Thursday, July 23, 2009

Some Words on Love

Today is Andrew's half birthday.

I made a cake. And our apartment is so warm that the icing was almost liquid.
So I used two cans of chocolate icing.
I wanted to put on sprinkles, but I didn't know if he would appreciate that cause we don't have dinosaur ones.
Or even Batman ones.
He is still at work. I'm waiting for him, writing this blog.

Today is also 6 months from the first time Andrew and I felt a spark of love.
Which means that tomorrow would be our 6 months anniversary if we were dating.
Instead, Saturday is our one month anniversary of marriage.
In honor of that love, here is some viewing pleasure. Of LOVE:


video video video video
video video

It's ironic to think that exactly seven months ago, as in December 23, 2008, I was in the final stages of nursing a heartbreak and/or heartache. It was a heartache of many things. I did not want to be in Provo. I felt confined and restricted. I felt like a bird in a cage. I wanted out, but I knew I should not leave. I had just finished the most overwhelming semester of my life where I was enrolled in 19 credits- one being an Independent Study I have yet to finish, I worked two jobs, and in doing so I had become completely withdrawn.

I often thought of how I used to be- how I would stay out really late and get up really early. How I would become friends with people in seconds, sometimes cultivating sincere friendships with people I met in a chance encounter. How I used to love fashion of music and art. And how over time I had come to feel asleep, if not dead, when I used to feel more alive than anyone I had ever known. I didn't even care for most of my friends, even though my brain recognized how good they were for me. I decided that love worked for some people, but that it did not, and would not work for me. I blamed this on myself, because I decided that though I felt emotions for the boys I had dated, even telling some I loved them and planning on some kind of abstract future, I didn't even fall in love like most people. I did it in a restricted, unknown way. And even though I felt I never wanted to be in love ever again, I was sick of feeling so negative or, at the very bottom, void of emotion. I felt that though I had always prided myself on living a free, emotion-filled life, I had lost it somewhere along the way. And I knew I had lost it sometime after I moved to Provo. And it made me feel sick to my stomach. I did not feel like the person I had always been.

So I decided to stop. I decided to quit tearing myself down- it was not as if I was a victim of a harsh life or any kind of clinical depression- and I decided to become myself again, something I had tried off and on for the past year and a half. I'd almost succeeded before but this time, I really started to change. I started writing. I started photographing. I registered for a light course schedule. I started accepting dates again as long as the boy was nice and funny. I read. I didn't focus on the negative. I planned on living in Rome in the summer. I planned on a humanitarian trip over the next Christmas. I found music I liked. I had forgotten what made me myself. I had even forgotten what I liked, and every time I fell in love with something, I was amazed at how my tastes had both changed and stayed the same.

It took the entire fall semester, but then something happened over Christmas Break. I remembered. I remembered what I liked. I remembered the kind of person I wanted to be. Through all the effort (it is hard to jump back into things after feeling so trapped), the tears, the stubbornness, and the headaches, I had found myself again. And so I came back to school, a little scared for the new semester, though I knew it would be smooth sailing compared to the one before. I kept writing. I kept editing photographs. I kept myself involved, and within three weeks I met (or technically re-met) the absolute love of my life.

It only took a conversation for me to feel a spark. It only took a note in the testing center for me to have butterflies. It only took a date for me to know this was different and it only took a kiss for me to know that, even if I did not love him yet, I was going to. And that it was not going to be the same old relationship. It was going to be different. And I was right. Because through all of the imperfections and personality quirks, we are perfect for each other.

I would not trade it for anything. And I know that if I had not decided to adjust my attitude last fall, I never would have been able to pull my weight in any kind of relationship. I know this same experience will never happen again to anyone else in the exact same manner, but I just wanted to say, six months later, that it was worth it. That to find yourself is the best thing you can do. Ever. At any stage of life. Because even though it's one of the hardest- if not the hardest- tasks to undergo, it pays itself off in the moment where you know you are yourself again. And I'm not ashamed to write that on the internet.