The House That Built Jia

I've lived in quite a few places in my life. The first home I remember is a place in West Valley, Utah where the neighbor kids tied me to a tree and danced around me with pitch forks. I wish I was joking. They left me outside for at least an hour and my Grandpa had to come rescue me once the sun had set and they realised their four year old was missing.

I lived in a two story house in Salt Lake City with my Grandparents, aunt Debbie and my older sister Tiffany until I was ten. Then we moved to California where Motherly took over. I can't actually picture our Cali house anymore to be completely honest. But I do remember the backyard. We had a large peach tree that we never actually ate from, but every year the fruit would fall on the ground and attract fruit flies by the millions so Kristine and I would have to go and pick them up. Worst chore ever.

I lived in a trailer in Aztec, New Mexico when we moved away from California. It was my transitional home where my cousin Mitzi taught me discipline by taking away all my belongings save a mattress and clothing when I brought home a D on my report card. I got straight A's from that point on.

But my home. My real home. The home I consider my childhood home I didn't even live in until I turned fourteen years old. But it was home nonetheless. And it stopped being home last summer when Motherly sold it and moved to Colorado.

I took a bunch of pictures the week that Motherly moved out and I meant to post them but at the time it was too emotional, and I'd since forgotten until MamaKat had a writing prompt this week to talk about the house that built you. So here it is, The House That Built Jia:

That front window is the bedroom where my Grandma stayed before she died. Then it became my room and eventually my sisters room. That was the window Matt would whisper to me through on early mornings when he'd pick me up to go to seminary.

The bedroom I shared with my little sister until Grandma died. A place that caught the first tears of heartache as they were soaked into the pillow on the top bunk during my freshman year of High School.

The room that would eventually become mine. My place of refuge that was once decorated with water color paintings I made in art class. The place I hid my diary and kept my ever growing pile of dirty laundry. The place Matt and I would cuddle when we watched movies late into the night.

The family room where we would sit around and watch Tv. The place I learned to fully appreciate professional wrestling. The place Matt gave me piggy backs when we'd ditch school to just hang out. This is also the room where I burned a hole in the carpet with a fish tank light because instead of cleaning the fish tank, I was on the phone talking to Matt.

The porch where Kristine would tan and I would burn.

The living room where Matt and I took our very first photo together, cuddled up on a recliner.

And the backyard where he kissed me for the first time at my fifteenth birthday party.

Thomas Wolfe said it best when he said, "You can't go home again," and that's because if I did it would be breaking and entering. Which is funny cause when I was a teenager I just wanted to get the hell out of that place.

Howdy Neighbor

Imagine you own a house. 

Or if you already own a house you can skip the imagining part.

Unless your house sucks and you'd like a better house. Then imagine that.

Now pretend you're sitting, relaxing in your house - because it's yours - and suddenly you look up to spot a strange child peering in your living room windows. Curious, you step out onto the front porch of your house to find toys and crushed up cookies scattered in front of your door. Another day passes and suddenly you look up to spot two children standing in front of your living room window, leaning against your white picket fence and then sitting down to color chalk outlines on your driveway.

Creepy right?

What if it was YOUR child that was doing this to your neighbors?

Seriously.

What if you walked outside to check the mail and suddenly you look across the street and your five year old daughter is peeking in the windows of your neighbors house? Most normal parents I know would immediately call the child back and say things like, "We need to have a discussion about personal space and property lines."

So tell me why when I live in an apartment, the above scenario is completely overlooked by the parents of the brats that live below me? Cause seriously, it's super creepy. Especially when she tries talking to me through my window. Sure maybe if I was a person who liked kids it would be different.

But I think even those kind of people occasionally want to have sex on the living room couch without an underage audience in attendance.

I think what I'm saying is that parents should read "Hansel and Gretel" to their kids more often.

Untypically in Love: Reality Check

Read the full story, chapter by chapter here.

Some names and events have been changed to protect the identity of certain individuals.

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Chapter Thirty
Reality Check

I grabbed my car keys and left the house quietly so as not to wake anyone else. Once I got in my Bronco, I began rehearsing the words I had been planning to say to Matt. Something along the lines of, "I know I'm completely insane because I say this every time we break up, but I love you still and I want us to get back together even though it won't change anything about our relationship and I'm only really doing this because I'm afraid of being alone..."or something like that.
Rushing inside the church building I noticed I was fifteen minutes early, something not unusual to me. It gave me time to relax, to prepare myself and to check my hair and makeup in the bathroom mirror down the hall from my classroom. Despite the fact that I was often too lazy to curl my long red hair which was often pulled back in a pony tail, I had taken the extra effort to wear it down that day, knowing Matt preferred it. After reapplying my cotton candy flavored lipgloss - Matt's favourite - I was certain I would have the confidence it was going to take to tell him how I felt. The last time we had this conversation it had taken well over a month to get him back, so I knew I had to pull out all the stops this morning.

Walking into the classroom, other students were already gathering and I spotted the back of Matt's head in the second row to the back of the room. His dark chestnut colored hair had recently been cut and was slicked back with gel. His face was clean shaven as opposed to the goatee strutting stud I had dated only a few months ago. He still wore the black leather jacket that he'd gotten for Christmas the year earlier - one reminiscent feature of the bad boy I had fallen for so long ago. He'd never looked so good to me.

There was only one problem. The seat beside him, which had so often in the past been reserved for me, was now occupied by a skinny blonde, Kara. I'd completely forgotten. I'd assumed his date the night before had been casual, simple, a one time affair. But it clearly was not. I took a seat behind them and spent the better part of the early hour contemplating whether or not I should violently interrupt them as his hand moved around her shoulder.

It wouldn't be the first time I'd done something so territorial. While Matt and I had been dating during our first year, one of his ex-girlfriends began spreading rumors around the school that I was easy and didn't deserve Matt. She even compared me to the song, "La Vida Loca", something I found hilarious. After a mutual friend let me know what she was saying behind my back, I confronted her outside the school building, surrounded by a crowd. I stood my ground, claimed my man and then shoved her down the stairs that lead into the courtyard.

Back then Matt had in fact been mine, I felt justified in my actions. But now? He'd taken his freedom from me and chosen to walk another path. Taken wasn't even the right word, we'd let each other go willingly. I had no rights here. I'd taken all my anger about my family life, my grandmother's death, my poor relationship with my father, and I used it as fuel to emotionally light my relationship with Matt on fire. He deserved to live, and I was a clear fatality as a girlfriend.

I decided not to tell Matt anything. I decided to let him live his own life - free of me.

Several weeks later I hadn't spoken to either Josh or Matt. I stopped going to church as well. Running into them was too awkward for me. I worked, came home and slept and then repeated the cycle verbatim. One day, when my car began to overheat, I slammed the door shut and decided I'd walk the few blocks to work. I pushed a few loose strands of hair from my face as I turned down the road, kicking rocks in frustration every few steps.

As I approached the corner of my street, I noticed a group of boys in front of Josh's house skateboarding, Josh included. There was no other way for me to walk to work that would get me there on time. I would have to walk right past Josh, something I did not want to even think about doing. Trying my best to avoid eye contact, I moved as quickly as I could, staying on the west side of the street opposite Josh's house. I'd immediately wished I'd brought my portable CD player so if he said anything to me, I could pretend my music was too loud and I just simply couldn't hear him.

Then I made a mistake, I looked up. Josh's eyes met with mine, embarrassed and ashamed I looked away. There was no way out of it now. We were going to have this conversation. Would he bring up the fact that he'd rejected me for Matt and yet here I was, single? Or would it be an awkward conversation where we would both try to pretend nothing had even happened. "Hi, how are you? Nice weather we're having." I still wanted to remain friends with Josh, but so soon after everything happened, I honestly didn't know if I would just end up throwing myself at him and making a scene. History had only taught me that I had a habit of repeating my actions.

Before Josh could reach the other side of the street to say a word to me, a loud, annoying rumbling noise had taken my attention away as a black truck drove down the street and then immediately stopped between Josh and I. The driver was tall and slim and had brown hair cut close to his scalp. He wore a baby blue sweater that matched his baseball cap perfectly. Despite deliberately stopping in front of me, he kept his eyes forward, not even acknowledging my presence.

Before I had a chance to walk around the truck and continue my walk to work, the passenger in the truck leaned over and called out to me, "Need a ride?"

Stepping closer, I immediately recognized the passenger as one of my co-workers, Joseph. Though generally quiet at work, he'd always been kind to me. I never thought much of him compared to others, he didn't stand out much. Joseph was a larger build than his driver, though not fat. Dark, tan skin and equally dark eyes, I pegged him as Hispanic upon our first meeting - as most of my co-workers were, though I'd heard others mention he might be Italian.

My attention had been taken away from Josh, which at the moment I'd been grateful for. I smiled as Joseph got out of the truck, opening the door to allow me inside. Immediately I could tell that the driver was a "car guy", the smell inside stunk of a mixture of motor oil and that artificial new car smell. I usually didn't like car guys, but I wasn't about to make judgments considering I was getting out of a twenty minute walk to work.

"Thanks," I smiled and glanced out the window as we drove away, pushing Josh further into the distance behind the overbearing sounds of the truck's muffler.

"Didn't know you worked today," Joseph stated as he turned around to face me.

"Took a few extra shifts," I shrugged.

"This is Riley," he introduced the driver. "He's starting today."

"Thanks for the ride," I shouted over the engine.

"No problem," Riley responded.

We arrived to work minutes later and as we pulled into the parking lot, I noticed my friend Stephanie stick her head out the drive-thru window to examine the black truck as the engine revved once more before Riley killed it. I smiled politely to Riley and Joseph and walked to the building alone. Slinging my purse over my shoulder as I pushed through the door I was immediately assaulted by Stephanie.

Despite having cut myself off from the rest of the world, I couldn't just become an empty vessel at work. I had to put on the customer service charm at all times, and it was hard not to eventually get in a good mood. Even harder to avoid making at least a few friends. Friends that didn't remind me of Josh, Matt, or the others I'd left behind at church in what already felt like a lifetime ago. Stephanie had quickly helped to ease the transitional pain.

"When do you clock in?" She asked as she took off the drive-thru head set and handed it back to another co-worker.

"Like twenty minutes," I said, remembering that I had left early knowing I was planning on walking to work.

"I'm going on break!" Stephanie shouted back to our manager, a twenty something air force vet we called "Crispy". Stephanie took hold of my arm after clocking out and then rushed around the corner where we sat down at an empty table in the back of the restaurant.

"What the hell is your deal? You been drinking the soda syrup in the back?" I asked.

"Did he do it?" She asked me.

"Did who do what?" I asked confused.

"Did Joseph ask you out?" She asked angrily, as though I was purposely withholding information.

"Oh yeah," I laughed sarcastically. "In fact, we're totally getting married next year. I was thinking of having Burger King cater. I know it's hypocritical and I could get fired for consorting with the enemy, but you know how I feel about people claiming that McNuggets are fine dining."

"Don't be such an ass," she snapped. "I'm serious. He's been wanting to ask you out ever since you broke it off with your ex."

"You're full of it," I rolled my eyes. For three years my life revolved completely around two boys. I'd almost completely forgotten that prior to my torrid love affair with Matt and Josh, I'd dated quite a few others. The idea that other guys even existed as potential "dates" and "boyfriends" didn't even occur to me now.

"He wants you," Stephanie taunted, following me as I got up from the table.

"This is me walking away." I smirked.

"I'm serious!" She continued the chase.

"Then why exactly hasn't he asked me out yet?" I countered, hoping to put this rumor to rest.

"He's going to," she insisted. "Maybe he's shy. You should let him know that you're interested."

"But I'm not." I said firmly. Certainly he was a nice enough guy, or so it seemed, but I wasn't in a good place to start a new relationship. My self esteem was fragile, and I was still doing more emotional harm to myself than ever before. What kind of date would I be?

"C'mon," Stephanie insisted. "He's cute, sweet, he likes you, he has a car and a job.." she continued making a list of Joseph's better qualities.

"He's not Mormon." I countered with something I felt was a no brainer for me.

"See, what more could you ask for?" Stephanie laughed.

"Not funny," I turned and began walking away, searching for Crispy to see if I could just clock in early. Stephanie followed, snagging two soda cups on her way so we could continue having this conversation - and her break - in the back room.

"Quit being so sensitive. Who else is there? No offense," she sighed, realizing her poor choice of words. "You've already told me that Matt's dating someone else and Josh kicked you to the curb."

"Wow, harsh reality check, thanks." I sighed.

"Exactly, so what better time to get back on the horse? Beggars can't be choosers. If you let a great guy like Joseph get away, you'll regret it. Do you know what I wouldn't give to have a guy like that after me? I'm trying to live vicariously through you here." She took a moment to fill her soda cup before following me back to the break room.

"And this has nothing to do with the fact that you're crushing on his brother and there's double date potential here?" I rose a brow accusingly.

"Sure that'd be a perk, but I'm only thinking of your happiness here," she replied in a serious tone and I believed her. Stephanie had become an emotional rock for me during the recent changes in my life. Independent and self assured, she was just the right amount of fun I needed during the times when depression took a firm hold of me. Unfortunately she didn't understand my hopes and dreams for the future. Though I never exactly sat down and opened my soul up to just anyone.

After clocking in, I went to my position, ready to take orders at the drive-thru. During the slow period, I stood there pre-stuffing toys into Happy Meal boxes while I could be alone with my thoughts. I'd almost completely forgotten about Stephanie's insane idea when Joseph walked behind the counter and approached me.

"Hey, didn't you get off like an hour ago?" I asked.

"Yeah, but I didn't really have anything else planned for the night. You okay?" He asked.

"Yeah, why?" I said, trying not to sound defensive.

"Seem like you're concentrating pretty hard considering you're just putting toys in a box," he chuckled.

"Hey, you don't see me criticizing the way you put pickles on a burger, pal," I laughed. It felt good to laugh again.

"You need a ride home? I kinda figured with us driving you here you didn't exactly have your car available."

"Very observant. I can walk, it's okay." I shrugged my shoulders.

"I'm not gonna let you just walk all the way home in the dark," he insisted.

"I don't even get off for another three hours," I shook my head, declining his offer.

"It's okay," Joseph smiled. "I got time."

I smiled at the chivalrous gesture, casting a sideways glance to Stephanie who spied from the corner of the room with a grin on her face. Maybe she was right? After all, what could it hurt?

>>> Chapter Thirty-One

That Can't Be Comfortable

Recently my posts have been super serious and junk, so I thought I'd lighten the mood today with some pictures of Whiskey, who clearly doesn't understand the concept of how a bed works.

"My love is fierce."

A little over a year ago, a friend of mine posted a link to a video on Facebook. This video - which was quickly becoming viral on YouTube - helped to change my life, the way I saw the world, the way I saw love, and certainly the way I blogged.

This video was of Eva Markvoort, a 25 year old blogger, a fiery redhead who was living with (and dying from) cystic fibrosis. After receiving a double lung transplant two years earlier, Eva could breathe like never before and do things she always wanted to do. Until she was diagnosed with transplant rejection. In that short video that changed everything for me, Eva declared to her readers (and loving friends) that she was going to die.

In the months that followed, I read Eva's blog daily. I also read the archive (every single post) which is something I rarely do. I got to know Eva through her beautiful - and sometimes painful (but always honest) - words. And Eva grew in my heart, and became my friend as so very many bloggers who open themselves up like that do. Every morning I would wake, read Eva's blog, sigh with relief and turn to my husband to say, "Eva's still alive." I, like so many, tried to keep hope alive. Prayed that Eva would get the second double lung transplant she would need to survive.

As the weeks wore on, and Eva's posts became more painful to read, my prayers changed.
I just wanted her to stop hurting.
I wanted my friend to find peace.

Eva passed away a year ago this very day. And like many of her readers, I was able to watch videos of a broadcast that took place during a celebration for Eva - a memorial of her amazing, astounding love.

Last year I made a declaration that I would live this year (not just exist through it), if not for myself, than for Eva, my beautiful blogging friend who never made it to twenty-six. And despite various bumps in the road, I have. I've lived. I've conquered so much.

I think of Eva often. Every time I dye my hair my favourite shade of paint the town red. Every time I sign onto the internet, because Eva's blog is still in my bookmarks. And I thought about Eva last week a lot, when I was dealing with bronchitis and a lung infection. Because everything I felt wasn't even a third of what Eva herself experiencesd. And though painful, each breath I took was a miracle to me. And continues to be so.

So today I celebrate the life of Eva, who helped to inspire me to be myself, to be open and honest and always... to love, love, love.


A Message from Eva from Justin Cousineau on Vimeo.

Discovering Jia

I've always been a strange girl - untypical - if you will. 

Lately though, things are changing and I'm not sure where I stand. I remember being a teenager and going through so many different phases, trying to figure out who the hell I was. My freshman year of high school I decided to go by my nickname, Jia. I'd recently moved to a new city and I didn't have a friend in the world when I walked into that school on day one.

I went through stages of shyness, awkwardness, and eventually I came out of my cocoon. I could be wild and flirty, I could be sweet and gentle, I could be stubborn and often offensive. I was a member of the student council. I also threw a textbook at a teacher. I was an artist, and actress, and I loved to dance (despite my lack of talent). I was a drama queen. I was a broken soul looking for spiritual guidance.

With each change in my life, I changed my persona completely. With each new friend, I became what they wanted, what they needed, what they liked the best. I never fit in any real box though.

I still don't.

I'm still so many people...

Most of them are completely awkward.

Y'all know last year I became determined to stop wearing different shoes. To be my true self in front of everyone, regardless if it hurt their feelings, offended them or turned them away. Being too many different Jia's was too hard on my spirit. I had to just be myself.

But over the last year, I'm starting to wonder exactly who that is. Am I just the untypically awkward girl? And if so, is that enough? Can I build on just that? Can I BE just that?

I'm not expertly great at any one thing. Not like so many blogging friends that I admire who are so good at one - if not many - things. Art, comics, cooking, photography, poetry, crafts, writing . . . I've dabbled in so many things. Started so many projects and hobbies, and yet I give up. I can't figure out what drives me. What I find passion in.

I dabble in life.

And that's been okay for a number of years. But this year I overcame so much. I conquered fears. I survived the worst mental breakdown I've ever had. My marriage survived that same breakdown as well as a new job for my husband. We survived the loss of a dear pet, and welcomed a new one into our home. And I'm also changing my life. I'm losing weight. I'm no longer the 250 pound depressive mess that I was a year ago. I'm now the 236 pound occasionally neurotic mess that I am today. But I'm losing weight. And that's opening up so many opportunities. I know it will. And it scares the shit out of me. Cause I don't even know who I am now let alone who I could be 100 pounds less.

Last night I was running a program on the computer that makes it so nothing else can be done online. So I stepped away from my blogs, Facebook and Twitter and said, "I'm going to do something else." My usual go to after the computer is the TV, but Matt was in the middle of a game of his own. I stood there in the middle of the living room without a single thought as to what I could do with myself.

Of course there are things around the house that need to be done, but I quickly realised that there was nothing I wanted to do. I felt completely lost.

And I'm tired of dabbling.

I'm okay with being awkward though.

What are your hobbies? What do you find passion in? What websites perk your interest and make you want to get out and try new things? What do you consider yourself to be great at?

Redbox Etiquette

Last night Matt and I went to return some movies we got from Redbox. Matt dropped me off at the store so he could run, park the car and return a crappy collar we bought for Whiskey at the Petsmart next door. So I walked up to the big Redbox and a couple stood in front of me.


Woman: Are you serious!? They don't have it here either?
Man: I can't believe we've been to three different stores and they're out of the same movie.
Woman: (to me) Oh sorry, you can go ahead. If you're looking for Due Date by the way, they don't have it.
Me: Oh, umm . .  I'm actually returning a copy of it right now if you want to wait.
Woman: Oh my gosh are you kidding?! That's amazing! Thank you so much!
Man: Seriously, we've been wanting to see this forever and we've been driving around all night!
Me: Yeah umm . . . . . just to let you know, it's a Blu-ray copy.
Woman:  . . . . are you serious?
Man: Son of a bitch!
Me: Sorry.

So I returned the DVDs while the couple stormed out of the store, and I caught up with Matt outside of Petsmart where I told him the whole thing (while laughing).

Me: Seriously, and they got all excited and I was like, "Umm, yeah, Blu-ray" and they got all pissed and stormed out. It was so funny.
Matt: Do you want to know something that's really funny about that?
Me: What?
Matt: That copy wasn't Blu-ray. When I picked it up they were all out of Blu-ray so I just got the regular one.
Me: . . . . are you serious?
Matt: Yep.
Me: Oh my gosh . . . I feel so bad now.
Matt: Seriously. You even laughed about it.

Love, Yourself - March Update

For those just tuning in, last year I wrote letters to myself that will automatically post on my blog each month throughout the year. It's my way of keeping up with progress and showing myself the difference an entire year can really make. Instead of obsessing on the little things, I'm looking at the big picture.

This month, another letter posted to the blog. And here is the difference that one year can make.

A year ago you got angry. The good kind of angry that should have motivated you, and did for a while, but you stopped being angry, stopped being motivated, and you let the OCD, the depression, and the weight win.

I don't know whether or not it's because Matt and I got sick this month, but OCD came back a little more full force than I would have liked. But you know what? I survived! Which is a lot more than I could have said last year as OCD, anxiety and depression were chipping away at my soul, one piece at a time.

You did gain some motivation. You started really thinking about health goals. You even joined a weight loss competition! But you didn't follow through. So let's try and follow through this year.

I am following through on my weight loss goals! I hit some hard bumps in the road this month. Same bumps as I hit last year around this time. I got sick. Last year, I gave up on weight loss. I was sick, it was too late. But you know what? I'm still sick, even as I write this update, and I am NOT stopping! I've come too far to stop. Even if I gain weight, even if I have to start over from the beginning, I will not stop because I'd rather keep walking forward despite the odds than sit down and let everything run me over.

This month you weighed 250 pounds and you were too tired to do anything. You thought you might even have diabetes but you did nothing to test for it, prevent it or fix it. Stop thinking about bad things without doing anything to fix them.

I am proud to say that while soda is a long term addiction, I no longer feel it's dirty fingers grasping at me. I can do without. When I do have soda, I drink diet soda and I drink it very rarely. Even as we speak there's a diet soda on my coffee table and it's gone flat because I sipped a little this morning and then completely forgot about it. Oh . . . and did I mention that I reached an all time low this month for my weight loss adventure? 234 pounds! That's a total of 16 pounds lost since I started!

March 2010           -           March 2011

Love, Yourself (March)

Dear Jia,

A year ago you got angry. The good kind of angry that should have motivated you, and did for a while, but you stopped being angry, stopped being motivated, and you let the OCD, the depression, and the weight win.

You did gain some motivation. You started really thinking about health goals. You even joined a weight loss competition! But you didn't follow through. So let's try and follow through this year.

This month you weighed 246 pounds and you were completely addicted to soda. So much so that when you tried to quit, you ended up getting all those fantastic side effects like migraines, exhaustion and muscle pain. You used this as a major excuse to not give it up. Drink more water!

This is what you looked like in March 2010. These were your "Before" photos for the weight loss competition. You made sure they were taken at a poor angle and made yourself look extra awful because you knew that you were going to lose the weight and never look like this again. But then you gained the weight back later on. Go for a walk today (if you haven't already) and sweat enough that you forget this picture ever existed.

So take a picture of yourself today, March 2011 and post it tomorrow along with the progress you have made.

Love,

Yourself

Down With the Sickness

The first two weeks of March in this house were spent, well, in this house. Matt came home early from work one day and then struggled to get back for two weeks. After getting him to a doctor we found out that Matt had a cold that turned into bronchitis. Thankfully the antibiotics he got started fixing things right away and as of this week, Matt is sickness free.

Me however . . .

I fought Matt's cold for two weeks and I fought hard. I had aches and pains but I had a husband who needed to be taken care of, which was something like this (thanks to the bloggess for linking). However once Matt came around and started heading toward a clean bill of health, I felt that all to familiar itch in the back of my throat. But it was Friday evening when it started which meant that I would have to suffer through the entire weekend until yesterday morning before I could even speak with a doctor without having to sell one of my kidneys on the black market in order to afford the damn co-pay for an ER visit or even Urgent Care.

And frankly, I need my kidneys.

Cause they are filtering through a crap ton of Dayquil, Nyquil and like seven other things.

Saturday morning I woke up feeling twice as bad as the day before. I texted my sister.

Me: You know what I miss most about Motherly living here?
Kristine: What?
Me: She had a pharmacy in her purse.
Kristine: Oh seriously.
Me: Hey, I found a bottle of Mexican Penicillin that's like three years old, you think it's still good, or like, will I die?

Sunday morning I woke up feeling three times as bad as the day before.

Me: Matt, come look at my throat and tell me if you see white spots on the back of my throat. I think I have strep.
Matt: I'm not looking at your throat. It's gross.
Me: Loooook!
Matt: Okay fine, ew, yeah, gross.
Me: Did you see white spots?
Matt: No.
Me: Liar!
Matt: I think this cold is all in your head.
Me: .... excuse me?
Matt: Stuffy nose, sore throat, headache . . . it's all in your head. Get it? It's a head cold.
Me: Get the hell away from me, like, right now.

So we finally got in to see the doctor yesterday and he looked at my throat for about 1.5 seconds before pulling away (almost frightened) and saying, "Wow, yeah, that's infected." 

Me: Is it strep?
Doctor: Well, the white spots on the back of your throat usually indicate strep throat.
Me: I effing told you (glaring at Matt)
Doctor: But that doesn't necessarily mean that it's strep.
Me: What do I have? Seriously. We kind have a bet going.
Doctor: I would say that it's bronchitis, your lungs are also infected (says while writing prescription).
Me: You did this to me (glaring at Matt).

A weeks worth of antibiotics and an inhaler (which I haven't needed since I was like twelve and had asthma) and here I am. Still sick! Head still hurts, throat still swollen, nose still stuffed and house still dirty. Yes, a dirty house is totally a symptom of being sick.

And I don't even care.

Seriously, if anyone were to walk into my house and say something like, "Wow, you've really let yourself go," I would push them down the stairs and then force them to stare at the back of my throat, cause apparently there's a demon living back there.

Everyone's afraid.

Untypically in Love: Safety Net

Read the full story, chapter by chapter here.

Some names and events have been changed to protect the identity of certain individuals.

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Chapter Twenty-Nine
Safety Net

My stubborn persistence paid off. A month after my sobbing phone confession Matt agreed to be exclusive again. We didn't fix anything in our relationship. Made several empty promises that went on to be broken, and soon we were right back where we started: fighting. This time, we knew we had a way out. We'd gone through the breakup before so our arguments, no matter how large or small ended with threats of one of us or the other ending things.
Depending who made the threat, the other person would immediately beg for forgiveness, the fight would end and then nothing would change. We added it all up to meeting so young and growing up at different paces. The fact that my home life was getting worse and worse didn't help. I had completed high school early, and all I did was work. After leaving the daycare, I took a job working alongside Kristine at the McDonalds up the street. The closer I got to my eighteenth birthday, the more I wanted out of the house and into a new life. No one was getting along and I was taking it out on everyone close to me. It didn't help that I was getting closer to my new friends at work and an extra shift on Sunday was causing me to miss Church. I hadn't seen Audra or Jen in weeks, and I all but stopped caring.

Our relationship nearly imploded in late October when the anniversary of my Grandmother's death was creeping up on me. Instead of screaming and yelling like we normally did during our stupid arguments, Matt and I sat down and decided to talk like the adults we were so close to turning into. Matt was closing in on his eighteenth birthday as well, which meant that soon he'd begin preparations for a mission, as most young men of our faith do. He'd be gone for two years, and the weight of that decision was causing me to either cling to him with all I had in me, or push him away in order to prevent getting hurt. To save what little friendship we had left, we made the mutual decision to end things. Love or not, we needed to be apart for our own sanity.

A month later, Josh once again showered me in forgiveness and asked me out on a date. The more time I spent with Josh, the more I realised that Matt had been right all those months ago. I had jumped back into the relationship too quickly without thinking, and now, things were beginning to look up. A few months later and I even started giving up my Sunday work shift in order to sit with Josh in Sunday school.

One day after work, I went over to Josh's house, hoping that he had a chance to spend some time together as we rarely had a moment alone, seeing that I worked most nights, and during the day Josh was still in school. He took me outside and we stood on his front lawn, which here in New Mexico equaled about two tons of colorful rocks.


"Something the matter?" I asked, reaching for his hand which hung there limply, avoiding my touch.

"I'm sorry," he paused. "Now's not a good time for us to be dating, Jia." Josh called me Jia. It was a nickname I had long ago during our freshman year. My given name, Jessica, had been so normal I needed to change it. But Jia was another lifetime ago and I had changed my name back to Jessica the last year, hoping to bury Jia - and her rebellious nature - in the past where she belonged. I didn't expect to take it up again years later when a website named blogger began calling to me like a siren. At the time, Josh was the only one who still called me Jia.

I deserved his rejection of course. Not once but twice had I left him for another boy. And not just any other boy, but his best friend. When Matt and I got in too deep and ended things, I always seemed to go running back to Josh. They each had become my comfort zones, my safe nets. I was scared of anything else in the real world. Matt and Josh were all I knew.

"Why?" I finally asked him. "I want a reason." After all, anytime I broke up with him I had a reason - albeit a really selfish and crappy one - but a reason nonetheless.

"There are a lot of reasons," he answered. "I don't actually want a serious girlfriend right now and to be honest, I'm sorry but it's really hard to trust you." He didn't look me in the eye, and even if he had, I wouldn't have returned his gaze. He had every right not to trust me. "Besides, the other day at church you were going into a meeting and I hugged you goodbye, and Matt was standing behind you, and the look on his face . . ." Josh paused, turned away and then brought his gaze back to meet mine. "He's my best friend. I can't hurt him like that."

Mouth agape, I stood there dumbfounded. The world was upside down. Josh had rejected me and let it slip that the mere image of another boy hugging me was somehow painful to Matt. Afraid to not be with either one of them, I began wondering if once again, Matt and I had made a mistake.

Writing in my journal later that night, I fiddled with the gold locket that hung around my neck, a locket that Matt gave to me on my sixteenth birthday, my most treasured possession. I'd never loved anyone like Matt, and despite all the reasons we had for ending things, there was that passion that burned deep in my heart for him. It was something that I didn't think could ever go away. Then again, I'd always had a hard time with change. I gazed around my room at all the pictures of Matt that still hung on my walls, the presents and knick knacks he had given me adorned my book shelf, desk and dresser almost like nothing at all had ever changed between us.


"This is stupid," I mumbled and picked up the phone and dialed Matt's number, looking once again for my safety net.

"Hello?" Matt's Mom answered.


"Hi, Mom. Is Matt around?" I asked.

"No, he's a square," she replied and then went on to giggle at herself for several moments. "I'm kidding sweetie, I think he's actually out on a date with Kara." She finally answered my question, though not to my liking.


"Alright, I guess I'll talk to him later then." It's not as though I could judge him for being out on a date. I'd been going out on dates for months since we ended our relationship and I never once assumed he would wait around for me to change my mind - again. Nor had I wanted him to.

I didn't think to worry much. I would see Matt the following morning in seminary and I could talk to him then. For three years now I'd been attending early morning seminary and Matt always came to pick me up in the carpool we went with. Sometime close to five-thirty in the morning, there would be a knock at my window. We'd arranged it that way so no one else in the house was woken at such a horrible hour. Sometimes, if the weather permitted, I would leave my window cracked open, so I could hear Matt whisper in, "Good morning beautiful." And each of those days I would leave the house with a smile.

But as I woke the following morning, I knew everything was different. I would be driving myself to the church where our classes were held. There would be no light tapping on my window and no, "Good morning, beautiful," from Matt.

I sat up in my bed close to five am. I quickly jumped out from under the covers and started to get ready by throwing on a pair of jeans and moving over to my closet to find a shirt to wear. Digging through my small collection, I smiled as I noticed in the back of the closet where three sweaters that belonged to Matt hung there. During the course of our relationship, I often snuck one of his sweaters to wear home from Sunday dinner when I'd forgotten my coat during the winter months. They still smelled like his cologne and I took a nostalgic whiff before snatching one of my own shirts on a hanger nearby.

Digging through my jewelry box, I found every little gift he'd ever given me that I could wear. A small ring from three years ago, a silver bracelet I'd gotten the Christmas before last, and of course, my gold locket.

I laughed as I looked in the mirror, securing the locket in place, recalling the moment he had given it to me two years ago. It was the morning of my sixteenth birthday and we had arrived early to seminary. The rest of our class had not yet arrived, but several students and teachers roamed the hallways of the church building. It was early, I was grumpy, and Matt - despite the hour - was annoyingly chipper. Before I had the chance to ask him what his problem was, Matt immediately broke into song:


"When I wake up, yeah I know I'm gonna be, I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next to you," he began softly.

A few kids in the hallway overheard him singing and poked their heads into the classroom. My eyes flew wide open and I threw the palm of my hand over his mouth to stifle the song. Of course it didn't stop him from singing, muffled through my hand as I squeezed tighter, begging him not to embarrass me. He then reached over, pinching at my side, tickling until I let go. The moment I did it was like I'd hit the max volume on a karaoke machine.

"Cause I would walk five-hundred miles and I would walk five-hundred more, just to be the man who'd walk a thousand miles to fall down at your door!" 

My face, bright red, was hidden in my palms as I laughed at his display. He yanked one of my hands away from my face and kissed it before whispering, "I love you." Looking up from my humiliated expression, I smiled and echoed, "I love you." That was when he reached into his jacket and pulled a small red, velvet box.

"Forever," he said upon opening it to reveal the locket contained within.

Two years later I stood in the mirror, staring at the locket that hung around my neck, wondering what the hell went wrong.

>>> Chapter Thirty

Self Esteem Saturday: It's About Confidence Baby!

Featuring Kim Ulmanis from The Coffee Pot Chronicles

Before I get into my struggles with self-esteem and confidence, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Kim and I blog on a fairly regular basis at The Coffee Pot Chronicles. I am an early 30-something housewife who occasionally works from home and is a mom to two wacky but loveable furbabies. When it comes to writing in general I’ve been doing it since I was 14. When it comes to serious writing, I put that at the age of 22. Blogging didn’t happen until August 2010 unless you count a few failed attempts (I don’t).

One more thing before I begin: I’d like to thank the Academy…er, Jia for this opportunity. When I found Self-Esteem Saturday via SITS I felt an overwhelming urge to send an e-mail and ask to participate. And here you are, reading my post.

So let’s talk self-esteem. Mine specifically of course. Over the last decade or so mine has without a doubt been in the toilet. And not a pretty, cleaned regularly toilet. Think gas station toilet that hasn’t been cleaned for three days. Yea, it’s bad. And it stinks.

I cannot pinpoint one specific incident that has eroded my self-esteem over the years but there are people that have done just that, including yours truly. Although I would prefer to not blame my parents they are the first ones in my life to do so.

My dad rarely, if ever, supported things I wanted to do and following my parents’ split when I was 9, life took a turn for the worse. Although my dad tried to care about my schoolwork, truth is he was too busy to be bothered with me. It stung and it took me years to get over. Sometimes I still get discouraged when he takes no interest in my projects but I remind myself that is who he is and who he will always be. My mom? Well, she simply wasn’t around much at all.

In later years (read: my 20s) my self-esteem became destroyed by a series of events and failures, people telling me “No, you can’t do that. You have no clue what you’re doing.” After hearing it so many times, I believed it. I convinced myself I was not good enough and never would be. Evidence of this still rears its ugly head. More on that in a moment.

Midway through college and starting to kick some ass as a reporter for the college paper and becoming a member of the Associated Student Body (ASB) I found my confidence again. I believed I was worth something to someone and to the world. I earned respect from peers and instructors. Life was on an upswing for once and I felt I could become the success I wanted to be. A marriage that should have never happened in the first place brought all of it to a screeching halt.

I moved to Las Vegas to be with my now ex-husband who repeatedly made me feel like I was incapable of doing anything and would belittle or make me feel guilty when I lost a job. I was an idiotic walking paycheck to him. When we split for good in September 2008 after less than a year of marriage I was devastated. Looking back now he did me a huge favor. But, as cliché as it is, the damage had already been done and I’ve spent the last 2.5 years trying to repair my self-esteem.

That damage has made me feel worthless and wondering if life would ever get better. While I did have a few moments here and there where I thought I was awesome, most days my insecurities would chew me up and spit me out.

When I re-married in October 2010 I found the one person who is helping me find the woman I am meant to be. I have bad days and am still ridiculously insecure more often than I should be but I am on the mend. Slowly I am beginning to believe that I do have skills, talents, and value. I am not just that lump sitting on a chair eating Cheez-Its and whining.

While I know that it is up to ourselves to feel better about who we are, it also helps to have that one person who loves you for you. Who supports, encourages, and pushes you to see what they see. My husband deserves far more credit that I can give him and he has been what I needed in my life. I know I frustrate him with my bad days but unlike others I never hear, “No, you can’t” or “I give up. I don’t want you around anymore”.

With a bit more time I can finally say without hesitation that I love me.  

I love who I am 

and no one is going to take me down. 

It’s been a rough road but I can already see that things are getting better. 

And you know what? I am worth it.

---

Can I first say how great it is to have Self Esteem Saturday back from being on hiatus for a few weeks? I love getting submissions from everyone and hearing your stories and seeing you reach out for support, and to support one another.

Kim's story is one that is all to familiar to so many of us. People do have the ability to change how you feel about yourself. It's why we need to be kind to one another, to our families and even to strangers. And we need to teach our children to do the same.

We need to teach the world to say - as Kim has - "I'm worth it!"

Each week we will use Self Esteem Saturdays to spread joy and love to one another.  Please show love for Kim in the comments below, for being brave and putting herself out there on display to the world. 

Note: Pass the word along about Self Esteem Saturday! We need more bloggers out there rebuilding low self esteems and spreading the word that healing is a progress that can be achieved! If you are interested in being featured on Self Esteem Saturdays, please send an email with the title  "Self Esteem Saturday" to untypicallyjia@gmail.com

The Unluck of the Irish

Lá Fhéile Pádraig Shona dhaoibh!

That's Happy Saint Patrick's Day to you all.

While normally I would be arms deep in potato peels, boiled bacon and cabbage on a day like today, instead I'm home with a head cold, a sick puppy that decided to eat her food too quickly and then decorate my living room with the aftermath of said mistake. Also, payday isn't until tomorrow and there's not a potato in this Irish house.

(Insert potato famine joke here.)


(Seriously, if you don't, Matt will.)


(He'll probably do it anyway.)


(In fact I'm sure he'll blame my head cold on the lack of potatoes in this house.)

I don't know why I suddenly took such a liking to parentheses.

So until I get to feeling better, you all have my blessing to drown a shamrock in my name. And while I'm off blissfully dreaming of colcannon soup and soda bread, check out how I celebrated Saint Patrick's Day last year. Also, if you ever wanted proof that I'm really Irish, you'll dig the details here.

PS: For those who plan on drinking today, please read this and then find yourself a designated driver.

Untypically in Love: Same Mistakes

Read the full story, chapter by chapter here.

Some names and events have been changed to protect the identity of certain individuals.

---------------------

Chapter Twenty-Eight
Same Mistakes

Starting over from scratch was almost impossible. Despite the fact that Matt and I were in a "dating other people" status, I couldn't help but still think of him as my boyfriend. He was a big part of my life, not to mention his parents had practically adopted me. Regardless of dating status, I still came over for Sunday night dinners. I called his Mom to hang out on Saturdays, I called his brother to get spiritual advice, and I got my priesthood blessings from his Dad. So when Josh asked me on a date the day after Matt and I changed our status, I was hesitant to reply.

Immediately reminded of years earlier when Matt first declared his love for me, I had to wonder, is this a trick? Did Josh ask me out because Matt told him to? Is this going to blow up in my face? In addition to my failing self esteem, I was also struggling with my emotions. I was still very much in love with Matt, despite our constant fighting, but there was also this strange and confusing feeling for Josh. He reminded me of what it felt like so long ago, when the tingles still ran up and down my spine at the notion that love was a fairy tale and not something you actually had to work at.

I agreed to see a movie with Josh. And then Matt, Josh and I did something that would essentially set the tone for the rest of our lives: we went on a double date.

Unlike my previously ended relationships, I never went around hating Josh or Matt. Strangely, I felt more comfortable in their presence - even together - than I did alone with many of my girlfriends. The three of us able to spend time together gave me a strange sense of freedom - like I wouldn't have to ever actually make a choice, even though I wasn't being asked to. Unfortunately, the three of us became four when Josh took me to see Atlantis, and Matt showed up with a date. 

Romantic setting firmly in place, I had to disconnect myself from Matt entirely. He was no longer my boyfriend and it was no longer the three of us hanging out - platonically. I chose my seat accordinly and stepped in first, allowing Josh to sit beside me, followed by Matt's date, keeping Matt and I as far apart as we could on a single row in a movie theatre.

A half hour into the movie and I had forgotten completely that things should in fact be very awkward right then. Looking over Josh's shoulder I watched Matt and his date, fixated on the screen, paying no attention to the two of us at all. Could this really work? Could we just move on as simply as we began? 

It was in the middle of my desperate concentration when I felt something on my arm. I looked down at the armrest that separated Josh and I. His arm lingered there, every so slightly brushing up against mine. My face felt suddenly hot and those long lost tingles returned as I nervously moved my arm closer to his. By the time his fingers interlaced with mine I had completely forgotten how to breathe. It was also at this time that I remembered the awkward situation I had somehow gotten myself into, and when Josh wasn't looking, I peered over his shoulders to look at Matt again - secretly checking to see if he too was physically connecting with his date.

The date ended as easy at it had begun and I went to bed hoping for blissful dreams about Josh. Dreams that would pull me out of the confusion I was feeling. Those dreams didn't come however. My night was filled with more confusion. Mixed emotions weaving between thoughts of my missed opportunities with Josh and my potential future with Matt.

When I woke the next morning, I noticed a letter sticking out of the side of the mailbox, a place Josh and I had used years earlier to exchange letters. After bringing the letter inside, I laughed upon opening it, noticing that he had written it in the language of the Atlantians - a code that had to have taken him a long time to put together - and an equally long time for me to decipher. It let me know how much he enjoyed himself, though he had admitted to feeling uncomfortable and unsure of his feelings. Josh was going out of town that night, and had promised to call me when he got back in town a week later. I was looking forward to his call.

Unfortunately, I never got it.

Two days after Josh left town, in a melodramatic fashion that I was so famed for, I had called Matt up on the phone.

"I'm still in love with you. I think I always will be." I cried, desperate to find a solution to my endless emotional drama.

"I . . . I love you too," Matt replied and I felt relief swell inside of me. We could fix things and I wouldn't have to make any decisions, Matt could make them for me. We could just go back to normal and forget this ever happened. We could forget we ever even fought before. Maybe we didn't even really have problems to begin with. "It's just . . ." Matt continued.

"What?" I asked.

"I need time. We didn't break up for nothing," he said.

"We didn't break up." I insisted. "We decided to see other people, like as in addition to each other." Panic began to return, replacing the relief I so recently felt. 

"Well, I don't know how I feel. I love you, but I need to figure things out on my own. I still want to date other people." His voice sounded distant. He hadn't forgotten the fights. He hadn't forgotten our problems like I had so emotionally tried to do.

"I . .  I don't know what to do, I'm so confused," I cried.

"Maybe it would be a good time for you to figure things out too." He was still my ever sympathetic friend. He knew I was trying to jump back into a broken situation without thinking of how to repair it. He wanted to repair. He wanted to fix what was wrong, and he was right . . . we couldn't do it together. But I was stubborn.

"I love you," I said again.

"I love you too."

>>> Chapter Twenty-Nine

My Week in Haiku

The end of my rope

Bronchitis - roundworms - and cold

Husband - dog - and me

Sleep: eight hours I need

Not going to get it though

That damn barking dog

Housebreaking is hard

Stubborn little basset hound

Thanks carpet cleaner

My husband is sick

Grocery cash went to meds

I want a salad

Taking care of all

Did you know that I'm sick too?

Who takes care of me?

Avoid noise complaints

Can't crate train due to barking

My neighbors are dicks

Too sleepy to move

My kitchen looks like a dump

Caution: Hazardous

I want a Pepsi

Pepsi Pepsi Pepsi Pepsi

I can't write proper haiku under these conditions

Untypically in Love: What Happens Now?

Read the full story, chapter by chapter here.

Some names and events have been changed to protect the identity of certain individuals.

---------------------

Chapter Twenty-Seven
What Happens Now?

Matt and I so rarely saw one another as the months continued to pass by. Sure we'd be together every Sunday, but for a while, Matt stopped going to Church all together. He was still finishing school while I had powered through as fast as I could and graduated early. Though instead of taking my new found knowledge and freedom further by going to college early, I pushed into work and began taking on extra shifts.

Things were stressful at home and I didn't want to be there. Grandma had been gone for two years now but the pain lingered. Kristine, still in school had a social life like I used to have. Friends, boyfriends, dates and dances. I had the late shift, a waiter at work twice my age that liked to hit on me, and a struggling need to keep the gas tank on my Bronco full. Stress was building. I became angry that Matt couldn't share it with me. He had a family that supported him, a job he truly enjoyed, a schedule that was accommodating, and he didn't have to go home every night to sleep in the same room where the domino effect of his Grandmothers death began.

Eager to start fresh, I quit my job at the restaurant and started working for a woman who ran her own daycare in town. She was going back to college and needed someone to watch the kids while she wasn't there. It gave me a chance to have a strange peace and quiet during the day. The little ones napped, ate or watched cartoons and I could read a book or write in my journals. I did that a lot. Home was stressful and Matt and I continued to grow apart. I needed some way to express myself.

Desperate to let the pain out, I took to writing poetry.

One Sunday morning, I sat in the back of my Sunday school class. Our instructor had left the room to go downstairs to switch out a video for one he had grabbed by mistake. My peers mingled with one another, talking about the social events that week at school, things I no longer held concern for. The seat beside me was empty - Matt had stayed home sick. Buried in my notebook, I wrote rapidly, just to get the anger out of my head.

"What're you writing?" A voice on the other side of me asked.

I turned and realised that I hadn't noticed when Josh sat down beside me. Two years had passed and we'd barely spoken. He'd forgiven Matt long ago, but our once strong friendship was still rocky. I was no longer the loving girl he had once dated. I was the bitch who broke his heart and traded him for his best friend. I was his best friends girl now. And there was very little wiggle room.

"Just some thoughts," I shrugged. "Started writing poetry lately. Just to get things off my chest I guess." I yawned and closed my notebook, not wanting anyone to see the mixed emotions I carried around with me. Writing in my journals often reminded me of the many letters that Josh and I had written to one another during the short time we had dated. Letters I had secretly kept and read often.

"Where's Matt?" Josh asked.

"Home," I shrugged my shoulders. "Sick."

"Well if you guys want to hang out later this week, we could catch a movie," he suggested.

I paused and turned to give him my full attention. "Both of us?" I asked. "Didn't realise you wanted to hang out with me." I smiled softly, the guilt still heavy in my mind, even though it'd been years since I'd broken up with Josh in that high school stairway.

"Course I do," Josh smiled. "The two of you are the best friends I have."

Something pulled at my heart and suddenly the guilt felt worse. There was something else too, regret? No, not regret. I loved Matt, and I knew that. Even during all the bad times, the arguments, that was one fact I couldn't deny. But were we happy? I couldn't say yes. Even if I tried to lie to myself, I knew I wouldn't believe it, and I doubt anyone else would either.

"You okay?" Josh asked.

"Oh, yeah, I'm just . . " I sighed. "You know I'm sorry right?" I asked him. "I never meant to hurt you, never meant to lose your friendship."

"I know," he said, though there seemed to be a certain hesitation in his voice.

The instructor returned to class and put on a video while we all silently watched. I reopened my notebook and started writing again fervently. Once the video ended, a loud bell rang. We closed our class with a prayer and everyone scurried off to their next meeting.

"I'll let Matt know that you want to hang out." I smiled to Josh as I stood up, snatching up my notebook and scriptures as I headed toward the door where Audra and and another of my friends, Jenn, stood waiting for me. Josh smiled at me and then headed down the stairs.

"What was that all about?" Jenn asked with a grin on her face.

"Are you guys talking again?" Audra asked.

"Guess so," I shrugged my shoulders and smiled, despite the lingering feelings pulling at me inside.

"Do you still have feelings for him?" Jenn asked, hopeful. She had begun dating Josh's younger brother and I could immediately tell that the idea for double dates was playing in her brain.

"I love Matt," I insisted, offended at the thought that anyone else would ever, could ever make those feelings disappear.

"No one's saying that you don't," Jenn replied. "Is it possible to love more than one guy, you know."

"Yeah I know, and I've seen how that kind of situation ends." I sighed, recalling the bitter details of my breakup with Josh and how, despite being blissfully happy with Matt in the beginning, the guilt of ruining their friendship had scarred me deep inside.

The three of us walked down the stairs and off to our class, meeting with all the other girls our age. The lesson, naturally, was on choosing a future husband. Qualities you admire and look for. We sat in the back row, passing a piece of paper between the three of us quietly.

What's wrong?

- Audra

Nothing.

- Jessica

Problems with Matt?

- Jenn

We fight a lot.

- Jessica

You deserve to be happy.

- Audra

Do I?

- Jessica

Matt and I got into an argument later that night and it got completely out of control. I don't even remember what started it, but in the end we both said things we didn't mean. An hour after I went home he called me and we talked all night.

"I just want us both to be happy and it feels like all we do is make each other miserable." I held the phone to my ear, which was now turning red from being pressed against the receiver for over an hour. I was physically exhausted and emotionally drained.

"I know," Matt sighed.

"What do you want to do?" I asked him sincerely. "I can't not have you in my life, but I don't want you to end up hating me because we keep fighting."

"I could never hate you."

Dear Diary,                                    July 3rd, 2001

There are moments when I have the ability to be on top of the world. Then something changes it all. Matt and I have decided to date other people. I was perfectly fine with it until he had found a date this Thursday and I hadn't.

He wants me to ask Josh out. I don't know why.

I can't just ask someone out, it's not like me, it's not in me anymore. I fear rejection too much. Being alone terrifies me. More than anything. Why shouldn't it? I've been in a serious relationship for over two years! I don't know how to date. I don't know how NOT to be Matt's girlfriend. We're still friends, but . . . what happens now?

>>> Chapter Twenty-Eight

Untypically in Love: The World Seems Different Now

Read the full story, chapter by chapter here.

Some names and events have been changed to protect the identity of certain individuals.

---------------------

Chapter Twenty-Six
The World Seems Different Now

Summer so quickly came to an end and though we had our rough moments here and there, Matt and I were still holding on, claws dug into our relationship as we tried to keep it together. My depression often got the better of me, and due to a botched birth control start up, my body was reacting to an overflow of hormones and my mental stability was having a hard time adjusting. This fact lead to plenty of emotional outbursts that were not understood by myself, or Matt.

Another thing pulling us apart was the fact that his parents had decided to pull him out of high school so he could finish his last two years doing a home program, something they had done with his brother several years earlier. Not only was our relationship struggling, but now I wasn't even going to be able to see him everyday.

The last youth Church dance of the summer came along and we went, both in a stressed mind. I don't remember what the fight was about. But it was brutal. We'd been pushed to the edge and neither was willing to back down on our opinions. I ran out of the building in tears, kicking my way to a large wall where I huffed and puffed and tried to compose myself well enough to go back inside. Humility was not one of my strengths.

A young blonde girl approached me with little understanding of personal space. She took a seat next to me on the wall, introduced herself once and then went on talking as though we'd known each other a lifetime over. Her name was Audra and she was a year or so younger than me. Easy to talk to, I vented to her the situation I was in and she listened, and somehow got me to stop crying, calm down and go back inside. The painful hole left in my life from the missing friendship of Megaera was suddenly filled once again, and pieces of me started coming back.

I apologised to Matt for my outburst and like always, we kissed and made up. Despite school starting in a week, I passed along home school papers to Paula, and she agreed to read them if I agreed to give my Junior year of high school a try. The school had changed so much. Going from street clothes to a strict, nearly uniform, policy caused a lot of rebellion. During a computer class, three school guards came in and one by one we each had to stand up and have the colors of our shirts compared to fabric swatches, the circumference of our pant legs measured and several other detailed tests to make sure that we had lost all individuality. Forty minutes later, class was almost over. Even the teachers were being beaten down by the new codes. We'd all lost whatever passion we had for knowledge.

I stepped into the guidance counselor's office one day, voicing my opinions.

"You may be surprised, but I actually want to learn while I'm here. I can't do that if my classes are being taken over by the fashion brigade." 

"I understand that you might want to wear your normal clothes, but these are the policies." The counselor didn't understand.

"No, I could care less about the uniforms. I'd rather they were school issued, that way you'd all know that the dress code was being followed and we could just get on with class. I took my electives because I really want to learn them. You people are tossing aside the value of an education in exchange for surface appearance and publicity." 

I knew very well that my school had been all over the papers. The cleanest school in the state. Best football field, most up to date buildings and technology, and of course, the most properly dressed students. Walmart had sections set aside in their store just for the students. Stores were making money hand over fist and parents were dishing out hundreds of dollars, sometimes repeatedly as the school was not specific enough in the description of allowed clothing.

"Look, this is the way the school is now. You don't really have any other choice in the matter," the counselor informed me.

"Actually I do."

I started home schooling that week.

After a long night working at the restaurant, I came home and spent another hour or so on the phone with Matt before finally falling asleep, telephone against my ear. Sound dreams helped me relax, though my feet ached and pulsed from standing on them all day.

After attending early morning seminary as usual, I had come home and worked on a test I had to send in to the correspondence school so I could move on to my final few weeks of high school, soon to graduate almost a year early. After that I walked to work for the lunch shift and then came home for a nap, though I spent most of it in front of the television watching a recorded VHS tape of a few episodes of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. When it was time to return to work after picking up a second shift, I cringed as I put my shoes back on and scrambled to find my apron.

Stressed about finishing school and my continually declining relationship with Matt, I was glad to come home, hear his voice and for once, not fight about something. The last thing I recall saying was that I had the following day off and I was going to skip seminary so I could finally have a chance to sleep in. I planned to sleep until noon if I could get away with it.

"Jessica, wake up!" Paula shouted as she burst through my bedroom door.

Vision blurred and all other senses momentarily in a haze, I could hear the muffled sounds of my television in the background. I rolled over, facing the wall that my twin bed pressed up against. I arched my head to the side and glanced at the purple digital clock resting by my bedside.

"It's not even seven!" I whined. "Do you know what time I got to sleep?" I shoved my face into the pillow while Paula remained silent behind me, remote control stuck in her hand. A minute later, she spoke again.

"They're saying that a plane crashed into the World Trade Center."

"What's a trade center?" I asked, not understanding or really paying attention.

"It's in New York. The whole building . . ." she paused. "Get up and look."

I rolled over and rubbed my eyes to clear them before staring at the television screen. I watched as a camera focused in on a view of New York City, smoke billowing out of a large building.

"Grandpa Joe lives in New York." I immediately said aloud.

"He's in a different city, far away from this." She assured me.

"What happened?" I asked. Plane crashes happened every now and again, but I never saw anything like it on the news unless it was local.

"Someone on the other channel said it was a hijacking."

"Who'd hijack a plane and then crash it?" I asked not understanding. In the movie when planes were hijacked it was for money, or to change the destination. "Maybe the pilot died and it just . . . fell." No other explanations came to me.

"I'm gonna go watch it on the big tv," Paula said, tossing me the remote.

"How sad," I said aloud, thinking about all the people on the plane, not even considering how many people might have been in the building. Not until . . .

"Oh my gosh!" I screamed, wide eyed. "Did you see that!?" Standing up immediately, I ran into the living room where my aunt and uncle sat in front of the larger television as reporters confirmed what I'd just witnessed. Another plane, purposely flew into the second building.

I ran back to my room as I heard the phone ringing, snatching it up, I muted the television.

"Are you watching tv?" Matt's voice echoed in the receiver.

"Yes, did you see the plane hit?"

"Yeah, my parents are watching right now."

Thoughts filled my head. One plane could have been an accident, but two? Into the same building? And New York City, so populated, so many people. Was this the end of the world? For some, it was.

"Is this like . . . an attack?" I finally got up the nerve to ask. I felt stupid asking Paula or Fred, but Matt's Dad was retired military and it seemed like maybe they'd had that conversation. Earlier in Church that week we learned about created an emergency 72 hour kit and to make sure that every family had enough food storage in case of disasters. Was this a sign?

"Don't know. If it was an attack, you'd think they'd just hit the White House or something." He assured me.

We stayed on the phone as long as we could before Paula told me to get off the phone because people might be trying to call. After hanging up I tried to go on about my normal routine as my family seemed to be attempting as well. After taking a quick shower, I stepped back into my room to dress. With my head upside-down and a towel briskly moving through, drying it, I overheard, "Pentagon has been hit."

World Trade Center was a place I knew nothing about. The Pentagon I knew.

Sitting down in my Grandmother's old recliner, I turned up the volume, wet hair falling against my face as I continued to watch. I didn't understand much of what was being said. Words like 'terrorist' were unknown to me, at least by popular definition. The phone rang every ten minutes or so, an uncle, aunt or cousin calling in, just to talk about what was going on.

Only when Paula told me that a plane had gone down in Pennsylvania did I really begin to panic. One of my best friends lived there and while I didn't know the details of the crash, or her specific location, I begged my aunt to let me get online to see if maybe, maybe, she could be contacted. Though I wasn't able to get a hold of her that moment, later in the week she emailed everyone to let her know that she was fine.

Hours after my television was turned on, the buildings had collapsed and every image of New York was buried in a cloud of ash. After saying a prayer for those who were involved in any way shape or form, I turned the TV off, unable to look anymore.

>>> Chapter Twenty-Seven