What You've All Been Waiting For...

Ok, ok. I know you've all been asking this question, and I think I'm ready to answer it now.

Why am I home from my mission?

Kudos to those who did the math and figured out I wasn't gone for 18 months. (It was 13 months.)

I previously and vaguely said that I was coming home for "health reasons" but that really means very little.

My illness? Depression. (Yes, illness. I will explain.)

It started back around Halloween. The first 7 months of my mission were fantastic. While it was hard, I still loved what I was doing. It was fulfilling and I knew it was where I was supposed to be. And then inexplicably, something changed.

It started with me not being able to stay awake for more than five minutes at a time during my hour of personal study. How much can you get out of studying the scriptures drowsily for five minutes? Next to nothing. Along with that came these weird, strong feelings that I couldn't explain. I would get super irritated at someone or something, or I would be sitting in the car in front of someone's house and I'd just be like, "I don't want to do this." At first I thought it was just my hormones making me weird...but then it kept consistently happening, like for a month. Oh, and I started crying all the time. How many of you have seen me cry? Exactly, I am not a crier. In the first 6 or 7 months of my mission I cried once. By the end of November I was crying multiple times a week. Progressively this was all getting worse. And this just wasn't me.

Finally after Thanksgiving my wonderful companion who was so patient and supportive told me it was time to call President. I called and cried and told him things weren't good. When nothing had changed by the end of December he transferred me so I could start going to a therapist from LDS Family Services. That transfer almost broke me. I went from being functionally depressed to being pretty darn dysfunctional. I had zero motivation. I felt spiritually dead. I was overwhelmed and didn't know why I was still there. I wasn't doing anyone any good at all, except maybe teaching my companions patience. It was good seeing a therapist, but it wasn't helping my depression at all. Finally after a few visits I told him that I was sure this was more than just a mental thing. I had been in similar situations before, being tired, stressed, etc. but this was different. There was something wrong with my body making me feel so fatigued and so indifferent to everything in the world. I mean it was really like all those commercials for antidepressants where I had lost interest in even the things I loved most. I didn't want to write my best friends. I didn't want to write in my journal. We would hang out with other sisters on p-day and I would just sit there and cry and I didn't know why. I didn't know why I couldn't be happy because it wasn't like I was trying to be miserable.

So I finally went to a doctor. He diagnosed me as being moderately depressed and prescribed me some medication. This was the beginning of February. The first week was rough. The meds made my head feel empty, which is kind of an uncomfortable sensation, and I was always a little nauseous and just as fatigued as ever, if not more. One day I had a huge breakdown and told my companion I couldn't do it anymore. This wasn't something I could deal with as a missionary. Man I had wonderful companions. She let me just cry for like an hour and we talked about it and then we took the afternoon off. We went for a run and got frozen yogurt. She called President and asked if we could come talk to him the next day. We went to the temple in the morning, which left me with such a reassuring peace that everything would work out just fine. I felt that it wasn't time for me to give up yet. So we went and talked to President and I was feeling alright. He told me to exercise for a full hour everyday and if that meant the rest of our morning schedule got shifted, that was fine. Then he said if things aren't better by the end of next transfer (meaning about 2 months from that time) then maybe going home would be the best option for me to get over this.

From there things got better. Exercising for an hour was wonderful. I think the meds started doing their job and things were pretty good. I was so excited. I had kicked this! I had done it without giving up. I wasn't going to have to go home early. Well, the next transfer started and things were still going well. We had another temple day and I kind of got this distinct impression that I wasn't in the clear yet. I could imagine Heavenly Father sitting there looking down at me with a sympathetic smile on His face, shaking his head saying, "I'm sorry, but it wasn't that easy. You've got more hard stuff headed your way." At that point what could I do but shrug and say "come what may"? Yeah, so it got crappy again. Crying all the time. Feeling like a worthless missionary. Seriously, how was I supposed to help others when I couldn't even get a handle on myself? I felt so broken. I can't even describe all the thoughts and feelings I had. I was near hopeless.

But, I never did completely lose hope. If there was one reason for me to struggle with depression on my mission it was so I could grow closer to my Savior and have more of an understanding of His Atonement. I know that He was there with me every step of the way, and most of the time He was carrying me. This is what kept me from hopelessness. I knew that eventually, whether in this life or the next, He would make up for the unfairness of this trial in my life. Meanwhile, I knew He would help me.

So by this point there were only 2 or 3 weeks left in the transfer. I saw President at a baptism one weekend and asked if he would give me a blessing. He asked me if I was thinking about going home or not and I told him that was why I wanted the blessing, because I was trying to decide what I should do.

I think that trying to decide whether I should go home or stay on my  mission was a harder decision than the one I made to go on a mission in the first place. There would be so many implications either way. If I go home will I regret it forever? Will I feel guilty? Are there people I'm still supposed to find or teach? Are there things that I still need to learn? Will people judge me? If I stay will I be able function well enough to be an effective missionary? Will I be more of a burden or a help to my companions? Will I feel bitter about how miserable I was on my mission? Will I miss out on some opportunity that the Lord has in store for me if I do go home? The questions were endless.

Honestly, I was ready to go home. I was exhausted with this battle. I felt like I really couldn't be very effective in the state I was in unless I was able to get a hold of all my problems. I could see the effect that I was having on the work and on my companion and it wasn't fair. But, I knew that if the Lord wanted me to still be there, He would continue to help me and that these things wouldn't be an issue. Now just the tricky part of trying to figure out what it was that He wanted.

There was lots of praying and pondering and fasting, etc. And it was one of those times where I felt the answer I was getting was that it was up to me. Either choice would be fine. Ugh, sometimes I think that's the worst answer to receive. But, based on what I was thinking and feeling, I decided to make the choice to go home and see how I felt from there.

The last two weeks of my mission were great. I generally felt pretty good. I wasn't nearly as tired as I had been. I didn't really mind knocking on doors. But this was because there was a light at the end of the tunnel. The thought of me staying for another 4+ months filled me with apprehension and dread. I felt good with my decision to come home.

And after two weeks of being home, I still feel good about my decision. I was afraid of feeling weird or guilty whenever anyone asked me why I came home early, and I haven't. I don't feel bad at all or like there's something that I'm going to miss out on because I came home 3 transfers early. I'm sure that if I had chosen to stay that things would have worked out fine, but I really believe that coming home was the right thing for me to do.

And again, just like the decision I made in the first place to serve a mission, this was a decision I made completely between me and the Lord. Nobody, except maybe my mission president, had any sway in this decision. The convenient timing of certain things does make it appear a bit suspicious, I know, but if it was planned by anyone, it was only planned by God. And, well, I'm okay with that.

Anyways, my mission, while cut a little short, was still an amazing experience. I don't look back at it with bitterness or regret at all. I'm so glad that I went and so glad that I stuck through the hard stuff for as long as I did. I met amazing people and learned lessons that I probably couldn't have learned anywhere but in the mission field. Most of all, my testimony is even more rock solid than it was before. I know that this is truly the Lord's Church and that the things that I taught as a missionary are true. I know that all the trials that we go through are for our good and that there are things that we must learn from them. And most of all, I know that the Savior is there to wipe away our tears and give us the strength to keep going. He is the reason to hope.

More Unimportant and Uninteresting Late Night Thoughts

Ok, here is a tangent that is pointless, and I won't be offended if nobody reads this...but I must get my thoughts out to at least someone, even if it's just my computer.

I finished reading the Hunger Games series late last night. It wasn't my first time reading them. I listened to the first 2 while working custodial at school back in the summer of 2010, so almost 3 years ago. Mockingjay came out that September I think so after patiently waiting for my roommates to finish it, it was my turn to read it. I remember being really emotional as I read it, but my heart was kind of in a silly fragile state, so I figured it was just me overreacting because of that. I couldn't decide at that time how I felt about the books. I wasn't sure that I really liked them. They had definitely kept me captivated and I couldn't wait to go to work everyday for a couple weeks that summer because I got to listen to them, but at the end I wasn't sure how I really felt about them.

So last week when I went to my closet to find a book to read before falling asleep, I found that my mom had bought the series and read them, probably about this time last year (she was in young womens and she decided that she should find out for herself what the big deal was about these books and movies all the teenage girls were obsessed with). I had always had the intention of rereading them because it drove me crazy that I hadn't come to any conclusion about how I felt about them, so I figured, why not now? (It also helped that I realized that Percy Jackson is safely in a box in Clarkston, Utah so I had to settle for something else.)

I finished the series in like 5 days. They had me captivated. I will admit for the hundredth time that one of my favorite things is rereading a book. I love it when you're reading and some detail or event you'd forgotten  totally surprises you all over again. Anyways, I tried to really pay attention to what I thought about it this time around. And here's what I decided last night after I finished: Suzanne Collins is a fantastic writer and the books were really good, but I don't like them.

Why don't I like them? They're so desensitizing. I mean...a bunch of kids thrown together to brutally murder each other? War and rebellion where human life is thrown away like a candy wrapper? Self-centered, superficial, manipulative people plotting selfish things while mercilessly using others as their pawns? The only characters that I really like are Peeta and Prim. The rest are all kind of jerks. Oh, Cinna is good too. But I mean, I don't even really like the main character. Katniss is just a self-centered brat who throws a fit if she doesn't get what she wants.

But, despite the fact that I decided I don't really like them, I still think that they are wonderfully written. I always judge a book or movie to be good if they make me laugh and cry. These books did this. I find that the ability to make me laugh and cry are essential qualities because it means that I was emotionally connected with the book somehow. And Suzanne Collins definitely made me feel connected with the characters in her books. I felt what they were feeling. And not just Katniss, but a lot of the other characters too. I almost felt like I was there in the book alongside them. That's why even though I didn't like Katniss much, my heart still broke with every fallback she had with Peeta. And the third book was almost unbearable. I cried just as much this go around as I did last time. Ugh, especially that last page or two! Suzanne Collins knew just how to tug on my heartstrings.

So there's my random ramblings about The Hunger Games. Hopefully I can put this behind me now and stop having dreams about it.

I promise that the quality of my posts will start to improve after this one...

I'm Back! Insomnia and All...

Seriously? This is ridiculous.

I've been home for three and a half days and I've already turned into the insomniac I was right before I left.

This isn't exactly what I had planned for my first post-mission post, but alas, it is nearing the 3 o'clock hour in the middle of the night and I have still been quite unsuccessful of singing myself to sleep. And my fingers were actually itching to type which is a sensation I haven't really felt yet since being home, so I decided to run with it.

So, here's the deal. My first mistake: I took a bit of a nap today which caused me to not be very tired when I laid my head down to sleep. My second mistake: I picked up Hunger Games hoping that reading would lull me into a sleepier state. (Uh, that was stupid. I should know myself well enough to remember that once I pick up a novel I can hardly put it down.) My third mistake: I have lots of heavy stuff on my mind. Like grown-up heavy stuff. Ugh. Moving, career, relationship. Yeah, the big stuff. It's hard to fall asleep when your mind is racing between running from savage teenagers trying to kill the protagonist that you don't really even like that much anyways, to moving to Utah [but where exactly?], to finding a teaching job and going through the application and interview process and then the never ending process of preparing to teach if I do in fact land a job, and lastly to the thought of the unknown but approaching day when I get to see him again for the first time in at least 2 years. Now do you question at all why I can't sleep?

Besides this, the adjustment has been fine. I will provide greater detail at a later time when I'm a bit more coherent so I won't be as embarrassed going back and reading about it as I will be later when I read this post. Don't judge me. My brain is whacked out right now.

"Memory is a way of holding on to the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose."

Up above my bed I have probably 40 some-odd pictures hanging on the wall. Some of these pictures are quite magical. Most of them are just ridiculous. But they're all snapshots of a short moment in time when I was unconditionally happy and it shows. Every single picture brings back memories and makes me smile, if not laugh. Crazy candids of the Harry Potter premiere, going through a carwash in the back of a pickup truck, dress up nights, whether that meant "going out on the town" kind of dressing up or "let's look like freaks" dressing up, being goofy with any and all of my dear best friends.

Looking at these pictures brings mixed feelings. Of course there's nostalgia. I can look at a picture and it immediately takes me back to Fall '09, Winter '11, Spring '10, Halloween any given year, etc. It makes me miss it. It makes me long to go back and relive it again. I would seriously go back and relive my entire college experience, even the bad, because of these wonderful moments and memories I have captured on my wall.

But surprisingly the nostalgia isn't as overwhelming as I would think it would be. At least not most of the time.

Usually as I look up at these pictures it's the stories that I remember that shaped my life and who I am today. It's because of these people that I've grown the way that I have into the person I am.

It's because of these times and these people that I am able to at any given moment throughout the day burst into random laughter because I remember something hilarious that was said or done. I know what joy and happiness feel like. I know that life can be wonderful and fun, even in the midst of the hard stuff. These pictures and stories weren't from a time in my life that was all fun and games and everything warm and fuzzy. There was crap. There was hard stuff. There were days that I thought I would die from exhaustion, whether physical, mental, emotional, or any combination of the three. But even when it was hard, there were still these good times that made life worth living.

So as my last thought I want to leave with you for 18 months:

Make sure you are enjoying life. 

Find those people and things that make you unconditionally happy. Make memories. Look back at them with fondness, but not longing. And mostly, look forward to the new wonderful moments that your future holds.

Dating Blogs...Over Rated or Truly Helpful?

The other night after I got done with my round of reading all the blogs I follow, I had an interesting thought. Not really a new thought, but one that I hadn't thought super hard about before.

We over-complicate dating. How? By trying to give too much advice.

I've always thought dating was much more complicated than it should be. Especially being out at BYU and seeing how screwed up the dating scene is. I'm convinced that it's about the same 25% of the population that is going on dates all the time. (I get that number from my experience sophomore year...any given weekend it was the one same roommate out of the four of us who was on a date...usually with a different boy every time.) I won't get into any logistics of why I think that is, but rather I will tell you what I think dating should be.

Dating should be a guy seeing a girl--a friend, acquaintance, or perhaps even a stranger--and thinking, "Hmm she's attractive and I think I would enjoy spending time with her," and then asking her on a date. The girl should be flattered that a guy is interested enough to invest an hour or two and perhaps even a little bit of moolah and go out with him having an optimistic attitude of having an enjoyable time, whether she's likewise interested in the guy or not. After the date, each can individually evaluate how they thought it went and perhaps think about future intentions and let it either progress from there or be done and call it a nice time with a friend.

But, this is obviously not how it is in real life, and there's not really any way to get people to start seeing dating in such a way. Oh how I wish there was a way to uncomplicate it though.

For the past several months I have been following the Anti-Austen Blog. At first I loved it. I was addicted. I was enchanted. I thought these girls were geniuses and amazing.

And then I don't know if I just really opened my eyes or if the quality of their blogging declined or what, but I became a bit disenchanted. I don't mean to dis on them at all. I still read their blog and I enjoy it and they do have good insights sometimes, but I'm just saying I'm not an adoring fan like I once would have claimed to be.

The thing that really triggered my thinking on this subject today was that on their past couple of posts, the Anti-Austens linked to a couple other blogs: Dudes Discussing Dating and The Brothers' Guide to Guys. Of these three blogs I have mentioned, I think that the most useful would be The Brothers' Guide. It's brand new so there's only a handful of posts, but so far they seem pretty clean cut and to the point. And actual helpful tips and lessons. For example, they have already touched on lessons such as door step scenes, post-date texts, and a very basic overview of the "four flirty senses." But even so...I think that with all of this "Dating Help" we are in fact doing the exact opposite of their intention and we're complicating it.

It makes people, males and females both, over think and try to analyze everything, which just drives everyone crazy. And I think that all of this advice bouncing around just makes it worse. People are either generalizing when they make all of their suggestions, or they are specific to what they think or like. Well, let me tell you something...everyone thinks and feels differently about most things, and especially about dating and relationships. Each person has their own lists of likes and dislikes, and making all of these suggestions and do's and don'ts just doesn't always help everyone in the end. For example...I have learned through experience that baking isn't an automatic free pass into a man's heart. All of those times in Relief Society where they told us all you had to do was give a guy baked goods to spark interest....lies.

But, despite knowing that these things don't always work, does that make anyone less interested in reading all of these dating and relationship blogs and advice columns? Nope. Sure doesn't. It does make me grateful for my 18 month hiatus that I'm about to take from the dating game though. And upon my return...we'll see if I'll have to study up to start playing these games again. I'm kinda banking on not.....