Brave Tough Week

This last week was tough. Ridiculously tough. I could blame it on the lack of sleep, reading that depressing novel Frankenstein for class, or male loneliness, but really it was a combination.

I know it's been two weeks since my last post. I kinda took an accidental break from the goals. In those two weeks I've pretty much kept up the "be organized" goal and I loved it. My usual reaction to a bad week is to not exist. I would hid in my laptop or in my room and refuse any sort of interaction with anybody. If I hadn't been keeping my room tidy my brain would have started the whole self depreciation tirade. You know how the mind works. Sometimes your brain will nit-pick and make other little things seem like such a big deal when they're really symptoms of an issue you don't want to look at.

Not being able to find stuff makes me crabby. Feeling like a lazy bump on a log who does nothing makes me feel useless. Eating too much makes me sick. So why then do I choose to spend an entire day watching t.v, throwing anything I pick up down on the floor, and eating junk? I honestly think that when I'm in a mood I do things on purpose to increase the depression through a sick self-destructive need.

In all honesty it could have been worse. Thanks to my goal of organization I didn't have a messy room to add to my feelings. I've also been recently increasing in a desire to live in the world and not beside it. I think its a desire I've always had, a secret wish, but I always would tell myself that I wasn't athletic enough, pretty enough, have the means enough, to do anything. People will make fun of me if I tried. But I love doing stuff. I love being outside hiking or biking or playing. True, I also love to read, but after a whole high school career of being a slightly mobile self entertainment system I wanted to take time now to explore my limits. For instance, I'm going to try to bike out to a bluff not far from town, maybe 15 miles to it, 10 miles around it. That is really far for me, but I've been in training and I think I could do it.

I mainly kept up my spirits by realizing that as human beings we are the sum of our parts. And while I'll always have something to work on, the stuff that I'm good at already is what makes me a good person now.

Anyway, back to my depression conclusion. Because I wasn't degrading myself about my nutrition, my activity, or my cleanliness (though they did suffer in small degrees) I was able to zero in on what was really going on.

I have what you may call "daddy issues." My dad passed away when I was fifteen from kidney cancer. I grew up in a family of women and except for him and a few others I hadn't really been close to any guys. I have an over excited need to be accepted and loved by at least one good guy. This isn't to say that I go about like a slut or anything. I just am really shy when I consider men and love and relationships. Just becoming friends has become easier in recent years, but I still want love.

This all came to head during my British Literature class. We just finished Shakespeare's sonnets and were in the middle of Dunne's sonnets and in-case you were wondering they were all about love. The focus was Cupidity vs Charity. Cupidity = a Dionysus physical animal passion selfish type of love. Charity = An Apollo intellectual brotherly selfless love. Just charity can be good friends to close relations. Just Cupidity is selfish lust. Both are needed in marriage.

I almost started bawling in the middle of class. At first I attributed the feeling to not going to bed on time for the last three nights due to reading Frankenstein. But then scenes started flashing in my brain. We delivered cookies to the boys in my ward. They only saw my pheromone laced roommate and never once looked at me. The times where a boy dating me only because a girl he liked refused him just seconds before. The two really good, spiritual, wonderful men in my ward who I was beginning to think I could get their attention are currently interested in others. It's typical. One likes my FHE sister. The other one is hopelessly trying to get the attention of Sara, my pheromone laced roommate. (It's a futile effort, though she says shes still dating we all know she wants to marry her missionary and based on the amount they're communicating it's probably going to happen.) I was tired of being second. I wanted to be someone a guy was attracted to first.

To make myself feel better I reminded myself that mom had hardly ever been asked out before dad. I had been first for at least two guys before. Though I am no supermodel I had been spending considerable time previous to this reminding myself that I was pretty and I had been grooming and taking care of myself. Still, I desperately ached for male attention.

I went home and cried in the shower for about an hour. I decided that the fault could only be mine. I have iron walls when it comes to even a hint of guy attention. I never know how to react to flirting. I scare them off too easy and I never try to find ways to let a guy know that it would be alright if he asked me out. Guys are oblivious. How are they supposed to know that my pointed ignoring them is actually me being scared that they'll like me because I find myself attracted to them?

I got out of the shower and did something I've always wanted to, but never dared do. I wrote a confession of attraction and taped it in an envelope to a guys door. He is someone I've been admiring for a while and I thought he might take it the best out of the guys I currently like. Yes, I did sign it with only my last name. People around here only know each other through their first names. If he wants to know me, he'll have to look me up.

I'm no good at flirting or anything related to boy/girl relationships in person. I get too shy, nervous, and I stutter. I'm a far better writer, so I used my pen as a source of attraction. It did make me feel better because at least I know that I tried and he now knows that I exist. I wasn't pushy or demanding. I just told him how I felt and that he wasn't obligated to do anything about the letter except to read it. I still don't know if he even got the letter or if a jealous girl took it and trashed it. He does have quite an extensive fan base. Either way I do feel better. I went for a long bike ride afterwords and it completed my healing. That was so much better than sitting home and suppressing the feelings through t.v. or stories.

This week I need to start training for a race. Which is fine by me because Brittany and I have already decided to find a cheep race to enter this summer.

Last three weeks and a little Love Lesson

As much as I hate to admit it, I think I'm really getting worse.

At keeping this blog regularly I mean.

Well, I knew it would be hard once I was into the semester. In the last three weeks I've had to contend with midterms, writing retreats, catch ups, and anxiety.

Last post I mentioned how the calorie thing was going to be a two week thing due to the retreat. What I may have not mentioned was how I wasn't really counting calories, but marking down what food I'd eaten for what meal in the day. Looking up calories is time consuming and I figured with all my health knowledge I aught to be able to tell a good meal from a bad one.

It was so hard to be good on the Retreat. By that I mean I literally stuffed myself. Brother Papworth was our cook and he was phenomenal. We had turkey slow cooked in the ground on a bed of coals, chicken ball things with rice, mash potatoes, sausage, muffins, casseroles and other amazing dishes. I just couldn't say no! I literally expanded my stomach on that trip and I've been trying to shrink it ever since.

But I still recorded what I ate. I have a definite pattern. Every third day or so I feel this need to eat a lot and then the day after I hardly eat anything. I'm going to keep recording and see if I can't get my meals into a more regular pattern.

Sincere prayer went over well until I skipped a temple week and forgot to read scriptures. Now I know. Sincere prayer goes hand in hand with keeping the spirit really close to you. It's hard to have them otherwise.

Being social for ten minutes was almost a free-bee except that week I had a couple of depressed days where I didn't want to see anyone. I've learned that being social for just ten minutes is good therapy for the sad.

This week's challenge is to BE ORGANIZED.

I actually didn't look this one up until today. (This blog is becoming less and less a Sunday thing and more and more a Wednesday thing.) I shocked myself because yesterday I went crazy, full of energy, and just had to clean something. Mainly because I just couldn't sit down and focus on anything. I even tried to take an ADD test but I didn't finish it. So my room has been deep cleaned down to the junk drawer and I've been loving it ever since. Totally keeping this new habit.

Today I went out and bought a swim suit. The only store here that would sell a good one was Big 5. They didn't really have anything in my size so I ended up with a french cut swim suit and a set of mens' shirt and shorts. Hey, I don't want to go to the beach feeling like my shorts are riding up or about to fall off any second. That was all they had in the women's section. And french cut includes almost indecent exposure of the behind so a shirt was necessary. Big 5 also doesn't believe that there are fit women who have boobs. None of the suits had breast pads. None. I almost bought a slick exercise bra to compensate, but reminded myself that I had one already.

That's another good thing that happened today. I budgeted and stuck to my shopping list for the first time ever. All except for a pair of socks, I got what was only on my list. I can hear Dad in heaven saying, "Yes, she's an adult now!" Go Richest Man in Babylon. Best economic read ever.

I've also finally got that workout fire back. Yes!

K, now the lesson on love

I've been having this light-bulb moment all week and it's finally culminated into a poem. Chronologically it started on a Sunday. I was talking to this guy I usually talk to and he mentioned a girl he wanted to ask out. He showed me her facebook page which displayed six beautiful, blond, straight nosed, tanned, black eyed girls. I asked him to point out THE girl and he froze. He couldn't do it. As a girl I saw the subtle differences between them, he didn't.

Later this week my roommate was distressed. She told me that she never felt uglier than at this school because everyone's expectations were so high. PS: She's beautiful, she just has really wide hips. Men were either afraid of her or wanted to change her. Anywhere else she's lived they just wanted to date her. She told me that if she took me to this one state both she and I would get dates at the drop of a hate.

"Ok, let's forget school and go there right now!" I said, possibly with some seriousness because just like her I haven't had a date in a long time. And I'm not bad looking either I just don't look like a cookie cut model. It's hard to practice social skills or even feel like you have options when the guys aren't asking.

We read this story call "The Birth-Mark" by Nathaniel Hawthrone. It's basically about this practically perfect woman who has all the looks and manners anyone could want. Her only fault is a tiny handprint shaped birthmark on her cheek that some have called blessed and others cursed. She sided with the blessed. Her husband sided with the cursed and changed her opinion over to his. He wanted her absolutely perfect so they removed it. Only once it was removed she became far too perfect for the world and died. Read it sometime, it's a good story.

So this whole idea began to marinate in my brain. I realized that the men here have too many options to choose from so simpler, curvier, and plainer girls like myself and my roommate don't really stand much chance to attract them. Further, I was ok with that.

Here's my poem that pretty much explains my feelings

A Confession on Love

As much as I think I love you
As much as I know you’re wonderful
As much as we seem to get along

We both know
You cannot love what you secretly despise

You have an ideal
You have an ambition
You have too many options

We both know
That one beauty will meet your expectations

Do not feel sorry for me
Do not turn your hand to mine
Do not regret what never was

We both know
We’d rather be alone than to be only loved almost

Enjoy your quest
Enjoy your straight nose
Enjoy your slim hips and black eyes

We both know
That I sincerely wish you well with your dream.

I am content
I am glad of your goals
I am glad of my own

We both know
That it’s not in me to dwell on things that never were

Someday, there’ll be another
Someday, I’ll be the Queen
Someday, I’ll be the ideal

We both know
True love is always beautiful in the beholders eyes

An that pretty much sums up this post. Wish me luck on this next goal for staying organized.