A Year Ago Today

Grief is a messy thing, and those who know me know that I don’t do messes. People used to laugh that Jennifer and I had a model dorm room because we were both extremely clean and didn’t do messes. Yet, it seems that this messy grief always seems to find me when I least expect it and want to deal with it the least. But much like the screaming babies I deal with on a daily basis, grief cannot be hushed and certainly cannot be ignored.

 I have always saw myself as mature, but when you died I suddenly had to grow up in a matter of minutes. Before, everybody that I had known that had passed was well into their lives and had lived their life. You were the picture of health and had just celebrated your 21^st birthday, so when you passed it was jarring to say the least. Through this whole experience I have seen a side of myself, our friends, and the people supporting me that showed me a new side of life.

I never wish this experience on anybody but much like everything in life, there is much to be learned. I learned that you can experience the full range of human emotions in a matter of hours when grief is involved. I have also started to have a greater appreciation of the time spent with people, because as cliché as it is to say, you never really know how much it matters until you don’t have that chance again. I have also learned that friends are truly invaluable, whether you speak every day or whether you talk every once in a great while. One of my biggest concerns this year was making friends at UC, and I made a few good friends. There was one friend that I made and quickly found a kindred spirit with, and for that I am so forever grateful. She may never read this, but getting to see her those two days a week in class and talk about life may have been what helped me keep my head up during those dark days, and for that I am so thankful. To my old friends who listened to me make morbid jokes and deal with death in my own Lauren style, I am so grateful that you didn’t head for the hills when I made a quip that was most likely too macabre for normal conversation.

To my Hanover friends: I could not have survived this year without you. You da best. I couldn’t have survived it all without you and knowing that there was somebody two hours away that knew exactly what I was feeling. I know that Jennifer loved you guys more than she ever said, and more than I ever can express.

Finally, to Tyler: You are my other half and helped me piece myself back together after losing Jennifer. Thank you for putting up with my random anger and emotional states after seeing movies with death involved. Thank you for letting me grow and handle grief in my own way, and just rolling with it. You mean more to me than you know.

Here I am a year later, and I’m in a much better emotional state than I ever thought possible on this day. It’s still a hard day, but I faced it today without falling apart. I know that Jennifer lives on in our hearts and in our memories, and I feel a little joy every time I see a little plastic dinosaur or a succulent plant. I wish she could be here with us today and could have experienced the Jurassic World movie, but that just wasn’t in the cards for her. Her pure soul had a short lived stay on this Earth and I can’t help but feel fortunate that I knew her that well during it. Losing her was incredibly hard, but through her death she is teaching me things about life and myself, much like she did in her life.

So thank you to anyone in my life who encountered me this year and didn’t write me off. Hold your loved ones a little closer today and take those moments to enjoy how incredibly blessed you are despite everything. I love you all.  

Why Couldn't He Drive a Prius

Piece of Work, take hints from this guy.

I have been saving this spot on my blog for a nice, thoughtful post about the new year and the year in review because frankly, it's been one heck of a year. However, today I got angry. For those of you that know me, there are very few things that set me off. True, sloppy chewing and loud chomping will set my nerves on edge but very few things will make me fly into a rage. But losing my sleep is the surest way to make me fly into a violent rage. And today I got angry.

Let me give you some background here. Since I go to UC I have been living at home to save money and enjoy the fruits of my parents labor while I still can (or something like that). Since I have lived on a college campus I have grown used to sleeping through pretty much anything (drunk neighbors, fire alarms, Wiley shenanigans, etc.) but this morning I was jarred out of blissful sleep by my whole wall shaking. Normally I would just try and go back to sleep because honestly I can sleep through just about anything, but this shaking wouldn't stop. And this shaking was accompanied by a loud, boisterous sound that can only be described as the power of American engineering. That's right. My new neighbors drive a diesel. 

I should clarify that I have no problems with diesel trucks in and of themselves. This taste for the loud and the powerful is what has kept my father in a job at Ford making trucks (Thanks y'all!), so when I say that I don't have a problem with them, I'm being truthful. 

I do have a problem with my Piece of Work neighbor and his truck though. 

He drives one of those trucks with the giant exhaust stack installed on the back window that is roughly the same circumference as a children's water-slide and has this bad boy cranked so loud that when he fires it up (because one can't simply start a diesel) the whole street can hear it. And then the whole street can continue to hear it as he lets it idle for 30 MINUTES. 

With temperatures in the single digits this week I have tried to be understanding that diesels need to be warmed up. I get it. If I was driving something that cost the equivalent of a small home, I would want to make sure I baby it as well. The more I research on it though the more I see that the engine really only needs maybe 10 minutes to warm up, basically just enough time to get the oil at the proper viscosity. Piece of Work lets his idle 3 times more than is needed. This little display makes me question his logic and reasoning skills because diesel has stayed relatively the same cost (which isn't cheap!) and this can't be very fuel efficient if it happens every single day. 

So, now it is 5 am (I didn't have to get up til at least 7) and Piece of Work and his diesel truck have left (50 minutes of idle time this morning, what a lucky gal I am) and I am just angry. I am also laughing at myself and the comedy of this situation because I am lucky that this is the most pressing situation in my life. However I'm not sure what my next step will be if Piece of Work doesn't cut this out because Princess here needs her beauty sleep if I am to work with kids every day. I know that one of the other neighbors who have a young baby have already went out there and yelled at him and I might have to as well. Hey, who knows. Maybe this Neanderthal will find a petite college student intimidating (hahaha). But if anybody has any suggestions, or know of a car salesman that could convince him to switch to a hybrid, then I surely welcome them otherwise I might go completely bonkers.

So if you see a giant, white truck around Clermont County with a lovely sticker that says "Coal Rollin' Diesel" then say hello to my friend. And you might want to give him warning that I am plotting to cut down on his "warm up" time every morning. And refer him to this website where it refers to proper warm up times and procedures.
http://www.dieselhub.com/tech/warm-up.html

The Most Difficult Thing.

It has been 25 days.
25 days since you left us. And these have been the longest 25 days of my life.
This is the most difficult thing I have ever faced.
I finished my first week of school at UC today and I wanted to call you up and tell you about it. You were the one that helped me make the final decision for my future, you know. I remember vividly you and I were sitting at our desks and I was of course talking about considering transferring. You just looked at me and said that it was the right thing to do because if I was going to make money, I should at least do it in a career that I would love. So I did. I made the decision to shake up my life and try something new because you said it in terms that I understood.
So I started this school year with your words in mind. It's been great so far, but there feels to be a hole in my heart. You see, I was supposed to be the one leaving, not you. I was supposed to leave the safety of Hanover and be the one who left.
Instead, you left.
I have a fantastic support system of friends and family, but that only puts a band-aid on what I'm feeling. I'm angry, sad, frustrated, grateful, confused, nostalgic, and solemn all at once. You were 21 and vivacious. You loved nature and your friends and had a knack for saying exactly what I needed to hear.
I remember the time we stayed up all night cramming for our spanish verbal exams because I couldn't seem to get the tenses right. At some point the actual studying ceased and like those kinds of talks do, turned into real life issues and then at some point it became a contest to see if you could make ramen without getting out of your bed (I know, college.).
             -Btw she was able to make ramen without getting out of bed. Then she made me some as well, just                because she could.
I also remember the time that we were rearranging our room (I'm pretty sure that we broke the record for the number of different room arrangements in a single year). We were trying to de-loft our beds and somehow you got stuck under yours and I'm not quite sure how we got you out from under it but we were laughing so hard that we couldn't breathe.
 Just like the time I had to be the man and kill the GIANT centipede that had crawled in your bed. Then you slept in the floor because you were scared that there were more bugs in your bed.
Or like the time when the sassy black woman broke into our room and you didn't even wake up.
Then, I remember when we said goodbye.
You were standing in the doorway at the end of the year and I was about to cry because I knew that because I was transferring our lives were about to change. I was a mess and you just hugged me and told me you loved me and to stop crying because we were going to see each other again.
I keep replaying that last look over and over in my head, hoping it will give me some peace.
Until then, I will keep praying for some peace and understanding.
I love you.

Here you are, stuck by the bed frame once again

The Easy Thing

The Easy Thing

All my life, my goals have been in line with my parents, my teachers, and most of the time my friends. Choosing a college was no exception. I chose Hanover College because the academics were some of the best in the Midwest so I know that I would be challenged. It was small and safe so my parents were in love with it, not to mention that it was only 2 hours away from them. When I got here I found some of the best friends that I have ever had, ones that just instantly got me from day one. This place is beautiful and I've made a home here.

So why in the world would I decide to leave?

My whole life has been a matter of doing what is right and best for me, doing what is generally the easiest thing. Going into college I had no idea what I wanted to major in but I knew that I wanted to work with people. That’s it. So all through my freshman year I deliberated what I wanted to do. In one of my classes we took an extensive career aptitude test and it matched me for speech pathology. I was wary but I decided to shadow a speech pathologist at Children’s Hospital in Cincinnati. Even though it was a hectic day, I absolutely loved it. And when I shadowed one in the school setting, I fell even more in love with this career. Awesome! It’s a stable profession that is becoming more and more in demand and will allow me to work with kids like I want to, and all the while earning a pretty motivating salary.

The problem?
Hanover doesn’t offer this major.

So my whole freshman year and the first couple of weeks of my sophomore year were spent in deliberation of whether I should transfer and pursue my career or stay and try and make it work. I knew in my heart all along what the answer was but I was scared.

I still am.

So instead of doing the easy thing, I’m doing what is quite possibly the hardest move in my life. I am leaving my friends, my school, and my security behind to follow something I feel called to do. I’m going to the University of Cincinnati for Speech and Language Pathology. My faith is a huge part of my life and so many hours were spent in prayer over this. I was scared but all along I felt this gentle nudge pushing me to follow what can only be described as the uncertain road before me. My faith gives me some peace but right now I’m still in the stage where reality is a bit much.

At the end of the day I know I made the right decision. It’s just simply a matter of finding the courage to step out of the boat and onto the water. For once in my life I’m doing the hard thing. I’m shaking my whole life plan to the core just to follow my dreams. And honestly I couldn’t be prouder.

As my time at Hanover comes to a close, I want to thank everyone who has been a part of it. You all have truly taught me some many things in these short two years. To my best friends, thank you for supporting me no matter what direction I choose. I know that as a result of being here I have truly been changed for the better.

Thank you.

Fat like a Sumo Wrestler

As a little girl, weight was never something that really crossed my mind. I was too busy worrying about where my sister had put my crayons or whether I should put on my Dorothy or princess dress after school. I was never a tiny girl, but I was normal height and weight for my age. I remember the first time that somebody told me that I was fat. We were sitting in the lunch room in second grade and this little boy across the table looked up at me and told me that "...if I kept eating all of my food, I was going to be fat like a sumo wrestler". Now in hindsight, this comment really wasn't all that hurtful to begin with, but this marked the first time that I was conscious of how I really looked, or so I thought. Soon after that, a very thin girl and I wore the same shirt and I couldn't help but compare how we looked. She was a good 4 inches taller than me, and a few pounds lighter, so the shirts obviously looked very different on both of us. After that, I never wore that shirt again.
Soon after that, I started becoming more conscious of my weight and how I looked and what I ate. At first it started to be just curiosity, but then I started to notice smaller details about how I looked different from all of the other girls, like how I had glasses and how I had a small gap in my front teeth, and the list goes on. I started to really analyze how I looked, and by third grade I was absolutely convinced that I was hideous. I started to become more reserved and say less because if I drew attention to myself then they would notice how I looked. Except for when I was on stage. I loved singing and acting and just being creative onstage because that was my place that I was invincible. I think my piano teacher saw this and encouraged me in this direction, always pushing me to explore my natural musical talent. During this time, I was also heavily involved in Girl Scouts which is just a terrific organization. I had a particularly motivated troop leader and we did everything under the sun, including things that supported positive body images for girls. I think that without music, my parents, and Girl Scouts, I would be a much different person, and probably even more insecure.
Fast forward to high school now. I was still just as insecure about my looks and body image, but since I saw my physical body as something to be ashamed of, I worked extra hard to be amazing musically and academically. I excelled in those areas, but I always thought that people were judging how I looked and how fat I was. I had had one boyfriend in middle school, but the boys were never flocking to be with me. High school was much of the same thing, a few platonic relationships that could have evolved into something more but I thought that I wasn't good enough for them. The first serious boyfriend I had called me beautiful once and I laughed. I thought that his compliment was one of those empty compliments that people say because it was expected of them. Hindsight, he didn't call me beautiful after that because I had embarrassed him when I laughed. But to me, the lack of compliments was validation that I was too fat to be beautiful. Sophomore and Junior year, I threw myself into academics and planning out my future for college and grad school. I seldom had time to sit and dwell on my body image because I was so busy with band, marching band, choir, musical, a part time job, academic quiz team, and babysitting. By the beginning of senior year, I started to be a little more confident in my body because the way I saw it was that I was stuck with it and might as well get used to it. At that point in my life, I had just accepted that I was never going to be 'beautiful', but I started to work out and try and at least make myself look good. My best friend at the time had started working out and he had lost a lot of weight and seemed much happier, so I decided to give it a shot.
Working out helped because I started to recognize that I can change how I look if I want to, and that I'm not 'stuck' with this body. Though I didn't drop a significant amount of weight, I started to realize some of the other issues with body image that I had. Going into college, I started to have a lot more confidence, but still had some problems. I would meet people at college that I would be bashful around because I thought they were too pretty to talk to me. In fact, my first thought about my roommate was that she was way too pretty to room with me.
As far as relationships, the very end of senior year I started dating that same best friend who motivated me to try working out so I could become more confident and secure. When he started calling me beautiful, I would always dissect the compliments like a mad scientist. If he said I looked beautiful, I would always blame it on new clothing, a good hair day, makeup, or when all else failed, that he was just saying that because he felt that he had to. It took a soul bearing session from him to convince me to at least accept the compliment because he said it because he meant it. Now, I'm not saying that dating fixes the situation, in fact, it sheds more light on some of the other personal issues that we all have. But, dating the right person and having them fight to tell you that you're beautiful definitely helps. However, you probably aren't reading this to hear about how happy I am in my relationship (for the record, I'm deliriously happy). What I'm saying is that a support system is absolutely key to coming to terms of what is a healthy body image.
I realized that I had always been holding on to that comment that the little boy made about me becoming fat, and taking that to heart, thinking that if he thought I was fat, everyone else did. I don't know why this comment affected me so much, but it did and I can't change the past. However, I started to realize that I was giving him the power of the situation when in fact, he probably doesn't even remember making that comment. Years of insecurity over one comment over 10 years ago.
SERIOUSLY?!
So at that point, I decided to change it. I started to stop comparing myself to others and my friends, because we all have issues. We all wish we could be a few pounds lighter, more toned, have nicer hair, whatever your thing is. My point is, don't give society the power of deciding what beautiful is.
You are beautiful.
You are enough.
It's time for you to believe it.

Death to the Planner

I am a planner by nature so most everything that I do, I do in a well thought out manner with plenty of backup plans available in the case that something should go awry. In most cases this is a good thing but this also means that I over-think everything and tend to suppress the beauty of spontaneity. However, I like to think I am a planner in recovery because I am slowly starting to just learn to not plan everything out before. College has been great for me to learn how wonderful it is not to have every minute planned out, and this weekend was a case in point. After hearing the live bands on campus perform and doing a hall activity, my roommate and best friend and I were all sitting in my room bored. We started to brainstorm of what to do the next day when one of us decided that we should take a day trip. This idea grew and suddenly it was 1 in the morning and we had just booked a hotel room in Gatlinburg, TN. At first I was exhilarated with the prospect of leaving campus, but then my planner mode kicked in and my brain started thinking of all the bad things that would happen because we hadn't planned out our trip. What if the hotel didn't actually us a room and we had to sleep in the car?! What if we ended up getting taken hostage because we were three adorable, non-menacing girls traveling alone?! What if I had plans this weekend that I forgot about? What if, what if, what if....

All of these things were swirling around my head when we left early that morning (Did I mention how early it was? It was ungodly early). Eventually I fell asleep because it was dark outside and much like a small child, I fall asleep easily in any vehicle. When I woke up, we were in the mountains, much different scenery from the flat monotony of Indiana scenery. At first, I panicked and then little voice in my head reminded me that this far into the trip it was too late to turn back.So because I didn't have a choice, I went with it. I gave up control and just went along for the ride. 

And you know what?

I didn't die.

I didn't have to sleep in the car and didn't get taken hostage or miss any meetings.

My world didn't implode. 

This trip was one of the best things that I could have done because it showed me that sometimes spontaneity is a wonderful thing. It was whirlwind, about 12 hours of driving and about 10 hours of shopping crammed into a day, but it was worth it. It was so much fun to just spend time with my best friends and enjoy life. I've started to realize that I don't need to micromanage life because in the wise words of Sweet Brown, Ain't nobody got time for that!

A Letter to the Greeks and the Supremacists

Hello! I wasn't planning on addressing such a controversial issue so early in my blog an event this week really got me thinking. To preface this, I am unaffiliated and I am confident in this decision. However, I do not have anything against Greek life. In fact, some of my best friends are Greek and I have no issues, jealousy, or animosity towards their decisions because it was what fit them. I go to a small private school where Greek life is huge, and when I went to college I was intent on joining a sorority. However, as I got to know the girls from each sorority and went to the recruitment events, I started to feel that perhaps this wasn't for me. While each of these girls were wonderful, I didn't really feel there was a house that I felt at home in. That coupled with the extreme cost of Greek life at my school solidified the decision for me not to rush.
Now, on to the real reason why I'm posting. Today while I was scrolling through my Facebook news feed I saw a status that someone Greek had said, "No matter the letter, Greeks do it better".
At first I didn't think much of this because this person is condescending on a regular basis to us peons who aren't living his life. However, the more that I thought about it, the more that I felt I had to say something. That statement is completely and utterly rude. Since when did joining a fraternity make you a better person than the rest of us all? I understand that Greek life offers a sense of community and opportunities for philanthropy and that can help create a well rounded person. But can't you be involved in philanthropic events and volunteer and meet new people without joining a fraternity? I take issue with this statement because it exemplifies a bigger mentality of superiority that is prevalent in today's society, and frankly, I'm sick of it. I don't care what race, gender, religion, sexual orientation,  or economic status you are. Every single person on the Earth is a living, breathing human being who has feelings and nothing, I repeat nothing, makes you better than them. You might drive nicer cars, have a more popular view of things, or a different lifestyle than people but we all are humans in the end. This sense of superiority has got to stop. So to the Greeks who are holding true to their ideals of love, honestly, friendship, and many of the other founding principles of Greek life, congratulations! I thank you for trying to make the world a better place, and keep on keeping on. But to those who view themselves better or above others, who think that by joining a social club they are entitled to believe themselves superior, Shame on you. My point at the end of this is that this belief in superiority has to stop. Think twice before posting and think three times before speaking. Remember that we are all humans just trying to make it through this unpredictable journey we call life, because as Sanctus Real says, we need each other through all the highs and lows of life.
Thanks for reading!