in it. And now? Now I just feel like I am craving some stability and some certainty. I don’t want new and different, I just want something or someone I can always rely on.
I wouldn’t say I am desperate to be married, although on days like today it would seem that way. My grandpa was in a serious car accident… I said my goodbyes to him earlier at the hospital, when I left they were giving him pain medication just to keep him comfortable and doing what they could to keep him alive so that everyone near by would have time to make it there and say goodbyes… to say the afternoon was traumatic would be coloring it lightly. I’m grateful I was able to see him and at the same time I wish I didn’t have to see him that way. I sat there with all my aunts and my uncle, my cousins and my sister, all crying and hugging… something about this whole ordeal has me feeling rather needy… Its even harder when I quietly and subtly ask for help, just a little comfort, and am still denied it… I know that there is someone out there for me. Just like my grandpa in his old age, long divorced from my grandma, was able to rekindle a romance with a high school sweetheart, there has to be hope for me. Hope that like the comfort he found from that sweet woman, I will have from a loving husband. I will have a hand to hold mine when I am afraid or shaking from the burdening sorrows of loss. I will someday have those arms to wrap around me and hold me, and a soft voice telling me that it will be okay… I will have a priesthood holder, that can give me a blessing of comfort when troubling times befall me. I am hopeful that it will happen, I’m just impatient, and how I wish I had such a blessing already.
Until he comes along and finds me, I will continue to spend my quiet weekends here in my room, watching cartoons and folding small pieces of colored paper into flowers.
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