Every three months.
{I told you I'd stick to a blogging schedule.}
Maybe that's because life feels too hectic right now to sit down and pour out my thoughts here.
Or maybe it's because putting those thoughts into words feels overwhelming.
Not that the actual typing feels like too much,
no,
more like the actual feelings are all over the map,
and that saying them out loud,
just means I have to give them a name.
And a place in this world.
Acknowledge them.
Accept them.
Look them hard in the eyes,
and say yep- I see you fear.
And you sadness.
And you anxiety.
And you control freak.
And of course you resentment- you are one I never want to recognize.
I shove you down,
along with fear
and sadness,
and all of your melancholy friends,
hoping to distract myself long enough to forget about you.
Changes are inevitable.
They are coming.
I'm not ready some most days.
And the anxiety of not knowing where we will call home once this part of our journey has come to an end,
spilled over to all other areas of my life.
My physical wellness.
My mental wellness.
Rational voice clouded by the irrational one.
Self-talk, self-motivation, self-love
becoming less and less successful.
I have never felt so stuck in my entire life.
Even through a marriage I wasn't sure how to leave.
Even then...
I had a choice.
It was my choice.
The future was what I made it.
I was in control of the path I could choose to take.
Was I in limbo for months,
unsure which path was the right one?
Of course.
Was I afraid I would make the wrong choice?
Yup.
Even so...
In the end,
I chose to rise.
I chose to pick the life I wanted.
I chose to forgive and leave the pain in that old life.
I chose.
Me.
This experience has been nothing like that.
Though I did choose to marry Jason,
and though it's a decision I have never regretted,
that choice created ripple effects that I never expected.
And one that has stolen away choices I didn't even know I cared about.
He chose to go to medical school,
a process that reminds us over and over and over again,
we are at the mercy of something or someone else.
Mercy of the grading curves.
Mercy of the attending's he's assigned to,
all with different expectations,
all with different ideas of what medical students should act like, talk like, suture like.
Mercy of the attending's that have offered to mentor him,
only to never return his emails.
Mercy of fake patients,
with fake problems,
and fake emotions,
holding power to give him actual scores based on how well he nurtured those fake feelings.
Mercy of composite scores.
{Which no one can ever seem to explain by the way}
Mercy of the evaluator in charge of clinical grades.
Mercy to the Match and your fate being decided by a computer algorithm.
Lives ever revolving around his life.
His schedule.
His upcoming board exam.
His rotations.
His specialty choice and what that choice now means for our family.
He chose to pursue plastic surgery,
a specialty that only offers ONE spot in Arizona,
{the location of such that has been deemed 'too far' to commute and thus will require a move}
a specialty that requires one of the longest training time of all specialties,
tied for first with neurosurgery.
Read: Six years.
{Seven for some programs that require a dedicated research year}
A specialty that places second for 'Most Competitive Specialties'
when it comes to securing a job after medical school.
He chose.
And because of his choice,
I will leave the life I have built here.
The life I love here.
A life I still want!
And a life that is hard to part with when the future is a gray color of unknown.
No new city to explore.
No neighborhoods and schools to research.
No plans to make.
Nothing to get excited about.
Throw a dart at the map of the United States,
wherever it lands,
is a place we COULD end up.
And sure,
maybe six years doesn't seem like that long.
But when you consider Camden spending 6th-11th grade somewhere,
that somewhere will be his childhood.
The friendships he makes there will be the ones that stick for life.
The memories he creates there will be the ones he remembers forever.
The experiences he has there will be the ones that shape who he will become.
So to me,
those six years,
well, they're important ones.
And sure,
maybe if you're reading this you might be thinking,
"But where is your faith?"
And really,
you are right.
I do forget to add that little gem to the mixed bag.
And I'm working on it.
And when I began counseling to sort through that mixed bag,
pulling each feeling out,
one by one,
giving it a name,
deciding its purpose,
and its place in my life,
I remembered how I had gotten here.
My counselor said to me when I tearfully spoke about all the things I don't want to part with,
"You don't live in a magical neighborhood.
The school your kids attend is not the only one of its kind in the world.
The friends you've made aren't magical friends,
who exist no where else but where you are right now.
You've built a life you love because of who YOU are.
Your friends are your friends because they are drawn to YOU.
Whether you live in New York,
or California,
or Utah,
or Memphis,
you will still be YOU.
And the types of people you surround yourself with now,
will be the ones you find in your new home,
because those types of people will be drawn to who you are.
You'll take it with you.
Your kids will take it with them.
And they'll create connections with special people,
because of who THEY are."
And when I began counseling to sort through that mixed bag,
pulling each feeling out,
one by one,
giving it a name,
deciding its purpose,
and its place in my life,
I remembered how I had gotten here.
My counselor said to me when I tearfully spoke about all the things I don't want to part with,
"You don't live in a magical neighborhood.
The school your kids attend is not the only one of its kind in the world.
The friends you've made aren't magical friends,
who exist no where else but where you are right now.
You've built a life you love because of who YOU are.
Your friends are your friends because they are drawn to YOU.
Whether you live in New York,
or California,
or Utah,
or Memphis,
you will still be YOU.
And the types of people you surround yourself with now,
will be the ones you find in your new home,
because those types of people will be drawn to who you are.
You'll take it with you.
Your kids will take it with them.
And they'll create connections with special people,
because of who THEY are."
"Remember Lot's wife."
It is a phrase I say to myself when days are hard.
"Remember Lot's wife" I think,
and my mind is brought back to Elder Holland's prophetic,
and poetic words:
"She wasn't just looking back;
in her heart she wanted to go back. ...Before they were past the city limits, she was already missing what it had offered her. Her attachment to the past outweighed her confidence in the future. When we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead, we remember that faith is always pointed toward the future.
Lot's wife doubted the Lord's ability to give her something better than she already had. Apparently she thought- that nothing that lay ahead could possibly be as good as those moments she was leaving behind."
They are words I listen to often,
multiple times a week sometimes.
Mostly, with tears streaming down my face,
as I remind myself to dig deep,
and remember the faith in God that is surely there.
It has to be.
So maybe the Lord is asking me to leave a life I love behind?
And maybe I'll have learned what I needed to learn here?
Maybe I need to claim the embers from the glowing experiences,
and bring the best of them with me?
Because maybe,
the Lord is about to give me something better than I already have.
The mixed bag is getting lighter.
As days and weeks pass,
and I unload it a little at a time,
the shade of gray of the unknown seems to get lighter too.
Even though I may have little control over where Jason interviews,
what programs think of him,
where we match,
(IF we match!)
I've realized that even then...
I still have a choice.
The future can still be what I make it.
I can control which paths I take there,
and who I choose to be there.
In the end,
I can choose to rise.
I can pick the life I want by being the type of person I want to be.
I can choose happiness and let the lessons learned in my beautiful life here,
serve me, and others, there.
I can choose.
Me.
It is a phrase I say to myself when days are hard.
"Remember Lot's wife" I think,
and my mind is brought back to Elder Holland's prophetic,
and poetic words:
"She wasn't just looking back;
in her heart she wanted to go back. ...Before they were past the city limits, she was already missing what it had offered her. Her attachment to the past outweighed her confidence in the future. When we have learned what we need to learn and have brought with us the best that we have experienced, then we look ahead, we remember that faith is always pointed toward the future.
Lot's wife doubted the Lord's ability to give her something better than she already had. Apparently she thought- that nothing that lay ahead could possibly be as good as those moments she was leaving behind."
They are words I listen to often,
multiple times a week sometimes.
Mostly, with tears streaming down my face,
as I remind myself to dig deep,
and remember the faith in God that is surely there.
It has to be.
So maybe the Lord is asking me to leave a life I love behind?
And maybe I'll have learned what I needed to learn here?
Maybe I need to claim the embers from the glowing experiences,
and bring the best of them with me?
Because maybe,
the Lord is about to give me something better than I already have.
The mixed bag is getting lighter.
As days and weeks pass,
and I unload it a little at a time,
the shade of gray of the unknown seems to get lighter too.
Even though I may have little control over where Jason interviews,
what programs think of him,
where we match,
(IF we match!)
I've realized that even then...
I still have a choice.
The future can still be what I make it.
I can control which paths I take there,
and who I choose to be there.
In the end,
I can choose to rise.
I can pick the life I want by being the type of person I want to be.
I can choose happiness and let the lessons learned in my beautiful life here,
serve me, and others, there.
I can choose.
Me.
