Wednesday, April 13, 2011


     On Monday my car got hit. I know, it sounds like a big deal, right? It's not. It is, however, extremely inconvenient!!! It happened while I was at "work." I was parked right out in front of the house on the (not too narrow) street. A mom in a van swiped my driver's side mirror and knocked part of it off and broke the glass. She came up to the door and told me and we exchanged information, so she'll take care of it. Correction: she'll take care of the FINANCIAL part of it. But that's only if I can actually get it to a shop and have them fix the problem. Unfortunately for me, most body repair shops are only open M-F, 8-5. Why is this unfortunate? Because I work M-F, 9-6. So technically I could get up and go drop off my car at 8 and still make it to work ... how? I don't have time! And she's paying out of pocket, so to set up a rental car is going to be so annoying!! Currently my mirror is being help together by zip-ties that were conveniently placed in the emergency kit gifted to me at Christmas a few years ago from wonderful Aunt Janet.

     She is now entered into my phone as "Lori-Who-Hit-My-Car!"

     Lots of other stuff on my mind. Mostly about exes. Ew. No thank you

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Dark Days

"....and he suddenly understood what she already knew and felt inside: that while it would hurt to die, it would hurt even more to stay alive."

     The Pact, by Jodi Picoult, is a novel that emotionally (but is there any other way?) explores teen suicide and depression. Like many people, I have my own story of how these things have played a role in my life. It's a story I rarely share. Sadly, depression is growing more and more popular, and nearly every household has been infiltrated with some traces of its dark and slippery substance. I picture depression to be colorless, void of anything. Not even sadness is present in depression, because sadness (like all other emotions) requires too much effort. It's exhausting to be happy, or sad, or angry, because feeling those things only send you spiraling deeper and deeper, until all you can do is lie in bed, or on the floor, or on the couch, and stare. And think. And usually, thinking just makes it worse. And it always seems like you have these intense feelings in your mind, but you simply can't fathom sharing them with anyone, because they just won't make sense. So you keep it all inside. 

     "Emotionally constipated," my therapist called it.

     With all of these feelings and all of this irrationality going through peoples' minds, is it any surprise that suicide is more than just a fleeting thought? However, I think the biggest reason people think about suicide is because of the shock value it would bring. Most people who consider this option don't think past the initial act. It's more of I'll end my life, that will show them. Then they'll all regret not paying more attention to my obvious clues about my severe depression. But life isn't a Nintendo game. You don't get to kill yourself and then use one of your green mushroom extra lives and start over, or go back to the halfway point. You get ONE life. 

     It's the most selfish act, really. Sure, you don't have to deal with how overwhelming life can be anymore, but what about the people you left behind? That's a large part of what The Pact was about. The boyfriend is accused of murdering his girlfriend, and he claims it was a botched double suicide attempt gone wrong. Now he and the families and friends have to deal with the aftermath of losing a 17-year old girl. That's not fair, and it's not right. For Christians, especially. God has the timing for everything, and it's surely not our place to try and intervene. (I so do not want to even enter the realm of the Calvinist debate ...) God has a plan. So stick around and figure out what it is.

     The first third of the year is the time with the most memories for me. It's the time of both the beginning and the end of a relationship. It's a time of the first and the last, a time of hardship, a time of discovery, a time of despair, a time of more beginnings and even more endings. Two years ago was rough. But I had people who surrounded me and helped me and loved me. What saddens me immensely is that (save my family) none of those people are constant (or even close to) in my life anymore. Such a pivotal point in my life, and the people who hold such dear and tender pieces are gone. Some, I could reconnect with easily. Others I'm not expecting to ever talk to again. The kicker is this: one of the propelling forces in that time of life was that I felt like I was losing everything. And now, looking back, I see how I have lost everything from that period of life, but I have gamed what I never expected: wisdom, perseverance, faith, courage, a voice. 

     It's a sensitive issue, one that hits close to home for so many. But for too many, it's taboo. That's why depression gets so severe. It's frowned upon, and that needs to change. Feelings need to be acknowledged, affirmed, and dealt with. That's the only way the healing can ever come. Life will get better. It has to.

Sunday, April 10, 2011

Whining like a two year old

     Dating sucks. I've always (somewhat secretly) considered myself to be a cynic, pessimist, glass-half-empty kind of person, and my views on dating are no exception. I think people who say "dating is fun!!" are smoking something. What's fun about it? The awkward, forced conversation? Trying to figure out if the butterflies in your stomach are feelings or just the pangs of a bad dinner? Making sure you keep your arms controlled at your sides so you don't hit his arm and make him think you're desperate? Having to offer to pay and making it seem sincere? HAVING TO PAY? Trying to figure out what to wear? Not getting another phone call and then eating your feelings and thus viewing yourself as too sad and pathetic to go on another date for a while? All of the above?


     I despise mundane conversation. It's so BORING (duh. mundane.). And mundane conversation is even worse when it's in the beginning throes of a possible (yet unlikely) relationship. And sometimes it's really hard to keep yourself from yawning in the middle of a really boring story.

     I really haven't been on too many bad dates. I mean, there was the one that I was FORCED to go on (freshman year, and that's another story) where the guy bought makeup for himself and tried on girl jewelry and gawked at Gerard Butler's abs in 300. Then there was the date that I never actually went on, because I got stood up and years later found out that the guy who was supposed to take me out went on our date with another girl on THE SAME NIGHT. She and I are friends now. They're both married, not to each other, but how funny would that have been? Then there was the blind date late last year with the late twentysomething who talked excessively about his ex girlfriend of 4 years who had just dumped him 3 months prior, and they lived together, and would I like to do this again sometime?

    One of my least favorite things to hear is you're so young! Dating is soooooooo much fun! Don't settle down too soon! Be yourself! Blah blah blah blah blah. It's not like I'm itching to get married or anything, I just hate that I dread the beginnings so much. I've had to be talked out of canceling an hour prior to being picked up on several occasions. But it SHOULD be exciting. And I guess with the right person it will be, at least that's what everyone else says. But so far, nothing.

     And so for now, when Grandma asks me if there is "a special someone in my life?" I will continue to tell her "whatever are you talking about, Grandma?" and chuckle as I hear her say, "Well, it will happen sooner or later. Don't lose hope! Someday!" Thanks for the vote of confidence.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

A boring update.

     It's a lazy day today. After a week of sweltering heat (the suffocating kind, not the nice kind that a glass of lemonade will complete), the weekend has been disgustingly muggy and not cozy at all. When I think of April, I think of brisk clear days, and rain. Lots of rain. NOT THIS TIME.  I label myself as a scrooge of summer. I hate the heat. It's sticky, uncomfortable, and in no way fun or pleasurable. Let's move on.

     We're extending our lease on the apartment until the end of September. So until then, at least, I'll be staying down here.  [Side note: the dog is wheezing ... if he throws up I may throw him off the balcony.]  If I didn't have a job that I love I would probably be way more apt to move home right now. But, nannying is a joy because 1) I love kids, and 2) I get to be in charge and no one treats me like the scum between their toes. So for now, it's perfect. Not forever though. But for now.

     Math. I have NEVER liked math. NEVER. My mom would always tell me I'm "so good at math, you just need to try! Be patient! You can do it!" I am not patient. And I hate math. But now I get to help the 10 year old with her 5th grade math. It's like a weird ironic trick the universe is playing on me. I know you've always hated math, so now I'm going to give you a job you love, but you have to endure math! And you have to endure it with a child who hates it just as viscerally as you did when you were younger! Ha ha, universe. Good one. But we're making out way through it (and thank the Lord for google ...).

     Life is good. Things are coming along nicely in most areas, and I'm happy. Happy and thankful and continually amazed at the way God can work things out just perfectly. I know I rarely understand His timing and His planning, but it truly is perfect. Now, if I could just work on that patience thing!