Sometimes Knights in Shining Armor are Mountain Climbers in Jeeps

It's been a while, I know. That's my bad. That's all on me. I've been busy. I've also had writer's block. And before you give me a million things I could have done to get over writer's block, I should probably explain that it wasn't a lack of story or desire that blocked me, but realizing I actually had some really serious personal issues to work through before I could wholeheartedly write. That's why I was blocked. And no amount of writing or forcing of anything was going to break through the personal struggles I am still dealing with.

But, this is not why I'm writing today. I've had a lot on my mind the last 24 hours and writing is one of the ways I express my emotions best. A friend of mine is missing. He went to climb a mountain on Wednesday night and hasn't been seen or heard from since. Granted, I haven't talked to him in about two-ish years, but let me tell you why I've been thinking about Derrik the last few days.

Derrik is an amazing person. I met him when I was in college and he was friends with one of my roommates. We lived on the third floor and he would climb up to our balcony to come for a visit. As a reward, we'd give him an otter pop. But that's not why I appreciated Derrik. One Sunday night I was baking, which I did often, and he stopped by to see my roommate who wasn't home. I was listening to a movie in the living room very loudly and the buzzer in the kitchen went off just as he knocked on the door. I opened it in passing and hollered to come in as I walked back to the kitchen to pull out a fresh batch of rolls. He walked in and asked if my roommate was home and when I told him she wasn't and offered him a roll, he sat down at our table and we talked for about an hour. Because that's who Derrik was. He was a friend to everyone and loved talking to people.

After that first encounter, he would often leave notes saying hi or bye if I wasn't around when he came by. It always made my day brighter when he stopped by. And I appreciated the times he did stop by and we chatted for a few minutes. More than once he stopped by on particularly hard days when I just needed a friend. I know that he was the answer to several prayers through a particularly rough few months.

All of this led up to my favorite memory of Derrik, though. I went to a church meeting that I was not looking forward to. It was a huge meeting for thousands of young single adult members of my church. I had seriously considered just skipping it. No one would have known I didn't go. But I felt like I should and the twenty-minute drive there was spent praying that I wouldn't have to go or that I wouldn't have to be alone.

I kept telling myself that if I couldn't easily find parking, I wouldn't stay, but then I found a perfect spot. Then I told myself that if I had to walk in alone, I would just leave, but as I said that a jeep pulled in next to my car and Derrik popped out and asked if he could walk with me. Once in the building, we parted ways and I walked into the auditorium filled as far as I could see with people. And not a single easily accessible seat. I am six feet tall and for whatever reason, I wore 3-inch heels that day. Everywhere I looked I just saw people staring at me like an idiot and I couldn't do it. So I turned around to leave and as I got out to the hallway leading to the outside doors, I ran into Derrik. He smiled at me and told me I was going to come sit with him. I really hoped he didn't see the tears that slipped from my eyes that day. I wasn't crying because for a moment I had never felt more alone. I was crying because once again Derrik had shown up just at the right time and was the exact person I needed.

And so, for all of these reasons and so many more, my heart breaks tonight for his family and his friends. This will be the third night in freezing cold weather completely alone and I wish with all of my heart that I could be the friend he needs right now. That I could be the one to help him for once. But all I can do is pray to a loving God to watch over my friend and if Derrik's life has come to an end, I pray that God will bless him for the amazing person he is. I know that my life has been blessed by knowing him and I will always be grateful for the kindness he has always shown me.

The Lesson of Pain

It all started last Wednesday when I got to work and realized I was feeling a bit off. My shoulders were a little achy, I had a bit of a headache and that general feeling of my good health slipping through my fingers. I knew I was coming down with something, but I still felt great and went about my day, pretending that I didn't feel anything out of the ordinary. In fact, I felt perfectly fine until that night when I found myself laying on the floor watching TV shivering, and not from laying on the actually warm carpet. I got up, warmed up my corn bag, put it in the foot of my bed, and got ready for sleep. Three hours earlier than usual. But if sickness was coming, I was going to meet it head on and nip it in the bud. I don't have time for sickness and needed to minimize it as much as possible.
I ended up with three more blankets ony bed and shivering through the night. I could barely move when I woke up. I had that lovely stomach bug that had been going around. It only lasts a day, but it, what a day it is. And for the first time in, like, five years, I called in sick.
My coworker told me the next day that he knew I must have been practically dead to call in, it happens so rarely. So, I lounged about that day, mostly tried to recoup and think well thoughts. And I thought I had kicked it! Great! I went back to work on Friday and worked most of the day.
By the end, hiwever, I was exhausted and just felt fatigued and left a little early. I had dinner with my family and was determined to rest up the renainder of the evening so I could do all the things I needed to that weekend. Oh, how God laughs when we make plans.
I woke up feeling nauseated around 2 AM, and knew that something wasn't right. I spent a majority of that night on the floor of my tiny bathroom. My head was pounding and I could barely move. It must be that stomach bug, back for round 2.
My mom came to check on me, thinking it was just the flu, but I watched concern creep into her eyes as I sat, huddled on the edge of the bathtub peeking through my fingers because my head hurt so much.  She offered me some Coke, thinking that if my stomach would calm, the headache would go away and we could get me rehydrated. It took her almost an hour to coax me out of the bathroom and onto the couch were I was instructed to sip both the Coke and a Gatorade in regular intervals. But I couldn't sip them. As soon as I did, they would come right back. I couldn't keep anything  down, but was finally able to sleep, curled in a ball, for about four hours, which felt heavenly, until I woke up to the same excruciating pain I'd left before I slept. It wouldn't go away and I crawled my way back to my room, feeling  rather sloth like. I couldn't stand because if I did, I'd lose my balance. So, slow crawling it was.
I couldn't watch any shows on my computer because the screen hurt my eyes. I hated the light being on, but I hated the feeling of loneliness even more in the cold dark basement.
So the light stayed on and my mom kept me company on the room next to mine. She worked on sewing projects and I would try to make her laugh. Because I like it when my mom is happy. But everytime she'd come by my door and see me lying there hurting so much, the worry would come back and she'd check her watch to see if I could take morepain killers or not.
Sunday came much like Saturday, with me on the side of the bathtub cradling my eyes because my head still hurt so much. I remember at some point during the night pleading with God to take the pain away. Or at the very least help me understand it. I am used to His answers and the need to wait for them, but I thought surely this time He would make an exception and I'd have an answer. It peace. Something. ANYTHING. But, my answer didn't come that night, in fact I'm pretty sure I'm still waiting for it. Those answers, the quiet pleadings of our hearts, you know the ones, that are every bit of our souls and every scrap of faith we've got left. We throw it all into that prayer of pleading and then sit. Hoping for an answer. For my part, there were more than a number of tears shed, and not just from the pain, though there were plenty to of those too.
There were the silent prayers I did not hear that I know where said on my behalf. The pleading for understanding and how to help this poor soul crying on her cold, dark bathroom floor. They don't go unanswered, you know. Not a tear is shed that isn't accounted for. But what would we learn if at the first sign of pain our loving white Knight came swooping  in? How helpful would that really be for us? It would be nice, but we wouldn't learn.
And so, Sunday morning came and I had now gone three days without keeping any food or liquid down. I had counted those sixteen floor tiles over and over and over again from every angle. I knew each detail in the bathtub non slip decals. I was in the routine of walking in, placing my glasses on the edge of the sink so they wouldn't get dirty. I had become a pro at washing my hands from my knees so I wouldn't get nauseous again. And I even found a semi comfortable spot on the door to lay my head when I just couldn't move any further.
Have you ever watched a parent's heart break for their child? I'm pretty sure I did. My mom, who was fighting a cold herself, would check on me throughout the day. She came home from church and without even taking off her coat came down to check on me. And the worry deepend. She was anxious for me to make any small improvements, buy I didn't. I stayed consistently the same, if not a little worse.
The excruciating pain that I tried to minimalize and pretend to sleep through was not fooling anyone. There was no sleeping through it. There were boughts of exhaustion filled with the craziest dreams I've EVER had, which is saying something. And more of the same. That afternoon, I prayed another pleading prayer up to God begging for anything. ANYTHING that I could do or say that would take this pain away. And again, the heavens fell silent.
That night was darker than the others. I didn't see myself getting  better. Normally there's some change, but not with this. I saw no hope. Now, I know what you're thinking, 'Really, Suz, that was what, like, two days?! Come on. Surely it couldn't have been THAT bad', and you're right, it wasn't a long duration to this point, but I had a sickness that was not going away and I was at a  loss what to do.
My mom came to me at about 5 in the morning asking for my insurance information so she could find a doctor that would see me that morning. She was not going  another day through this and I guided her to what she wanted and collapsed back onto my bed. By 9 she had the day off of work and an appointment for me at 11. I hadn't washed my hair in about 4 days at this point, maybe 5. My glasses were filthy and I literally grabbed whatever clothes were closest to me. It ended up being an old t-shirt and jeans with holes ripped in them. I could not have looked more homeless if I tried. But I just didn't care, the pain was the only thing on my mind.
We went back to the exam room and I sat there, head in my hands because it was so bright and my head hurt so much. The doctor came in and kind of looked over the scene. I'm sure he was wondering if I was completely there mentally. But after a few questions I could see the wheels start to turn in his head and he was trying to figure out the strange puzzle before him.
It was not the stomach bug I thought wouldn't leave me alone, but a really awesome migraine that wasn't letting go. I left with a prescription that would hopefully get me on my way to recovery.
This is where the lesson comes in. Pain sucks. It does. There's no way around it. There's nothing inherently good about it. But isn't it funny the things we learn through it? Some of the happiest people I've ever met have been through the most excruciating experiences. This experience was very small for me, really. But it made me stop and take a look at my life. Do I only pray when I need help? Do I pray only to be heard? My prayer wasn't answered your I wanted it to, but it was answered. I did find our what was happening to me, and even how to get rid of it.
This could be the start of a bigger lesson for me, though never know, but I am grateful that I know that my suffering is never in vain or without purpose. I am often reminded of my favorite scripture in Alma 7:11-13
"11 And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people.
12 And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities.
13 Now the Spirit knoweth all things; nevertheless the Son of God suffereth according to the flesh that he might take upon him the sins of his people, that he might blot out their transgressions according to the power of his deliverance; and now behold, this is the testimony which is in me."
Jesus Christ suffered for ALL of us, for EVERYTHING we'd experience. The good, bad, and ugly. And he did that so he could succor, or run to the aid of, us. How wonderful is that?! Someone that loves you, personally, that much. He is right there with us. Always. And forever

Unrequited

If you are new to reading my blog, then you may not know this, but I am the Queen of Unrequited Love. It's super awesome. I came across a posting of places you can submit essays for publication and The New York Times Modern Love blog is always looking for submissions. So, I took a deep breath and wrote my own live story and submitted it. It had to be a true story that was previously unpublished, including on a blog. So, I never said anything here for that purpose. That is until I got a lovely rejection from them this morning, I'm now sharing my super awesome sorry with you.

UNREQUITED
By: Soozee Carmichael

When I was five, I kissed Bobby Anderson on the swing set in his backyard, which was next door to my house. I thought I was going to love him forever. And then I saw the wolf spider on my leg and screamed and ran back home. Bobby didn't talk to me for many years. This should have been an indication of what my love life would be like in the future, but who thinks that when they're five?

At sixteen, I started my first job bagging groceries in our local store. That's how I met Charlie Cook. He was bringing in a load of carts from the parking lot. He pushed the carts into their place and turned and nodded in my general direction. I swooned internally. He was tall, blonde, and very handsome. I fell for him right then. I didn't even know his name, but I knew we were perfect for each other. He walked towards me and I almost fainted. Then, passing me, said hi to Jessica, the girl at the register behind me. I can still feel the embarrassment. The ironic thing is that both Charlie and Jessica became two of my best friends. We were almost inseparable for the year and a half we worked through high school.

Junior year I finally mustered enough courage to ask Charlie to the Sweethearts dance. He lived in the next town over and went to our school's biggest rival. I liked that he didn't go to school with me, because I wanted to show up at the dance with someone no one knew and was a little mysterious. Except, no one actually noticed me or Charlie. We danced and then went home. The night ended with an awkward side hug. I still thought we were perfect for each other. He just wanted to be friends.

I chose to go on a mission for my church. The night before I left home for a year and a half, Charlie stopped by to say goodbye. I remember hugging him so tightly and praying that he'd still be around when I got home. We'd been through so much together and in the back of my mind I still loved him. That was the first time I dreamed about Dean Carmichael. In this dream, I walked along a beach. There was a black and white lighthouse in the distance and I was wearing a simple white dress. I walked up to him and he took my face in his hands and kissed me. It was a deep, emotion driven kiss. He never told me his name, I just knew that his name was Dean Carmichael and that we were in love. And then, I woke up. It felt so real that it took a minute to realize he wasn't actually here. It wasn't real.

During my mission, I didn't think about Charlie or anything else from back home. My days were filled with service. I heard from many of my friends each week, but not Charlie. I think that was for the best. When I got home, I stopped by his house and although I still loved him, it was different. We'd both changed while I was gone. He'd fallen in love with a mutual friend somewhere along the way. Within a few months, he turned up on my doorstep with an invitation to the wedding.

Wedding season is the worst when you're single. Especially when you think you might still have feelings for the groom. I sat outside Charlie's reception for a while deciding if I was actually going to go in. I decided I'd regret it if I didn't and walked in. Charlie told me this wouldn't change anything. We'd always be friends. But I knew our friendship was over. Surprisingly, I didn't cry after I left. In fact, somehow I knew this was for the best. Charlie was happy, and that's what I wanted for my friend.

It was a long time before I thought I loved someone. Then Jason Lockhart showed up. He walked into church one Sunday full of confidence and charisma. I should have known nothing good would come of this. There he was with his beard and longish hair, looking like a mountain man. He sat by me and we talked for a long time. I invited him to come hang out with me and my friends, and I would often cook because I knew he was coming. I'm an amazing cook and he would always tell me so. The rest of my life was a mess. I hadn't finished school yet and didn't even know what I wanted to do. I liked talking to him because he was a few years older and seemed to be so much smarter than me. When we were with groups of people he was always aware of where I was in the room. He would gently grab my arm as I walked by from time to time and I thought for sure I was in love for real this time.

With the coercion of a friend, I asked Jason out. The date was a mess, and I ended up with a fever before the night ended. He made sure I got home safely and asked if he'd see me the next day. I told him that I had a lot to do and that he probably would. He looked concerned.

“Take it easy. No need to stress yourself out.” He told me.

“I'll be fine. I'm sure this fever will break and I'll see you tomorrow.” I replied.

“I'm going to call if I don't see you, okay?” He asked. I blushed a little, though you probably couldn't tell from the fever and nodded. He gave me a tight hug and then left. That night, while reveling in the short lived joy of the evening before I started getting sick, I fell asleep and dreamed of Dean Carmichael again. This time I was visiting the grocery store I had once worked in. I held Dean's hand and an old coworker approached me. He asked how I'd been and kept looking at Dean like he couldn't believe we were together. I just smiled and Dean put his arm around me. The love I felt for Dean was beyond anything I'd ever felt for Jason. I woke up again almost looking for Dean in my small twin bed.

The next morning I felt like death. I didn't leave my bed. Jason called, as promised. Our conversation lasted thirty-two seconds. His tone was different. I knew then that everything had changed. I don't know what changed, but he didn't pay me much attention after that. He always talked about doing stuff, but was always busy. He moved away a few months later and I never saw him again.

Shortly after Jason moved, I had another dream with Dean. This one was a little different from the others. I was packing for a trip and Dean came into our room. He went over to the closet and started helping me pack.

“I don't want to go,” I told him.

“It won't be forever. I promise,” he told me back. I awoke again. I was now twenty eight. I had never had a serious boyfriend and every time I had fallen in love it had been unrequited. But in my dreams, there was a man that loved me beyond reason. And even when I was going somewhere, he was quick to remind me that he would always be there for me.

After Jason, I started to be a lot more cautious about who I let in to my life. I met a guy that seemed very Dean-like. Eddie Cooper and I had a lot of the same interests and even pursued the same degree in school. But he was very flaky, either showing up very late or not at all. When I'd see him again he'd be very quick to compliment my beauty or tell me how wonderful I was. Unfortunately for him, I already knew I was beautiful and didn't like my time to be wasted.

In the midst of falling for Eddie, and then un falling for Eddie I had another dream with Dean. This time I was getting ready for an evening to honor an achievement I had earned for my writing. I walked into the living room and he was wearing a well fitted dark blue suit. I put my last earring in and he smiled as I entered the room.

“You look breathtaking” he told me. I didn't say anything in return. I just kissed him gently on the lips and took his arm as we walked out of our house together. When I woke up this time I felt alone and left out. This dream, more than the others, seemed impossible. I felt like all I was ever going to find were the Eddies of the world. Or maybe the Jasons. My Twenty ninth birthday was hard. I felt like an old maid that would never be wanted by anyone. Dean had become a horrible nightmare that I dreaded seeing when I closed my eyes.

Somewhere along the way I realized Dean Carmichaels don't come around everyday. And if I want to find a Dean Carmichael, I need to be the best version of myself. I want to be that girl in my dreams. The one that he can adore, and that adores him in return. Instead of sitting by, waiting for him to show up, I decided to take my future into my own hands. I picked a major and got a degree. I focused on how I could help those around me. I bake treats and take them to people because who doesn't love a delicious home baked treat? I don't need to find Dean this very minute. I need to be the best I can so that when I do find Dean, and I will, I can fall in love with him without worry or regret. I'll know that all the waiting was worth it.

ALL THE FEELS

We all know of my *slight* addiction to TV shows, especially those of the superhero variety. But dang. Seriously. It has been a rough go of my shows lately. The writers are killing people left and right. It's like Injustice: Year 1, Issue 16 when Dick Grayson is accidentally killed by Damian Wayne. In the midst of this huge battle between Batman and Superman and their respective teams a single moment stands out. and suddenly you're ugly crying to the point that you have to put your comic down because you can't read you're crying so hard.

That's been me watching my shows. So many character deaths. Ugh. I hate it. Some are short and quick, like on The Flash last week, and others have been awful and drawn out. #savehook. Writers. You're killing me. And the feels. Oh the feels. I hate trying to explain why I'm ugly crying over a show. *sob*sob* "you just don't get it! It was his dad! The only family he had left! *sob*sob* and now he's gone!!" more sobbing. more ugly crying. All over fictional characters. This is my life.

And then, there's the other aspects of my life. Job searching. It's the worst. I hate spending hours a day filling out applications to companies that aren't even going to email me to let me know they're not interested. I feel like my information just goes into a black hole of nothingness sometimes.

I actually applied for a job that would potentially lead to my dream job. I saw the listing about this time last Thursday night/Friday morning and applied for it. And now comes the waiting game. The constant worry that I might not even hear back from them. That somehow the awesomeness of my resume and writing sample will some how not impress whoever I sent it to. If they even look at it. And my dream job could easily slip through my fingers. I'm not saying this to be negative, I'm just saying this because it's consuming my soul and I'm tired of it consuming my soul. I'm just tired. And not just because it's 2:32 AM and I'm still awake after finishing this season of iZombie. It's more than that.

In light of my above little outburst of emotion, I have decided to share with you a poem that I wrote. This is me putting myself completely out in the open as a writer. I am not a poet by nature and I struggled hard core in my intermediate poetry class, and the following poem is the result. That semester I was hooked on LIGHTS and couldn't help but write, like, all of my poems about Emma, Ian and Donovan. So, this poem is called Starlit Dreams and it's from Emma's perspective after she's lost Ian:

Starlit Dreams

I watch for every flicker

lighting the corners of my

eyes, and into my imagination.

Each night as I sleep, I hope

beyond the truth, the seconds

trickle past and tease me. A broken watch

remains, last proof that he is real. An echo

of his rich laugh a fire and coals on a cold day.

His fingers slipped from my neck, pausing

briefly at the base, like a waterfall

pooling. Waiting, holding, hoping

that time does not move past

his eyes. Deep caverns with a spark of light

that guides the weary strangers. I

caress the memory of waking

up beside him, the sting of winter kept

away by the warmth of his smile.

I dream of silver trees next to

ocean breezes after a storm

with hope and starlit dreams.

I may have broken someone's heart yesterday and although I don't regret that I did it, I do hope that I didn't cause more damage than necessary. It's made me stop and think a lot about how we treat other people. A LOT of people that I care about in my life have given me a lot of advice on how I should approach things. I listened to them for a while, but when I'm alone, and especially after I've spent some time reading my scriptures and contemplating my life, I have come to realize a few things. First, that how I personally feels does, in fact, matter. Second, that although we should give everyone a really good chance, that doesn't always mean that things are going to go the way you or other people think they will. Third, don't waste people's time. I feel really bad about that one because I think I wasted more time than I should have. I should have been more direct, but I was worried I would hurt someone or not give them enough of a chance. Instead, I put it off a lot longer than I should have. Which happens. Ugh. Feelings. They're killing me, guys. You can't live with them, and you can't live without them. I kind of feel like Barry Allen on tonight's The Flash. There's a moment towards the end of the episode where there's a big reveal and he can't handle it anymore and he goes out into the hallway and just collapses on the ground and is sitting there with his elbows resting on his knees and his face in his hands and there's tears streaming down his face. He just couldn't handle the emotions anymore. That's me mentally. I'm beyond my breaking point emotionally. Which is what it is. And I'll find the strength along the way. But dang. ALL THE FEELS. I tell you what, they're not so bueno.