Honesty Hour

I am a runner.  Not a physical-exercise runner- I run from things that bring emotion.  I don't like it- I don't like the feeling of feeling vulnerable.

With all things work or school related or anything positive- I am a serious go-getter.  I want to move and get things done.  I have a very Type-A/red personality.  I have been told I am a great employee and student because I will do anything to get things done.

But with personal things that make me feel vulnerable- I want to avoid it at all costs, and run.

I never had many girlfriends.  They stressed me out.  I don't like the gossiping, the unsaid judging that goes on.  The risk of someone being mad at you with one wrong word.  I don't know, girls were always just too much for me.  I learned to just avoid them. To this day, I have three very best friends- from three essential parts of my life.  They are all friends now, too.  I love them.  I love not having to guess where I stand with them.  I don't have to worry about anything weird like that. They are the only girls that I feel comfortable around.  Besides them, all growing up I got along a lot better with boys.  So I spent my days on four wheelers and building forts. It was so much more simple.

I think I have offended a lot of people, though I try not to, because I don't like listening to people who are emotional- and to no fault of their own. I think that is something I need to work on, but it is also the truth at the moment.

I also don't like talking about things that make me emotional, because I don't like to be. I don't know why. I have never had any traumatic experience- never even have I lost a loved one.  I have no reason- nothing happened to me, I am just scared of feeling that way.

Because of those feelings, I am a very good planner.  I try to carefully plan my life out so that I avoid any possible failures, unhappiness, bad memories, rejection, vulnerability, sadness, or disappointment.  Anything not associated with love or positivity. Not everything goes as I plan, of course.  That is life.





 And that is when I run. I avoid it. Mitch calls it "The Shutdown." And I literally just shut down. I don't have anything to say and about ten million things go through my head. That is basically the point of no return- I don't want to talk with anyone because no one can make me feel better, and I have to just be by myself, and think a lot.




Dumb, right?


But sometimes, you are given the opportunity to know in advance when things are going to happen. That should help, right? Yes, usually.  The problem is, I become stuck.  Because when you know in advance that something is going to happen and you can't do anything about it- well, you can't do anything about it.


I have been forced to deal with the fact that I don't want it to come. But I am going to have to learn how to deal with it and move on like everyone else does.

I've moved a lot and lived in a lot of places, different states.  Change isn't new to me.  Meeting new people isn't new to me. I can do it, I can adjust very quickly.  The problem is when I literally, deep deep down, do not want to.  I am scared to.  And I have never felt this way before.

Every time I have moved, I have wanted to and been excited about it.  This upcoming time- it has completely and totally thrown my world into pieces.  I can't deal with it because I do not want to go. I can't.

We have known we would only live here for two years since before we even came down here.  That was fine, I had done that before.

Then I made some of the strongest connections that I have ever made in my life.

Then I realized the impact this place will have on my life forever.  How special it is, and how no one knows about it. It is our secret little heaven.

I realized I have been exponentially happier than I have ever been in my whole life.

I realized how I will probably never live alone with my husband again, our sweet 'two year honeymoon' was ending.

I realized for the first time, I am needed here.  I am already stressing out about who will take care of some of these people when I leave. People who I love so much- and have been through so much with.

I realized we would probably never be friends with so many missionaries again- we would probably never go out with them like we have, or use our home for lessons multiple times a week for people who were too embarrassed of their dirt floor to have the Lord's missionaries over to their home. I would likely never cook for their zone conference again or see them unexpectedly late at night on our doorstep asking to take out the trash in return for a meal because they were hungry and knew where to come.

I realized I probably won't have to tell Mitch what the bad words meant that his students would say to him in Spanish at school again, and laugh and laugh.

I realized we probably won't ever go to the farmer's market again in front of the McAllen library while we eat Stripes breakfast burritos, like we do every Saturday morning.

I realized I won't be holding and kissing babies who I have grown to adore-of single mom investigators every week at church so that they could go to relief society or class and learn about the Gospel.

I realized I probably won't see Mitch baptize anyone else except our own children.

I realized I won't wake up to palm trees every day and do homework on a hammock.

I realized I probably won't again run around and play with my husband on the beach every weekend with not a care in the world.

I realized Mitch will never come home and throw his briefcase on the couch and grab me and say, "Lets go eat dinner by the pool and swim!" at 430 in the afternoon.

I realized I won't have any of my sweet Young Women texting me for a ride.  Calling about family problems.  Asking me to come talk with them.  I won't be able to watch any more get baptized and grow to find themselves in the Gospel.

I realized we won't have a car-full and bench-full of young men and young women and people we love every Sunday. I realized I will be thinking and worrying about them for the rest of my life, hoping they'll be ok.


I realized that we will be leaving, forever.  Not for a vacation, not even for a few years.  We will be gone. And this phase will be over in our lives.


Worst of all..
I realized that I could once again revert to the person I was before we moved here, and everything I learned and grew into could just go away the minute I leave, and everyone I once knew and loved so, so much down here could disappear, like none of this ever happened. I would be back to where I was two years ago.  Because that is where we are going to live again.

I am having a very, very hard time adjusting.

All of this brings incredible emotion for me, and I don't know how to deal with it. I don't like it.  I don't know how to handle it.

I have ran, in other words tried to not think about it for months now.  Knowing it was inevitable, I realized I had to start facing the fact that we were leaving.

To sum it up, I have been in 'shutdown mode' for days now.  And I cannot pull myself out of it.  I cannot fathom the idea of leaving. I cry every time I get in my car and drive somewhere because I know it is one of the last times I will.

I plan, and tell myself I have no choice.  It is in stone, we can't change it, everything is lined up, and it is what we are supposed to do whether we like it or not.  Our time is up here.
But nothing is making me feel better.  I get more and more sad and frustrated every day that we get closer to leaving.  All of this emotion is making me very irritable and frustrated.  I don't like it and it is getting worse.

I talk to Mitch about it all the time. He and my parents are the few people I can talk to about this. They all say that it is exactly what it feels like to leave to go home from a mission.  Those are the worries and feelings you have when you are about to leave.  Is it, really?  Because this is the most painful thing ever.