F. I. D. M.
I haven't done my climactic blog post about how wonderful it is to be finished with school, yet. So, here I go.
Tim (my older brother) text messaged me last week asking: "Do you feel relieved?" My response was, "Yeah. I like getting up in the morning now." My feelings didn't unfold the way I thought they would, though. I love that the pressure is off but the ecstatic moment of "I'm done!!!" never really happened. I remember vividly feeling that when I finished at BYU. So where did it go? Walking out of class Tuesday night was a strange mix of emotions. I was somewhere between crying and wanting to stare into space for hours. Weird, right? I had just completed a life goal and I was expressionless. My explanation for this: FIDM was borderline traumatic for me. Yes, I've explained before, the coursework was tedious and absorbed exorbitant amounts of time. But the trauma was just as much about events and trials surrounding the whole experience that added to the emotion. My feelings and perspectives were laden with a new degree of complication then they had been at BYU; something, I figure, that comes naturally with time, age, and life experience. Complicated frustrations. Complicated inadequacies. Complicated weaknesses. Etc. Etc. Living with Christy, or rather not living with a young group of girlfriends bore it's own social pangs. Staying alive (I'm not kidding) was also difficult. Relationships were hard. I struggled through a couple several month long bouts of moderate depression and overcame anxiety issues. And I remember three or four quarters back seriously wondering how I would make it to graduation... not just get through the classes but last mentally. So, when I stepped out of class on Tuesday, fresh on my mind was remembering choosing FIDM as a sophomore in high school and dreaming about it; remembering writing a paper in 7th grade about how I wanted to do this; remembering sitting in my room as a little girl with scraps of fabric and a needle and thread putting together doll clothes, pillows, and purses and necklaces for my mom. And viewing my expectations developed throughout my life against the actual play out of getting to this point- the point where I check the "completed" box, having nothing left to give- was very emotional for me. I felt joyful to leave and hesitant to leave at the same time. Joyful to leave the pain. Hesitant to move on from the triumph. So all the ecstasy I was expecting was swallowed up in the sacredness and tenderness of my feelings. Am I being melodramatic? (I have been in the LA world for two years, so forgive me.) But these were my honest, walk-away feelings.
Tim (my older brother) text messaged me last week asking: "Do you feel relieved?" My response was, "Yeah. I like getting up in the morning now." My feelings didn't unfold the way I thought they would, though. I love that the pressure is off but the ecstatic moment of "I'm done!!!" never really happened. I remember vividly feeling that when I finished at BYU. So where did it go? Walking out of class Tuesday night was a strange mix of emotions. I was somewhere between crying and wanting to stare into space for hours. Weird, right? I had just completed a life goal and I was expressionless. My explanation for this: FIDM was borderline traumatic for me. Yes, I've explained before, the coursework was tedious and absorbed exorbitant amounts of time. But the trauma was just as much about events and trials surrounding the whole experience that added to the emotion. My feelings and perspectives were laden with a new degree of complication then they had been at BYU; something, I figure, that comes naturally with time, age, and life experience. Complicated frustrations. Complicated inadequacies. Complicated weaknesses. Etc. Etc. Living with Christy, or rather not living with a young group of girlfriends bore it's own social pangs. Staying alive (I'm not kidding) was also difficult. Relationships were hard. I struggled through a couple several month long bouts of moderate depression and overcame anxiety issues. And I remember three or four quarters back seriously wondering how I would make it to graduation... not just get through the classes but last mentally. So, when I stepped out of class on Tuesday, fresh on my mind was remembering choosing FIDM as a sophomore in high school and dreaming about it; remembering writing a paper in 7th grade about how I wanted to do this; remembering sitting in my room as a little girl with scraps of fabric and a needle and thread putting together doll clothes, pillows, and purses and necklaces for my mom. And viewing my expectations developed throughout my life against the actual play out of getting to this point- the point where I check the "completed" box, having nothing left to give- was very emotional for me. I felt joyful to leave and hesitant to leave at the same time. Joyful to leave the pain. Hesitant to move on from the triumph. So all the ecstasy I was expecting was swallowed up in the sacredness and tenderness of my feelings. Am I being melodramatic? (I have been in the LA world for two years, so forgive me.) But these were my honest, walk-away feelings.
The drive home was not gleeful. I felt my body start shutting down one exit sign at a time. Aaron called me when I was maybe 15 minutes from home and I was on the brink of falling asleep. I could hardly carry a conversation with him. And he was shocked I wasn't bursting with excitement. I thought I would go straight to bed but I got hooked catching up with Amy on gchat and then I had a surprise visit from my two dear friends, Mitra and Vilate. They brought cupcakes and OLIVER (Mitra's adorable jack russell terrier who served as a good companion to me through the drama of the previous weekend). Most importantly, they brought some much needed laughter and company. How I love them both!
The days following consisted of sleeping, lots of sleeping, swing dancing, and sleeping... and a wonderful dinner of trout and crab bisque at the Rusty Pelican in Newport with Aaron. (Thank you, Aaron! That was sooo good!) My mom's advice for recovery was to allow myself a week of not making plans and figuring out the next step. That was great advice! My mom asked me repeatedly how I felt and all I could muster was, "...that was hard. ...that was really hard." I sound like such a wimp! But I'm perking right back up. I've already been running three times, swimming at the beach, dancing twice, and will be 'spa'ing tomorrow... I'm in celebration mode! YAY!
And for all those near, there will be a party soon... at Jimmy's pool, I think? (Yeah, Jimmy?) Hahahaha! Thanks to everyone for the support I've received from you. Whether in phone calls, text messages, food, priesthood blessings, counsel, gifts, a roof over my head, jokes, friendship, using your computer for two months on end without giving it back to you, I say THANK YOU SO MUCH! I've prayed and prayed in gratitude for you and I know most certainly I could have never ever ever made it without you. I understand better how Neal A. Maxwell explained that God brings about the beautiful "intertwinings of our lives." He would say, 'one of the reasons we love each other in the kingdom is that our friendships are not friendships of initiation at all but are, instead, friendships of resumption!' I, too, am so grateful for these intertwinings of our lives and echo Elder Maxwell in saying "the manner in which our lives have intersected has been such a great blessing to me." I love my family and friends dearly!
1 comment:
can i have my computer back :)
love you
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