My brother came home from China this past summer. Talk about stressful. I managed the situation immensely better than anyone predicted. We were able to talk and be in the same room. Still, trying to explain how I felt toward the situation and specifically him was too difficult as it was too soon.
In August I ran away to a job in Rexburg. Granted I had been playing on returning to this job since April (before my brother had announced he was coming back home). But the sooner I could leave the better. School started up in September. For the first time I felt a clear direction, a clearing in front of me. My classes were fantastic. However my health still was giving me some trouble. I've been on Cymbalta since January. Little did anyone recognize or realize it was pulling me into a depression.
During the months of August, my roommates and I found a relaxing paradise in the form of paddle boarding in a man made pond. Growing up I've been called a fish. At the age of eight my golden blonde hair turned a bright green from swimming so much. That was after the first two days of our pool being open. Needless to say this pond was exactly the refreshment I needed. Using the little strength saved up during the morning, I would paddle to the middle of the pond. Leaving the paddle on the board I would jump in, my skin breathing in the cool, invigorating water. As I floated the fresh water reprieved my nerves. For the slightest moment I was me again. The water enveloped not only me, but my mind and my senses. And then the thought would come, "If only I would just let myself sink to the bottom..." At which point I would become a little worried and get back on the paddle board.
September came and brought new roommates in a new complex. I hadn't been living there for more than three hours when I had a panic attack. My dad talked me through it and I was able to calm down. Not a week later I had another panic attack, only this time I couldn't calm myself down. Instead my dearest friend arranged for me to receive a priesthood blessing. What a sacred and personal blessing from Heavenly Father.
I thought I would be fine from that point on. Originally I had told my brother I would come to see him the weekend of General Conference. I forgot to tell him I had cancelled. He insisted I should come down as did his wife. There was a slight problem: I had no where to put my puppy. Yes I had gone certifiably crazy and bought myself a comfort animal. Thank goodness for brothers who understand and can tell you such facts. That weekend lead to me going off all medication cold turkey. This only lead to completely dizziness and vertigo. When I called to explain to the doctor that I needed to be able to find a way to get back to school and work in Idaho, I was told to take Benadryl and wait two weeks for it to wear off. Clearly my plans needed to change.
Now November is just a breath away. I'm here at home. Not at all where I intended to be. All day I've been busy running errands for my mother and making gifts for her co-workers (in order to butter them up for my mother as they've been witches and not because it's Halloween). Finally catching my breath, I sat down to mindless let my mind run on Facebook, if not only to solidify to myself the shallowness of my present mind. There a wall of bricks in the form of an innocent pictures of missionary faces knocked me back to reality.
Today I was to return home from my eighteen month mission. Another path never fully explored.
That seems to be the routine these days. I embark with full determination to finish down one path only to find myself set back where I started, fresh with disappointment. Disappointment in myself and frustration with my body. What happened to the road map I had?
On my knees I beg to see catch the smallest glimpse of this road map. If only to avoid the stinging pain of being forced to quit once again. It is in these times I have finally learned the difference in feeling hot tears streaming down my face in stark contrast to the cold trickle of tears shed for the same old sorrow.
Yet somewhere in the back reaches of my mind, I distinctly hear Heavenly Father's messages for me:
There will be wrong roads in our lives. Many in fact. "God expects us to pray, trust, and be believing and then not give up, panic, or "jump ship" when something doesn't seem to be going right."
