dream of paradise

One year ago today I was on a twelve hour flight home from Jerusalem. I spent Christmas there with my family. My whole family except for Alyssa.

I think if I would have known what this year was going to be like I may have just stayed there in the Holy City, selling braided hairpieces in the market place.

To say that this year has been an emotional roller coaster would be a gross understatement. In a lot of ways, 2011 has not been nice to me. I lost a dad, a sister, the sense of security, the life I was familiar with, and the ability to move my right eyebrow. I have dealt with intense pain, both physical and emotional.

Yet at the same time, this year has brought the greatest amount of happiness and peace I can ever recall experiencing. My absolute favorite part of this year was this time period. We were moving. Things were unstable and my dad had recently removed himself from our family. Still, those things didn’t affect the fun we had. I was just home from school and everyone was so supportive and we lived in five different houses and I was surrounded by people and things that made it impossible to be sad. I’m so glad that I started documenting things, so that I can look back and see how much I loved every minute of it—our last days in Florida, the beautiful things we saw as we started driving out west to a life that was going to be even more unexpected than we thought.This was the last post I wrote before the accident and I can’t believe how ironic the title is. That was the most content I’d ever been in my life, and those are the bittersweet days I like to reflect on at the close of this year.

I have learned so much this year. I have learned what it really means to feel peace—and it was truly put to the test when I was lying in a hospital bed being told that my sister was dead. Never have I been so calm, so certain that my little Jada was safe and happy.

I have learned so much about friendship and love. There has been such an outpouring of love from every direction from the beginning of this year—when people performed miracles to get our house sold and to get us started on our journey—right up until the end—where I’m currently living with people who have sacrificed so much to get me here and to help me get on my feet.

I’ve gained perspective on heartbreak and tragedy. I learned that you can never understand what others’ pain feels like. To this day I still can’t understand what pain other people who’ve lost a sister are going through. I can try to empathize, but the way people feel and respond to loss and injury are so unique, so unpredictable, and the best thing to do is just love and support them through it all.

I have learned so much about humility. Humility in the stop-being-prideful way—just when I thought I knew about sadness and loss, BAM. Slammed with more sadness and loss, times ten. Humility in the I-don’t-deserve-to-even-associate-with-nice-people kind of way: I am consistently astounded at the things people have done for me—things which I absolutely, positively do not deserve. People that move mountains for me which I can’t move for myself. People who are patient and loving and kind and patient and more patient. People who cry with me, who cry for me, who pour their hearts out in prayer because that’s the only thing they can do. People whose parents cry and pray for me—parents that I don’t even know. That’s especially touching. People who—without knowing me or my family personally—donated thousands and thousands of dollars to the black hole that is our medical bills. People who drive me across the country, who open their homes to me and offer to help me with whatever I need. For friends who are like family and for family who treats me like a friend. I will never, ever, ever be able to thank everyone enough.

I’m really going all out for the new year—staring a new year in a new place.

I spent fifteen hours in a car relocating my worldly possessions to a new state, surrounded by mountains and Mormons. As much as I'm worried about the way things are going to work out, deep down I'm a little bit excited. it's totally cliché, but there's something perfect about starting a new year completely fresh. It feels natural to start this year this way; to let some of the tragedies of the last 12 months slip away. To let go of things that will never stop hurting—things like loss and abandonment and injustice and betrayal. To take in a deep breath of this dry, icy air and to strengthen my resolve to keep going.

If nothing else, this year I've learned what people really mean when they say "it's going to be okay". They don't mean things will go back to normal. Your sister won't come back from the dead, your dad can’t fix the damage he’s done, and you'll never forget what pain and sorrow feels like. All it means is that someday, when you've cried and been angry and been hurt and vulnerable and enraged at the constant unfairness of life, something will change. Something will bring you hope. Having hope makes all the difference. Hope means maybe life can start to be good, maybe there will be some sunshine—just a day or two at a time, maybe things can bring you peace and happiness in a different way. It never works out the way you expect it to, but whatever brings you that sliver of hope is enough. And ladies and gentleman, as I start this new year, I have hope.

[Title from Paradise by Coldplay]

when we wake up

GUESS WHAT Christmas is 12 minutes away! Cue the million “Merry Christmas” texts from numbers that I don’t even know.

This morning we woke up and it was snowing! I love snow. It’s fantastic. [Except for when I saw that car go over the guard rail and off the highway into a ditch. Didn’t love that]. Snow makes Christmas seem more legit, more unique and exciting. Like the sky’s acknowledging that something must be different about this weekend.

We had to bundle up everywhere we went and were especially thankful for friends that bring us firewood.

Today everything seemed Christmas-y—from the overcast snowy skies to my glittery red nail polish. I finished my Christmas shopping [Alyssa and I officially spent way too much] and got everything all wrapped up. Not to brag or anything, but I really don’t suck at wrapping presents. That’s one thing my mom did a really good job of teaching me.

We went to a Christmas Eve Lunch. It was absolutely splendid. We piled out of the car, ran through the falling snow, and kicked off our boots and coats, discarding them into the pile. I ate like it was Thanksgiving, curled up in a chair and promptly fell asleep.

It was absolutely magical.

Later this evening we opened our Christmas Eve presents, made a fire, and roasted poblanos for our Mexican Christmas Dinner tomorrow.

“When in Rome”, I guess…

After watching A Christmas Story and some Charlie Brown Christmas clips, dancing to Party Rock Anthem, and some Jenga-planking fails, we all decided we wanted Whataburger. We bundled up and braved the blizzard (slight exaggeration) to go to the greasy fast food place only to find out it was CLOSED. We’re talking 8:40 at night, lights off-doors locked-cars-gone nonsense. Everything was closed. No, really. Even Wal-Mart was closed. I didn’t know it was capable of closing. Alyssa and I were really missing our Jew/Atheist population in South Florida that kept stores open on Christmas Day. Anyway, we had to make the best of things. So we did.

I am seriously excited for tomorrow. I love it when I think I have good gifts to give people; I’m more excited about those than actually getting any gifts tomorrow.

And I’m totally stoked that we have a real chimney for Santa to come down. Bring it, Santa.

[Title from Utopia by Yacht]

the blinds are fantasies

Watch out guys. This is no jolly Christmas post. This is a documentation of what my life is like right now.

I would like to submit that worst kind of pain is pain in your heart. When things that your brain tells you hurt so bad that I can just feel my heart clenching and my whole body just aches with pain and sadness. It’s overwhelming. Trying to think things through rationally is useless because the only things that come rushing into my head are harsh words and sad thoughts. They just go around in a circle; sad thought, attempt to make it neutral and to figure out what the problem is, attempt to find a solution, realization of how much the whole situation sucks, crushed and overwhelmed by it again, more pain, more tears, more crying till my sinuses are stuffed and my head is throbbing.

These past two months have been, hands down, the hardest two months of this year. Taking into consideration the events that have occurred this year, that is saying something. I mean I realize that circumstantially things are better now. And despite what people may think, I am grateful for that. But the morale is down. I wish I could have just delayed all the love and support and text messages from the hospital back in June until I really needed them, or taken the two hundred facebook notifications and saved ‘em up for when I was feelin low. Not that any of that would change my situation or my stuck-in-a-rut brain, but it’d be nice.

I hate waking up. I hate having to drag my brain out of its carefree dream world and re-introduce it to the problems it has to solve before it rests again. Because my brain doesn’t know everything. Sometimes I’m not even sure if it knows anything. It is seriously slacking on solving my problems. I cut it a little bit of slack though, because I’m not sure anyone has the answers.

I feel alone. Vulnerable and scared and insecure, carrying a heavy load. But why should anyone else carry it? It is mine, after all, and no one’s really obligated to solve problems for me (though people really do try). People don’t always respond the way I want them to. But why do I get to expect anything of people? Who’s to say my ideas of proper responses aren’t completely flawed? There aren’t any real rules on social conduct. Even if there were, there would be no specific rules relating to “how to speak to a twenty year old who has been rendered unstable due to a series of unfortunate events”. (Of course, even if there were, I’m sure I’d only meet the rouge rule breakers anyway). Then again, I’m no good at following these implied social guidelines. I frequently need to remind myself that just because people deserve a good deck in the face doesn’t mean I should deliver one.

The unfortunate thing is that I’m turning into a stupidly unsympathetic person. I don’t care much about what people have to say or what they think their problems are. People talk too much. I think we should all revert to using sign language, and only when absolutely necessary.

Well this is probably the most inconclusive post I’ve written. I have no answers. I’m confused about everything. I don’t even know what things I don’t know.

The only things I know are that my hands smell like garlic and I’m still good at using my feet as hands, so I guess I’ll be okay…eventually.

Merry Christmas…. :)

[Title from Sick Muse by Metric]

all I need

my body hurts. you're going to have to forgive the lack of capital letters in this post as it’s hard to hold down the shift key.

yesterday I had two surgeries done: I had a metal plate anchored to my stubborn, non-healing collarbone with six screws and then I had a bubble of air cut out of my wrist {I’m sure there’s a more technical term}. so my right shoulder and wrist are wrapped in bandages and the whole arm is in a sling. the interesting thing is that the only parts of my body that are in pain are my left hand {where they inserted an IV the size of a small cannon} and my throat {where they inserted a tube that did the breathing for me while I was temporarily paralyzed}.

the whole thing was relatively easy. well, for me anyway. it was oddly therapeutic to be back in the hospital—back in the sterile, structured environment where I was never left unattended. this stay was much easier {and much shorter} than my last encounter with the hospital. and luckily I already know what I need to recuperate; I’ve got my v-necks, my cold weather running pants {warmer and easier to put on than sweats or leggings}, netflix, and a perfectly timed care package from Hawaii.

plus I have enough pain killers to knockout a small army. it helps me sleep, but only two hours at a time. which means that I wake up in the middle of the night with “yodeling veterinarian of the alps” stuck in my head. so I share the joy with others.

I was released from the hospital just in time for the voorhies’ annual christmas-donut-making party. I'm sure I was the life of the party, staggering in and deliriously telling my surgery story like a drunken sailor {minus the swearing}. luckily most everyone in attendance were people that I loved. thanks for nodding and smiling as though I was a normal person. thanks to everyone that’s come by to check on me. thanks to everyone that’s expressed concern through facebook/calls/texts {even though my cell doesn’t work, so I can’t reply}. thanks to the sky for being foggy and misty so that I can curl up on the couch and watch white collar without the sun blinding me. thanks to all the old men around here that step up and take care of me and make me miss my dad a little less and a little more all at the same time. thanks to the soft collar around my neck that makes me look stupid and gives me a nice double chin but makes it way easier to sleep sitting up. and a huge thanks to rich and angie and my mom for making this all happen. you guys rock.

mostly you, mom.

[title from sunday morning by maroon 5]

too young to care

Okay guys. I know we all know that I’m immature. This is just a manifestation of that.

Last night when I shouldn’t have been online, but was, I came across upsexy.

Annnnd of course, I thought it was hilarious. The bad news is that I was in a situation where I was supposed to be quietly paying attention. But I wasn’t. So. That made it even funnier. It turned into an eyes-watering-shoulder-shaking disaster. Naturally, I decided to try it out on my friends.

Some people are just too accustomed to outsmarting me.

Some people fell for it.

Some people really fell for it.

Some people just SUCK.

Of course, I had to try it on my family members.

My mom knows me too well…

And Jace totally fell for it.

Here’s are my conclusions:

-People think I’m dumb and they’re right

-Upsexy makes for great entertainment

-I probably need a life

[Title from Haight Street by Anberlin]

stealing salt

It’s 24 degrees and snowing outside.I feel like that should bother me more than it does. This snowy weather business must be messing with my head. This morning it was twelve degrees [purely painful] and by the afternoon it’d warmed up to thirty-two. I kicked off my coat and my shoes and rolled the windows down because it felt warm. ummmm what? Remember when I lived in Florida and had to put on a hoodie when it fell below seventy? Yeah…

In all honesty, as fun as it is to gripe about the cold, I’m really enjoying it. I love the novelty of snow.

Ummm about that bale of hay…Alyssa and I found it…in the dumpster. Don’t’ worry about it.

I love that the kids’ schools started two hours late today and I got the day off of work because of the weather. I love the way the cold gets my heart pumping and makes me energetic and happy. I love seeing the girls come in from playing in the snow with bright red noses and cheeks, excitedly carrying the joy from the snow into our cozy little house.

I love seeing them all bundled up in layers of long sleeves and fluffiness. It never fails to remind me of the scene in A Christmas Story where Randy is bundling up. You know, where he can't put his arms down? Sometimes I make Aria say that line, just for fun.

I love that people bring us wood for our fire and packets of hot chocolate mix to go with it. It made for the perfect December evening; girls shaking snow off their coats and putting their boots by the fire, changing into warm pajamas and sipping hot coca and peppermint tea while we have Family Home Evening.

It’s not always going to be this perfect, but I know well enough to appreciate it when it is.

Oh, are you wondering what that ball of fur in her arms is?

That is Cat.

Cat has several other names. She had a collar on when Kenyan found her, declaring her name as Phaloneus. Yep. [Side note: just for the record, we tried calling the number but it was disconnected and there’s no other information on it. We’re not just hijacking a neighbor’s cat.] Kenyan didn’t like that name. So she named her Bella.

I refuse to call her Bella (both due to the Twilight reference and the fact that the girls insist on pronouncing it with an accent—Bèll-ah), and am even less willing to call her “my sweet kitty”. Thus the name Cat, which is now how everyone in my family affectionately refers to her.

For those who are wondering—yes, I am still REALLY allergic to cats. So Cat lives in the garage, in spite of her relentless attempts to run inside every time the house door is open.

Cat has a nice cozy bed which Kenyan lovingly crafted with a spare moving box and all the love in her heart.

Cat’s presence is fleeting—she’s a free spirit that comes and goes as she pleases. Usually every time we open the garage to pull the car out she runs away, causing mass mayhem as everyone runs around the block trying to catch her and bring her back. It’s ridiculous, but Kenyan loves Cat and it’s worth all the craziness to keep her happy.

Cat hates pictures.

Even if it means I spend my mornings cleaning cat feces off the garage floor. Good times.

This picture is a result of the cool reflection of the water on the garage ceiling and my odd desire to photograph everything in the world.

I realize that it’s only the sixth day of the month, but December is already shaping up to be a good one. As much as I miss the hot and humid Christmases past where I just had to pretend it was cold outside, I have to admit that low temperatures, overcast skies, and snow sprinkled rooftops really make it seem a little more magical.

It makes me really excited for Christmas. I’m a little worried about how this Christmas is going to be, as it’s the first Christmas without my dad and without Jada. Having the snow, the happiness, and all the loving people around us is going to make it all a little easier.

And, as always, not wearing shoes makes every day FANTASTIC! SNOW WILL NEVER CHANGE THAT

[Title from Salt Skin by Ellie Goulding]