I barely made it up the last stairstep. My breath sounded short and... wheesy. I plopped down on the couch, happy that my 6-year-old subject was pretty worn out, too. I sat there, desperately trying to remember what normal breathing felt like. It took me a good ten minutes to get to the point of normal breathing. "I don't feel good," Tyler moaned. I understood the sentiment, so we sat on the couch for awhile, drinking water and munching on Goldfish. We played with the Goldfish a little, because that's just something you have to do with the snack that smiles back.
Sleeping on the floor in a strange apartment without a pillow turns out to be one of my body's least-favourite activities. I did acquire a pillow though, finally. I've had odd and irregular eating habits the past few weeks. My legs start to tremble, threatening to fail, if I've forgotten to eat for too long. I like to pretend that I'm just being a wimp, but I know better than that. I'm tired, but that I've gotten used to. I'm angry, and that's something I never wanted to get used to, but maybe I have.
The last time I went to get a blood draw, the nurse was unable to get anything out of me. She wiggled the needle around, searching for a vein. She found one, but apparently it didn't have enough blood in it. I was left with a vein bulging from my arm, freezing cold, and trembling violently. I stumbled to my classroom - no time to waste - and sunk to the floor in the hallway. I was somewhere between my body just failing to move any more and a slight state of shock. Em came over to me and I showed him my arms. I cried, though I still don't know why. Mostly I just felt angry.
I question God a lot when I start getting sick. I get angry at God a lot when I can't make my body move the way I want it to. I think Christians in general like to shy away from admitting that they doubt or get angry at God, but I'm pretty sure it's a universal thing. The Bible is littered with people who cry out and God, not understanding the state of their lives. In the end, basically all we know is that God's got it. We don't always get answers to the question why, we just know God is bigger than us.
So all the pain I've dealt with the past year is okay, because I don't have to understand why. All the anger and the confusion and frustration is okay, as long as I remember that God is sovereign and I am not outside of His will. I'm not accusing the Almighty of being unjust. Sometimes one just needs to get stuff out of their system, sometimes that helps us recognize God all the more. Sometimes I tend to separate "me" and "my body," so let me broaden that a little to encompass more than my health. All the difficulties Em and I have had (and will have) are okay because God is in control. All the disappointment I've felt toward my parents and friends is okay because God is good. All the trouble I'm having finding that "ideal" job is okay because God is bigger than work. I don't really have to understand why, after all. I just have to rest in what I know is true about God.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Relate
Friendship is a really odd topic for me. I have two friends who I've been close to for the last ten years, about. When I was in high school, I was relatively popular and never seemed to have a problem finding someone to spend time with. I started writing this blog because I had been stewing over all the things going on in my life that go with growing up. When someone asked me what I wanted to write about this time (I've blogged before and abandoned them all for various reasons), I said something like, "Health. I'm really interested in being healthy. And education, because I like it. Getting married. Moving. My usual theological rants." Basically things that are happening in my life, but maybe I could also take a broader perspective on.
So here's the thing, I'm bad at making friends. Em and I talk about this on a regular basis. My sister has lectured me about this since I was about 13. So I've gotten a little more intentional lately. I planned three different "dates" this week, with three different women I have something of a relationship with that I want to deepen. My first one was today. It was with a girl I met when I started college and we were close friends for a few months, but recently have barely spoken. I got to Panera first. She arrived a few minutes later. We talked about some of the things we're working through on our upcoming marriages. Then we sat. In silence. For what seemed like 15 minutes, at least. So I sat there, wondering how it happened that we ended up with absolutely nothing to talk about. Then I went to work, and I wondered how I seemed to have more in common with my manager, a culinary student with completely different beliefs than me, then a girl who lives a very similar lifestyle to me.
Tomorrow I have date #2, and date #3 may have to be rescheduled as work is eating my life a tiny bit right now. Date #2 is with one of my better friends that we've just sort of not made time for each other recently. Date #3 is with a girl I've known vaguely for two years, though have never been close to, who has recently gone out of her way to be incredibly kind to me which has made me realize she's probably the type of friend I actually want to have.
I'm really bad at the whole friends thing. But I'm getting better. I try not to directly talk about God in every single post because I feel like that's a little unnecessary. Maybe it isn't, though. Because sometimes it becomes like the point of the thing I'm writing about is the thing itself, but it really isn't. The point of making good friends isn't just that. It's so that I can practice being the type of friend God wants me to be, and so I can have people in my life with the same intent in their friendships. The point of taking all the vitamins my doctor tells me to and exercising every day isn't so I look better or feel better, it is so I manage my body the way God intends for me to. The point of education is to use my mind in a way that brings glory to God. So now, this whole week turns into a sort of exploration of what God's view of friendship is. I'll keep you all posted.
So here's the thing, I'm bad at making friends. Em and I talk about this on a regular basis. My sister has lectured me about this since I was about 13. So I've gotten a little more intentional lately. I planned three different "dates" this week, with three different women I have something of a relationship with that I want to deepen. My first one was today. It was with a girl I met when I started college and we were close friends for a few months, but recently have barely spoken. I got to Panera first. She arrived a few minutes later. We talked about some of the things we're working through on our upcoming marriages. Then we sat. In silence. For what seemed like 15 minutes, at least. So I sat there, wondering how it happened that we ended up with absolutely nothing to talk about. Then I went to work, and I wondered how I seemed to have more in common with my manager, a culinary student with completely different beliefs than me, then a girl who lives a very similar lifestyle to me.
Tomorrow I have date #2, and date #3 may have to be rescheduled as work is eating my life a tiny bit right now. Date #2 is with one of my better friends that we've just sort of not made time for each other recently. Date #3 is with a girl I've known vaguely for two years, though have never been close to, who has recently gone out of her way to be incredibly kind to me which has made me realize she's probably the type of friend I actually want to have.
I'm really bad at the whole friends thing. But I'm getting better. I try not to directly talk about God in every single post because I feel like that's a little unnecessary. Maybe it isn't, though. Because sometimes it becomes like the point of the thing I'm writing about is the thing itself, but it really isn't. The point of making good friends isn't just that. It's so that I can practice being the type of friend God wants me to be, and so I can have people in my life with the same intent in their friendships. The point of taking all the vitamins my doctor tells me to and exercising every day isn't so I look better or feel better, it is so I manage my body the way God intends for me to. The point of education is to use my mind in a way that brings glory to God. So now, this whole week turns into a sort of exploration of what God's view of friendship is. I'll keep you all posted.
Friday, May 18, 2012
Home
I write about the idea of "home" a lot. If you read anything I write - from Facebook statuses, to former blogs, to one of my (6?) novellas - you'll notice the common thread. Home. Well, maybe a lot of other common threads, too, but that's one of them. I'm a girl obsessed with getting home.
Last Thursday night I was packing my things, unsure of where I would live when I returned to the city on Monday. I was afraid. Possibly more afraid than I have ever been. I was exhausted and every bone in my body hurt. My body did that cruel thing where it reminds me it will never work the way it is supposed to again, and my stomach swelled in protest to the heavy boxes I'd been moving around all day. I cried. Halfway out of pain, halfway out of terror of sleeping in a cardboard box.
While the pain was legitimate, maybe my fear of homelessness isn't. In actuality, I wouldn't have been homeless. The living situation I'm in has been far from ideal, but my friends have been incredibly kind and generous with their space. That isn't the point, though. The point is that maybe the point isn't that I have a home. Maybe God can use my life better if I were homeless and starving and strapped cardboard to my bleeding feet every morning because they had become too swollen to fit in shoes anymore. Maybe I would understand love better if I knew what it was like to be unloved and unnoticed. And in my life, the sad implication of this idea that God could drastically use a homeless person for His glory is that the past 2 years that I've spent in and out of doctors' offices, adjusting to new medications, afraid of dying, unable to get out of bed some mornings, may very well be how God decided I can best glorify Him.
And I didn't.
A large part of the past two years I've spent shaking my fist at the Heavens and angrily pushing my body to it's limits. I demanded that if God really cared for me He would heal me. Back when I believed that I would make a complete recovery, I asked God for some magical medication that would speed up the process. Instead of that, the next time I went to the doctor I learned that I never would fully recover. And I grieved that. But now, trying to live every day, the fact is that God is sovereign. God allowed my body to break for His glory. God has allowed the past several months of incredible stress, cutting remarks, and failed plans for His glory. Because God's mind is always bigger than my mind, and perhaps what seems bad to me is not really so bad.
Tonight I have no home, I've moved from place to place all week, though with security. And in my relative homelessness, may I glorify God more than ever. For He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. Blessed be His name.
Last Thursday night I was packing my things, unsure of where I would live when I returned to the city on Monday. I was afraid. Possibly more afraid than I have ever been. I was exhausted and every bone in my body hurt. My body did that cruel thing where it reminds me it will never work the way it is supposed to again, and my stomach swelled in protest to the heavy boxes I'd been moving around all day. I cried. Halfway out of pain, halfway out of terror of sleeping in a cardboard box.
While the pain was legitimate, maybe my fear of homelessness isn't. In actuality, I wouldn't have been homeless. The living situation I'm in has been far from ideal, but my friends have been incredibly kind and generous with their space. That isn't the point, though. The point is that maybe the point isn't that I have a home. Maybe God can use my life better if I were homeless and starving and strapped cardboard to my bleeding feet every morning because they had become too swollen to fit in shoes anymore. Maybe I would understand love better if I knew what it was like to be unloved and unnoticed. And in my life, the sad implication of this idea that God could drastically use a homeless person for His glory is that the past 2 years that I've spent in and out of doctors' offices, adjusting to new medications, afraid of dying, unable to get out of bed some mornings, may very well be how God decided I can best glorify Him.
And I didn't.
A large part of the past two years I've spent shaking my fist at the Heavens and angrily pushing my body to it's limits. I demanded that if God really cared for me He would heal me. Back when I believed that I would make a complete recovery, I asked God for some magical medication that would speed up the process. Instead of that, the next time I went to the doctor I learned that I never would fully recover. And I grieved that. But now, trying to live every day, the fact is that God is sovereign. God allowed my body to break for His glory. God has allowed the past several months of incredible stress, cutting remarks, and failed plans for His glory. Because God's mind is always bigger than my mind, and perhaps what seems bad to me is not really so bad.
Tonight I have no home, I've moved from place to place all week, though with security. And in my relative homelessness, may I glorify God more than ever. For He causes His sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous. Blessed be His name.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Boxes
I'm packing away all the things that make up my life right now. It's always weird to file all your things away into boxes, "This I won't need again til Winter," one thinks to oneself, "so it shall go into the Winter box." I'm terrible at filing things. I am pretty sure my swimsuit ended up in my Winter box. Boxes, boxes, boxes.
I have less clothing than I thought. In general, I have less "stuff" than I thought. I'm also getting rid of stuff. I hate having stuff. My family's biggest grievance against me is I have a tendency to throw away too much when I clean. I just like everything to be simple. Clean. New. I'll be two weeks somewhere new, then two months, then a few years, maybe. Always moving, like I always wanted to be.
I'm afraid, because I look at pictures from a year ago and think "I looked so well. I looked healthy and my skin was pink and I was a little fat." I look at my reflection and wonder at the dark circles under my eyes and the grey-blue tone my skin has taken on, as if to say "you should have been dead by now." I feel odd saying all that publicly, to the grand total of 3 people who read my blog, but the fact is that for the most part I don't like to talk about it. I don't like to think about it. I don't like to think that I might not be able to do and be everything I want to. I don't like to think that my body isn't a normal, healthy, 20-year-old body.
Generally, when I'm feeling angry about my health, I run across things like this. I will probably not be ill the rest of my life. I will never be able to check the "excellent" box when paperwork asks about my health condition, but it is manageable. The fact remains, though, my health is what it is for a reason. It's not punishment or judgement. It's another opportunity to glorify God. In my work, in managing my time, in caring for my body and establishing good health habits, in my friendships, and maybe most of all in my upcoming marriage.
So here I am, packing my life into boxes. Boxes, boxes, boxes. Uncertain of exactly what the future holds, and where the next few years may take me. But understanding that in a few years, maybe I'll be packing boxes again to go on a new adventure. Maybe more frightening. Nonetheless, trusting God that my boxes & I will end up exactly where He means for us to be.
I have less clothing than I thought. In general, I have less "stuff" than I thought. I'm also getting rid of stuff. I hate having stuff. My family's biggest grievance against me is I have a tendency to throw away too much when I clean. I just like everything to be simple. Clean. New. I'll be two weeks somewhere new, then two months, then a few years, maybe. Always moving, like I always wanted to be.
I'm afraid, because I look at pictures from a year ago and think "I looked so well. I looked healthy and my skin was pink and I was a little fat." I look at my reflection and wonder at the dark circles under my eyes and the grey-blue tone my skin has taken on, as if to say "you should have been dead by now." I feel odd saying all that publicly, to the grand total of 3 people who read my blog, but the fact is that for the most part I don't like to talk about it. I don't like to think about it. I don't like to think that I might not be able to do and be everything I want to. I don't like to think that my body isn't a normal, healthy, 20-year-old body.
Generally, when I'm feeling angry about my health, I run across things like this. I will probably not be ill the rest of my life. I will never be able to check the "excellent" box when paperwork asks about my health condition, but it is manageable. The fact remains, though, my health is what it is for a reason. It's not punishment or judgement. It's another opportunity to glorify God. In my work, in managing my time, in caring for my body and establishing good health habits, in my friendships, and maybe most of all in my upcoming marriage.
So here I am, packing my life into boxes. Boxes, boxes, boxes. Uncertain of exactly what the future holds, and where the next few years may take me. But understanding that in a few years, maybe I'll be packing boxes again to go on a new adventure. Maybe more frightening. Nonetheless, trusting God that my boxes & I will end up exactly where He means for us to be.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
Happy
"Happy people don't try to make other people miserable," I said to Em yesterday, "miserable people try to make other people miserable." He started to disagree with me, then stopped. I don't know whether he decided to agree, or just decided it wasn't worth an argument. Maybe both. Nonetheless, I've been thinking about it ever since, going back and forth on if I actually believe this. I think I do.
Sometimes happy people make other people miserable, but I do not think that they try to. Happy people are too busy doing awesome things to do things that are not awesome. Like making people unhappy. I don't think they would be happy if they were in the business of making people miserable. You don't see happy evil overlord (okay, maybe the Despicable Me guy, but he was mostly happy after he stopped making people miserable).
Maybe happy is a bad term to use. Everyone has been tossing the term happy around lately. Its a word people like to use when they talk to young 20somethings who have their whole lives ahead of them. "Are you happy?" they ask, and, "will that make you happy?" or, my favourite, "will you still be happy with that decision in ten or twenty years?" I'm not convinced that this "happy" thing is all that everyone makes it out to be. I think if happy were everything, I would drop out of school and become a barista and learn to play bass. A bass-playing barista. With blue hair. I would probably try to start a band. It would be a really terrible band. I would call it "Frying Bryan". I would be a blue-haired, bass-playing barista in Frying Bryan. My entire life would be a tongue twister. I don't know if that would make me happy, either, but that would probably be my first attempt at the whole happy thing. I'm not positive about the happy thing, though. Being happy seems pretty trite.
I would rather be satisfied. I'd rather be joyful. College is probably one of the least happy things I've ever done. Surviving Systematic Theology I was probably one of the most difficult things I've ever done (and it's sequel is coming Fall 2013). I don't know that I'll ever be "happy" about finishing school. I'm not convinced I'll ever look back and say "I'm happy I did that, fellows." When I'm old I am going to call people "fellows", though. I digress. The point is, well, I do it because its satisfying. Learning things means something. It's important. I will probably look back and say it was satisfying and necessary and important. And I think that is enough.
Satisfied people don't make other people miserable. People who can look back on their life and say that everything was worth it, that everything was satisfying and necessary and important don't doubt others' ability to do the same. I want to be one of those old people who believes young people can do anything. I am trying to be a young person who believes I have the chance to do anything. There's too much hope and potential in the world to waste time telling other people why they shouldn't or can't live the lives they've imagined. There's enough other people doing that already, after all. I'll let the miserable people make other people miserable. I'll work on living a life I can be satisfied with.
Sometimes happy people make other people miserable, but I do not think that they try to. Happy people are too busy doing awesome things to do things that are not awesome. Like making people unhappy. I don't think they would be happy if they were in the business of making people miserable. You don't see happy evil overlord (okay, maybe the Despicable Me guy, but he was mostly happy after he stopped making people miserable).
Maybe happy is a bad term to use. Everyone has been tossing the term happy around lately. Its a word people like to use when they talk to young 20somethings who have their whole lives ahead of them. "Are you happy?" they ask, and, "will that make you happy?" or, my favourite, "will you still be happy with that decision in ten or twenty years?" I'm not convinced that this "happy" thing is all that everyone makes it out to be. I think if happy were everything, I would drop out of school and become a barista and learn to play bass. A bass-playing barista. With blue hair. I would probably try to start a band. It would be a really terrible band. I would call it "Frying Bryan". I would be a blue-haired, bass-playing barista in Frying Bryan. My entire life would be a tongue twister. I don't know if that would make me happy, either, but that would probably be my first attempt at the whole happy thing. I'm not positive about the happy thing, though. Being happy seems pretty trite.
I would rather be satisfied. I'd rather be joyful. College is probably one of the least happy things I've ever done. Surviving Systematic Theology I was probably one of the most difficult things I've ever done (and it's sequel is coming Fall 2013). I don't know that I'll ever be "happy" about finishing school. I'm not convinced I'll ever look back and say "I'm happy I did that, fellows." When I'm old I am going to call people "fellows", though. I digress. The point is, well, I do it because its satisfying. Learning things means something. It's important. I will probably look back and say it was satisfying and necessary and important. And I think that is enough.
Satisfied people don't make other people miserable. People who can look back on their life and say that everything was worth it, that everything was satisfying and necessary and important don't doubt others' ability to do the same. I want to be one of those old people who believes young people can do anything. I am trying to be a young person who believes I have the chance to do anything. There's too much hope and potential in the world to waste time telling other people why they shouldn't or can't live the lives they've imagined. There's enough other people doing that already, after all. I'll let the miserable people make other people miserable. I'll work on living a life I can be satisfied with.
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Pain
Most of this week has been... painful. I woke up Monday morning quite earlier than I like to wake up running of fever of roughly 102. Last week of school, of course. Important day to be in class, of course. Since then I've been resting at a low-grade fever with a sore throat and some nausea. I think what I've come to hate the most about being sick is the acheyness and the exhaustion, though. The other things would be manageable if you didn't get that "I'm-going-to-die" type of feeling along with it. It doesn't help that every time I get legitimately sick (not just I-don't-feel-good sick, because I'm in a constant state of that) I panic a little bit that all the doctors have missed something and I truly am about to die from some horrible illness. You call it paranoia, I call it last summer.
All in all, it's being a very unpleasant and difficult week. It has certainly had its bright spots, though, like going out to get some real food and watch a movie with Em last night. We talked like young British boys nearly the entire way home and giggled uncontrollably. His giggle is one of the best sounds in the world. In the spirit of thinking about really nice things while not feeling so nicely, I shall list pleasant things to do when one is ill:
Eat really wonderful soup (preferably Soupbox) and drink good tea, preferably while lounging in bed
Catch up on all your favourite TV shows on Hulu
Hug someone really nice
Make a coccoon out of pillows and hibernate for a few hours
Write love letters
Take pictures of your sick face, so when you're well again you can appreciate that your skin is not normally that colour
Lay on the grass on a sunny day and soak up the warmth
Take a bath
Read an entire book
Use your sick-raspy voice to see how much like a space alien you can sound
Enjoy a deep, medicine-induced sleep (and just think - when you're sick is the only time you should do this, so enjoy the soundness)
Escape from the world and enjoy some quiet
Get your fiancee to study Song of Songs (okay, well, he actually did that on his own, but the effect of that is a wonderfully thoughtful and romantic man being even more wonderfully thoughtful and romantic)
Apply for jobs, even if you don't want them it makes you feel productive while doing something mindless
Talk to your mom (let's be honest, 80% of people want their moms when they're sick, the other 20% had bad mothers)
Wear really fantastic undergarmets and/or pajamas
Watch an children's movies
Drink more juice than would ever be suitable otherwise (because who doesn't love juice?)
Teach yourself origami
Go for a walk, even if you don't feel like it. Moving around a bit will at least sort out a few crunchy muscles
Listen to instrumental music
Plan a mini-celebration for when you're not sick anymore (treat yourself to ice cream?)
Dream about travelling
Re-evaluate your life
Talk to an old friend on the phone
Do some homework (I know, doesn't sound fun, but it is a nice feeling to accomplish things even when not feeling well)
Spend some time with God; thinking, praying, cracking open the Bible or listening to sermons online, whatever your jam is
Remember what it was like to be very young
Imagine what it would be like to be very old
Laugh
Practice winking
Take your temperature (I like thermometors, don't judge)
And mostly just lie in bed, and when you get tired of lying in bed, remember that when you're not sick you wish you could just lie in bed.
All in all, it's being a very unpleasant and difficult week. It has certainly had its bright spots, though, like going out to get some real food and watch a movie with Em last night. We talked like young British boys nearly the entire way home and giggled uncontrollably. His giggle is one of the best sounds in the world. In the spirit of thinking about really nice things while not feeling so nicely, I shall list pleasant things to do when one is ill:
Eat really wonderful soup (preferably Soupbox) and drink good tea, preferably while lounging in bed
Catch up on all your favourite TV shows on Hulu
Hug someone really nice
Make a coccoon out of pillows and hibernate for a few hours
Write love letters
Take pictures of your sick face, so when you're well again you can appreciate that your skin is not normally that colour
Lay on the grass on a sunny day and soak up the warmth
Take a bath
Read an entire book
Use your sick-raspy voice to see how much like a space alien you can sound
Enjoy a deep, medicine-induced sleep (and just think - when you're sick is the only time you should do this, so enjoy the soundness)
Escape from the world and enjoy some quiet
Get your fiancee to study Song of Songs (okay, well, he actually did that on his own, but the effect of that is a wonderfully thoughtful and romantic man being even more wonderfully thoughtful and romantic)
Apply for jobs, even if you don't want them it makes you feel productive while doing something mindless
Talk to your mom (let's be honest, 80% of people want their moms when they're sick, the other 20% had bad mothers)
Wear really fantastic undergarmets and/or pajamas
Watch an children's movies
Drink more juice than would ever be suitable otherwise (because who doesn't love juice?)
Teach yourself origami
Go for a walk, even if you don't feel like it. Moving around a bit will at least sort out a few crunchy muscles
Listen to instrumental music
Plan a mini-celebration for when you're not sick anymore (treat yourself to ice cream?)
Dream about travelling
Re-evaluate your life
Talk to an old friend on the phone
Do some homework (I know, doesn't sound fun, but it is a nice feeling to accomplish things even when not feeling well)
Spend some time with God; thinking, praying, cracking open the Bible or listening to sermons online, whatever your jam is
Remember what it was like to be very young
Imagine what it would be like to be very old
Laugh
Practice winking
Take your temperature (I like thermometors, don't judge)
And mostly just lie in bed, and when you get tired of lying in bed, remember that when you're not sick you wish you could just lie in bed.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)