Feeling Whole

Sometimes when I'm thinking about how beautiful my life is now, I like looking back at some of the posts I wrote about Yannick. It's not because I like to fantasize or have any regrets or compare what I have now to what I did then, it's just because I like to remember about when I started to learn how to love. 

I'm married to James now. He's my perfect match, my best friend and the future father of my children. He's the man I want to grow old with and the person I trust and love more than anyone else. He makes me feel safe and so full of joy. I'm proud that I married a man like James. I'm proud that we were able to work on our relationship, that we chose each other, and that we have eternity to be with each other. He is the culmination of every heartache and life lesson I've had to learn. He is the ultimate prize and blessing.

But the thing about James and our relationship, is that 7 years ago, I was a different person. 7 years ago when I was meeting and dating Yannick, I had many lessons to learn, and many ways to grow before I would be ready for James.

Seven years ago, I was a spit-fire. I was the rebel child, I was stubborn and curious and passionate. I had the hottest head and boundless energy. I wanted to feel everything and express everything. But I didn't have many friends and I didn't know how to express myself. I was too intense. I was a teenager. 

Those passions went into planning my future, chasing my ambitions, fighting for independence, running, and finally, looking for someone who would accept me and every expression of feeling I could give them. I had felt staunched by my family. I felt different, too loud and strong, stubborn and argumentative. Too ungrateful, too non-conforming, too impatient too passionate. I didn't want to hear their opinions, I didn't want their judgement, I didn't want to do what they said. My life was the only thing I owned, the only thing that was mine that I could fashion into a reflection of my inner emotions that were longing to leap out and not be compressed by their expectations. 

I needed an outlet for the expression and creativity bubbling inside of me. I didn't know where to go though, I didn't have a place where I felt like I could be my true self. I tried at the U, but my social circle was lacking and all my time was shunted towards survival. 

Back at home in St. George, the entire town felt like they had the same status quo. I loved my friends from high school, but they carried the same expectations of how to act and think. I had a new appreciation for the financial and tangible support my parents provided, but inside I was still longing for a space. I worked out like crazy, my expression of self was swallowed up in training my body. 

I was searching for somewhere that I could be free. Everyone around me seemed to think that a mission was the right next step. They were excited and found a thrill in the prospect, but to me that still felt flat. Being in the same community a couple states away was just as much of a prison as the one I was currently in. I didn't see any other way out though, so I considered just hanging in there long enough to serve a mission, and continue pushing down the self I longed to let out. 

I was wondering if I would ever have a place I could be myself, or find a circle that wanted the full real me. I was wondering if there even was a place that celebrated someone like me. Someone a little too loud and outspoken and argumentative and emotional. I told myself that I was the problem, and I should get used to living in this place. Fake it til you make it. Some nights I felt I would just burst. All of the pent up emotion and ideas and passion and art and leadership inside my head. I didn't have a way to express it and no one would understand it. I ran. I lifted. I designed new workouts. That was an acceptable use of energy. 

Still trying to find my place, figuring out exactly what it was I needed to get out of me, and feeling the swell of an emotion I didn't understand, a bolt of passion that made me want to jump and sing and cry and yell and paint and create and design and destroy and ride, I sat down in a class next to a boy. 

The energy beaming out of my eyes, and tensing in my strong tan legs, I let some of my sun streak through in a staggering smile. My words betrayed nothing, but my body was coursing with electricity. "What did I miss?" The boy sat up and smiled like he knew we had a secret. His fierce green eyes betrayed their own flash of energy. As he spoke, we both retained the smallest amount of power bubbling up, just below the surface. But the class started and we relaxed into the scene. 

I continued to see that spark in my seat buddy-Yannick, and without ever saying it, we had an understanding of who the other one was. It was natural when we started to go further. Conversations flowed. Time disappeared. Love happened almost instantly, then deepened as we tested our similarities and the sheer security of letting someone see us. There was no awkward, there was no formal. It was as simple as finally finding that space. He was new, intense and deep and intellectual. He was bold, but always accepting of what was. And it was natural for me to be loud and emotional and passionate and intense. It was natural for me to be me. Our electricity, our power, and energy, ambition, intense drive, independence, they were respected. Those were the highest priority. We didn't owe each other or own each other. We didn't and wouldn't ever expect a commitment, because there was no one else. 

Those were the things that mattered to me 7 years ago. That was pure love and acceptance. So, when Yannick died, I felt like that space disappeared. I felt like the one person who I could be myself around and who understood me was gone. I felt like I didn't have a place any more. To me that was love and that was the only love I would ever have. 

The amazing thing about growing up though, is that eventually we find ways to express ourselves. I found a place for my passion by learning new ways to express my love to friends and family, by becoming comfortable with myself enough to dance, to cry, to say I love you and hug, and of course by working out, doing triathlons, and going to med school. I found a new comfort with myself, and some of that energy dissipated as I learned value in community and even conformity. I still get random bursts of energy. I still get wanderlust, and sparks of ambition, and passion. I didn't find a way to let it all out, but I grew up so much in the past 7 years that it's not all on one person anymore. 

Although I'm not the crazy, raging, emotional person I was 7 years ago, I still have a lot of those same characteristics albeit in smaller doses. I still don't feel 100% comfortable expressing myself completely with my family. I still get the sense that I don't belong. That's why 2 years ago, looking for love while dating was a real challenge. I was still looking for someone who on a smaller level would accept me with all my craziness and quirks. I had grown a lot, but acceptance was still a big part of how I needed to feel love. 

That's when I found James, and learned why James is such a perfect match for me. He accepts me and all of my craziness and he loves me. I can be any type of person around him. I'm comfortable crying around him or rambling on about the things I'm excited about. I feel safe talking about what I'm nervous about or bringing up the same topic over and over again. He gets me. 

If I didn't know how to communicate or open up or share my excitement though, I don't think our relationship and now our marriage would be as strong. When I was with Yannick, a lot was unsaid. We connected on a very deep level and he slowly helped me to open up by accepting me even when I couldn't communicate my emotions. After he died, I went to summer scholarship in Iowa, served a mission in Mongolia, made a real circle of friends, had a failed engagement, joined the Air Force, went to Turkey, started medical school and dated James. These and other experiences have helped me learn to communicate and express my emotions even more. 

Without Yannick, I wouldn't have known how love feels to me, I wouldn't have had the security to try opening up and feel the freedom I had been longing for that comes with expression. Without all these learning experiences, I wouldn't be able to express my love to others fully. I'm so grateful for my husband James. He accepts me as I am, and was the icing on the cake of this long journey. I'm so happy that I am able to express everything in my heart to him. I'm grateful to God for sending me Yannick who was my first love and the space I needed to discover my expression. I'm grateful that I made it through that difficult growing period, and that I now know how to let my full personality out because with that expression I feel whole and able to be loved.

When I fell in love with you

All moments led up to this
I was bruised and battered
My love had been torn apart
I was broken and resurgent
Tried over and over again
I pretended it didnt hurt
But inside it felt like
Even God didnt care

But I learned he cares
Because of you.

The day we met, in person
I honestly thought you were
Just like everybody else
A little cuter and more sunny
Sparkly even with that loud voice
All your stories and the cutest smile
But it was easy to just not buy in
And there were excuses, easy to find and ripe for the picking, telling me even if I wanted it, we would never work out

So I said yes to someone else
And that meant going through my list
Getting rid of old beaus one by one
Clearing the way for this next
Short-lived commitment
It was a relief to have them gone
Dating was really just a chore
Til I came to your name
And the little twinge in my stomach
As I said goodbye to such a sweet face
And months of potential

But I knew it couldn't work
So I sent the text and shut that door
Still, as I turned my back and waited for silence, there was no slam
You put your foot in the door
With one text
You looked me in the eyes
And said you're worth it
And I want you
And I'm going to fight for you

Maybe it was the timing
Or remembering that twinge
Or just the surprise that someone
Wonderful and alive
Thought I was wonderful too
It made it easy and okay to want you
I wanted to be alive with you
I wanted to have that sun and sparkly laugh and loud stories and handsome brown face in my life for a long time

My life was becoming gray until I met you
And maybe that isn't love
Maybe I just want you so badly
It's unfair and unhealthy
But even if we have nothing else
And everything is a struggle
If we fight and forget and argue
I'll never stop wanting you

You know how to love me
And maybe its selfish that's the reason I want you so bad
But I hope that means I know how to love you too

I try to explain to people what it is
I list the qualities and accomplishments
Things I'm so proud of you for
But that doesnt touch it
Or illuminate the ocean of why I love you

You wanted me, you valued me, you told me I was good and enough and that you felt lucky. You opened your life to me. You shared everything, your food, your friends, your home. You didnt think twice and you made me your own.

And when I didnt trust and was so afraid to fall and get hurt I made a mistake that hurt you even worse. You turned cold for a day, no doubt questioning everything you couldn't see. But you forgave and realized we could both start to give freely.

Our relationship grew from there and it surpassed new heights. We've taken risks and taken steps, we've grown and played and progressed. We have plans and a future. Mostly we're comfortable. A deep seated, stable zen. And finally feeling that everything is right.

We are the same flesh, the same spirit and without you I'm not whole anymore. I found my missing half in you. And there's no other way to describe it than that. I love you more than just superficial attraction and charm. I love you more than inherent need or temporary loneliness. I love you more than the desire to have someone to whom I can give all I am. You are my husband. And when we get married, all the world will see that.

Rules of Dating

I have no idea when I actually wrote this. It was wayyy in the archives though, like 2014. I wish I had followed my own advice! XD

Rules of Dating:

1. Don't date someone because you're lonely, bored, or to get in their group of friends.

2. Don't date someone you aren't physically attracted to.

3. Don't date someone when you don't have your own support group of friends or family.

4. Don't show the person you date your whole self until you know they can handle it.

5. Don't pretend you're perfect around them even if you're usually excellent at first impressions. It's misleading for a relationship.

COT

Oh I'm the worst. I broke my promise to y'all and I did a rant post instead of a COT post. Sometimes I have so much poison in my soul, it has to give though. This morning I finally dumped out the box of crumpled journal pages Kyle left me with and just looked at them and read them and looked at them and I didn't cry. I didn't let the sadness wash over, because that feeling is too pure to be wasted on Kyle. Too akin to love. And so I let it turn the opposite way.
But I don't hate him. I don't hate anyone. I was angry and I see terrible injustice in what happened, but if that year of memories is the price I must pay to have Kyle out of my life, then so be it. My life is too blessed and my family and God and the world's beauty and the love I experienced once upon a time are all too good to have a heart full of hate.
So here goes the COT post:

Lessons I learned at COT:
1) Leadership: Leadership is sometimes just that, leading a group of peers through something. It doesn't mean you have to be the best or even know what you're doing before you start. It requires communication, it requires learning what your mission objective and rules of engagement are, it requires delegation, assessment of group and individual strengths, setting of goals, responsibility to higher ups, taking accountability from members of the team when they screw up, and basically just being there every time you work as a team. You have to be the focal point of communication, and you have to lead as best as you know how to, being confident that anyone could lead, but you are the one with the assignment that day. It's a mix of humility and a let's just get this done already mentality.
I can be a leader by showing up, speaking up, and volunteering immediately. The most important action a leader can take is to have a service before self attitude and volunteer to do the jobs people don't want but will serve the most people on the team. That's how you gain status, responsibility, credibility and respect. You'll earn loyalty and favors and become one of the group. Lead in your own way, according to your own personality. But always volunteer.

2) Military bearing: I got yelled at the first day of COT for smiling. I quit smiling but kept a cheery attitude. I fixed my face into a relaxed and friendly straight line. The next day I got singled out in line and yelled at repeatedly by 'the bulldog' for smiling even though my face was no where near a smile. That's when embarrassed and frustrated I let my pride and anger take over and I fixed my face into a dead-eyes, don't f with me scowl. If they didn't want my good mood, and polite expression simply put on for the sake of others' comfort, then I sure as heck was done granting favors. I made my face a stone and impassive wall remembering my anger from that one moment and not granting any good graces to anyone. When the major came by and screamed in her shrill, cantankerous southern accent about how we were a joke and disgrace to the Air Force, when the Sgt Covert gave repeated 341s which led to the dismissal of the chaplain standing next to me, when the bulldog passed by roaring out demands, I didn't give them the flutter of an eyelash. Open ranks inspection came and the MTI inspecting me made jokes and tried to distract me, but by then my military bearing was locked in and it felt good to have a wall that let me keep my privacy of thought and emotion to myself, away from the enemy. I didn't realize how open my facial expressions made me. When getting feedback, criticism, or unjust accusations in the future, I have my military bearing in my back pocket ready to go. It might not look like that dead-eye scowl I first adopted, but it is just as impassive.

3) Integrity first, and discipline.
Marching is the worst. Waking up at 4:30 is the worst. Cupping your hands, squaring corners, keeping silent in the halls and bathroom, staying still at attention, and not falling asleep in class or the auditorium during COT, it's just the worst. But I learned that after getting used to it, it feels good to will away an itch and stay still, swallow the funny remark, and maintain the appearance of an officer even when no one is around. It gives you a sense of pride to know that you're stronger than the urge to be lazy and relaxed. It feels good to know you have discipline even when no one is there to enforce it.

4) Teamwork
    a. Looking for strengths in others
    b. Giving feedback
    c. Friendship/roommates

To be continued

Time Capsule

Here's a snapshot of me right now on July 16, 2019

I'll write more about my COT experience later, but I just wanted to reflect on the moment that is now.

Favorite Song: Forever by Lewis Capaldi. I'm obsessed with the lyrics and his voice. It just captures my mood. I just love Lewis Capaldi in general. Mercy is another good song.

Mindset/Goal: Turn every thought from things I can't control and towards my goal- which is to prepare myself to be a military physician, to lead a team, and to improve the military medical system

Guy situation:
Current crush is on a Catholic priest/chaplain. Obviously that one is bound to break my heart, but at least he'll never be with anyone else.

Training situation:
I've got a triathlon in two weeks (Spudman). Definitely not prepared. It's an olympic distance. I have another one that is two weeks after that, so hopefully it goes better. I'm sad I missed the whole tri season!!

Training goals: I want to focus on gaining muscle this fall, and start looking like someone in the military. I saw a girl at the Air Force gym who was lifting more than the guys and doing awesome pull ups. She was about my size, just way bigger amazing arms. That's what I want to look like.

Craving: A sugar cleanse. I've eaten so much crap the past 5 weeks, I don't want any treats for a while.

Point of excitement: I'm going to see Shelley(my sister) and her kiddos soon! As soon as I get home I'm driving straight to their house.

Point of Anxiety: School is starting. 'Nuff said.
Actually, I'm pretty excited for school. With my leadership/preparation mindset, I'm excited to start utilizing the things I learned in COT. Also, I think being a tutor this year will be really great for prepping for my Step exam.
I am nervous about going back to research. I have so much ECMO and ovarian cancer research to do and I'm worried I won't have enough time to finish it all.

Well, that's all for today. I really need to write about COT before I forget about it. Next post I will. I promise!

Surviving COT- Getting There

I was commissioned an officer in the United States Air Force over one year ago and at the time I honestly didn't think it was a big deal. I actually had no idea what I was signing up for or what being an officer or member of the US Air Force even meant.

In the past five weeks while at commissioned officer training in Alabama, I learned very quickly that the commitment I had made in order to finance medical school was much bigger than I had ever dreamed. Luckily for me, that decision which I made on blind faith and rash independence turned out to be one of the best decisions I've ever made in my life. 

I recognize that as a member of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, being a female, in medical school and the military makes for a unique combination of roles and as such, I want to share my story of how I got here. 

To untrained eyes, my decision to join the military looks completely random, but in a way, I've been preparing to take on this role for years. 

I can trace my fascination with the military back to second grade. The student teacher/substitute who was also a family friend, had been in the military years before and told my class stories about boot camp. There must have been something innately attractive to me in the exotic stories and tough attitude, because he was my first teacher crush.

In high school, JROTC kids were mocked by everyone in the school. However, I remember my idolized mentor and science teacher Mr. Parker suggested I look into ROTC to finance college. He wasn't ignorant of the fact that JROTC kids were social pariahs and assured me that in college, ROTC was a lot different than what I had seen. I shrugged it off, cause I knew that wasn't my place in the world. I was too busy planning a way to truly impact the world, make a name for myself, and find a way to be part of something bigger while getting out of the little town I was trapped in and getting to see the world. 

I was also busy with cross country and track. I was addicted to running, fitness, and health. I loved challenging myself physically and making gains in my strength, endurance and discipline. I wanted to see how far I could push my mental and physical barriers. 

Fast forward to my freshman year in college, I met Stephen, the retired Air Force fire-fighter. We became close friends. During sophomore year, I dated Yannick, who had been training for the Green Berets. I heard first hand stories of intense training, motivations to join and then reasons to leave the military. Both of those men talked about the military with solemnity that at the time I didn't understand. Their words came back to haunt me over and over again during COT training though.

My desire to see and impact the world finally led me to take action and serve a mission. My mission to Mongolia not only turned my heart to a career in medicine, but awoke in me a streak of intense patriotism and gratitude for my home country. One by one, the pieces of the puzzle which was my future were starting to fit together.

The semester after I got home from Mongolia, I attended a pre-health conference at UC Davis. That was the first time I was exposed to the idea of the military financing medical school. A bubbly blond dentist shared her story of being stationed in South Korea with her family while working as the dentist on base. The military had paid for her school and she paid them back by working for three years in her chosen profession in a country most people only dream of seeing. She loved it, and I couldn't get her story out of my head.

Since I was a kid, my parents urged financial readiness and responsibility. They had repeatedly counseled me to stay out of debt. They wouldn't allow me to even think of taking a student loan to finance my undergrad education. Even if it meant going to a lower quality school or sacrificing study time to work as a waitress, staying out of debt was the most important consideration. With all of the work I was putting into applying to medical school and the passion I felt for my new career path, I didn't want to sacrifice the quality of my medical education for something as trivial as finances. However, I knew my parents would be anxious about the large amount of debt I would be incurring. 

I played with the idea of financing school by joining the military. I had thrown the idea out there with the guy I was dating. Things were going well with us, and I wanted to guage his response to the possibility. Long story short, he hated it. He didn't want someone to own me, or to tell me where I could or couldn't live. He especially hated the idea of living in Korea. I tried to hide my disappointment, which was more intense than I had anticipated. We broke up a couple weeks later.

During the summer of applying to medical schools, I was doing research at Stanford University. I loved summer internships because it meant I got to live someplace other than St. George. I had lived in Salt Lake, Iowa, Mongolia, and added California to the list. This went along perfectly with my plan of living in many different places for short amounts of time, a plan I had made when I was a stir-crazy senior in high school.

When I returned to school that fall, I had a high MCAT score, a dozen med school applications filed away, and high hopes of graduating and getting into an MD school. I was single, had the world at my fingertips, and happened to see a flyer advertising the Air Force HPSP scholarship program for nurses. I called the number and asked for information about HPSP for medical school. 

I wasn't dating anyone at the time to tell me no, so I went ahead and asked for the information about joining the military. I wasn't sure if I wanted to join or not, I just wanted to get some more information. Pretty soon though, I was connected with a recruiter who wouldn't take any of my non-committal attitude. He pushed and I responded, progressing step by step, while never fully committing in my heart. I filled out the necessary paperwork and got the physical. Finally the day came when my recruiter told me I was on the final step and I needed to review the contract before I signed it. 

I had started dating someone by then, I was even engaged, and he was super supportive of my joining the military. That meant we wouldn't have to worry about finances and he wouldn't have to provide for me and support me during medical school. It made sense and would make life a lot easier.

My recruiter had done a good job of emphasizing the financial gains and opportunities to travel that the Air Force would provide me with. I saw it as a way to pay for medical school and support myself along the way. It seemed like a daring thing to do and this time around, the guy I was dating supported the idea. So, I told my recruiter I was in for the long haul and he made the necessary arrangements and submitted my application. 

By the time my acceptance had been granted and it was time for my commissioning, I had broken up with my fiancee. I took my commissioning paperwork to a bank notary and in basketball shorts and a messy ponytail, I signed the next fifteen years of my life over to the military. The bank notary had a big smile and eagerly told me that the notary fee is waived for military documents. I had no idea what I had just done. 

That night, Sergeant Something-or-other came to the church by my house and gave me a huge certificate and said congratulations. That's when I learned that the signature I had notarized at the bank earlier that day was the extent of my official commissioning paperwork. I had been an officer for 6 hours and didn't even know it. 

Obviously after commissioning and even the awkward ceremony that my ex-fiancee and his whole family showed up to had ended, I felt no different. I was just doing this for the money and so I could go to medical school. I was just there to become a doctor. No big deal.

I maintained this casual attitude for the next year. I told a few people about being in the Air Force, but only in connection with financial conversations or in regard to my workout plans in order to pass the physical test. That was the extent of my loyalty to the military.

So, when I arrived at Maxwell Air Force Base and heard the deafening and threatening bark of the military trainee instructor ask an officer trainee why they were at COT, I realized I had better figure out something better to say than, "I'm just here for the money".

That first day at COT, amidst a sea of trainees I realized that I had been playing for a fool, one of the most powerful entities on earth. I had entered into a contract with the United States Air Force. The most respected and formidable Air Force in the world. I was not going to get away with skirting by. My attitude changed then and there, and I began to ask myself for a new reason to be there, because I knew that when push came to shove, and I was asked to do things that scared me, that stretched me and hurt a bit, I would need an answer that I believed in. 

Art

I wish I was an artist
So the words like glassy dew
Would fall from my lips
They would swirl and spiral
In their descent to earth
Touching the blood red poppy
And arriving like pearls
on a wine colored rose

An artist can take passion
and spin it into gold
A net of glistening power
The ember that sits on my chest
And orange coal bites at my throat
Waiting forever encased in
a robe of purest white

An artist could sort out
Turquoise and scarlet contrasts
Confusion, contradictions
Never dissecting the entanglement
or parsing spidery silken threads
But accepting and caressing
Til elucidating the weave

The artist in my mind
feels more than it sees
The velvet kiss of a wildflower's lips
and warm embrace of the sun after rain
and trapped, these emotions
Run fiery venom through her veins
Til they extinguish in my heart

I wish I were an artist
So the views I see
Of heavenly lilac and muted blush
Bronze casting of strength
Roaring waters of pride
Just waiting in my fingertips
For a place of release
When they can relax
into reliable existence
Would fear no more
for the flightiness of their candle