Attempt 1 at Vlogging...

Haha I think I may fail at this. But it is nice to talk. :)

Also, I apologize for being so strange. :)

The blog I was talking about is diaryofamissionarygirlfriend.blogspot.com
Check it out!! :)

Music...

I love music! I don't know if I have said this enough.

One of my favorite things to do is put my feelings/situations into song. I don't write songs, but I search for songs that say exactly what I am trying to.

And today....Colbie Caillat did it right. :)

Here are the main parts that I love...Then listen to the song. :) It all fits perfectly.

Well, maybe you're not right for meMaybe it's just hard to see
I get lost in your beauty
Then I just start questioning

'Cause when you took my heart you took it all
When you gave it back it fell apart, so

I won't do what you told me
I won't do what you said, no
I'm not gonna stop feeling
I'm not gonna forget it

I don't wanna start over
I don't wanna pretend that you are not my lover
That you're only my friend
Friend, I won't

You say it's easier to burn than to build
You say it's easier to hurt than to heal
But I say you lose when you give up what you love
And I've lived my life without you long enough, so

I won't do what you told me
I won't do what you said, no
I'm not gonna stop feeling
I'm not gonna forget it

I don't wanna start over
I don't wanna pretend that you are not my lover
That you're only my friend
Friend, I won't

Love it so much! :)

Fears...

So I have a lot of fears: heights, horses, lakes, dying, snakes, spiders, bees, yeah the list goes on. However, I have decided that it is time I start changing this.

Ether 12:27

"And if men come unto me I will show unto them their weakness. I give unto men weakness that they may be humble; and my grace is sufficient for all men that humble themselves before me; for if they humble themselves before me, and have faith in me, then will I make weak things become strong unto them."

I went horseback riding a couple weeks ago. At first I was terrified. However, I discovered after a few minutes that it is actually not scary. It was incredible! I enjoyed it so much and I can't wait to go again. There was something so peaceful and adventurous about it. 

I went rock climbing as well. Now this may seem strange, but truly, heights terrify me. I buckle and can hardly think straight. I don't even like jumping off the stages in church buildings. So rock climbing was difficult for me. After going up the wall a couple times (and controlling myself enough to stop shaking) I was able to enjoy myself. I had the opportunity to go a second time and I can honestly say, I love it now! I cannot wait for the next time I get to go. I think it is going to become one of my hobbies. 

So, my goal of overcoming my fears is coming along. This competition is called the Tough Mudder. Just watch the video...I think I will be overcoming a lot. 

However, I'm so excited!! It is going to be an amazing experience.

Pictures and videos will be taken so no worries. I will share the excitement later. But right now, I need to start training. I only have 8 months to prepare myself for near-death experiences. :)

Friends...

I have found this lovely Facebook group of missionary girlfriends. It has been the best group I have ever been in. I am finally starting to feel happy again and it is amazing!! I have so many friends to thank for this. But most of them I have never actually met in person. :) I just want to thank everyone who is helping me. Y'all are amazing. :)
I'm just really happy right now and I'm not even sure why. haha. :) But I'm not going to complain. I'm going to enjoy this time.

People Who Listen...

I have struggled with depression. And battling it alone is the hardest thing I have ever had to experience. This writing helped me through a lot. Even if you are not struggling with depression, I think a lot of people can relate to this. If not, a lot can be learned by its message. Please...hear what I'm not saying.

Don’t be fooled by me. Don’t be fooled by the mask I wear. For I wear a mask, I wear a thousand masks, masks that I’m afraid to take off, and none of them is me. Pretending is an art that is second nature with me, but don’t be fooled.

I give the impression that I’m secure, that all is sunny and unruffled with me, within as well as without; that confidence is my name and coolness is my game; that the waters are calm and that I’m in command and I need no one. But don’t believe it; please don’t.

My surface may seem smooth, but my surface is my mask, my ever-varying and ever-concealing mask. Beneath lies no smugness, no coolness, no complacence. Beneath dwells the real me, in confusion, in fear, in loneliness. But I hide this; I don’t want anybody to know it. I panic at the thought of my weakness being exposed. That’s why I frantically create a mask to hide behind, a nonchalant, sophisticated façade to help me pretend, to shield me from the glance that knows. But such a glance is precisely my salvation. My only salvation. And I know it. It’s the only thing that can liberate me from myself, from my own self-built prison walls, from the barriers that I so painstakingly erect. But I don’t tell you this. I don’t dare. I’m afraid to.

I’m afraid your glance will not be followed by love and acceptance. I’m afraid that you will think less of me, that you’ll laugh, and your laugh will kill me. I’m afraid that deep down inside I’m nothing, that I’m just no good, and that you’ll see and reject me. So I play my games, my desperate, pretending games, with a façade of assurance on the outside and a trembling child within. And so begins the parade of masks, the glittering but empty parade of masks. And my life becomes a front.

I idly chatter with you in the suave tones of surface talk. I tell you everything that’s really nothing, nothing of what’s crying within me. So when I’m going through my routine don’t be fooled by what I’m saying. Please listen carefully and try to hear what I’m NOT saying; what I’d like to be able to say; what, for survival, I need to say but I can’t say. I dislike the hiding. Honestly I do. I dislike the superficial phony games I’m playing.

I’d really like to be genuine, spontaneous, and me; but you have to help me. You have to help me by holding out your hand, even when that’s the last thing I seem to want or need. Each time you are kind and gentle and encouraging, each time you try to understand because you really care, my heart begins to grow wings. Very small wings. Very feeble wings. But wings. With your sensitivity and sympathy and your power of understanding, I can make it. You can breathe life into me. It will not be easy for you. A long conviction of worthlessness builds strong walls. But love is stronger than strong walls, and therein lies my hope. Please try to beat down those walls with firm hands, but with gently hands, for a child is very sensitive, and I AM a child.

His Smile...

This is my favorite picture of us. It was taken before we even started dating. He is my best friend. <3

Our Story...

It started back in late June of 2010, at least the romance. I realized that my feelings for Sean were something more than just a deep friendship. I began to imagine what he would say if I told him. I hoped he would say he felt the same way but I was unsure. So I just occupied my mind with thoughts of holding his hand and just feeling him next to me. 

He had been my best friend through all of high school, so it was not a weird thing for us to be close to each other. He would give me hugs goodbye, back massages, pop my fingers or toes, and attempt doing my hair. It was never romantic. But in my mind, I wished it was. 

Later in the summer, the hugs got longer. Sometimes his hands would linger on my back. And he would rub my feet or hands after popping the joints. Little signs of tenderness that made it impossible not to imagine that is was more. 

Our last hug goodbye before I left for college lasted a long time. Neither one of us wanted to let go. And we just didn’t. When we began to depart one of us would pull back in: time and time again until one time we stopped and leaned our foreheads against each other. My heart had never beaten that fast in my life. He whispered that he didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want me to leave. I whispered back that I loved him. (Something we had been saying awhile. It didn’t have the romantic meaning, but more of friendship.) Again we pulled each other close. That hug, that moment, I replayed over and over and over again in my mind that next month apart. I couldn’t help but wish that it could have been more. That it was more. We talked every day: texting, calling, skyping, emailing, and letters. Anyway we could, we did it. 

Before I had left to school, I wrote a letter to him, explaining all my feeling. How could I not? I had never kept a secret from him our entire friendship, including the times when I had a boyfriend and he had a girlfriend. But I instructed him not to open it right away. I would tell him when. So he waited. And I pondered the timing. I was afraid: afraid he would say that he didn’t know what I was talking about. That our conversations would become awkward and I would lose him. After all, we were 3,000 miles apart. Or worse, he would say he felt the same way, but it could never amount to anything because of the distance and his mission. But one night, I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted him. I wanted him to know. I couldn’t keep it inside me anymore. He read the letter and mailed me a letter. That was the longest week of my life-waiting for that letter. But it brought every piece of joy I could have hoped for. He loved me like that and even though nothing might change because of the distance, he didn’t care. He wanted to be with me as badly as I wanted him. And so it began. I wouldn’t get to physically touch him for four more months. But I could wait. It would be worth it. And it was. 

When he came to the airport, my mother was late. I don’t think that would have ever been such a blessing in any other circumstance, but that day, I was blessed. We embraced and didn’t let go. There was no awkward how-should-we-do-this stage. We just fit together. He wrapped his arm around me and we sat and talked and talked and talked. Eating breakfast with my mom was torture. I just wanted Sean to grab me, pull me into an alley, and kiss me. But we didn’t even as much as hold hands in my mom’s presence yet. She didn’t know about this new development. But I became obsessed with it. I wanted him near me all the time. The distance between us felt so much further now than ever. I would come up with excuses to get us alone just so he would put his hand on my back, squeeze my hand real fast, or brush my face. The second night I was home, we went to the movies. Perfect, dark, and away from my family, he just reached over and grabbed my hand. I couldn’t have imagined a better feeling. He wasn’t going to leave. I could feel that in his hands. He wanted to be there with me. He wanted to be connected to me. He took pleasure in me and he took pride in the fact that I was his. He wanted everyone to know and see. We held hands whenever we could. We couldn’t get enough of each other. 

One day, he grabbed my hand when we thought my mom wasn’t looking. After that, we didn’t hide the hand holding. In fact, we didn’t hide our feelings anymore. She knew. We all knew. We were best friends completely in love with each other and could not be happier about it. I would lay my head on him and feel his heartbeat. He rubbed my back still and I would rub his. We played with each other’s hair. It all came so naturally, yet, my stomach could hardly handle the butterflies. There was something different about his skin touching mine now. It took my breath away. 

The first time he kissed me, I almost cried. It was just on my cheek. But it was the sweetest kiss I have ever received. His lips stayed on my skin and the second they were gone, I wanted them again. And I got them. He kissed my forehead, nose, chin, and the other cheek; but not my lips. He got tantalizingly close. But never did it. Not then. Of course now the day-dreams were more than just holding his hands in mine. They were more. I had never enjoyed kissing before. But now, I couldn’t wait. But I would. I knew it would be special with him and I felt so grateful for just the feeling of being with him with-out the kissing that it was okay. He would just pull me close to snuggle with him and I was complete. 

Those two weeks of Christmas break went by faster than ever. Soon I was back, 3,000 miles away from the one person who made me laugh whenever I was determined to cry. I had dreams of his smell, his laugh, his smile. But mostly, I had dreams of his hands, chest, and lips. I wanted so badly to be close to him again. April felt eternities away. It was physically painful. 

He surprised me and came to visit in February. I couldn’t stop myself from running to him and throwing my arms around him. I wouldn’t let go, afraid that it was a dream and suddenly he would disappear. I begged him not to sleep so I could stay with him longer. And he begged me to come back with him. He never let go either. But too soon again, our time was over. What kind of torture was that? 

For Christmas he had made a blanket and gave it to me. I slept with it every night. And for some reason, I feel closer to him when I do. 

He came to visit again during spring break, during his birthday. We spent lots of time with his older siblings, but he didn’t feel any embarrassment in showing affection towards me. He held my hand, played with my hair, pulled me closer to him when I was too far, rubbed my back, sat on my lap, shared his food with me, played footsies, patted my legs, pulled my legs onto his, and gave reassuring squeezes. He tried to hide when he kissed me, but soon enough he just did it without hiding. He would just kiss me on my hands out of the blue, sending my heart into frenzy. The butterflies never ceased to fly. At midnight, the night before his birthday, he pulled me close to whisper in my ear he loved me and kissed me…on my cheek: then the other cheek, my forehead, nose, chin. Finishing on my lips. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think of anything except I wanted him closer. I needed him to help me breathe again. But when he lifted his head from mine, we smiled, and kissed again. Breathing was hard. My heart could hardly handle it. But I loved that feeling, like I was struggling. My legs felt weak. I felt like I could fall right into his arms; I knew he would catch me, hold me. Just the sweetest kiss in the universe. It lasted forever but ended so soon. We both couldn’t stop smiling. He drove me home. We kissed again. Embraced and kissed again. 

The next days we stole kisses like our lives depended on it. When he had to leave, I could hardly believe I had lasted so long without him. I couldn’t understand how I would do that again. When he let go of my hand, I literally felt a piece of me rip away. The air was knocked out of me, not like when we had kissed. This was pain. It killed me and could hardly stand. I shrunk to the floor and immediately tears fell. I wanted to scream it hurt so badly. I wanted him back that moment. I spent the next few hours crying, holding blankets imagining they were him, staring at his pictures, listening to old voice messages just to hear his voice, wishing he was coming back. I fought back tears but every couple of hours they would fall again. I felt empty and missing. Hugs from other friends just didn’t feel the same or offer the same comfort. I received a text message from him and my heart hurt. The words “I miss you and I love you” bounced around on my screen. The next week was filled with moments I wished he could be there for. Places we had been together, the spot that I died a little when he said goodbye. I was a ghost and it killed me, and it killed him. He came down again, a birthday present, and we both were ecstatic. 

When he arrived it was even better then I imagined. Nobody could make me laugh like him. I didn’t trust anyone like I do him. And no one can make me feel the way he makes me feel. The second time he left was worse than the first. My friends tried to help. But all I wanted was to sleep so I could dream he was there. We skyped till we both fell asleep so I would wake up to him in the morning. There were times were I would try to reach for him through the computer screen and then tear up from frustration that we were apart so often for so long. It was torture. 

Coming back from school he was there, again, at the airport. I cried when I saw him. I wanted nothing more than to never leave his side again. I begged him to stay with me. He begged me to run away with him. Every moment we spent together was magic. I feel whole and complete with him by my side. 

--This is taken from a journal entry two weeks before he went into the MTC. Some parts have been taken out and the beginning of our story is not really included. This is what I remember. The summer before he lefts runs around in my head till I fall asleep at night. Our entire beginning is complicated, but sweet. We were best friends through thick and thin. Just two best friends who fell madly in love.

My Missionary

I have this best friend. He happens to be the most incredible person I have ever met. I love him.
He is serving in Independence, Missouri Spanish Speaking for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. He left on July 13. I'm so incredibly proud of all the work that he is doing.
These past 7 months have been the roughest of my entire life. However, I'm starting to feel the sunshine again. I'm beginning to love life again. And even though he is miles away, it is my missionary that has helped me through it all. (And he probably doesn't even know it!)
Soon I will post our story and beginning vlogging (that is video blogging). So just wait for it. :)
P.S. My missionary's name is Sean. <3