On Mindy (AKA The Beast Within) Or Me Admitting I am a Little Insane

Today as I walked home, I stopped and listened.

To the peepers.  To the moving waters.  To the breeze that has not yet found her true voice among the trees.

I breathed.  It smelled of early spring.  Rejuvenating, invigorating.

All of it filled me.

I paused for as long as I could.

Drinking it all in.

After all that has happened this week, I felt revived for the first time.

And I smiled.  A true smile of peace and contentment.

It was a beautiful, brief reprieve.

***

NOTE: if you thought that was lovely and would rather not have your opinion of me tainted by my honesty, feel free to stop reading now.  You have been warned.

Now prepare yourselves because I am about to go into an extended metaphor that delves deep into the psyche of me.

Why?

Because I know there are several people who read this who would understand and right now that's what I need. Understanding.  Support.  And a good kick in the pants.

Remember THIS post?

This is an extension of that.

I've spoken here and there about the 19-year-old in my head.

This is all about her.  She is the beast within.

I think she needs a name.  At least for this post.  Because it gets tiring to keep typing "the 19-year-old in my head".

Let's call her Mindy.

So.  Mindy.

I keep her carefully locked away.  And by carefully, I mean she is shut off by whatever material my mind is able to muster at the time.  Lately it has been flimsy chicken wire.

I try to keep her complacent.  I've found that as long as she is starved of all things she desires she is pretty docile.  And so I have hammered a big sign by her cage reading "For the Love of Pete do NOT Feed Mindy".  Too bad it is invisible to all but myself.

People unknowingly toss her crumbs.  Nothing substantial, but it is enough.

Mindy can survive on very little-and a little goes a long way.  Before I know it she is relentlessly clawing at the chicken wire which begins to give way.  I wish desperately that my mind had invested in reinforced steel for her cage.

I can feel her gaining ground.  The enclosure begins to give way.  I try my best to patch up the damage.  But before long she has broken free.

She wrecks havoc.

Most often in the form of one of the most dangerous emotions: infatuation.

The state of being carried away unreasoned love.

A foolish, unreasoning attraction.

All in all, a stupid thing.

Here's what happens (exaggerated, of course.  But you get the idea).

Mindy sees the particular individual in question and instead of seeing him for what he realistically is, she plucks away every single possible redeeming quality.  THEN, she molds and fashions these into a kind of idol.  And it is him and only him she sees.  I (the mature 25-year-old) approach her as she kneels before him (praying to her false idol that he would just SEE her for what SHE is).  I put a kind hand on her shoulder.  I begin to try and help her see reason.

She lashes out.

Defensive of the lies she had told herself about this person.  This false religion she has created.

I present her with clear and obvious flaws in this idol.

Suddenly I am brought back to all those high school discussions on religion and the LDS church.  One side tries to convince the other they are right.  Both with convincing and knowledgeable arguments.

That is how Mindy is.  For every hole I poke into her logic, she comes along with an argument to fill that hole.  It's hopeless.

See why I never feed her?  Never let her out?

I don't mean that I seek to see only the flaws in people to save myself the aggravation of infatuation.  I just mean that I try to see what is real, rather than this perfect, false being that has been created by Mindy.

Her pillar of stone can never love because he does not exist.  Not as SHE sees him.  

I know that these feelings aren't real.  But for Mindy, they are VERY real.

All she sees is that he makes her laugh, shares many of her interests, pays attention to her.  Seeks her company.  These are all things she thrives on.  And they make her stronger.

So I do the only thing I can think of.  I try to remove the smorgasbord.  I starve her of what she craves.

But my attempts aren't always 100% successful.  I'm still the only one who can see that sign.  So there are still people feeding Mindy little bits here and there (often it is her idol unknowingly doing this).

And even after all this time, all my experience with infatuation (and unrequited love for that matter) I would think to create a cage of sturdier stuff.  Sadly I can only use what my brain provides.  And all I have is this chicken wire.

Sometimes I can reinforce it with boards or planks (provided by wonderful, loving friends and family).  But these have a tendency to rot away as time goes by.

Mindy is a beast. Sometimes she makes it really hard to be around those that I would simply see as friends.  It happened in high school, college, you'd think by now I would be past all this.

But Mindy is ever present.

So it is up to me to do what I can.

Truth is, I eventually win out.  The battle may be long.  I may lose ground several times.  But infallible logic always prevails.  And if not logic, the relentless passing of time will do the trick.  Eventually Mindy will see that the idol she has created is either rusting, crumbling, or simply never replies to her pleas.

It is in those times that I am there.  Just me.  Having triumphantly locked Mindy away.  And for a time, I feel blissful relief.  Peace.

Here's hoping I find that peace again soon.

Because right now, Mindy is winning.

MORAL OF THE STORY:

Avoid false idols.

On An Analogy and Lent

It's been quite a while. Every time I've gone to write an entry it seems excessively moody and self-pitying.

Now that I've gotten PAST that state, I think I'm ready to weasel my way back into the blogger-verse. 

And so...I give you an analogy I've been pondering lately.

***

She is the nail.

She may be galvanized, but she is not as strong as she seems.

But she does what she thinks is wanted of her.

Standing straight, she takes a satisfying plunge into the wood below with every new strike.

They are the hammers.

Each one taking its turn.

Every hit brings with it a thrill.  A smile.  

Because this is what is done, is it not?

That nail, she's just sitting there.  Standing.  Waiting.  What else is there to do?   

Soon she is flush with the plank.  

***

To end I offer a brief explanation for those who are confused. I hope this clears things up.

Note that I mean for this to be shared on the most amiable of terms.

***

I'm not Catholic.

I never have been.

Yet for the past 3 consecutive years I have observed, to some extent, Lent.

My first experience with Lent was in High School when I was friends with a Catholic girl.  She asked if I would give up something with her.  I complied.  Being in High School, I eventually failed (it was Soda and I LOVED me some Dr. Pepper).

In 2011, I decided I was going to give up Desserts (or sweets as some might consider them).  Those things that usually reside at the top of the food pyramid.  At least they did when I was in elementary school.

I did a pretty good job, I think.

So I did it again in 2012.

And again this year.  I'm surprised that it has been more challenging.  I feel I have more temptation and I'm more on my own.

This is the point I want to make.

I don't observe Lent because of some secret desire to join the Catholic church.  I've nothing against them but I am perfectly happy in my religion

I don't observe lent because I failed to follow through with my New Years resolution and this is my second chance.

I don't do this to gloat and show off my will power or to seek the attention of others.

I do it because it is a chance for me to prove to myself that I have self control.

I am in control of my actions.

I give up desserts every year because they are one of my weaknesses.

It says in the scriptures that God will make weak things become strong.

So this, I do for myself.

I think I should just start telling people that I am going on my own 40 day fast from my temptations instead "I'm doing Lent this year".  Maybe then my intentions would be clear.

Just wanted to clarify.

On The 3 Categories

I have this way of categorizing those individuals of the opposite gender who have any kind of placing in my life.  Whether it be friend, acquaintance, colleague, etc. they all fall into one of these categories.  

It came to me one day when I was having a particularly difficult struggle with the above mentioned gender.

Don't worry.  There will be no man-bashing, slandering, or otherwise negative jabs at the male sex.

This is a purely scientific categorization.

Category 1: The Untouchables

These are they who are nowhere near the realm of my achievement.  I would put George Clooney under this heading if I knew him in any way.  Others who are in this category include those who are (as society would put it) "out of my league".  Whether this be physically, educationally, or spiritually they are, simply put, untouchable.  Most likely unintentionally so, but there it is.  We all know the type.  And while we can dream, that's closest we will ever get. This is the simplest and generally smallest category.

Category 2: The Safety Men

They are exactly as the category labels them.  SAFE.  They are either taken, pre or mid-mission, interested in members of the same sex, or just simply "not my type".  They are guys its easy to spend time with because the obnoxious "interest" receptors in the brain are turned off.  These guys aren't even on the radar. There is no danger befriending them or even confiding in them because they, like the untouchables, are off the table.  A number of great guys in my life fall into this category.  I'm glad to know them.  They pose no threat.

Category 3: The Danger Zoners

Here is where we have our problem.  These guys are available, looking, and of interest.  Not only are they on the radar, but they are in great danger of gumming up the relay due to the 19-year-old that sometimes occupies my brain.  There are times when she can't focus on anything else.  We all know the symptoms of unrequited love.  The prognosis is bleak and it is quite contagious.  ESPECIALLY around The Danger Zoners.  They are carriers for the disease in the worst way.  Because they are carriers, they have NO IDEA that they are inflicting any kind of harm. These are they who easily become dangerous and "flawless" illusions (*nod to Sabrina*).  They are easy to befriend (and indeed there are some who are really GOOD friends), which often only makes things worse.  Being "just friends" with someone who you are infuriatingly infatuated with is truly tragic.  But those of us who allow it take what we can get, right?  It's better than not being with them at all.  They, like the Safety Men can be confided in because they have all the appearance of being trustworthy-this comes from the fact that they obviously have no idea of the effect they have on the girl who can't seem to convince herself that they JUST AREN'T INTERESTED.  I'm sure this is because often they see the girl as their own safety individual.  They often do things that unknowingly encourage the affections of said girl, making it nearly impossible to TRULY let go.  Oh, she (the 19-year-old in my brain) might release for a day or two, having been talked down by the rational adult that sometimes inhabits my brain.  But then something happens that causes a flare up and we're right back where we started. 

The Danger Zoners are (for the most part) totally innocent in their status.  Though the truth is there are guys in the world who look everywhere but right in front of them for perfection that they aren't going to find.  Not that they have to settle.  Not that ANY of us have to settle.  

Let me tell you a little more about the 19-year-old located in my brain who I am constantly doing battle with.

She is a persistent little bugger.  And she can't help but be drawn to the positive attention she gets when she sends time with these guys.  She clings hopelessly to the way The Danger Zoners make her laugh, share her interests, willing put themselves in her company, etc. 

And the hardest part is that there ARE good qualities about these problematic gentlemen.  If there weren't they wouldn't be Danger Zoners.  What happens is the rational adult in me sees those qualities and admires them.  But what the 19-year-old does with that admiration is twist it into a raging emotion that is barely controlled.  The rational adult, losing control of the situation, allows things to rise to dangerous levels before stepping in again.  For a time I can ignore those Danger Zoners who pose a dilemma.  But it's a never ending cycle and the lull doesn't last long.

I know deep down that the time spent thinking over and over this is time wasted.  

I have to constantly remind myself that I've been back in Missouri for over a year.  If something were going to happen with anyone I already know, surely it would have happened by now, right?

Anyway, there you have it. The three categories.  

I keep a constant eye on The Danger Zoners.  I try to reign in the 19-year-old.  I check myself often to be sure I'm not making too huge a fool of myself.  

And life goes on.  

This is part of learning and growing.

It's patience, understanding, frustration, and a touch of heartache.

It's knowing that as long as I am doing all I can to keep my covenants and live the best I am able, I can't go wrong.  And as I am proceeding forward, as long as I am not shutting myself away from the world, I'll find someone who will quote Star Wars with me, go on hikes, not scoff at my crunchy moderate "hippie" ways, and share my love of music.  All the while truly thinking that I am worth it.

In the meantime, I'll continue to scientifically mark and categorize the men in my life into these three groups.  Because there is only one who will eventually fall into the forth category.

Category 4: The Best Friend and Companion. 

On a November Nights Dream

Did I ever tell you that as a kid I used to pray for weird dreams?

Yeah. 

I liked the crazy stories my mind would come up with during my night time reveries.  And so I would ask God to bless me with strange and crazy dreams.

I was an odd one, for sure.

I don't ask for that anymore.  And while a crazy one pops in here and there my dreams have taken on a more realistic nature as of late.  

Meaning that often, while I am dreaming, I have no idea that the things that are happening aren't real.  

Because they are so believable.

Over the past couple of years I've had some particularly troubling dreams.  Ones where I have done something things.  Bad things.  And the guilt associated with the dream is so intense that I am almost crying with relief when I wake up and realize that it was, in fact, just a dream.  

I can't say that I am fond of these dreams.  Though I do see them as warnings.  

But the dream I had last night was different.

It was a dream the likes of which I have never had before.

In it, I was going to die.

And I knew it.

I had 24 hours at the most.

There was no disease, no injury, no ailment of any kind.  Just a certainty that I was, in fact, going to die.

I know that through the course of my dream I came to some rather poignant conclusions but I can't for the life of me remember what they were.

What I DO remember was the crushing guilt and disappointment.

Not terror.

And not a fear of what came after or what would happen to me.

But a deep and terrible wish that I had: 

1. Done more with my life

2. Tried harder to be the person I know that I can be

I could not stop thinking about how I was going to miss out on so much of my life.  I wondered what was so important in the next life that God couldn't afford to keep me in this one.

And most of all, I knew deep down that I had let too much slide. I had failed to be the strong, devoted daughter of God that I knew I had to potential to be.

Was this dream also a warning?

I know I'm not going to die in the next 24 hours (boy did I just jinx myself...).

But I know that I can always be doing better.  And yet I let so much fall by the wayside.

What more should I be doing?  What can I do so that if I were going to die in 24 hours I would not feel those things I felt in my dream?

I'd take strange, crazy dreams over these frighteningly realistic ones any day.

But maybe I need these wake-up calls.

On A Little Passing

Yes, I know that I JUST posted.

But something happened today that I felt deserved more than just a passing Facebook status.

Today, one of my two finches passed from this mortal life.

Eunice.

I just want to take a little time to remember her.

I remember when I purchased the pair of them back in September of 2008.  They were actually for a presentation on bird banding I was going to give for a class.

From that time on they have been kind of a silly and random presence in my life.

After much deliberation and input from my family, I decided to name them Howard and Eunice. From "What's Up, Doc?"  Need a reference?  Here you go.

Please go and rent the entire film if you have not seen it.  It's for your own good. 

They were a cute little pair.  A little shy at first but then learning their routine and opening up in their song repertoire.   

Beeps, chirps, warbles, (and if agitated, screeches) abounded.

When I FIRST got them, they used to wake me up in the morning.  But after a while I didn't mind their sounds.  They were familiar.  And adorable.

They used to hop and dart around their cage.  Take baths that splattered water everywhere.  And once or twice, little Eunice laid an egg (which never hatched, of course).

Yes, they were a sweet little duo.

Only in the last couple days has Eunice been acting strange.  Not as active.  Not singing as much.  I thought it was just the change in weather.

I should have known it was a terrible idea to hold off turning on the heat when it was getting below freezing at night.

And so after I got back from church this afternoon, there she was at the bottom of the cage.  Lifeless.  

And Howard looking confused and a little lost.

Birds may not have as much intelligence or emotional complexity as dogs, but they do learn routine and familiarity.  And these two little birds had been together from birth.  Never separated (except for the couple times Howard got out of the cage).  And so I know Howard will be a little out of sorts for a while.

I'll admit, I'm not going to loose sleep over this.  I'm not going to take off a day of work.  But I AM sad.

Mostly for Howard.  I know he will be just fine.  But he seems so lonely now.  He no longer has anyone to sing with or to perch next to in the night.  

It doesn't help that I am pretty sure it was my neglect in temperature regulation that KILLED Eunice.  

I feel horrible about it.

She will be remembered.

I wish I had a picture of these two...but they flit rather fast and I've never taken the time to just sit there and wait for them to be still.

It's a pity.  They are such lovely little birds.

So, to Eunice.

One of the silliest little birds who honored her namesake.

Farewell, tiny one.

On An Unexpected Puppy

Let me tell you a story. Well, my brief part in it, at least.

It all begins last Sunday night.

Now, I wasn't here for this part.  I was at home, lying in my bed, preparing for sleep.

But as I understand it, a friend of mine was in the parking lot of Wal-Mart.  There, she witnessed one of the most heinous crimes.  Blatant physical abuse of an animal.  A small puppy to be exact.

She stepped in, as well she should.  As I would have.  An argument of unknown length and heat occurred in which at some point the puppy beater said something along the lines of "YOU take her then".

And so she did.

Fast forward to Monday morning.

Not being able to keep the puppy herself, and needing to take her SOMEWHERE, my friend brought her to the Veterinary hospital where I work.

The puppy had no shots, was quite shy and skittish, and had no idea what these humans around her were going to do to her.  Not to mention she was CRAWLING with fleas and had scabs all over her from the scratching.

It was tragic that anytime a person approached her, she would back away...afraid.  Because the humans she knew had hurt her.

Oh, and did I mention she was ADORABLE???



She was so helpless.

I mean LOOK at that face!

But what were we going to do with her?

I had full intention of taking her home and putting a notice up on Craigs List.  Not IDEAL, but it was a thought.

Half an hour after she came into the hospital and we had made sure she wasn't damaged or sick, a woman comes in with her sick cat.  And guess what?  She just HAPPENS to be looking for a house mate for her 2-year-old Yorkie.

The timing was perfect.  I showed her the pup and made the sale.  At the end of the chat, the pup wandered cautiously from my arms and snuggled right up to this new lady.

It was a sign.  This was fate.

The only problem (which really wasn't a problem at all but a JOY) was that this woman couldn't pick up the pup until Wednesday morning.

So, who got to foster her in the meantime?

Yours truly.

And so for most of Monday, all of Tuesday, and Wednesday morning I was the keeper of the little sweetheart pictured above.

I'm not gonna lie.  I fell in love.  Even in that short time.

And when Wednesday morning came, a little part of me wished that the woman would call and say her plans had changed and she couldn't keep her.

Alas.  Perhaps now is not the time for me to have a puppy.  But it was a wonderful two days.

Here are some things I want to always remember about this little bundle of joy.


-The way she carefully seems to select a leaf from the countless numbers of them, pounce on it, then carry it triumphantly for a few seconds.

-The way she loves to bound through the grass.  leaping like a white tail deer.

-The way she follows close by like she never wants to lose you.  You always have to be in her sight. I never had to have a leash on her.

-The way her food disappears in a matter of seconds.

-The way she curls up in your arms once she is ready to settle down.

-Her adorable playfulness.

-How she looks at you adoringly.  Because she depends on you and KNOWS that you love her.  And she loves you too.

-The way she explores under chairs and beds.

-The way that she already knew the way home from our little walks we take up the drive.  On the way back she would start charging ahead, impatient to get back.  But she would wait for me to catch up and then bolt a couple feet again.  SO excited to be back home.

-The way she loves car rides.

-The way she immediately began to open up once she knew she was safe and loved.

-The way she looked at my slightly steep stairs EVERY time like "you want me to do WHAT now?" but with a little encouragement, stumbled her way up.  Because she knew it meant she was strong and because she knew I loved her for it.

-The fact that in only two days we had already fallen in love with each other.  And even though she hardly knew me, the fact that I fed her, cared for her, held her, and loved her meant that she trusted me.

-The way she would hover around my ankles whenever there was a new person.  Afraid to venture from the unfamiliar.  And then she would look at me as if to ask "is this person okay?".

-How smart she was.  How she already knew the trick of "I'm going to grab this things that is yours and drag it out here to get you to come out here and play with me".  The good ol' bait and lure.

Let my provide you with some more pictures.  They're not great.  But they are what I have.

(wow, yeah...my phone IS kind of a beast...)

 Bath time!!

Chomping the leaf

Early Wednesday morning when I dropped her off at the hospital to be picked up my heart broke a little.

I know it sounds stupid.  To get all attached to this little mutt of a dog after only two days.

I tried to understand myself and why I got a little misty eyed as I said goodbye.  Why it was a wrench to leave.  Why I can't help but feel that there is now something missing in my life.

And I think I figured out what it is.

We, as human beings, need to be NEEDED.  It is within all of us (well...MOST of us) to care and nurture others.

And with dogs, they are so accepting, so trusting, and devoted.  They give all they have and are to be with you and love you.  You are their LIFE.  They depend on you.  And in return for your care, they love you unconditionally.

And we all want to be loved.  Deep down we all want to care for someone or something and be loved back.   And dogs provide that. Unconditional companionship.

I had that for a couple of precious days.

And losing that made me feel like I lost a little part of myself that I had discovered.

All in all I am very grateful for the experience.  I hope one day to have a dog as smart, sweet, loving, and overall well behaved as this little pup was.

On Revelation

We all live in our little bubbles.

Where we are safe and life is as we perceive it-true or not.

We are convinced that these little worlds we have created are the sole purpose of our existence.

If any one thing is thrown out of balance, the fragile walls of these bubbles come crashing down.

Right?

Wrong.

Life is hard.  It's complicated.  It's messy.

And it is nearly NEVER as we perceive it.

Sometimes we need to open our eyes.

I won a pair of sunglasses that have a hint of red tones to them.  I often wear them bike riding.  When I do,  the limited vibrancy of this slow rising Missouri Autumn is enhanced.  I can almost believe that the trees are starting to turn bright scarlet, orange, and gold.  Not rust, brown, and pale yellow.  It's pretty great.  But the second I take them off, the dullness of reality is revealed.  It's kind of disappointing.

Of COURSE we all want to wear those reality altering sunglasses through our lives.

But where does that get us?

It's hard when we find ourselves faced with a revelation that changes our whole perception of a previously solid reality.  There is a time of floundering and questioning.

This is normal.

But eventually, you are going to have to come to terms with that reality and find your footing again.  Otherwise in this new exposed environment, unprotected by the paper thin bubble, we can find ourselves beginning to lose all that we sought to gain.

That's why spending life in these self-imposed bubbles is never the best idea.

Step outside yourself.  Look around you.  WITHOUT the sunglasses.  Expose yourself to reality...and over time it becomes less scary.

It's still just as hard as it's always been, but you find you are more suited to face it.

We can spend our whole lives laying out the little pieces of our future.  Trying to create the mosaic that we think we deserve.  A collage of expectations.

How often do we limit ourselves through this act of "pursuing our dreams" and "not making compromises"?

Don't take me for a cynic.  I believe as much as the next person that much is possible when you put forth effort and never give up.

But then there is reality.  Sometimes those pieces just don't fit.  Like putting together a puzzle and trying to ram the little round end into the hole of another piece and it just wont work.  Then we try to force it because we don't have the patience to look for the right piece in the seemingly endless pile of identical looking shapes.

The worst part is that sometimes that fitting piece is right there in front of us, and we either keep passing it over never giving it a change, or we've tried it several times and decided that it just doesn't look right and so discard it without a second thought.

It doesn't help that the pattern of the puzzle is ever changing.  Never the same thing for very long, and so we are constantly having to alter our perspective.

Like I said.  It's not easy.

It's not meant to be.

But if we keep trying to force our lives into perfection, we're only going to be disappointed.

We shouldn't devote all our time on those two pieces that refuse to fit and miss the opportunity of revealing the bigger pictures that is the puzzle.

One small revelation can change things.  Suddenly, a whole section of the puzzle is different.  And I can't seem to figure out how it relates to the rest of the picture.  Where does it fit in?  Does it even belong to the same puzzle anymore?  Does it work well with the rest of the images or is it a blemish to the art that is the balancing act of my life?

I find myself wanting.  Searching for something that I haven't had in years.  Sometimes the desire for it is a hollow ache somewhere between my heart and my stomach.  It spreads until it occupies a nagging corner in my mind.

And so that need to search is always there.

I can't escape it.

But I can put it aside.  Place it on a shelf and let it sit collecting dust while I strive to attend the more important things in my life.

It's something I'm learning to do, and it's not easy.

The last thought of the night is this:

More than anything I wish there was a way I could be just me.

Just Sarah.

Nothing more, nothing less.

 No expectations.  No brand.

Because it's okay for me to be that person.  An individual separated from various hats that I wear.

In my entire life I can easily count on one hand the number of people I can be that Sarah around...

Honest.  No strings attached.

And you wanna know how many of those people are still in my life?

Not enough.

It's what I'm searching for.