compassion

Depression blows.
The older I have grown and the more people I have formed relationships with, the more I have come to realize that depression is a very real, very common, very heartbreaking thing. Depression is not something that someone can simply “will away” or try to get over. It consumes you. Hangs over you like a dark cloud that you feel like has no justifiable reason to be there except to just exist and ruin any shred of light or hope you had felt prior to that GD cloud showing up.
I have seen a grown man crumple into something so completely void of his former self in less than a few seconds. I have seen an experienced mother unable to embrace her other children because holding her own head up while cradling her newest baby was all she could manage. I have seen a newlywed woman clutching a pillow with tears streaming down her face, hundreds of miles away from her new husband who struggled to understand this grief that had suddenly come over her.
I don’t know why depression exists. I don’t know why only some people have been given this trial. I don’t know why it affects different people, at different ages, under different circumstances, some only for a few months and some for the rest of their lives. But I know that it is real.
Every April and every October, as I anticipate a weekend of our LDS General Conference, I usually pray to receive a specific answer or piece of guidance from one of the talks. And last week, I prayed for someone to talk about having hope when all hope seems lost, about the reality of despair, and how we can heal. And then Elder Holland went and gave an entire freaking talk on clinical depression. It was like HF put my prayer on a platter and served it up for the whole world to partake.
I don’t know if I will ever fully understand depression, but I pray daily to have the patience and compassion to help my loved ones deal with it. This conference session helped reiterate the knowledge in my heart that the Lord knows me, hears me, and loves me.
Compassion is a beautiful thing. It is what ties us together as human beings, it is what unites nations and it is what connects our hearts. As Elder Holland asked of us, may we all strive to have compassion for each other and try to make another person’s burden a little lighter, their day a little brighter.

freedom

i spent the night of the third of july with this boy who has stolen my heart in every way. we ate el salvadorian food and watched the sky explode in color and danced our pants off with a fantastic group of friends and during it all, the fried ice cream and the fireworks and the sweaty hair sticking to the back of my sundress, i thought about freedom. the freedom to worship, to speak, to mourn, to celebrate, and to love as we wish. i thought about that freedom to love, to give our hearts away freely to others. if i’ve learned anything in the past few years it’s that freedom comes with risk, that as we keep our hearts open to others there is always a chance that our hearts are going to feel pain. i know that pain well. but i also know that if we didn’t allow ourselves to love we would never know the pure electrical bliss that comes from stealing a kiss across a curb underneath the colors of a brightly lit night sky, and frankly, one of these tiny moments alone is worth the risk of losing it all. we are lucky to be free.

yiddle bro.

DIS handsome boy has been called to serve in the New Hampshire Manchester mission. i honestly cannot remember a time i have ever been more proud of a human being. God bless this baby brother of mine.

new year.

i’ve never been good with change. like, ever. our big move from riverside to bakersfield at age six was as equally terrifying as my 21-year-old self uttering the words “sure beej, let’s dye my hair brown.” (NEVER. AGAIN.) i’ve cried every time i’ve moved, at every friend or sister’s wedding, every break-up, every new semester, and every time i’ve had the balls to chop off my hair. with this new year, along with the internal contract i made with myself that this would be the year that i, steadily approaching the ripe age of 25, finally would stop biting my nails, i made a second resolution. one to embrace change. to leave the heartache of last year in 2012 where it belongs, and to allow the looming presence of adulthood and the “oh shiz” revelations and responsibilities that accompany it to soak into my heart and mind. to move forward with hope and the knowledge that each day is new and that each person’s presence in my life and my space means something. to be brave, to be smart, to keep my word. to be present.

gabrielle blair said, “embrace the current season of your life.” i plan on doing exactly that.

 

(ps. new blog for a new year and a newly healed heart. formerly over at jennyhieeya.blogspot.com)