Back to school, back to the dorms, back to structured life.
I walked in and I almost cried. My first thought? Why the hell did I do this to myself? There was a memory in every corner, down every hallway, sitting in every chair, and in every room. Each one made a deeper cut into my heart, causing more pain then I thought it would. I can't think straight, because it seems like every second I'm occupied with noticing places and things that remind me of last year. Its bringing the reality that everything has changed back to the surface.
I have never been afraid of change, in fact I am the kind of person who embraces and actually desires change. I can never be in the same place and schedule for more than a few months, and I can never sit still for more than ten minutes. But this time, I'm finding it a little harder to accept.
Its strange how everything can change in one summer. William Carlos Williams said, "In Summer, the song sings itself." That could not be more true. What I thought I had control over, completely took hold of itself. This summer was supposed to hold so many things. I was supposed to lose weight, finish my book, and work as much as possible. I left no room for fun, friends, or anything that would make me remotely happy. And it also left no room for anything that would make me sad. But it wasn't living. This summer, I lived.
And now... Now that I'm back, I am forced to remember things that I had chosen to forget. I am facing my fears, and living with old skeletons that had been pushed into the back of the closet. Every single time I retell what happened this summer, to those who do not yet know and deserve to find out, it creeps back into my mind like a virus that will never leave. I am haunted by a memory, and I am completely alone.
Those were my feelings when I stepped back into B building on that day. I breathed it in, and it all came flooding back. A mixture of memories leading to a bittersweet end. Every single one of us affected each other in some different, and mostly strange way. When you come to a completely new life, the people you attach yourself to first are the ones who have the most impact. They will, for better or for worse, change you. And it is because of this, that I will always remember that time. We are all linked by this secret, one hidden deep inside that summer, buried away behind the beach trips and late nights, one we don't want to remember, but always will. There is an unspoken grief, no one wants to mention aloud, that lingers all around these halls. Yet we all know, we all remember. I know this feeling is mutual for everyone else who stepped into this building once again on that day. I can see it in their eyes, and I know they see it in mine.
I am different, everything is different, and everyone here is different. and it hurts to see it all in front of me, something I chose not to think about until I could see it. Sometimes when its quiet, and I have a moment to breath in the silence, I think about how we were, how we are now, but mostly, about the time in between. So many things brought us all to this point, and for some reason, a reason which has been mapped out by someone much higher than ourselves, we are all back here, together, in the same spot with different lives. That is the only positive. We don't have to face it alone.
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Saturday, August 14, 2010
summer days drifting away
The summer is over.
This is a fact that I only just realized a few days ago. I was at Barnes and Noble before work, buying a planner in an attempt to organize my life. I'm a list person, always have to have my tasks out in front of me, because in the next second I will forget what I have to do. This stems from a constant personality trait of living in the moment. I'm here one minute then over here the next, constantly moving and changing in an endless circle of ups and downs. But as I was buying this planner, finding one that was perfect for my hectic life and large sloppy handwriting, I opened it to the first page. It started with August 1st 2010. I was immediately upset, wondering what in the world I was going to use to organize my life until August first, when I stopped and realized that it was actually August tenth, and we were not in July anymore. This fact hit me like a slap in the back of the head, as I realized the beginning of school was only a mere 20 days away. And of course, as it tends to happen, images of the past summer flashed before my eyes, set to "Wouldn't it be nice" by the Beach Boys.
There was grief, there was sorrow, and a fair amount of tears. But there was also laughter, love and life. I did not understand at first why it was that God had thrown everything at me like that at one time. I have realized in this past summer, that I am blessed beyond belief with the opportunities that I have been given. To be in this place, to be able to look out the front door and see the ocean stretching in front of me, like a shimmering blue blanket covering half the world. Or to have friends who will offer everything they have just to save me gas money, or drop what they're doing so that I can have a shoulder to cry on.
This summer has humbled me more than I can say. Living so far away has forced me to rely on others more than I ever have in my life, and independent Felicity is finally getting a break. The girl who never accepts charity is giving in and letting others take care of her. And in return, I have never taken care of others more than I have in the past couple months. Often times people take advantage of me, because of my inability to use the word "No"; however, surrending myself to the needs of others has become a blessing rather than a chore. This summer taught me that.
It is absolutely amazing the timing God chooses to let people in and out of your life. I once heard a movie character say that life is like a television show. Where we are the stars of our own show, constant, never changing, and the supporting roles flit in and out like butterflies. I cannot say how true this is. A few months ago, I lived my life based on the supporting characters, forgetting who the star of my show was, and also who the director was. God. Because in the end, my show will have had only those two constant figures. God took away two roles this summer. Two people that left torn holes and chafed scars on my heart. But yet he filled those empty spaces with even more characters, ones who taught me how to love without prejudice, live with self confidence, and never give up on what I wanted.
Those who left me taught me what the words "I miss you" really meant, along with the meaning of unconditional love. Because of these experiences I have matured more than I can say, and this coming year is holding so much more that I cannot yet see. I live it for God as always, and even more so knowing what I now know about the world and about myself. My Uncle gave me the best advice so far, something I have always known yet had somehow forgotten in my distraction several weeks ago.I had forgotten prayer. "You're a rescuer Felicity..." He had said. "You want to save everyone. But remember, you never have to rescue alone." These words hit me, because I had forgotten to ask for help. I was so consumed by my ability to take care of myself that I had forgotten that I wasn't really taking care of anything, God was.
So I surrendered. And it was so reassuring to crawl back into the arms that would keep me safe, and would wipe away my tears. And those arms are always there, hovering over me, the rainbow after the storm. So I'm ready for the summer to end, and for the rest of my life to begin, wherever he chooses to take me.
This is a fact that I only just realized a few days ago. I was at Barnes and Noble before work, buying a planner in an attempt to organize my life. I'm a list person, always have to have my tasks out in front of me, because in the next second I will forget what I have to do. This stems from a constant personality trait of living in the moment. I'm here one minute then over here the next, constantly moving and changing in an endless circle of ups and downs. But as I was buying this planner, finding one that was perfect for my hectic life and large sloppy handwriting, I opened it to the first page. It started with August 1st 2010. I was immediately upset, wondering what in the world I was going to use to organize my life until August first, when I stopped and realized that it was actually August tenth, and we were not in July anymore. This fact hit me like a slap in the back of the head, as I realized the beginning of school was only a mere 20 days away. And of course, as it tends to happen, images of the past summer flashed before my eyes, set to "Wouldn't it be nice" by the Beach Boys.
There was grief, there was sorrow, and a fair amount of tears. But there was also laughter, love and life. I did not understand at first why it was that God had thrown everything at me like that at one time. I have realized in this past summer, that I am blessed beyond belief with the opportunities that I have been given. To be in this place, to be able to look out the front door and see the ocean stretching in front of me, like a shimmering blue blanket covering half the world. Or to have friends who will offer everything they have just to save me gas money, or drop what they're doing so that I can have a shoulder to cry on.
This summer has humbled me more than I can say. Living so far away has forced me to rely on others more than I ever have in my life, and independent Felicity is finally getting a break. The girl who never accepts charity is giving in and letting others take care of her. And in return, I have never taken care of others more than I have in the past couple months. Often times people take advantage of me, because of my inability to use the word "No"; however, surrending myself to the needs of others has become a blessing rather than a chore. This summer taught me that.
It is absolutely amazing the timing God chooses to let people in and out of your life. I once heard a movie character say that life is like a television show. Where we are the stars of our own show, constant, never changing, and the supporting roles flit in and out like butterflies. I cannot say how true this is. A few months ago, I lived my life based on the supporting characters, forgetting who the star of my show was, and also who the director was. God. Because in the end, my show will have had only those two constant figures. God took away two roles this summer. Two people that left torn holes and chafed scars on my heart. But yet he filled those empty spaces with even more characters, ones who taught me how to love without prejudice, live with self confidence, and never give up on what I wanted.
Those who left me taught me what the words "I miss you" really meant, along with the meaning of unconditional love. Because of these experiences I have matured more than I can say, and this coming year is holding so much more that I cannot yet see. I live it for God as always, and even more so knowing what I now know about the world and about myself. My Uncle gave me the best advice so far, something I have always known yet had somehow forgotten in my distraction several weeks ago.I had forgotten prayer. "You're a rescuer Felicity..." He had said. "You want to save everyone. But remember, you never have to rescue alone." These words hit me, because I had forgotten to ask for help. I was so consumed by my ability to take care of myself that I had forgotten that I wasn't really taking care of anything, God was.
So I surrendered. And it was so reassuring to crawl back into the arms that would keep me safe, and would wipe away my tears. And those arms are always there, hovering over me, the rainbow after the storm. So I'm ready for the summer to end, and for the rest of my life to begin, wherever he chooses to take me.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
This is home.
I drove home a few days ago, and an hour and a half car ride has never felt so long. I haven't been home, really home, since Christmas vacation, and the thought of the comforting warm embrace of that familiar blue house, the fourth one on the left, was all I ever needed.
There is such a relief I feel in being in that house, in seeing my parents taking care of everything. It means I no longer have to worry, or stress, they are there to make it all better. They may only be the band-aid over my responsibilities, but at least its a comfort, if only for a moment.
As I was driving, little things began to happen as the start of my transition back into the Antelope Valley. It happens every time, and each small moment means I'm one step closer to that little blue house. First, The Fish Radio Station goes out, and I have to turn the dial to 95.1, the station I grew up listening to, Air 1. I smiled for the first time on my drive, I never realized how much I really missed the music.
Then, as the freeway thinned out and I coasted onto the 14, the beatiful scenery disappeared, and was replaced by the familiar tumbleweeds and tall mountains covered in brown grass and weeds. If you stuck your head out the window you would notice the change in the air, as if the moisture had been sucked out, leaving the air around you thinner, and harder to digest, except for those who already know how. I put my head out the window anyway, and breathed it in, letting the sun warm my face, just before it disappeared behind a mountain.
My favorite part of the drive however, is just before you hit the first Palmdale exit, and you see the city for the first time. I always try to time my drives home just for this moment, when the sun is finally gone, but its still early enough that everyone is still awake. Just as you make that sharp turn, if you look towards your right you can see almost the entire antelope valley stretched out in front of you, in a burst of light and color. Beneath you, only a cookie cutter little city, its light's span for what seems like miles, like a million tiny fireflies clustering together, twinkling in the moonlight. Next to it, is the lake. In the dark its an inky indigo that sparkles with the lights, lying flat and still. It reminds me of the old trampoline we used to have, that lay taut unless we were sitting on it of course, rippling the surface.
It gave me so much comfort, that I thought I might cry. The kind of happiness you feel when your bubbling so much under the surface you just have to let it out. But when I finally pulled into the little blue house, the fourth on on the left, and came up the walk to open the door, welcomed by screams of "Felic! Felic is here!" Thats when I was finally home.
There is such a relief I feel in being in that house, in seeing my parents taking care of everything. It means I no longer have to worry, or stress, they are there to make it all better. They may only be the band-aid over my responsibilities, but at least its a comfort, if only for a moment.
As I was driving, little things began to happen as the start of my transition back into the Antelope Valley. It happens every time, and each small moment means I'm one step closer to that little blue house. First, The Fish Radio Station goes out, and I have to turn the dial to 95.1, the station I grew up listening to, Air 1. I smiled for the first time on my drive, I never realized how much I really missed the music.
Then, as the freeway thinned out and I coasted onto the 14, the beatiful scenery disappeared, and was replaced by the familiar tumbleweeds and tall mountains covered in brown grass and weeds. If you stuck your head out the window you would notice the change in the air, as if the moisture had been sucked out, leaving the air around you thinner, and harder to digest, except for those who already know how. I put my head out the window anyway, and breathed it in, letting the sun warm my face, just before it disappeared behind a mountain.
My favorite part of the drive however, is just before you hit the first Palmdale exit, and you see the city for the first time. I always try to time my drives home just for this moment, when the sun is finally gone, but its still early enough that everyone is still awake. Just as you make that sharp turn, if you look towards your right you can see almost the entire antelope valley stretched out in front of you, in a burst of light and color. Beneath you, only a cookie cutter little city, its light's span for what seems like miles, like a million tiny fireflies clustering together, twinkling in the moonlight. Next to it, is the lake. In the dark its an inky indigo that sparkles with the lights, lying flat and still. It reminds me of the old trampoline we used to have, that lay taut unless we were sitting on it of course, rippling the surface.
It gave me so much comfort, that I thought I might cry. The kind of happiness you feel when your bubbling so much under the surface you just have to let it out. But when I finally pulled into the little blue house, the fourth on on the left, and came up the walk to open the door, welcomed by screams of "Felic! Felic is here!" Thats when I was finally home.
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