It's 4:14 in the morning. I haven't been sleeping well at all the past several days. All the days are blurring together now, and I can't stop them from doing so. I'm trying to get on a more regular sleep schedule, so that I can fall asleep before 2 and wake up before noon. But it feels like the more I try, the less I'm able to fall asleep, and the more desire I have to sleep through alarms.
I think my insomnia might be coming back. For those who don't know, I had insomnia pretty bad from the time I was 12 'til I was 16. It was brought on by my hormones beginning to go crazy in the 7th grade, and then stopped in the 11th grade once my body had somewhat stabilized. While I had it, my sleep schedule was insane. I would fall asleep at 1 or 2 in the morning, and then wake up for seminary around 5:30. This resulted in crazy mood swings and depression a lot of the time. However, over the past two years I've been doing pretty well other than the occasion sleepless night that I've found most people have.
But for some reason, I think that it's coming back now. Probably because of stress, and all the changes that are happening (or, at least, supposed to be happening.) Lately I've just had no motivation to do anything. Nothing seems to make me genuinely excited anymore, either. I don't feel as close to friends I once felt close to, and those who I've begun to feel stronger towards are leaving on missions or are busy with their lives during the summer. I dunno. I guess lately I've just felt like I'm in a bit of a box. A box with one way glass, where I can look out, but people can't look in. It's not that I won't let people look in, heck I really WANT people to do so. It just feels like people don't want to. If I want to hang out with or see people, then I have to instigate it. I don't get invited to activities anymore. I don't get texted or called, heck I don't even get acknowledged much without some sort of instigation of contact on my part.
I've also been getting really pissed off at a lot of stupid stuff too. My car not working still/again. Myself, a lot of the time. Even stupid things like games and stuff. I started swearing again, something that I haven't done since freshman year of high school. And not even like under my breath and stuff. Like out loud, sometimes screamed if I'm alone. I'm trying to break this, but when it feels like I'm on such a short fuse because of lack of sleep I don't even notice until it's happened. I usually have so much more self control, but it just feels like lately I haven't had any. I haven't been able to control much of anything. Nothing I do, nothing people around me do, nothing that my life is doing.
People keep asking me when I'm putting my mission papers in. And each time I tell them something different. I have to, because the days pass too quickly and the problems I'm struggling with aren't resolved yet. I wish I could tell people a definite date. I wish that I could just stop struggling and figure everything out and go on a mission like all the rest of my friends are. I want to be able to do so. I've always wanted to go on a mission, ever since I was in primary and I sang I hope they call me on a mission. I always knew that I wanted to serve the Lord. But since I was 11 I struggled with church. I never built my testimony and now that I'm trying it feels like all the factors are working against me. I'm losing hope fast and honestly I don't have the mental will to really try anymore.
I know I promised I wouldn't have any more blog posts like this. I know that I said that my blog would be used to uplift people and all that. But I want to keep people updated on my life too. And right now, this is my life. Extended periods of boredom, sleepless nights, and efforts on my part that aren't panning out in the least. All these plans that I'm trying to lay aren't finding any ground to root into. So I spend a lot of my time alone and thinking, and I guess that results in blog posts and even worse things. This isn't a spot I like or even want to be in. I gotta get out of this funk somehow.
Saturday, June 23, 2012
Monday, June 11, 2012
Physical quirks
I was reading a blog today from a man whose left eye is completely blind. He went on to explain, in full medical (and, admittedly, humourous) detail, what had happened to his eye. He wrote a series of four different blog posts about his different medical problems etc*. I found it extremely interesting, and thought that I would explain my big deformity physically, my smile.
Now some people will say that they don't notice that my smile is crooked, but flip through any of my pictures (seriously, don't, finding a picture of me in my own albums is like playing Where's Waldo in the red and white shirt factory) on Facebook. The entire left side of my smile is EXTREMELY crooked. It barely turns up, and doesn't expand outwards.
The reason for this is simple: a golf club; a putter to be exact. When I was no older than six years old (I know this because when I was six we moved from this house to a larger one in order to make room for my youngest sister, Sarah) I was playing out front with a neighborhood friend of mine. Funny, I can't recall his name. I just remember that he was black-- sadly I can identify his house in relationship to mine because in our cul-de-sac of six houses there was only one African American family. I know he was a little bit older than me, probably only 8 or 9 though. Anyway, when I was younger I thought golf was pretty cool. Not something I loved (like now), but back then I thought it was neat. When we went to my grandpa's house, we did mini putting contests inside with a metal giblet that recieved the ball from all angles and trapped it in. I loved this especially because my grandpa would give me a dollar if I could out putt him. It was always rigged though, because somehow I always got that dollar whether my shots were further away or not.
So one day at the ripe old age of 6, I decided to practice with this friend whose name escapes me. I brought out a comparable contraption to what my grandpa had, and grabbed a putter. As any good host does, I allowed my friend to go first. However, I noticed him holding my putter incorrectly. So, without thinking I went up behind him to help correct the grip. Right then, without knowing that you don't do this putting, he reared the putter back in a full arc. The two pounds of mixed metals collided with the left side of my face and sent me on my butt, crying instantly. He dropped the club and, as any 9 year old does when he accidentally does something wrong, ran home to tell his Mom, leaving my on my front yard, for my Mom to come out and see what was the matter. She checked my out and assured me that I wasn't bleeding, and that I would be fine. But alas, I wouldn't.
As time went on, I developed a dimple from where the club had hit me. It wasn't too deep or too noticable, but it was there and it was cute on my 5 foot frame. My smile was still straight though, because I wasn't doing much growing. However, when I started growing at around 12 I began to notice that my smile was becoming less and less straight. The left side wasn't extending as far as the right side, and the dimple was becoming deeper and deeper.
What happened is that somehow being hit in the face with that putter had damaged/killed much of the muscle in that side of my face. I have very little control of that side because the muscles didn't grow with the rest of my body, because most of them were now dead. It now extends up towards my eye too, that's why in most pictures while I try to smile I partially close my left eye. Which I absolutely love because it makes me look like I have a lazy eye. But in the morning I check and so far my eyes still track properly.
So, woe is me, I am left with a crooked smile and an eye that likes to trick people into thinking it's lazy. That's why I don't like taking pictures. I feel as though my smile is strange and I hate having to take them over and over. That's why usually I try to make a funny face, or I won't show my teeth (somehow I think it looks better like that.)
Anyway, that's the story of my physical deformity. For my next one I'll talk about the Wii accident that resulted in a permanent, thick scar on the back of my hand. 'Til next time!
*I did a great job summarizing it I know, but if you're interested in reading a really funny blog/series of posts, then check this guy out. http://www.joshweed.com/2010/10/body-deformities-part-ii-creepiest-face.html
Now some people will say that they don't notice that my smile is crooked, but flip through any of my pictures (seriously, don't, finding a picture of me in my own albums is like playing Where's Waldo in the red and white shirt factory) on Facebook. The entire left side of my smile is EXTREMELY crooked. It barely turns up, and doesn't expand outwards.
The reason for this is simple: a golf club; a putter to be exact. When I was no older than six years old (I know this because when I was six we moved from this house to a larger one in order to make room for my youngest sister, Sarah) I was playing out front with a neighborhood friend of mine. Funny, I can't recall his name. I just remember that he was black-- sadly I can identify his house in relationship to mine because in our cul-de-sac of six houses there was only one African American family. I know he was a little bit older than me, probably only 8 or 9 though. Anyway, when I was younger I thought golf was pretty cool. Not something I loved (like now), but back then I thought it was neat. When we went to my grandpa's house, we did mini putting contests inside with a metal giblet that recieved the ball from all angles and trapped it in. I loved this especially because my grandpa would give me a dollar if I could out putt him. It was always rigged though, because somehow I always got that dollar whether my shots were further away or not.
So one day at the ripe old age of 6, I decided to practice with this friend whose name escapes me. I brought out a comparable contraption to what my grandpa had, and grabbed a putter. As any good host does, I allowed my friend to go first. However, I noticed him holding my putter incorrectly. So, without thinking I went up behind him to help correct the grip. Right then, without knowing that you don't do this putting, he reared the putter back in a full arc. The two pounds of mixed metals collided with the left side of my face and sent me on my butt, crying instantly. He dropped the club and, as any 9 year old does when he accidentally does something wrong, ran home to tell his Mom, leaving my on my front yard, for my Mom to come out and see what was the matter. She checked my out and assured me that I wasn't bleeding, and that I would be fine. But alas, I wouldn't.
As time went on, I developed a dimple from where the club had hit me. It wasn't too deep or too noticable, but it was there and it was cute on my 5 foot frame. My smile was still straight though, because I wasn't doing much growing. However, when I started growing at around 12 I began to notice that my smile was becoming less and less straight. The left side wasn't extending as far as the right side, and the dimple was becoming deeper and deeper.
What happened is that somehow being hit in the face with that putter had damaged/killed much of the muscle in that side of my face. I have very little control of that side because the muscles didn't grow with the rest of my body, because most of them were now dead. It now extends up towards my eye too, that's why in most pictures while I try to smile I partially close my left eye. Which I absolutely love because it makes me look like I have a lazy eye. But in the morning I check and so far my eyes still track properly.
So, woe is me, I am left with a crooked smile and an eye that likes to trick people into thinking it's lazy. That's why I don't like taking pictures. I feel as though my smile is strange and I hate having to take them over and over. That's why usually I try to make a funny face, or I won't show my teeth (somehow I think it looks better like that.)
Anyway, that's the story of my physical deformity. For my next one I'll talk about the Wii accident that resulted in a permanent, thick scar on the back of my hand. 'Til next time!
*I did a great job summarizing it I know, but if you're interested in reading a really funny blog/series of posts, then check this guy out. http://www.joshweed.com/2010/10/body-deformities-part-ii-creepiest-face.html
Friday, June 1, 2012
Today was a strange day
Today I woke up and did what I had planned to do. I went to the beach with two of my best friends, Robert and Nick. The drive down was uneventful-- traffic aside-- and I had the opportunity to do something I love, enjoy the beach. Today was an almost perfect beach day. It was sunny and warm, almost 70 degrees according to my phone. The clouds were sparse and the sun was plentiful (as I type this, I wince in pain if my pink back touches anything but air, despite the three layers of coppertone I put on). The water, as is typical, was quite cold, which meant I only stuck my feet in. This lead to me mostly sitting around on the towel and trying to get a few shades darker (or at least redder). As I lay down, I busted out my new smart phone, and was glad to see that I had 4G LTE, supposedly the fastest internet service available. "Man, they really pull out all the stops at the beach, don't they?" I said to myself, ironically thinking of how dirty Santa Monica beach can be, but with such a nice locale who can argue, right?
So anyway, as I surf the internet using the fastest wireless a cell phone company can offer, I of course opened my Facebook account. I have this strange habit where I just skim Facebook to see if anything interesting has happened in the world of approximately 500 people that I claimed to at one point care about enough to add them as friends, and beg them to tell me what they had for lunch and when they get engaged. This has led to many posts about things I don't find particularly interesting, but I try to skim their lives briefly anyway, just to keep in touch as best I can (I promise most of you, I do my best.) As I was skimming through posts, I read one from a parent who I could see instantly was distressed greatly. She announced with a brief post that her son Johnny had died and that prayers for she and her family would be greatly appreciated. Of course, as a person of faith and as a human being this plead instantly tugged at my heart strings, but was increased tenfold as I glanced up to the blue name sitting above the brief but unsettling status update.
Bekki Gilmore DelVecchio.
My sister's baby of 5 months passed away today. A member of my family passed away today. My nephew had passed away today. My nephew who I had never met had passed away today. My heart instantly went out to my sister, her husband, and her 4 children who had just lost their little brother. I did not know what to do. As the day progressed, I tried to enjoy the beach the rest of the day, but I had a heavy weight on my mind. I worried for my sister, for my family, and for the future. I knew that they were in tough economic circumstances. They had recently moved back to Missouri. I had the opportunity to see them in November, but Bekki was still pregnant then. (I had to think hard about whether or not I had met my nephew prior to his passing, as this encounter was my neice Bella's birthday and there were little kids running around everywhere.) I had not had the opportunity to be a part of this little youngster's life.
At a time like this, many turn to faith, myself included. Growing up LDS, I know that this baby is safe. I know that he will live forever with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, and that already he is doing work for his family and our Heavenly Father. I am thankful for this knowledge. I'm thankful for the knowledge and comfort that this brings to me. I'm thankful that God has a plan. And, to be totally honest, I'm thankful that I have no idea what it is. I think if I understood how complicated the world was that I'd be a stuck up know-it-all (literally) and that I would serve no purpose to anybody. And even if I wasn't, I feel as though somehow I'd still go out of my way to be out of the loop and have no idea what I was doing.
As I was writing this post, I went to my sister's Facebook page. I was scrolling through her informational posts about his passing and I was heartbroken to see his beautiful face. His eyes were large, like his sister Bella. They were the kind of cute and innocent baby eyes that instantly strike you, as if he's taking in as much of the world as he could. It's a comfort to know that he got to take in a little extra of the world, despite his brief respite here on earth. I can only imagine the good that he is already doing and the good that he will do in the next life.
As I scan her Facebook page, I can see post after post of friends and family sending comfort, and can feel the love in their posts. It is striking how people rally around others in times of sorrow such as this. It doesn't matter who belongs to what church, who you voted for in the last election, or what offenses may have been set against who in the past. Because now, we're all human beings. Compassionate meat sacks rallying around somebody who we love and care for, with prayers and a faith in God that all is well and on his time. It's a strange thing, how death brings the living closer together. And maybe that's just a bit of God's plan. I haven't had the opportunity to see these niece's and nephews, the distance has always made this difficult. My oldest niece Nevaeh (Heaven spelled backwards. It's given a whole new meaning given recent events) is 8 years old and I've only had the opportunity to visit with her probably 6 or 7 times in her entire lifetime. However, I get to take a trip out to see her for Johnny's funeral, along with my Dad. This may be the first time I get to see all of my older siblings together, with all of their kids.
This is the first time I've ever dealt with the death of a family member. Although I never spoke to or even met Johnny, it still hits home that there was a death in my family. It seems strange, losing somebody who I never met but who I feel so much pain in losing. I cannot imagine what it's like to lose a child, but my heart and my prayers go out out to my sister. I cannot wait to see her and her family, or the rest of my siblings. The siblings who I haven't lived with for longer than a year's time. The siblings who seem to always argue over something, even as adults. The siblings who I know have a lot of love for each other. The siblings who I have a lot of love, respect, and admiration for despite their flaws. Because I see them working to improve themselves every day despite past mistakes. I have never been extremely close to them for very long. We still talk every now and then, but not nearly often enough. And that's the lesson that I'm taking from this: that life is short, and life is precious, and that we only have one shot at it. Cliched though it is, it's true, and it's anchored into my heart thanks to Johnny.
RIP Johnny Jay DelVecchio. I'll see you in heaven little guy.
So anyway, as I surf the internet using the fastest wireless a cell phone company can offer, I of course opened my Facebook account. I have this strange habit where I just skim Facebook to see if anything interesting has happened in the world of approximately 500 people that I claimed to at one point care about enough to add them as friends, and beg them to tell me what they had for lunch and when they get engaged. This has led to many posts about things I don't find particularly interesting, but I try to skim their lives briefly anyway, just to keep in touch as best I can (I promise most of you, I do my best.) As I was skimming through posts, I read one from a parent who I could see instantly was distressed greatly. She announced with a brief post that her son Johnny had died and that prayers for she and her family would be greatly appreciated. Of course, as a person of faith and as a human being this plead instantly tugged at my heart strings, but was increased tenfold as I glanced up to the blue name sitting above the brief but unsettling status update.
Bekki Gilmore DelVecchio.
My sister's baby of 5 months passed away today. A member of my family passed away today. My nephew had passed away today. My nephew who I had never met had passed away today. My heart instantly went out to my sister, her husband, and her 4 children who had just lost their little brother. I did not know what to do. As the day progressed, I tried to enjoy the beach the rest of the day, but I had a heavy weight on my mind. I worried for my sister, for my family, and for the future. I knew that they were in tough economic circumstances. They had recently moved back to Missouri. I had the opportunity to see them in November, but Bekki was still pregnant then. (I had to think hard about whether or not I had met my nephew prior to his passing, as this encounter was my neice Bella's birthday and there were little kids running around everywhere.) I had not had the opportunity to be a part of this little youngster's life.
At a time like this, many turn to faith, myself included. Growing up LDS, I know that this baby is safe. I know that he will live forever with Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ, and that already he is doing work for his family and our Heavenly Father. I am thankful for this knowledge. I'm thankful for the knowledge and comfort that this brings to me. I'm thankful that God has a plan. And, to be totally honest, I'm thankful that I have no idea what it is. I think if I understood how complicated the world was that I'd be a stuck up know-it-all (literally) and that I would serve no purpose to anybody. And even if I wasn't, I feel as though somehow I'd still go out of my way to be out of the loop and have no idea what I was doing.
As I was writing this post, I went to my sister's Facebook page. I was scrolling through her informational posts about his passing and I was heartbroken to see his beautiful face. His eyes were large, like his sister Bella. They were the kind of cute and innocent baby eyes that instantly strike you, as if he's taking in as much of the world as he could. It's a comfort to know that he got to take in a little extra of the world, despite his brief respite here on earth. I can only imagine the good that he is already doing and the good that he will do in the next life.
As I scan her Facebook page, I can see post after post of friends and family sending comfort, and can feel the love in their posts. It is striking how people rally around others in times of sorrow such as this. It doesn't matter who belongs to what church, who you voted for in the last election, or what offenses may have been set against who in the past. Because now, we're all human beings. Compassionate meat sacks rallying around somebody who we love and care for, with prayers and a faith in God that all is well and on his time. It's a strange thing, how death brings the living closer together. And maybe that's just a bit of God's plan. I haven't had the opportunity to see these niece's and nephews, the distance has always made this difficult. My oldest niece Nevaeh (Heaven spelled backwards. It's given a whole new meaning given recent events) is 8 years old and I've only had the opportunity to visit with her probably 6 or 7 times in her entire lifetime. However, I get to take a trip out to see her for Johnny's funeral, along with my Dad. This may be the first time I get to see all of my older siblings together, with all of their kids.
This is the first time I've ever dealt with the death of a family member. Although I never spoke to or even met Johnny, it still hits home that there was a death in my family. It seems strange, losing somebody who I never met but who I feel so much pain in losing. I cannot imagine what it's like to lose a child, but my heart and my prayers go out out to my sister. I cannot wait to see her and her family, or the rest of my siblings. The siblings who I haven't lived with for longer than a year's time. The siblings who seem to always argue over something, even as adults. The siblings who I know have a lot of love for each other. The siblings who I have a lot of love, respect, and admiration for despite their flaws. Because I see them working to improve themselves every day despite past mistakes. I have never been extremely close to them for very long. We still talk every now and then, but not nearly often enough. And that's the lesson that I'm taking from this: that life is short, and life is precious, and that we only have one shot at it. Cliched though it is, it's true, and it's anchored into my heart thanks to Johnny.
RIP Johnny Jay DelVecchio. I'll see you in heaven little guy.
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