Once upon a time on my mission, I went through a brief phase where I would write a new quote every week on a whiteboard over my desk. I'm not sure why I did this, except that it just seemed cool to see a new quote there every so often, like I was actually thinking about something outside of my mission and the people I was teaching and so on (don't get me wrong, that was all good as well).
I usually got all my quotes from a little book I had had since I was.....what, 12? It was a pretty little notebook my older sister Cailtin brought home from her mission in Taiwan, and she had instructed me to write at least one sentence in it every day. While I haven't been so diligent about that over the past few years, I have been unusually faithful in keeping it updated at least on a monthly basis. I decided that, since I usually didn't have anything to say about myself, I would just "collect" quotes and put them in there. I love quotes. I don't really know why - part of it may come from the feeling that quotes are basically advice, sometimes poetry, given to me, or anyone else who wants to hear it. Like, the human race is a community, and these are people passing on their wisdom to us. I don't know, it's weird. I've never been very good with words.
Anyway. Quote on my whiteboard. One week, during some downtime, I was browsing through my little quote book, trying to find something that stuck out to me so that I could put it on my wall. I came across a quote I had written in there not too long ago, maybe a few months before I left on my mission:
Not all those who wander are lost.
This was apparently said by J.R.R. Tolkien, the person whom everyone knows wrote the Lord of the Rings series, not to mention a few other lesser-known but still very good books (Farmer Giles of Ham, etc.) I immediately decided, for reasons I could not discern right then, that this would be my wall quote that week. I erased the past one - don't even remember what it was now - and wrote JRR Tolkien's words in its place. As I stood there, reading those words on my wall, I suddenly felt something very strong. I can't really describe it in words, but suffice it to say that right then, I felt this overpowering connection to that quote. I don't know why I felt that connection so strongly then, as opposed to when I first read it and wrote it down in my book or prepared to write it on the wall. I just felt it then. And it was....well, I'd never felt quite that way before, about anything.
I guess, right then, it applied to me more than anything else.
I've always been a bit of a 'wanderer' - my parents can tell you a ton of stories about me as a little kid who liked to unlock the front door and go wandering outside, who liked to climb on top of things and get into things she generally wasn't supposed to. As I grew up, I became more 'tame', and spent more and more of my time inside, reading or drawing or playing games on the computer. I was a quiet, shy kid, and as I approached adolescence and then forced my way through it, I became more isolated and withdrawn. The world had changed, or at least my view of it had. It was a considerably more frightening place. Social anxiety and an extreme lack of confidence kept me in a safe little 'shell' that I was content to stay in. I had some friends, people I trusted and had fun with, who pulled me out occasionally, and my family always managed to get me to poke my head out, but for the most part I was by myself, safely armored and oblivious to what was going on 'outside'. At least that was what I told myself. Anyway.
Wow, I am good at getting myself off track, aren't I? I guess this all ties in somehow, though. Let's see....
I grew up a little more. I graduated from high school (a HUGE load off my mind) and determined that it was time for me to fight my social anxiety, rather than embrace it. So I decided to go on the other side of the world and teach English in Russia for 4 months, not knowing a word of Russian and not knowing anyone who came on the trip with me.
Hey, it was an awesome idea at the time.
That's kind of where it started. Making that decision to challenge myself right off the bat, rather than continue to live in my little shell.
It makes me feel so sad sometimes, how hard I try and how it sometimes doesn't work. I am very good at feeling sorry for myself, I have discovered. And I like making other people feel sorry for me, too. It's disturbing, but I guess we all have our faults. That's just one of mine. Other people have worse. Some have better. How do you determine that a fault is 'better' or 'worse'? Eh, who knows. I won't bother myself about it.
Let's skip forward in time so that I can actually get back to what I was talking about.
After coming back from Russia, I went to college outside of my home state, building myself up bit by bit. It was great, having independence. I realized that I had more control over myself than I thought. It's a very liberating thing, you know? Anxiety has the effect of making you feel very powerless. It often goes hand-in-hand with depression because of that. But I was beginning to see that I didn't have to let my feelings decide me. I decide me.
Mostly.
Skip forward: 2012. Thomas S. Monson, President of the LDS Church, makes the announcement that boys can now serve missions at age 18 rather than 19, and girls can serve at 19 rather than 21. We are all very excited and very conflicted. I think about it, and see a chance to build myself up a bit more. Maybe kick this whole anxiety thing once and for all.
(Anxiety doesn't work that way, just so you know. But that wasn't going to stop me from trying.)
So I send my papers in, get my call, and go on my mission. Arizona, Tucson. It's nothing like anywhere I've been - California, Nevada, Utah, Idaho, Russia. Nothing like it at all. Tucson is HOT, and full of cactus and questionable plants and animals that look like they're the result of some wacked out science experiment. (Which, considering the reputation of Arizona's neighbor New Mexico, is not so surprising.) I feel like I'm on an alien planet and it SUCKS for the first few months. But then I get used to it. I grow up a bit more. Learn a few things about myself, and other people. It's the hardest thing I've ever done. But it's probably best thing I could have done. Whether or not I was a great benefit to the mission is up for debate, but I genuinely feel that the mission was at least a great benefit to me.
And then it all ends, and now I'm here, sitting in my chair, remembering the time I wrote a quote on the wall. Wait. I should be talking about that. Wups.
So I read that quote on my computer screen now, and really think about why I felt such a connection to it. Right then, I definitely was 'wandering'. I still am. I think I kind of always will. I like it that way. But I'm not lost.
Okay, maybe I'm a little lost. But that doesn't bother me too much.
I like not knowing what's around the next corner. I mean, I like trying to plan a head a little, but I'm not too unhappy if something else comes along that's better. Even if I don't see that it's better at the time. In my religion, we firmly believe that God has a plan for everyone. Sometimes, we have to let go of our plan and follow His. Even if it sucks. Even it's hard, and scary. Because He knows what's best for you. You just have to let Him take over and lead you along to where you need to go.
Right now, I'm recovering from a deep hurt that I got on my mission. It's horrible, not going to lie. But it's opening my eyes. I see more of myself than I ever did before. I see what I can do, if I let myself. I'm not grateful for what happened, for having such a huge trial, but I am grateful for what I got out of it. The good things, anyway. Sooner or later, maybe that's all I'll be able to see, and the hurt will be gone. Maybe not. We'll see.
Looking at the quote, remembering how I felt about it then and how I feel about it now, I feel like life is a great map that we're wandering around. It's huge, difficult, and intimidating. But it's also good, and wonderful, and amazing. And best of all, unexpected. That's my favorite part. Life would be so boring without it.
I was just now listening to a favorite song of mine, by Florence and the Machine. I'm going to test your knowledge here and leave out the title. See if you can guess with song it is.
It's from the point of view of someone in the dark. They can't see light or anything ahead, but they hear their companion's heartbeat, and they know that they're not alone. So they go ahead, still in the dark but knowing that they're not alone. I like that. It may not be the precisely correct interpretation, but that's how I see it.
I don't feel lost. And even if I did, that's not a bad thing. At least, every once in a while.
I usually got all my quotes from a little book I had had since I was.....what, 12? It was a pretty little notebook my older sister Cailtin brought home from her mission in Taiwan, and she had instructed me to write at least one sentence in it every day. While I haven't been so diligent about that over the past few years, I have been unusually faithful in keeping it updated at least on a monthly basis. I decided that, since I usually didn't have anything to say about myself, I would just "collect" quotes and put them in there. I love quotes. I don't really know why - part of it may come from the feeling that quotes are basically advice, sometimes poetry, given to me, or anyone else who wants to hear it. Like, the human race is a community, and these are people passing on their wisdom to us. I don't know, it's weird. I've never been very good with words.
Anyway. Quote on my whiteboard. One week, during some downtime, I was browsing through my little quote book, trying to find something that stuck out to me so that I could put it on my wall. I came across a quote I had written in there not too long ago, maybe a few months before I left on my mission:
Not all those who wander are lost.
This was apparently said by J.R.R. Tolkien, the person whom everyone knows wrote the Lord of the Rings series, not to mention a few other lesser-known but still very good books (Farmer Giles of Ham, etc.) I immediately decided, for reasons I could not discern right then, that this would be my wall quote that week. I erased the past one - don't even remember what it was now - and wrote JRR Tolkien's words in its place. As I stood there, reading those words on my wall, I suddenly felt something very strong. I can't really describe it in words, but suffice it to say that right then, I felt this overpowering connection to that quote. I don't know why I felt that connection so strongly then, as opposed to when I first read it and wrote it down in my book or prepared to write it on the wall. I just felt it then. And it was....well, I'd never felt quite that way before, about anything.
I guess, right then, it applied to me more than anything else.
I've always been a bit of a 'wanderer' - my parents can tell you a ton of stories about me as a little kid who liked to unlock the front door and go wandering outside, who liked to climb on top of things and get into things she generally wasn't supposed to. As I grew up, I became more 'tame', and spent more and more of my time inside, reading or drawing or playing games on the computer. I was a quiet, shy kid, and as I approached adolescence and then forced my way through it, I became more isolated and withdrawn. The world had changed, or at least my view of it had. It was a considerably more frightening place. Social anxiety and an extreme lack of confidence kept me in a safe little 'shell' that I was content to stay in. I had some friends, people I trusted and had fun with, who pulled me out occasionally, and my family always managed to get me to poke my head out, but for the most part I was by myself, safely armored and oblivious to what was going on 'outside'. At least that was what I told myself. Anyway.
Wow, I am good at getting myself off track, aren't I? I guess this all ties in somehow, though. Let's see....
I grew up a little more. I graduated from high school (a HUGE load off my mind) and determined that it was time for me to fight my social anxiety, rather than embrace it. So I decided to go on the other side of the world and teach English in Russia for 4 months, not knowing a word of Russian and not knowing anyone who came on the trip with me.
Hey, it was an awesome idea at the time.
That's kind of where it started. Making that decision to challenge myself right off the bat, rather than continue to live in my little shell.
It makes me feel so sad sometimes, how hard I try and how it sometimes doesn't work. I am very good at feeling sorry for myself, I have discovered. And I like making other people feel sorry for me, too. It's disturbing, but I guess we all have our faults. That's just one of mine. Other people have worse. Some have better. How do you determine that a fault is 'better' or 'worse'? Eh, who knows. I won't bother myself about it.
Let's skip forward in time so that I can actually get back to what I was talking about.
After coming back from Russia, I went to college outside of my home state, building myself up bit by bit. It was great, having independence. I realized that I had more control over myself than I thought. It's a very liberating thing, you know? Anxiety has the effect of making you feel very powerless. It often goes hand-in-hand with depression because of that. But I was beginning to see that I didn't have to let my feelings decide me. I decide me.
Mostly.
Skip forward: 2012. Thomas S. Monson, President of the LDS Church, makes the announcement that boys can now serve missions at age 18 rather than 19, and girls can serve at 19 rather than 21. We are all very excited and very conflicted. I think about it, and see a chance to build myself up a bit more. Maybe kick this whole anxiety thing once and for all.
(Anxiety doesn't work that way, just so you know. But that wasn't going to stop me from trying.)
So I send my papers in, get my call, and go on my mission. Arizona, Tucson. It's nothing like anywhere I've been - California, Nevada, Utah, Idaho, Russia. Nothing like it at all. Tucson is HOT, and full of cactus and questionable plants and animals that look like they're the result of some wacked out science experiment. (Which, considering the reputation of Arizona's neighbor New Mexico, is not so surprising.) I feel like I'm on an alien planet and it SUCKS for the first few months. But then I get used to it. I grow up a bit more. Learn a few things about myself, and other people. It's the hardest thing I've ever done. But it's probably best thing I could have done. Whether or not I was a great benefit to the mission is up for debate, but I genuinely feel that the mission was at least a great benefit to me.
And then it all ends, and now I'm here, sitting in my chair, remembering the time I wrote a quote on the wall. Wait. I should be talking about that. Wups.
So I read that quote on my computer screen now, and really think about why I felt such a connection to it. Right then, I definitely was 'wandering'. I still am. I think I kind of always will. I like it that way. But I'm not lost.
Okay, maybe I'm a little lost. But that doesn't bother me too much.
I like not knowing what's around the next corner. I mean, I like trying to plan a head a little, but I'm not too unhappy if something else comes along that's better. Even if I don't see that it's better at the time. In my religion, we firmly believe that God has a plan for everyone. Sometimes, we have to let go of our plan and follow His. Even if it sucks. Even it's hard, and scary. Because He knows what's best for you. You just have to let Him take over and lead you along to where you need to go.
Right now, I'm recovering from a deep hurt that I got on my mission. It's horrible, not going to lie. But it's opening my eyes. I see more of myself than I ever did before. I see what I can do, if I let myself. I'm not grateful for what happened, for having such a huge trial, but I am grateful for what I got out of it. The good things, anyway. Sooner or later, maybe that's all I'll be able to see, and the hurt will be gone. Maybe not. We'll see.
Looking at the quote, remembering how I felt about it then and how I feel about it now, I feel like life is a great map that we're wandering around. It's huge, difficult, and intimidating. But it's also good, and wonderful, and amazing. And best of all, unexpected. That's my favorite part. Life would be so boring without it.
I was just now listening to a favorite song of mine, by Florence and the Machine. I'm going to test your knowledge here and leave out the title. See if you can guess with song it is.
It's from the point of view of someone in the dark. They can't see light or anything ahead, but they hear their companion's heartbeat, and they know that they're not alone. So they go ahead, still in the dark but knowing that they're not alone. I like that. It may not be the precisely correct interpretation, but that's how I see it.
I don't feel lost. And even if I did, that's not a bad thing. At least, every once in a while.
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