How *NOT* to Deal with Rejection

So, last night, I had a dream that Jason decided his best life plan was to become some sort of bank/business robber, just like his "Great-Aunt Sally" from the 20's-- (who is completely fictional, btw)- only he was going to do it right this time instead of botching it up and living most of his life in jail like she did. Without my knowledge, he had pulled off two heists but then "the fuzz" was on to him, so he left and we broke up because he didn't want me to have to live that kind of life.

Then, when I woke up and checked my e-mail and there was a rejection notice for one of the few pieces I had out.

And I have a sore throat and a cold sore.

And everyday that I wake up without a call from an employer wanting to interview me hits a little bit harder and we are mid-way through my 3rd month sans job, so it's hitting pretty hard, these days.

So basically I've been feeling pretty rejected today. I mean, granted, Jason didn't actually break up with me to start a life of crime, but it is hard to not start feeling really dejected by all this rejection.

I'd like to write a post called "How to Deal with Rejection," but I don't know that I have a lot of handy tips. I know some things you shouldn't do... mainly because I do them. So here's a list of how *NOT* to deal with rejection.

1) Remember every previous rejection you've ever had. From the cute boys who never paid much attention to me, to not getting accepted to Missouri State Fine Arts Academy, to not getting certain scholarships that I interviewed for, to never getting any part that I really wanted in a play. I shouldn't remember them all and play back in my heart all the disappointment I've felt from reaching for something I really want and being told no.

2) Use absolute words like "always" and "never." Talking about how I'm always disappointed, is never a good idea, because it removes the possibility that there have been any gray areas or bright spots and it sounds like nothing has ever worked out, when, in actuality, I live a pretty happy life.

3) Take it personally. I've been a drama teacher, I've been on the panel for a literary journal, I've been on the other side of the hiring committee. Choices are never personal, they are based on talent level and chemistry and mood and balance and a hundred other things that aren't personal, but it still feels so personal, every time.

4) Avoid future rejection. This is my worst one. For a time in my life I tried to just stop wanting anything.  If I didn't care, then I couldn't be hurt. Which is technically true, but a terrible way to live life. I've gotten a little better about this, but I still am very emotionally reserved about practically everything. It's so hard for me to let go and loosen up, but I don't know how you can pretend that you don't want a job... being able to live is kinda important. I've wondered a few times if it was possible to get someone else to send my stuff out so that I would only hear if I got accepted, not if I was rejected, but that seems sort of a cheaty way to go about it.

5) Let your light go out. I just... I don't expect my life to be a movie or perfectly smooth. I don't expect to be a huge star who is known all over the world. But I would like to be known. I would like to make some sort of impact. I would like to actually make a living. I would really like to shine.

Vulnerability: The First

Today Melissa and I were talking about something... and then the same subject came up on a television show I watched online... and then again in a different way on a different show. (To be fair I also read an entire Shakespeare play this evening, so don't judge me too harshly.) So because the same subject came up so very often today I thought I would talk about it.

Melissa and I were talking about Brené Brown's book. She is reading it and recommended it to me. I know of Brené Brown from a couple of TED talks that she did that I love. (I blogged about them here.) Melissa and I were talking about communication and being yourself and being straightforward and power dynamics and the lack of power dynamics. And that got us on the subject of admitting ones needs/wants/desires.

There is something in us, and I'm not sure if by "us" I mean "Americans" or I mean "human beings," but there is something that feels like we should not admit what we want or need. That somehow, by being honest about who we are, we are displaying weakness and declaring ourselves pathetic. No one wants to be thought of that way and so we hide our wants and desires. We don't share what we actually want, deep down, because we are afraid that we will be judged for it -- labeled as "needy" --or we will be told no and that will hurt.

So we bottle it up and tamp it down and generally try as hard as we can to avoid being vulnerable. Brené Brown says that vulnerability is essential to living a full and content life, though, and while I've not read her book I do greatly agree with those TED talks, so I've put her book on hold at the library.

Then I was watching Hart of Dixie, (because I'm totally hooked even though I wouldn't call it good television by any stretch of the imagination.) And the theme of the episode was romance... and how romance is about the willingness to take a chance and be a fool. It's true... love and marriage isn't about being cool, it's about being silly and being real and being ok with all that. At one point the main character says of a fifteen year old kid that he is tough, that expressing his feelings took guts, and she tells him that he is braver than most grown men that she knows. Again: vulnerability is hard but it's commendable and something to be respected.

And then I was watching Go On which is that widower show that I've mentioned a few times and the main character had an old friend from college come visit, and through the course of the episode he discovers that he has feelings for her (though he's not ready yet to act on them) and at the end they talked about it and she is really honest/vulnerable and admits that she has feelings for him, too (and has since college) but they can't date, because she knows he's not ready and she doesn't want to be "the first" after his wife.

That last part kinda slayed me... cause 1) it was so cool that they just talked about it, straightforwardly. --Ach, to just talk about romantic feelings as though they aren't something to hide from or be ashamed about.... that's my dream world! But 2) because she didn't want to be first.

 I think that's a real thing that people get concerned about with widows/widowers... and if I'm gonna be honest about my needs/desires: I want to date, I want to get married and I want to have children... and I really want that all to happen relatively soon. I'm going to be 30 next year and my biological clock has been primed for five years now... but for any of those dreams to happen, someone has to be the first. And if there isn't (at least) a first then I won't get any of those things... And that is a dream that will very much hurt if I'm told no.

And I am afraid to say it, for fear that it makes me sound desperate (when I'm really not) or unhappy (which I'm also not) or trolling for a husband (still, not.) But if you can't be real on your blog where can you be real?

2 of 30

Time to continue the list. Click here, if you don't know what I'm talking about.


2. Describe 3 legitimate fears you have and explain how they became fears.

I thought about phoning this one in. I don't like discussing my fears... I don't know that anyone does, so I thought about saying things like "Jello" and "becoming a 'purple person'" - basically just trying to be as funny as possible in the hope that you wouldn't notice that the list calls for "legitimate fears" But if this list is made in the interest of letting you get to know me, then it seems rather counter productive to hide behind my humorous self-defense mechanism. So in the interest of being authentic, and because I signed myself up for this anyway- here goes.

1) That no one really likes me.

So here's a story I've not told very many people... In Jr. High I went on this Christian youth conference thing. I think it was actually in Springfield, funnily enough. It was our youth minister, my aunt (female chaperone), myself, and two other girls from my class at school. These girls weren't super involved in our church, but we got to leave school early on Friday and it was a big gathering of youth, so you know, whatever. These girls and I weren't great friends, but we weren't enemies or anything, just never really hung out. It started out great. The drive up was fun and we seemed to be getting along well. One of the girls mentioned how it must be kinda a bummer that my best friend couldn't come. I agreed, but explained that she didn't have the extra money and had plans this weekend anyway. So these classmates and I hung out the first afternoon and evening and it was fine and dandy. I was even kinda excited, because the girls were turning out to be nicer and more fun than I expected. That night I went to bed but the girls kinda sequestered themselves in the bathroom, so that they could talk and have the lights on. I kinda wasn't invited to the bathroom pow-wow, but it didn't really bother me much... I knew they were a lot closer than I was with them. But the next morning as I was getting ready I went into the bathroom. They had left a notebook in the bathroom, open to a page full of them writing to each other. I didn't mean to read it, but I saw the name of my best friend (first name, last initial, small school, so it's not like there was anyone else with that particular combo. And when I saw her name I saw that there was a place where my name had been written and then crossed out. They had tried to cross it out at least. My name was still easily legible.

And so I read the conversation. I shouldn't have, but I was 12, my name was in it, and it had just been left out on the counter. Honestly, I'm not totally sure I could restrain myself given the same circumstances at 28.

The conversation basically revolved around how annoying I was, and how the girls wished I had a friend there so that I wouldn't hang out with her instead of them. How tired they were of putting up with me, and how they wished I wasn't there.

I didn't say anything about it. I left the bathroom and sat on the bed and collected myself and then went through the rest of the conference on auto-pilot. I gave the girls the space they wished for in the note, hanging out with the adults who had to like me or by myself if it was "just" the youth. If I wasn't independent then I was forcing them to put up with me. So I played it off like I didn't care. I just tamped it down and became a lesser version of myself... because it hurt.

I think this single experience did more to color my interactions with everyone in my school than the sum total of all my other experiences. I can count on one hand the people from my high school experience who I considered to be good friends and even then I still held most of them at arm's length, not trusting that they didn't secretly find me annoying. I saved the truest "me" for my family- my cousins... because I could trust them in a way that I couldn't trust anyone else. My family has to love me. I don't think I even started to recover from the blow to my ego until my sophomore year of college when I met this lovely super-bossy red-head who declared that we were best friends after having a single late-night conversation.

I've mainly recovered. I've forgiven those girls... we were all super young and at that age it's almost impossible to think through your actions in the light of anyone but yourself. For all I know they were bonding over how annoying I was because they were insecure about their own relationship and afraid that the other liked me more than her.  Plus, I'm sure I probably was pretty annoying. I think I would be annoyed by my 12 year old self.

I now assume that if people don't like me they will just avoid me, and I've worked very very very hard to become a person that everyone likes. But I still hate thinking that someone doesn't like me... and one of my biggest fears is still that someone might be secretly annoyed by me and wish that I wasn't there.

2) Usurping authority/ Taking a place meant for someone else/ being an imposition.

It might technically be a subset of fear number 1, but it feels like there is more to it than that. The thing is that I'm quite aware that (to change up some song lyrics) everything I can do, you can do better. So I don't want you to think that I deserve to be in a place of authority over you. I quite likely don't deserve that at all. I also don't want you to think that I'm judging you for your past or your life decisions and finding myself superior. I may not agree with the decisions that you've made, but that doesn't give me the moral high ground. Pretty sure you wouldn't agree with a lot of the decisions I've made in my life, and everyone makes mistakes.

I try to never assume that I am wanted/desired in a position unless specifically asked. I don't volunteer for positions that put me in the public eye or things that everyone wants to do (like the worship team at church) because I'm afraid that either they will say no, or that they will say yes, but wish that I hadn't volunteered and like they have to work around my sub-par-ness. And it doesn't help that I feel like this is (at least in part) a good and Biblical idea (not placing yourself at the head of the table, lest the host ask you to take a lower seat.)  In my case, though, I think I sometimes use it as an excuse to hide.

Generally, I'm afraid of being an unwelcome imposition. I don't want to be a burden that I've forced on someone else. If I'm going to rely on someone and trust them, then I want to know that they have chosen me... and that I can return the favor if ever called upon. "Modesty" and "independence" can be used as self-defense mechanisms, just like everything else.


3) That I will be alone for the rest of my life (especially when I lose loved ones.)

Well, I think it's obvious how this one became a fear. Remember my Strengthsfinder blog? Remember how every single strength was related to people except adaptability, and even that was used to deal with people and became a strength because of a person. Yeah.... Plus, I'm an extrovert.

So it probably goes without saying that I'm not really a fan of alone-ness.

I'll say it anyway. I'm not a fan of alone-ness.

I know I've said this before but I *loved* being married. I loved Nathan, but I loved the whole idea of marriage, as well. And I was pretty good at it, too... though it helped that my partner was so amazing. There were challenges, yeah, but my life was so enriched by the addition of another person. Someone to balance me, someone to challenge me, someone to encourage me, someone to laugh and play and joke with. Someone to help me be the best possible version of myself.

And someone to be there in those moments that are terribly hard. I never knew my dad's dad. He passed away when my Dad was just a few years out of  high school. My Grandma Twila (btw, I'm starting to really like the name Twila.. is that weird?) remarried a man named Glen when I was somewhere around a year old (maybe a bit less?) He and my Grandma were high school sweethearts (awww!) and his wife had also passed away. So the only grandpa I ever knew on my Dad's side was Grandpa Glen. Grandpa Glen and I were never super close, but I loved him. He passed away sometime during Nathan and my first year of marriage. I wasn't devastated but I was very sad... and I think it hit me even harder the next year... when I realized that it had been a year and it wasn't just some long vacation and I wasn't just attending family gatherings at different times so that we "just missed" each other.

And Nathan was there. And he held me. He just stroked my hair and gave me tissues and loved me even though I was crying and looked a right mess. He was the wonderful reassurance of touch and comfort and love.

I think in some way Nathan even helped me grieve for himself as much as he could. From the moment he was admitted to the hospital he was taking care of me- watching me for the signs of me shutting down (meaning I was terrified.) Helping me get through the moments when we had to go to the emergency room right then and I was having a panic attack...

And in the moments when I couldn't take any more- He was still there- holding me, stroking my hair, giving me tissues, and loving me even though I was crying and looked a right mess. Still being that wonderful reassurance of touch and comfort and love for as long as he could.

People don't live forever, and my grandparents (especially my Pappy- Mom's dad) are not in great health. I am super close to my Mom's parents.... a lot closer than I was to my Grandpa Glen... and I'm terrified that I'm not going to have anyone to run to if he passes away. I don't want to be alone. But I really *really* don't want to be without that someone-- that physical reassurance- in the times that are the very hardest.

Fun Fact:
These are fears that I've always had, but Nathan's death actually set me free of some fears that were a lot larger than these. BC (before cancer) my 3 biggest fears were:

1) Death
2) Losing a loved one
3) Public Speaking

1) I used to have panic attacks about my own mortality... Seriously, I would start thinking about the fact that I was going to die someday and have to just pray, "Jesus" over and over and over in my mind until I calmed down and stopped thinking about it. But death doesn't terrify me that way anymore. I don't *want* to die, but I've got someone up there that I'll be so happy to see when it does happen.

2) Tied with fear of my own mortality was the thought of someone I loved dying. But I've looked into that abyss... and I know that while it is just as terrible and hard and miserable as I thought it would be, I also know without a doubt that God can get me through it, and that I have no control over it anyway, so I might as well at least not spend my time with my loved ones in dread of being without them.

3) I know, it's ridiculous that a former speech teacher who acted in so many shows would be terrified of public speaking... but I was.... I used to be so afraid of talking to a group of people as myself. Give me lines and let me be someone else--- well, sure. But make me just get up there and subject myself to the judgement of everyone in that crowd as myself? No, thank you. Now one of my biggest desires is to tell people my story and how blessed I have been.

Oh and the funny things I'm afraid of?

Becoming a 'purple person'
Accidentally drinking spoiled milk
What's behind the closed shower curtain
That my house smells unpleasant
The feeling of biting down on aluminum foil
Large jumpy dogs

Just a taste and nothing more.

I'm really close to my grandparents on my mom's side. I mean I love all my grandparents, but Pappy and Grandma Carney (aka Grandma) are the ones I'm closest to. There are several reasons for this, but the largest is they moved to MO when I was 5, lived with us a year and then moved to Memphis so Rhonda and I stayed with them all the time growing up. Especially during the summer for me, because of all my plays. 

Pappy turns 80 pretty soon and I'm going home to see him/the family and I'm very excited.

But that's not why I write this post. I'm writing it because I'm sad and a little scared. Grandma's eyesight has gone downhill really badly. She basically can't see anymore, so Pappy's been taking care of her. But here recently he's not been doing very well either. He had heart surgery a few years ago. Which is scary/hard enough, but recently he's hurt his back and he keeps re-injuring it. And I'm scared every time I hear something new.... or something old that's flared up again. I'm all too aware that people you love can die... And that is really hard, still... I'm scared to death of mortality... and now I'm really afraid that something is going to happen to Pappy and I'm going to have to deal with it alone. This might be my number one fear at the moment. How am I supposed to deal with this heartbreaking thing without Nathan? Without someone. Someone to be there with me- to hold me and let me cry and tell me he loves me? Without someone to drive the 5 hours so I don't have to do it on my own.

OK, maybe I can do it on my own... but I don't want to... I really don't want to.

And how selfish does that sound?

but I loved that partnership... I loved taking care of someone and having them take care of me, and not having to keep score and make sure that everything is even at all times lest someone get the wrong idea.

and I'm still so afraid that I've had all that I will of it.

Just enough to know how wonderful it can be.

Just enough to miss it desperately.

Just a taste and nothing more.

The courage to be Imperfect

I watched 2 TED talks today by a lady named, Brené Brown. (or as I should probably refer to her, Dr. Brown, ....but I'm not going to.)

Besides the fact that I love her first name, cause it's pretty much mine. I also loved her talks because she's discussing things that I find fascinating. Shame and vulnerability.

You know I find them fascinating, because I talk about them on my blog a lot. So much of humanity/my life is wrapped up in those two feelings, and avoiding them.

I really like what she has to say about them... I tried to make a list of my favorite quotes, but it was ridiculously long, so here are are few that I have something to say about, but I strongly encourage you to watch the TED talks:

Courage, the original definition of courage, when it first came into the English language -- it's from the Latin word cor, meaning heart -- and the original definition was to tell the story of who you are with your whole heart. And so these folks [the people living their lives whole-heartedly] had, very simply, the courage to be imperfect. [...] The other thing that they had in common was this: They fully embraced vulnerability. They believed that what made them vulnerable made them beautiful. [...] They just talked about it being necessary. They talked about the willingness to say, "I love you" first, the willingness to do something where there are no guarantees, the willingness to breathe through waiting for the doctor to call after your mammogram. They're willing to invest in a relationship that may or may not work out. They thought this was fundamental.

That is the type of person I want to be... Wholehearted. I think that much of my childhood/teenage years were spent in trying very hard to not be vulnerable. To not do something because someone else was doing it and risk competing and losing or looking like a "follower," to not admit weakness, to not be vulnerable with anyone who I didn't already trust completely (aka my family.) So I just didn't try or told myself I didn't care-- But that's a very lonely way to live... Brené touches on that as well:

When we numb [hard feelings like shame, vulnerability, grief, fear, hurt], we numb joy, we numb gratitude, we numb happiness.

That's so true. And please know I'm not saying that you shouldn't take anti-depressants or anti-anxiety pills if you need them, but to live a life where you try to make yourself invulnerable... means you don't get the joy, gratitude, or happiness, either. And that will make for a pretty terrible life in my opinion. Besides, there is something good in being vulnerable.

Vulnerability is not weakness. I define vulnerability as emotional risk, exposure, uncertainty.[...] Vulnerability is our most accurate measurement of courage.

I'm not sure if I mentioned this on a previous blog, but a while back I was discussing grief (mine in particular) with a friend and he said that he thought that one of the reasons that I had done so well with managing my grief is that I let people help me.

I said that was funny because I felt like I was really terrible at letting people help. I didn't want meals or any of those small things that people ask to do when you have a tragedy. 

He said, "Yes, but you kept coming to church. You were here. You weren't unavailable. You let yourself be seen. You didn't pull away to go deal with 'your' stuff."

I think that's actually the same general idea, though grief and vulnerability are not necessarily strongly correlated, except in that they are hard. The hard stuff is what breeds connection though, I think. It creates empathy, it creates kinship, it creates sympathy, and things to talk about to get you through the initial awkwardness. And if you refuse to be vulnerable, can you really expect someone else to be vulnerable with you? What's that saying? "People don't care that you know till they know that you care." 

Or was it, "We love because He first loved us."

But that's so hard, because it's all too likely that if you are honest and vulnerable then you will be hurt. And maybe even hurt very badly- If you say "I love you" first and it isn't reciprocated. If you invest in a relationship that doesn't last. If your child takes what you've tried to do for them and throws it back at you as "not good enough." Because, despite what Jacob Black would have you believe, sometimes it's not hard for people to resist that level of commitment and adoration. Sometimes, it's astoundingly easy for them to resist it.

There is a school of thought that says that perhaps you shouldn't be too honest with other people. Don't be too real. Just let people see the positive and have strong defensive barriers up.  Somewhere in there is a balance that seems nigh on impossible to pin down. Because you still care what others think... Now somehow you are supposed to find that magic place where you care but not too much or too deeply... And here is the last Brené Brown quote of the evening (This one came from a TED Q&A interview):

For people to look at other folks who are trying to come up and share their work with the world, or their art, their ideas, their writing, their poetry, whatever, and say “You can’t care what other people think” is bullshit. When you lose your capacity to care what other people think, you’ve lost your ability to connect. But when you’re defined by it, you’ve lost your ability to be vulnerable. That tightrope is what my talk is about, and I think that balance bar we carry is shame resilience. I think it’s the thing that keeps us steady. If we can understand that I’m not the best comment, I’m not the best accolade I’ve received, and I’m not the worst. This is my work.

I try very hard to be perfect. God grant me the courage to be imperfect. The courage to be me.

Fear or Will

It might be overkill to get Starbucks two days in a row during lunch... but I went for a week without it. Not without coffee, mind you, but without the sweet nectar of white chocolate peppermint... it was rough.

I frequently shock people by telling them I grew up an hour away from the closest McDonalds and/or Wal-mart.

We won't even think about how far away the closest Starbucks is... Quincy I think... Quincy is in a different STATE. (and approx. 1.5 hours from home and 30 minutes from Hannibal.)

Ok, maybe we will think about it.... speaking of thinking...

I'm considering a tattoo again.. only slightly more seriously since it's coming up on a year and I'm about to be able to make "big" life decisions again.

I've been thinking a lot about several issues related to it. Tattoos were not condoned in the church I grew up in. In the Vineyard no one cares. I've looked into the Biblical references and I personally believe that it is morally acceptable.

They are also socially accepted in a way they never have been before- even here in the Bible belt. Granted they aren't quite so socially accepted in my immediate family. I'm pretty sure my grandmothers would freak out and I don't think either mom would like it much... (Though my mom said that since I'm adult she should probably let me make my own decisions :) ) I don't know that I'd get much of an opinion out of either dad.

The only other person who I am concerned about is (and you may think I'm crazy for this) but my future spouse. See, I don't know who that is... and I would hope that he wouldn't care-- especially because this is not a snap decision and it will mean/symbolize a lot to me... but if I come from a relatively conservative family, then chances are the man I marry is also going to come from a relatively conservative family... and probably be relatively conservative himself.  I'd hate to think I'd done something that he might find morally reprehensible... but then again would I *want* to marry someone who couldn't unbend enough to understand why I would want a tattoo?

What does it say about me that I'm trying to take into account the feelings of a person I don't know? Am I holding back from living because of fear or am I simply making a responsible decision? Not sure I know the answer to that one.

Interestingly enough, after writing this I watched the Green Lantern movie... and in that movie (and maybe the comic books?) the two opposing forces are not "good and evil" but "fear and will"... That feels a whole lot more like the struggles I face every day.

Thinking up the inconcievable

The cold weather is making me ravenous and sleepy...

Yes, that's right, I have more in common with a bear than a human right now.

My house was clean when I came home from vacation... but now it's messy because of all the things that just ended up in the middle of the floor because I came home and haven't had much time to regroup.

Currently desiring: regrouping time.

Not gonna get it for at least a few more days.

I'm afraid of January. It's never been that great a month with a lot of stressful work stuff... and last year it was so bad...

Tim spoke on Sunday about nothing being inconceivable to those in peaceful fellowship with God.

Before all of this, the things I couldn't conceive of were my husband getting cancer.... my life being turned upside down.... being a widow at 27.

Now I sometimes think I'm afraid to conceive of anything. Not that I blame God for any of this but... it's really really scary and really really hard sometimes to keep hope in the face of it all.

Attempting to trust in the inconceivable.

There is a song we sometimes sing at church... It's called "This is Our God."

It's one of my favorites because I really like what it has to say.

A refuge for the poor, A shelter from the storm

And He will wipe away your tears And return your wasted years

This is our God
A father to the orphan, A healer to the broken

And he brings peace to our madness And comfort in our sadness
This is our God
A fountain for the thirsty, A lover for the lonely
And He brings glory to the humble And crowns for the faithful
This is our God
And this is the one we have waited for

 It's good to remember that God does seven impossible things before breakfast everyday.

Uncomfortable uncertainty

It occurs to me that I'm rather comfortable with waiting for some things. I'm comfortable with waiting to make decisions. I'm comfortable with not Christmas shopping until after Thanksgiving is over. I'm comfortable with leaving characters/places/books unnamed until the right idea comes to me. I'm comfortable with waiting to eat food until I have someone to eat with. I'm even comfortable with waiting until Christmas/ my birthday to open presents (without peeking, shaking, or otherwise snooping.)

But there is a lot I'm not comfortable with waiting for. I'm not comfortable with waiting to go to the dentist. I'm not comfortable with waiting to find out the results of a medical procedure. I'm not comfortable with waiting to find out if I'm going to find someone to love this new girl that I am. I'm not comfortable with waiting to see if I'm right about a person or wrong.

Basically what it all boils down to is that I'm not comfortable waiting for the unknown. I'm ok with not having control. Control is an illusion that I gave up a long time ago. But to wait for something and to not know what will happen... It's so hard. I know I will make the decision, buy the presents, name the things, eat the food, and like my presents, so it's not hard to say, "All in it's proper time." But when the question is wrapped up in "Have I ruined my teeth for all eternity?" "Was the operation successful?" "Will I ever get this thing that I want?" "Is this person really as great as they seem?"

Uncertainty is my adversary. It scares me and it makes my stomach all high and flippy-floppy. If only I could know what would happen... then I could be so patient and good. Just like the first-born that I am.

Autumn and death

So Autumn is here... It's cold and blustery out tonight... and my thoughts are not taking me to a happy place.

Tuesday I was walking to class and went around the side of a building (not on campus) and there laying in the grass was a cat... which I assume was dead, as it didn't move. I don't technically know because as soon as I saw it and my brain processed it I threw my hand up to keep from seeing it. It really disturbed me.

The other night I went to a costume party and someone was zombie Steve Jobs... dressed up exactly like Steve but with zombie makeup, too. I just cringed... too soon.

There is a play written by a person in my class where someone is joking around about tumors and people having brain tumors. And it's just not funny. Maybe to the entire rest of the world, but... not to me.

I mean I know that we joke about death and heck, I'm the queen of the widow-joke and dark humor... and I know we make light of it because it's scary.. because we are scared of it. But everytime I hear about someone being sick my mind automatically goes to the worst place... especially the sick that doesn't go away within 24 hours. Internally I start freaking out. Cause I can't un-know. I still don't understand what makes your body suddenly start to get sick. One moment you are fine and the next you are deathly ill. How does that happen? A broken arm I get. The flu I understand... something that is germ or pathogen related, yes. But a normal- very healthy body that just up and decides to stop functioning? And there is nothing you can do to prevent it and nothing you can do to stop it. You want to talk about a real horror film? Go to the oncology floor. Because if you are there... if you really *get* exactly how close any of us is at any moment from our bodies suddenly and inexplicably turning against us... that's real fear.

I hate death. I hated that Steve Jobs costume... I hated it. Because Nathan is dead, too and it isn't funny.  Steve Jobs had cancer. Nathan had cancer. Steve had a wife and a family, and someone who is missing him dreadfully right now. So did Nathan... so does Nathan. And less than a month later...

It's so easy to be callous.

I know the guy who was dressed up like Steve. He's a great guy, actually. And probably in a couple of years I won't be so sensitive and I will be able to appreciate the humor... but I don't think it's funny, yet. It just hurts and I want to gasp, throw up my hands, cover my eyes, and walk as fast as I can through the wet leaves.

Impulse control and scandalousness

I almost just made this my facebook status:

Last July I sent an e-mail to Nathan, entitled, "this can't be my facebook status :(" I think the proof of how much I've changed is in the fact that I don't mind sharing it now because I think it's hilarious: "I just took a drink of water and spilled it all down my front... but through the miracle of breasts and a bra, my shirt didn't get even a drop on it.
Just thought you should know."

Though it's still scandalous enough that I considered hiding it from my mothers.

Hi, mothers.

I didn't actually make it my facebook status, because... well it's kinda scandalous... (Hey if you can't say scandalous things on your blog, what good is a blog?) And while there is something within me that craves being scandalous there is something else that is afraid of people getting upset by my scandalous-ness. Thus why I have hair extensions in every color of the rainbow except yellow. (Darn you, yellow! Where are you?!) but no actual colored bits of hair. (Well, that and the maintenance of that hair seems like it would be hard.) Thus why I have a tattoo design and placement picked out that I love, but no actual tattoo. Thus why I didn't post this as my facebook status when it originally happened.

I've discovered in this process of figuring out who I am again that impulse control is something I'm having to relearn. Through cancer, especially the last months of it there was no impulsive-ness. Everything except medical emergencies was planned and anything unplanned sent us into tailspins. The spontaneous was completely quashed.

After Nathan's death it's been the opposite. I've been trying to embrace everything as it comes. Make a decision, put it into action. Now. Don't plan- do. If it makes you laugh it's gold. If it makes you feel alive, it's wonderful. Buy that macbook, sign up for the classes, drive to the church to get your phone and then decide to go downtown to a party on the spur of the moment. And heaven help the cute pair of tights that come across my path.

There have been some notable exceptions. I didn't go skydiving, because Kara and Rhonda told me that I was talking crazy talk. I haven't gotten a tattoo, cause Rhonda told me I should wait for the year mark to make sure I still wanted to. I didn't go to Starbucks today even though I really wanted to.

But I certainly haven't found an equilibrium at all, and I'm not sure how to re-learn something that used to be instinctive. I didn't used to have to focus on self-control and doing things that I didn't really want to and not doing things that I did.

I don't want to go back to the way that I was... Honestly, I was pretty repressed. But I don't want to lose all that I had, either. And I *never* want to think that Nathan wouldn't like the person who I am now. So I guess now I have to find a new place to balance. I know I'll find a way eventually. In the meantime, though, just promise me that you will laugh at my crazy antics and not judge me for them. I just don't know who I am anymore.

Friendship

Have I talked about how strange it is that most of my closest friends are introverts? Even Nathan was, though he was good at putting on an extrovert mask. It's weird cause introverts are in the minority, yet I can think of 7 or 8 close friends who are introverts and 2 who are extroverts... them's some pretty stacked numbers!

I guess I just like a challenge when it comes to making friends? Or (closer to the truth) I like to be special and to be in people's elite circle, and extroverts' elite circles aren't very elite... or very circley cause they try and cram so many people into them that they turn more oblong shaped.

Why is that I crave being special so very much? Cause I do. It's like a drug for me or something. I think more than people's approval I seek the acknowledgment that I'm special... I mean I want to be thought of as special in a good way but... If all they think of me is that I'm different from most... well I'm ok with that too.

Here's something interesting/strange...This weekend someone said to me at the conference, "I don't get to help you through this at home." That phrase, simple as it might be, shocked me. "I don't get to." It never occurred to me that someone would want to help me through this. I mean, yes, obviously people want to help me through it... but that someone would see it not as a burden or responsibility to help me through this time, but as a privilege... Whoa. Talk about the love of Christ.

I think that people should be my friend.. It's only logical. I take care of my friends, and I'm relatively funny and generous, and I just really try to be a good friend and take their perspective on things and assume the best and be low-maintenance and low-drama. But that someone could want to help me when I'm not a good friend. When being my friend isn't easy. When being my friend is actually really challenging and heavy and hard. Before I've been a good friend to them. Before I've built up the relationship points with them that they have to submit to my "friend test." This is kinda mind-boggling. Not because people are inherently selfish or anything, but because I would never ever presume to ask someone who wasn't already my good friend to help me. Because I see this as hard and not something someone would want to pick up.... Because I work really hard to make being my friend the logical choice, but somewhere deep down I still think it's so hard that people wouldn't if they really knew what they were getting themselves into.

There's a self realization that only came as I typed it. That's why I ask for reassurance from my friends. That's where some of those trust issues come from. Because somewhere deep down I don't think people would be my friend if they really knew what they were getting themselves into.

There's no confidence like false confidence.

Waiting and Hiding

I wrote this on facebook, but I think it bears repeating.  Every time I'm driving and someone is driving on a road to my right (approaching a stoplight, stop sign, or yield turn) I flinch. I want to jerk my wheel, even though that would have done me no good in the actual accident. I just... cringe on the inside... and driving down Campbell today was... difficult.

Talked to the insurance today... they basically told me I need to wait. Because it sounds like it was her fault (oh, because it was!) it will most likely be filed under her insurance and my policy won't have much to do with it. But if she tries to pass it off as not her fault... which... I don't know how it could have not been her fault as I had no stop signs or traffic signals of any sort, and she had a stop sign she failed to obey.... but there were no witnesses and I'm sure her version doesn't match up with mine. But anyway if it's under her policy I need to wait- cause better to *not* pay my deductible if I don't have to. Right? Of course, right.

So now I just have to sit around waiting for insurance to call me and driving around my busted car, which makes me nervous. I mean it's working, but a mechanic hasn't checked it out... How do I know I'm not doing something really bad to it?

Hi, my name is Renée and I worry about a lot of things.... still.

I call it thinking ahead.

I like to point my feet towards each other when I'm standing up... It makes me feel really cute for some reason... What's up with that?

Sometimes at parties I get so caught up in trying to surreptitiously watch how other people are interacting that I forget that I am also supposed to be interacting... and sometimes... I pretend like I'm off in my own world, just so other people don't notice that I'm sitting off to the side with no idea how to interact with anyone and desperately trying to keep cool and act like I have this deep rich inner world when actually all I'm trying to do is pretend I'm not ardently wishing I was better at small talk.

I think I might have more pride than is necessarily healthy.

Above all else, avoid the appearance of desperation. I think that's my motto half the time. I can *be* desperate, as long as I don't look like it... Keep the desperation on the inside. It's safer there.

Open your fist, unclench your eyes and say, "ok."

When I wash my hair and then let it dry without putting any stuff in it or straightening it, it turns into a puff ball. But it's better if I let it dry naturally before attempting to come at it with a straightening iron. So I'm sitting here with puff ball hair. S'ok though. We'll just keep it between us, ok?

It's funny. Sometimes something gets built up so big in your head that the actuality can't live up to it. My dear friends can't quite be as funny or as cool as they are in my memories and in my expectations... and that's why the best times/plans come from nowhere... when you have no expectations, it's easy to blow them out of the water... but when you expect something... when you have a plan for it. That's when it gets dangerous cause that's when you can get disappointed. And life... it just does not turn out like you expect it to. If there is anything in this world that I have learned it's that.... Yet, what do I do, over and over again? I get my hopes up. I anticipate... I expect. And I'm not the only one, I know... I have a lot of friends who are expecting something... babies, marriage, love... seems like every single one of us is expecting something out of life. And I'm not saying that's bad, at all. I'm very pro-babies and marriage and love... but I don't think it's going to be as we imagine... there is too much that can change, too much that is in flux. And in some ways it's going to be more wonderful, more awe-inspiring, more entrancing and intoxicating and incredible than our wildest imaginations could ever dream... but I also think it's going to be more painful and soul wrenching and disheartening than we knew... at least that's been my experience of life thus far. I paraphrase Helmuth von Moltke when I say that no battle plan survives the first engagement. (Yeah, I had to look that up to know who I was paraphrasing.) It holds true to life as well as war... no plan survives the first step...

I paraphrase Kara (who might be paraphrasing someone else or might just be this brilliant) when I talk about this little kid who has a ten dollar bill in her hand... It's there, right in front of her- clenched tight in her fist. She can feel it, she knows what it is and she knows how she is going to spend it. That Princess Tiana doll is in her sights. And then her grandfather comes up to her with all the doting in the world says, "Give me that 10 dollars. I have something better for you."  But she clenches her money to her chest and closes her eyes and yells "no" and doesn't even stop to look at the 100 dollar bill that her grandfather is offering in trade. Nevermind that her grandfather would never cheat her. Nevermind that she doesn't even know the value of money. Nevermind, even that her grandfather was who gave her the money in the first place. She just knows that he now wants what she thinks is hers. He wants to take away this thing that she now holds dear. How could he possibly understand how great Princess Tiana is? How could he possibly understand the friendship that exists between a girl and her doll??

I think that most of the Christian life (most of life?) is trying to keep my fist open and trying to actually mean it when I say, "You gave this to me, You can take it away if You want. I know that Your plan is better than mine.... I don't know how it's better than mine, but I know it is. Take it... and take my expectations, too. I choose to trust You."

Sometimes hair has to dry before it can be straightened... and sometimes you have to open your fist, unclench your eyes and say, "ok." (How's that for bringing it all back around?)

Blogging, karaoke, and an idea...

So I just read a friend's blog... ok, technically we aren't friends... we are just acquaintances from college... He writes a blog that I read from time to time, though he talks about baseball with alarming frequency, so I don't follow it religiously. Full disclosure, right? Anyway, he's going on vacation in the beginning of May, and he's looking for guest bloggers while he's gone... and I'm considering sending him a blog. It might be a little weird, but I figure if it's that weird he can always choose not to post it... and it could be interesting. It could draw more people to my blog. I mean I know that it's not about readership, but...I don't know... I want to be known I think... I want my story to be known. I want the world to know about Nathan... or at least more of the world. Ironic that I find ambition in this, isn't it? What marks you as an official blogger, eh? Is it when you hit a certain number of posts, or a certain amount of time posting with reliable frequency, or is it when suddenly the idea of writing a blog to post on someone else's blog sounds like it might be a good idea.

I'm not sure... at the moment it's just a thought... feels like I should have a good idea of what to talk about before I make a decision to send a post to someone else. Suddenly I feel like I'm back in the middle of play auditions all over again. Thank goodness I don't have to come up with 16 bars of music!

I kinda want to do karaoke... why do all the karaoke bars have to be so smokey? That's not helpful for the karaoke singer's lungs! Maybe I should just buy the Glee karaoke game and sing in the privacy of my own home to my own self. I'm kinda paranoid about my singing voice... I mean I'm not actually sure if I have a good voice or not...It sounds good in my head, but I've watched enough American Idol auditions to know that means *nothing*... and my family says so, but they kinda have to, and some people at my home church have told me so, but once again... when you start singing in church at age... (I'm gonna guess 5?) Well, of course they are going to give you compliments! It seems like when it really counts, though, there is always someone better... and yes, I understand that is the nature of life, to some extent, but when push comes to shove it seems like the people who really *know* music don't really care for my voice. It's kinda a bummer, cause I love to sing, but I dunno, after a while you start to take the hint. And then you switch your major to just regular theatre rather than putting yourself through the torture of vocal lessons with a lady who thinks you are a soprano and that there is something wrong with your vocal chords... I think it might have been hard for her to accept that I'm not an opera singer.... but that's just not something I'm cut out for, and I think I've always known that! *shudder* So, basically, I want to do karaoke because it gives me an excuse to sing, and an excuse to be terrible, if that's what I am... and no one will think that I think I'm any good, if I'm not. Oh the convolution that is my mind, sometimes! Seriously, I know I care too much.

Ok, blog world, that's not something that I think I've told anyone... Normally, I just thank people if they compliment me and never let on to the seething mass of insecurity that lies just underneath the surface. You know, I think that's pretty well how I live my life... a shiny surface to cover the turbulent waters of insecurity boiling through my veins. Perhaps that's how everyone lives their lives? I don't really know. I'm pretty sure it's not totally healthy, though.

*abrupt subject change*

I've been thinking about having some sort of gathering... I'm not really even sure what to call it... some sort of  memoriam or wake or something. I want a place, a time, an event where people talk about Nathan. To tell funny stories or sweet stories or sad stories. I want to talk about him and I want to hear other people talk about him, but I'm afraid to do it. I think we all are, cause no one wants to bring it up to me... and I don't want to be the downer girl. But I want a place where I can laugh with people, where I can hear stories I never heard before, and relive/hear stories I've heard a million times... I want a time where I can cry and laugh and remember and not try and forget or hide when I am remembering. I haven't done it... a few times the days after we lost him I got together with friends and I thought it might be something akin to what I'm talking about, but it never was. It was too raw, too fresh, too hard, and I didn't know how to ask for it. What do you think? Am I the only one who feels the need for this?