necessity of necessity

i stared helplessly at the neatly folded t-shirts in my drawer. i had nothing left to do.

i had sorted through every last belonging of mine, throwing some things out, stashing others in a large sack for charity, and finding permanent homes for the rest. my linen shelves were methodically organized, towels and sheets in their proper places. my bureau drawers were cleaned out and tidily arranged. the gift wrapping supplies and extra boxes in my coat closet was sorted and tucked away. i had rearranged my dish cabinets 3 times and replaced picture frames, pillows, and furniture. the vacuum had run it's usual course through the apartment several times that week. even the rugs were freshly shaken and cushions recently fluffed.

i'd started spending more time at my aunt's house. she was hopelessly busy and lived in a state of cheerful chaos at all times. i busied myself with video projects and excess laundry, piles of dishes and dirty windows. i worked my way through the family, curling hair and applying make-up, trailing behind and holding extra clothing during family pictures.

i found friends with tired bodies and precious children to babysit for, neighbors struggling to prepare for extended vacations, co-workers with impossible love lives.

the time eventually came that i was not needed.

i had nothing to do. i had nothing that needed to be done, and no one that needed me.


i hadn't heard from my sister in weeks.

i had caught her tucking away pictures of dresses, rings, and flowers. it seemed "a year" was no longer the plan, and she hadn't breathed a word of it to me.

she usually didn't talk to me when she was happy. she didn't need me when she was happy.


i hadn't heard from the rest of my family much, either, except for the occasional text message from my mom. she was working double-shifts at the diner and i could hear in her voice that she was exhausted, but more content than she had been in a while. she needed the job at the diner.

but she didn't need me.


not even my office needed me. they knew it, i knew it, my co-workers knew it. i wasn't valuable to the company, which made me less motivated, pushing my necessity further down the scale. i was filling space, and occasional conversation, and that was about it.


tracing my hands over the folds of clothing in the drawer, my mind drifted to a time when i was needed. wanted. thought-of, at the very least.

it wasn't a pleasant experience.


yet, here i was, feeling unneeded and wishing someone would call me with a crisis so i could feel some type of purpose once again.

via

memorial day weekend

This is going to be one of those real-life posts, for anyone who cares what I do with my time. (mom.)

ps i took zero pictures of the weekend because i suck, but imagine some really great photos of really exciting things, okay?

my cousin is leaving for his mission to Wellington, New Zealand in a week, and so this weekend mostly revolved around his farewell festivities.

the thing is that lately, i've been getting really anxious in large groups? am i a thousand years old? so saturday's luau celebration found me in the basement, reading and hiding from throngs of people who i've met several times, but don't recognize me, and later insist that they do in fact remember me ("oh, yes, you used to have red hair!")

and the sunday morning family brunch found me napping because, i mean, 50 people to whom i'm distantly related is just a little much to handle for my poor, stress-riddled body.

church had easily 500 crammed into one chapel and it was uncomfortably warm and unreasonably long and unexpectedly emotional.

luckily, there was a post-luau-and-brunch wreckage for me to come back to, and cleaning just really eases my nerves, did you know that? i spent a good 3 hours cleaning and slept for two hours and felt a million times better.

monday morning brought on yet another crowd as the memorial day breakfast up the canyon commenced. i was feeling resolved of the anxiety from the previous few days, but also had an upset stomach so i still couldn't quite enjoy myself because i live my life in crisis mode, and so.

after breakfast we went back and just hung by the pool for like 4 hours. the weather was beautiful and i split my time between basking and reading Great Gatsby (walking cliche right here, i know, i know) and playing pool volleyball.

then we had the genius idea to ride bikes up to maui chill, because who doesn't love 50% off frozen yogurt (except it ended up being 20% off frozen yogurt, but even 0% off frozen yogurt is worth the trip, am i right?) and i'll tell you, beach cruisers in a sundress and sandals are wonderful for beach cruising, but not so much for 2-mile rides up treacherous hills. my body is still hurting.

and also i don't believe in sunscreen.

and also also, all of these events took place at my aunts house, and i wasn't home all weekend, so when i came back at 9 pm last night, i set out on a mission to clean. i'm getting rid of huge trashbags full of clothes and deep cleaning out every drawer and shelf in my house, and i'm just feeling less and less stressed by the second.



so, if you ever need anything cleaned, what i'm saying is that it would really just be my pleasure.

my mother found our first piano at a garage sale when i was 7 years old.

the beat-up, upright piano had spent the majority of it's life in a saloon. the keys were yellowed and chipped, the stench of nicotine had seeped itself permanently into the body. it hadn't been tuned in years, and it's bench had long since been thrown out.

from the moment i saw it in our house, i was completely enamored.

sometimes, after i'd been put to bed, but before i'd fallen asleep, my mom would play. i can just imagine her, taking a few moments to herself, fingers gliding over the keys, eyes closed, lost in memories and pensive introspection. i distinctly remember feeling so peaceful and safe as moonlight sonata drifted up the stairs and rocked me to sleep.

after a few months of lessons, i knew i wanted to play forever. i wrote my grandfather a letter, asking him for the sheet music to fur elise. he sent me his own personal copy, yellowed and ripping, taped together, notes scrawled across the margins.

my father once sat me on his lap as my mother played the piece in the other room. he told me to close his eyes and describe the music i was hearing. the two of us listened to the song over and over, talking about ballerinas and magic and trying to articulate music in a way that can't truly be done.... but it's the greatest thing to try.

i want a piano in my future home. i want to play canon in d, which is my favorite song in the world, or clair de lune, which is my second favorite. i hope my kids are still awake as i plunk out the tunes that will hopefully instill in them a sense of peace and safety, and stick in their minds as a special memory, just as my mother's playing has for me.

this is my family.

we haven't done family pictures in five years.

i don't have a home.
where i live now is temporary. and where my family lives now is foreign to me.

the drive from my non-home to my parents non-home is about 3 and a half hours of straight desert.
it's usually really long, extremely boring, and kind of dangerous.

but there's one part of the drive that changes me a little bit every time.

it's about 2 and a half  hours in. it's usually dark by this time, and i'm surrounded by nothingness. to the distant right are quiet redrock cliffs; to the left are dirt hills and sparse shrubbery.

all you can really see are stars.

my favorite thing to do at this point is roll down my windows, regardless of the temperature, set my cruise control to 95, and blast this song.

i do that until the hypothermia sets in.

then i roll up my windows and turn off any sound.

then, i just take it all in.

the blank slate that is the road ahead of me, the sky above, my future.

it's a very reverent moment for me. i feel... peaceful. in awe of a greater power, a sense of control that i can't quite grasp.

it's in those few minutes, between green river and floy, in the middle of the desert, all alone... it's in those few minutes that i feel most at home.

winter blues

it's winter, did you know?

i'm sitting on my couch wearing a heavy cardigan and thick, wool socks; there are twinkle lights lining my front window; fat, dusty flakes are falling just outside; and i have a heart that's aching for home.

this is the second winter in my whole life that i'll be living away from home. and the first winter away from home, i still found myself home once a week, and was packed up to go home for the holiday by december twelfth.

this year, i'm living alone. i'll have my own tree. my own lights. my own hot cocoa.

it's kind of a silly thing to be complaining about, isn't it? independence? freedom and adulthood?

it's just that, i grew up twenty-five minutes from here, but somehow my whole family is living an entire state away. i can't go home for family nights to decorate the tree, or make gingerbread cookies after sunday dinner, or watch elf for the twenty millionth time. i can't get endless hugs from daniel or have wrestling matches with sam or talk until 3 am with my sister. i am always longing for my father's advice and my mother's sense of humor.

a few days ago, when it snowed, like really snowed for the first time, i felt nostalgic. and i thought i was romantically nostalgic, like maybe i should have a boyfriend when it's so beautiful outside. but i now realize that the weather makes me nostalgic for family, for home. past, present, and especially future.

it's the weirdest feeling ever, this longing that i have for my future family. my heart aches to be in love, my legs ache to set off on life's journey, my arms ache to scoop up my babies and kiss their sweet faces until they're fast asleep. i know i'm young, and i'm just being silly, but i just know that it's out there for me and.... i just... miss it. can you miss something you've yet to know?

anyway. i'm missing my family. and my traditions. and my future life.

winter is awfully beautiful, and awfully, awfully lonely.

life lately (picture overload)

a few months ago, i went to moab with my dad. 

we went hiking, rafting, and hieroglyph sighting.

it was awesome.

fall is my favorite season, but it's cut short in utah by long summers and longer winters.

i have made sure to soak it up all i can by going on a million hikes.

i'm obsessed!

can you even believe i live here?!

(pictures from three separate hikes.)

of course, i've been working. a lot.

i really like my job. i like everyone i work with, and i get to work with kade!

but we get bored... so we doodle and have orange peeling contests.

as always, food has played a pretty important role in my life these days.

and! i was at cafe rio the other day, and a worker brought me a tres leches; my fave!

i said "i didn't order this?"

and she said "someone asked me to give it to you."

it was the most random and awesome thing that's happened to me!

(if you have information on this anonymous giver of cake, please send your tips to the comments section of this post.)

and, of course, for your viewing pleasure,

here's my god-babe, cutest kid you ever did SEE.

This post was to prove that my life isn't as cryptic and depressing as the rest of my blog is.

Regular posting to resume... now.

this was my bedroom.

our renters painted it white.

as i walked down the hall toward the open door, i thought "i don't even recognize this room. this isn't really even my room anymore."

but then, i walked in, and the smell...

the smell.

it smells the same. after a year of me being gone, and a stranger inhabiting my space, my room still smells the same.

it's like the 9 years of life that i spent in that room have made their place there. the memories have seeped into the walls, settled themselves into the corners.

it smells a little like sun-warmed carpet, clean sheets, and notebook paper.

you'd think that i'd spend my time dwelling on the big things that happened in that room. the tears and the sex and the drugs.

but the first thing i thought of was sitting on the edge of my bed and facing my window, shutters open, window cracked, feeling the mixed sensation of the warm sun streaming through the glass and the cool breeze sneaking through the screen. not feeling any particular emotion or thinking any particular thought or looking in any particular direction. just sitting, and being.

and then i thought of laying of the floor, belly down, pen in mouth, reading my american history book.

and then i thought of standing around with my friends, and molly acting like a political adviser as my dog stood at the window, looking very presidential indeed.

and then i thought of early mornings styling my hair, and late nights jumping on my bed to the beat of "mmmbop" and the glow of my lava lamp while drifting off to sleep.

the time that i spent in my room was probably the most significant time in my life. because it was my in-between time, my alone time. the time where i was just completely myself, because no one was watching me. that's where i got ready, wound-down, cried, laughed, wrote, and just was. felt the breeze and the sun and left myself completely in the moment because i didn't have anything to think about or do.

those are the memories i have in my room.

and as i left the house, i realized that... i wasn't as sad as i thought i would be. driving away from the place that knew me best, knowing i would never go there again.

and the fact that i wasn't sad made me sad. i knew that i was moving on from a significant time in my life.

that's always hard, you know?

the life i almost had; a narration of the last four years of my life

it's 4:30 am and i can't sleep.

my insomnia has, of course, led me to catching up on the lives of old friends. i've gone through all my core friend groups from the last 5-ish years of my life, just to see where i'd be if i would have just picked one group and stuck with it.

here's what i've come up with.

a picture from each summer of the last four years. 

i started at byu just more than 4 years ago.

my first year was spent exactly right. i lived in the dorms and ate at the cannon center and went to the dances and attended church every sunday and made cookies for boys in my ward. i even tanked my first semester like every normal college student (NOT normal for byu, but listen... college is hard, beer or not, okay?)

for the first semester of my second year, i lived at home. i blamed it on the fact that one of my dearest friends from high school had a brain tumor, and i wanted to be close to her. and that was... partially true.

but if i'm being honest, like completely honest with myself, it was because the last few weeks of my first year didn't go so well socially. and it was absolutely my fault, i have no way of getting around that. i made some decisions that lost me some very strong relationships and i don't know if i'll ever really get over that.

but anyway, i never looked for an apartment or did any kind of serious thinking that involved moving back to provo. secret? i haven't been back to provo since then. i mean obviously i've been there, but i haven't moved back or even really spent significant time there that wasn't on campus. i can't explain it, something about provo gives me anxiety.

the second semester of my second year, i moved out with my best friend. we'd known each other since jr high and she had never moved out and i didn't want to go anywhere without a security blanket that came in the form of a relationship that i could probably never ruin if i tried, so we moved to orem. close enough?

and i lived this semester trying to do all the things right, but not really. we kind of socialized, we went to maybe 40% of the church that we were supposed to, and my job became more important to me than my school. and, while in the long run i think living with my best friend ultimately strengthened my relationship with her, it was kind of hard at the time. we had small fights that mostly consisted of not speaking for days, and she came back to the apartment maybe 3 nights a week, and i developed a kind of social depression that found its way into my life by way of gossip girl reruns and cadbury eggs--which were the reason my adventures in veganism ended.

--oh yeah, i tried veganism. so far, i've tried the typical provo-byu college lifestyle, the granola-y vegan "phase" college lifestyle, and the working-more-than-schooling college lifestyle.

it was at the end of my second year that my mom was checked into a hospital and then my parents were separated for some time. i could probably use more discretion in this subject, but it is what it is. my dad asked me to move home to help take care of the family. my mom was gone, my dad was a wreck, my sister just avoided being home at all costs, so i was just kind of there. pretending to hold everyone together.

it's important that i say here that i used to blame my proceeding life choices on this phase in my life. while they did play a huge role in things that were to come, i made my own choices. i had my own desires. when presented with the same opportunities that i was, under different circumstances, it's likely that i would have made the same decisions.


after my mom moved back home, i moved to my aunts house. i kind of wish that i never would have done that because it did some serious damage in a lot of my relationships, but it was a necessary step.

it was here that i met bryson.

i moved back home after a few months and started school. the day before school started, bryson and i started a little adventure that turned into a year-long relationship. that entire school year was spent in a whirlwind of mistakes. my parents were completely checked out. they spent basically the entire year in their bedroom trying to sort things out, and my sister and i got away with everything. it was during this one year of my life that i made every serious mistake i've probably ever made.

there's not really much more to say about that school year. i did worse that year than my first semester, probably because i wasn't sober for most of it. i also fell in love that year.

the summer after my third year at byu, i was completely in love with someone and i was prepared to marry him. well, i thought i was prepared to marry him. i laugh at that now, but anyway. he cheated on me, so i told him to never speak to me again, and that was that.

moving on.

my parents moved to colorado this summer, and it should be clear by now that i'm a person who was/is socially unfit for roommates, etc. so, after bouncing around from couch to couch for a few weeks, i moved in with my cousin, who owns a house and lives alone, and continued to live out of boxes. i stayed there for an entire semester, which i took off of school. i had just started a new job, ended a serious relationship, and really came into my problem with substances.

i like to think that it's my relationship with bryson that gave me a substance-abuse problem, but it was really the time after things ended that it was truly an issue. while we were together, i was still mostly just experimenting. it's afterwards that i started trying harder drugs and drinking more and slutting around like a real-life college student.

then one day, i decided to grow up. i moved out into my own apartment, BY MYSELF, and went back to school part time. i tried sobriety and church for two months, and then mike happened. well, nothing really happened, but it was just kind of the principle behind the whole situation, and also ashlee came back into the picture at the same time, so how could i not have returned to my life of narcotics?

right?

so i was back to smoking and drinking and pill popping, mostly on the weekends. or when i wanted to go jogging.

and then my sister moved in with me. (for those who have made it this far, we're in the summer after my fourth year at byu, aka a few months ago.)

my sister has many more friends than i do, and they mostly all have a substance problem, too. we thought we were so sophisticated, with wine parties on the deck and hot boxes in the bathroom, but really, i was just falling further into my habit of denial and anti-socialism. only hanging out with my sisters friends? and being that weird stoner older sister that always gets the kids high?

that was me.

and now..... well. it's only been a few weeks of sobriety for me. and it takes every last ounce of energy and focus not to fall back on old habits.

speaking of old habits, i've rekindled a friendship with bryson. we go to institute together and try to keep each other sober and it's weird. that's all i have to say because i'm trying not to think about it too much, or i'll probably get freaked out and never talk to him again. but it's been good and i'm happy so, no more thinking!

ALL OF THIS IS TO SAY!

i could have lived the provo lifestyle. i could have gone from the dorms, to liberty square, to king henry, where i'd probably still be. except i'd probably be graduated, actually. because i'm into my fifth year now. and i still have a year to go. all those semesters off... shoot.

in any case, what i'm trying to say is that... i always kind of hated the provo lifestyle. i thought it was stupid and fluffy and annoying.

and now, i just have this overwhelming feeling that i need to abandon the life i've set up for myself, the apartment that i've spent the last 10 months furnishing and establishing, and i need to get room mates. and go to church. and hike the fucking Y. and probably stop saying fuck.

except that i know i can't back track, so.. now i'm just feeling stuck. i'm feeling old and sad and overwhelmed by the lives i could have lived.

hopefully, i'll figure out what life i'm supposed to live soon, so that i can get to it. i don't want to feel this regretful hindsight feeling ever again.



if you made it to the end of this post, please leave your name and address so i can send you a thousand dollars.

i'm sad that the beautiful new gold watch i bought that goes with everything and is perfect in every way is made of some abhorrent material to which i am allergic. 

 and i'm sad my best friend hates me right now. break ups stink, did you know? 

 and i'm absolutely sad that my sister is out of town and my family officially sold their utah house and everyone is so god damn old. 



 but then there's late drives up the canyon and purple hair and the smell of lavender, so, you know.

 life's good.

waking up, for me, is like clawing my way through seven hundred layers of reality in a crazy swirling vortex of nothingness and everythingness all at once

this morning, as i was lying in bed, climbing through those last few layers of consciousness, i rolled over to my sister (sometimes we have slumber parties) and said


"girls have relationshops or relationstars. boys have relationsex and relationsnacks."





i still can't figure out what i was really getting at with that theory, but i'm sure it was profound.

the thing about the jeans: an overly detailed explanation of the female psyche

did i ever tell you about my bra shopping experience?

does any one else's heart just hurt of baby-less-ness?
i may invest in a puppy sometime soon...

when there's nothing left to burn, you have to set yourself on fire

today, i asked my sister how she felt about some boys from her past.
and she said fine, i've moved on to bigger and better.
and i jokingly said, named?
and she laughed and said, named self-respect.



and i.... cried.


because, that's what i've been saying to myself and everyone else for the last 9 months.
you only really ever move on once you've accepted yourself and learned to love who you are, etc etc.


you've heard all this from me before.


but.... lately, i've forgotten.
i've allowed myself to worry about money instead of be proud of my independence.
to let the emptiness of my apartment inspire loneliness instead of freedom.
to constantly worry about calories and  wear more makeup than is necessary and feel nauseous whenever i hear the name "shelby."

i'm letting myself slip back into a place of insecurity.
this is a place that i have worked so hard to get out of.
to realize that there's nothing wrong with me. i have flaws, yes. but it wasn't until i saw the good in myself that i could tackle the bad.

and bit by bit, my self-critical, self-loathing side has creeped it's way into the forefront of my mind.
and i've been so unhappy; not because of my current circumstance, but because i stopped working to love myself.

to respect myself.


and my sister not only reminded me of that today, but also showed me how much she's grown.
i'm happy for her to learn the things i've learned. and to apply them.

it's a sucky lesson to learn, but it really, really is the most important one.

this weekend was a productive one.

i ran this race, then went to this pub, to see this band, and watch this game.

even though i did some really fun things, by the end of the weekend, i was itching to get home and just be.

i'm seriously getting old.

Mason Scott Adams 

Thursday, January 19th

i love this little dude. we've been hangin' out for, like, 9 months, but i've never actually met him until today. (you know that feeling?) and he's way more awesome than i ever could have imagined. he's so sweet and super strong, he has a ton of personality for only being a few hours old! i'm so excited to watch this little guy grow up. he has amazing parents and a great support system around him. i hope he understands how much he is loved. 

mason, dude, welcome to earth!

this is a(n extra extra long) story about how my table came to be.

quote of the day

daniel: "i hate it when they say 'k-i-s-s' in a song. it just makes me feel uncomfortable. i'm like, this is inappropriate for my age. i'm only ten years old. i just feel like... it's not for me."

monday playlist. it's my blog, i do what i want.

this weekend, my sister and i drove out to colorado for some family festivities. unfortunately, the instant we arrived, death befell my very soul and i spent the majority of the weekend in bed or in the bath (random side note--don't most tubs have a slanted back so you can recline? not my parents. straight up and down. miserable.)

we were able to make hot chocolate and eat soup and watch christmas movies, however, so i think it was still a fine weekend.

here's a little playlist to get you jazzed for the christmas season!!

i want a hippopotamus for christmas - gayla peevey
white christmas - the drifters
the christmas song - nat king cole
have yourself a merry little christmas - frank sinatra
sleigh ride - the ronettes

photo credit: me
my mom collects these totally creepy elves
that are design-y, i guess,
but they're scary.
also they're 50 bucks each, so...