I Miss My Man

Earlier this month, my wonderful husband got his very first nursing job at Alamance Health Care Center.  This is an exciting milestone for both of us since he has been looking for a job for several months without any success.  With this new job, not only will we be financially secure, but Ben will be able to find new fulfillment in developing his new career.  And I get to be the good wife who makes his lunch and leave little notes in his bag.  ^_^  Everything seemed to be going just right.  About a week ago, however, I realized I was getting kind of depressed.  I was spending too much time in front of the computer and eating crappy food.  After some soul-searching, I realize that I'm just missing Ben.  I mean, before his new job, we spent most of the day together.  Even if we weren't directly interacting together, he was always close by.  And sure, we do get to spend a little time together after he comes home from work, but he has a lot of responsibilities outside of his job, too.  On top of that, he has to wake up r-e-a-l-l-y early, so he has to go to bed way before I do.  I'm happy that he's working, and I'm grateful for the money it provides us, and I knew this was coming anyway!  I guess I just didn't realize that I'd have to go through an emotional adjustment.  The first thing I thought of as I started working through my feelings was a hip-hop dance from season 4 of "So You Think You Can Dance."  It was performed by Chelsie Hightower and Mark Kanemura to the song "Bleeding Love."  It's a beautiful and emotional dance that depicts a man getting ready to leave for his job, but the woman wants him to stay and be with her.  He has to go eventually, though, and you can just feel the woman's loneliness as he walks away.  There are many interpretations of the dance, but to me, it represents the turmoil I feel right now.  I miss Ben; I'd keep him by my side all day if I could, but I can't.  I can't be selfish. I know I'll get to the other side of this and be perfectly fine.  After all, Ben is going to have to work for many, many years to come.  But it's okay that I feel a little sad right now.  Some people might roll their eyes at such puppy-dog-like love, but I treasure this stage in our relationship.  Ben and I have only been married for two and half years; our love is still young and not worn down by time and hardship.  My sadness may be silly, but it's real, and it helps me love Ben even more.

The Death and Rebirth of Journaling

One of my senior pictures starring a stack of my journals, taken in 2009

From 1999 to 2010, I kept journals the traditional way: with pen and paper.  I have several dozen journals that range in many sizes and shapes and colors.  They are filled with memories, dreams, stories, and even drawings.  Whenever I experienced something amazing, I journaled.  Whenever I felt frustrated, I journaled.  Writing my thoughts and feelings down was a form of therapy for me, which is why I journaled nearly every day.  My journals are priceless treasures that I will always cherish and protect.  However, my anxiety disorder led to the death of journaling for me.

It sounds awfully sad, and it kind of is, but I promise that there is a happy ending to this post.  My anxiety disorder is centered around unhealthy thoughts, and journaling is all about writing thoughts down.  Therein lied the problem.  When I tried to journal out my feelings like I always had in the past, only the twisted, anxious thoughts came out.  As these twisted thoughts were translated into physical form, they gained more strength and greater validity.  They became more real than they were supposed to be.  Journaling was actually making my anxiety worse.  In order to break the choking grasp anxiety had on my mind, I had to stop journaling.  I had to stop soul searching and close my mind for a season.  I had to learn to live in the moment, recognize and appreciate the beauty in the world all around me that was real and tangible.  This helped lessen the power of my anxiety, and eventually I learned enough skills to keep it out of my mind for good.  The question then became: do I begin journaling again?

While I was still learning to deal with my anxiety, I started this little blog called "Anxiously Engaged."  I had tried and failed to keep a blog in the past, but for some reason, I stuck with this one.  I found it was easy to post something every week, and I had a ton of fun putting together my resource pages.  Today, I have developed a  love of blogging and plan to keep at it until who-knows-when.  Turns out, blogging has become my new form of journaling.  I can still write out my thoughts and feelings about all sorts of things, but because it's public, I'm refrained from delving too deep into anxious thoughts.  Maybe I will journal with paper and pen again one day, but until then, blogging is just as good.  Sometime soon, I want to print out all of my blog posts and put them in a binder.  In that way, it will be like my old journals after all.  

Image by st3to

"The nicest part is being able to write down all my thoughts and feelings; otherwise, I might suffocate."   
      --Anne Frank, from The Diary of a Young Girl

Men Are Jerks...And Gentlemen

I grew up with Disney, so I know the idea of a "Prince Charming" well.  The man I had always dreamed about would be sweet, romantic, and tend to my every need.  He would be dazzled by my beauty, sweep in, and beg for my affections.  He would hang on my every word and do anything I asked of him.  I would be the center of his universe.  This is what I used to believe.  What do I think of the idea of Prince Charming now? 

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

My cute and innocent image of men was shattered when I started dating Ben.  When I wanted him to rescue me from "drowning" in the swimming pool, he dunked me under the water.  When I wanted him to say I was still beautiful after a long day of work, he said I looked like a wreck.  He could be a real jerk sometimes.  But right when I was about to go insane, Ben would do something unexpectedly sweet.  He would send me a poem via text message.  He would bring home a surprise treat for me, like cookies or candy.  He would tenderly check an injury I had obtained while playing soccer.  However, in the case of the soccer incident, Ben then proceeded to poke my injury and laugh.

YOU STUPID BOY!!!!!!!

 
He totally just ruined the moment!  I just couldn't handle it!  One moment he was a jerk, the next moment he was a gentleman, and then a jerk again!  Make up your mind, already!  It was impossible for me to decide whether he was the gentleman I always wanted, or a jerk that I didn't need.  How could I tell which one he was if he kept fluctuating all of the time between jerk and gentleman?  This bothered me for a long time.  The answer came in the most unexpected way: through an article in an "Oprah" magazine that I was skimming through during a pedicure.  In the article, a group of women were discussing men (of course).  One of the women was bothered by the same oxymoron that was bothering me: was her boyfriend a jerk or a gentleman?  Most of her friends said that despite his gentlemanly moments, since he had jerk moments too, he couldn't be trusted.  One of her quieter friends, however, presented this insight: "What if he's both?"

Mind = blown

This simple phrase changed how I view men, marriage, and all relationships.  Human beings are imperfect, and we are not one-dimensional.  My emotions fluctuate between happiness and sorrow and insanity on a daily basis (just ask my husband).  Anyone who has developed a close relationship with anyone knows there are many sides to a person, but it does not change the fact that they are still, in the end, exactly who they are.  For example, Ben can be a jerk, but he can also be a gentleman.  And despite what side he fluctuates on, he will always be Ben, an imperfect yet wonderful human being.  It was only when I could love the complete and whole Ben, and not just his gentlemanly side, that I experienced true and unconditional love.  They never teach you that in the Disney movies!  It's a true and deep concept that is even greater than the "happily ever after" idea, and it can only be learned through sacrifice.  Ben loves and accepts me, whether I am an angel or a...um, witch.  It took me a while, but I learned to do the same for him, and I am a million times happier because of it (and I think he is, too).  So whenever he has one of his jerk moments, I just smile inwardly and know it will only be a matter of time before he switches back to being a gentleman.  Until then, I keep loving him for exactly who he is: my eternal companion and dearest friend.

My Childhood Dog

Last week, my childhood dog passed away.  He was old and sick, and I had to make the extremely difficult decision to have him put down.  It was a lot harder than I thought it would be to watch the life disappear from his eyes...  Ah, but this is not what this post is supposed to be about!  This post is a memorial to a wonderful pet and a forever friend.

As a child, I wasn't very social.  I was both uninterested in socializing and unsure of how to go about it.  My vivid imagination was a lot more interesting and rewarding for me to develop than my people skills.  As I grew into a teen, I wanted to fit in and have friends just like everyone else, but I struggled to do so.  I was just too different, I suppose.  Thankfully, I had a constant friend who loved me exactly for who I was: Spencer, my Golden Retriever.  My mom bought Spencer in the year 2000, and it didn't take long for him and I to become fast friends.  We went exploring in the woods together, splashing through creeks and lying in the sun together.  I was so attached to Spencer, that when Precious (our second dog) came into the picture, I was jealous of her!  I was afraid that I would lose my best friend!  But I grew to love Precious just as much, and of course, Spencer still loved me just the same.  Together, us three went on adventures in the woods and had a wonderful childhood.

I remember many nights in which I had experienced some sort of disappointment in my day.  Being a teenager was hard, and since I had pre-anxiety, it was even harder at times.  I would cry and feel completely alone.  But Spencer always knew when I was sad.  He would sit by my side and comfort me only the way a dog could.  To this day, I believe there is no greater love and loyalty in this world than what is given by a dog (sorry Ben!)

Today, I'm at a different stage in my life: I'm married and hope to have children soon.  I really don't have the time or the money to have a dog right now.  However, when Spencer passed away, I was reminded of all the precious memories that dog gave me.  I wish I could hold onto those carefree days forever...  I loved my dog, and I look forward to be reunited with him one day.  Below is a short memorial video I made in Spencer's honor.  Please take a moment to watch it, and perhaps remember that special dog (or other animal) that brought great joy to your childhood, too.

 

The "Clean-Slate" Syndrome

This blog post is four stories rolled into one. The first and main story is about the "Clean-Slate" syndrome, a destructive anxiety-influenced habit that dictated my relationships for a part of my life. The second story is about how I met the man of my dreams. The third story partly describes how I developed an anxiety disorder that haunted me for the next year of my life. The fourth, and best story, is how I overcame both the clean-slate syndrome and anxiety, and married before-mentioned man of my dreams.

I think I always knew that I had the "Clean-Slate" syndrome. Whenever things didn't go quite right, or I made a mistake, or I neglected something for a long time, I wanted to leave and start fresh. This especially happened with people. It's a form of "all-or-nothing" thinking, which is a big aspect of anxiety. It is also tied with perfectionism, which I definitely had a problem with. These related topics, however, are a little too vast to include in this post. So I'll continue with the "Clean-Slate" syndrome.

Growing up, I was a late-bloomer when it came to socializing. I didn't wear make-up until I was sixteen years old, and I wanted nothing to do with boys until I was eighteen. When I finally became interested in the social scene, I had developed a bad reputation for myself. Well, bad isn't exactly the right word. Basically, people viewed me as the "weird" girl who was nice and all, but was not worth approaching. This was my fault since I didn't want to be social with them, but now that I wanted to change that, I had a stigma that I could not shake. Rather than trying to reassert myself into my local social scene, I wanted to start fresh. I wanted to learn perfect socializing tools. I wanted a clean slate. I started going to Young Single Adult activities in the stake where I met lots of new people who did not know about my unsocial days. It didn't take long, however, before I wanted to start fresh again. I was still new to flirting with boys and hanging out with girls, and after a series of "mistakes," I was ready for a new clean slate. I wanted another chance to do things perfect, so I headed to college. Brigham Young University was a wonderful experience. Nevertheless, I continued to clean-slate my life. New roommates, new wards, new clubs, new classes, new gathering places. Old friends that I let down, crushes that didn't work out, and experiences that didn't quite go right were left behind. Each time I clean-slated, I felt like I "succeeded" at the next thing a little better. To me, clean-slating was about building skill and knowledge that would help me avoid mistakes in the future. There is some truth to this, naturally, but I was still seeking perfection that did not exist. Thankfully, when I came back to North Carolina for summer break, I met someone who would change me forever.

I had heard about Ben from my dad. He told me a new young adult had moved into my ward's boundary, and my dad was going to set me up on a date with him when I got home. I had gone on a few set-ups at college, and while they were good dates, they didn't go anywhere. So I didn't think anymore about Ben...until I went to my home ward. My mom and I were standing in the foyer after sacrament meeting. She gestured toward the chapel doors and whispered, "Oh, that's Ben over there." I turned and saw the hottest Asian man walking toward me. I literally spun around, threw my arms around my mom, and whispered, "Oh my gosh, he's hot!" That was the beginning of it all. :)













Ben and I fell for each other fast and hard. He was the first man I had ever held hands with and kissed, and my first real boyfriend. I was having the time of my life! After dating for about four months, we were already talking about marriage. We even went looking at rings. Then...

RRRRRAAAAAAAAWWWW!!!!!






That's right. We had a series of fights. We both said pretty mean things to each other, and came really close to breaking up. In the end, we decided to stay together. However, I was never quite the same. I wanted the clean slate, just like with those college friends. I made mistakes that would forever taint Ben and I's relationship (or so I thought). I had failed to maintain the perfect relationship, so I wanted to take my new knowledge and apply it to a new boyfriend. There was just one little problem...



I was in love.











I couldn't leave; not this time. I wanted to be with Ben so badly, and it killed me just thinking about letting him go. And yet I still ached to start fresh. I still yearned for perfection. I realized that if I wanted to be with Ben, there would never be a clean slate with him. There was no way I could take back the hurt that I inflicted on him. I would never have a perfect record with him. We would have to progress with that history and those memories. He had discovered the real me, the one who is FULL of imperfection. There was no guarantee that Ben would love the real me. If he decided to leave, there would be nothing I could do to stop him. I couldn't control the outcome of this relationship; I never could. Perfection was always an illusion, and when I realized this, my perfect little world that I created fell apart. I was weak, vulnerable, dirty...imperfect. Yet I could not run anymore. I had to continue down the path that lay before me if I wanted to be with Ben, and to be honest, I was terrified. I no longer had the benefit of being viewed through rose-colored glasses or seen as the perfect girlfriend. I had to stand up for myself, and I had no idea whether it would be enough. This is when I had my first anxiety attacks.

















Of course, anxiety didn't help any. My imperfect self was already exposed to Ben, and now I was melting down and freaking out. I was beyond imperfect! Ben truly saw me at my worst. I thought for sure that he would never love me after everything I put him through, but he did. He stayed with me, even through all of the crap. And trust me, the crap continued even through our four-month engagement. But we made it. Our wedding day was WONDERFUL! As scary as it was, I didn't run away when things got bad and imperfect. I put my trust in Ben, and vice versa. And now I know the meaning of true love.


















This story marked the end of the "Clean-Slate" syndrome, but my journey with Ben was just the beginning of a personal transformation. After everything I went through, I learned the dangers of perfection, judgement, projection, and expectations. I also learned the true meaning of love, trust, faith, hope, forgiveness, and peace. I still struggle with anxiety, but it does not dictate my life anymore. And Ben is still the man of my dreams. :) I'm so lucky that I married my best friend, my faithful protector, and my compassionate supporter. There will probably many future blog posts that will refer to my transformation journey, and I'm still learning everyday. But now I don't feel the urge to clean-slate anymore. Life is a miracle and a blessing, imperfections and all.