In the open.

I'm just going to go right ahead and say it:

I hate pink. 

It's nothing personal, it just ruins my favorite month of the year. 

October is the most beautiful month--right when fall hits it's prime. 

But it's also Breast Cancer Awareness month; and nothing makes my blood pressure skyrocket faster than those three words. 

October has been deemed "Pinktober" in recent years, and consumers are victim to what is now known as "pinkwashing."

For some absurd reason, people think that things like pink Tupperware, pink lights on the White House and pink ribbons on their favorite NFL team's gear are going to cure breast cancer. 

Newsflash: it's not. Sorry about it. 

When I was in 8th grade, my grandma was diagnosed with breast cancer. 

For the next two and a half years, I watched her endure dozens of rounds of chemo and radiation, deal with the debilitating side effects of multiple brain tumors, and spend countless days in the hospital and ICU. 

When my grandma passed away my sophomore year of high school, I was devastated. 

Everybody dreads the word "cancer" and all that it entails, but for me? It became a nightmarish reality. 

So when people/companies/brands start monopolizing on the natural sympathetic tendencies humans have, and paint their entire brand pink for a month...I get really frustrated. 

It all comes down to what's known as "cause marketing," which is basically manufacturers exploiting what seems like a worthy cause for their own benefit--they know we're sympathetic to cancer victims, and they use that to their advantage. 

Don't get me wrong--I'm all for funding cancer research. 

I've seen the effects cancer + chemo + radiation have, not only on those with cancer, but also on their friends, family, and everybody else surrounding them.

It sucks--and I wish breast cancer, or cancer in any form for that matter, didn't exist. 

But buying hairspray that comes in a pink container, or wrapping your leftovers in pink Saran Wrap isn't doing anybody any good. 

For one of my English classes last year, we had to write a "persuasive research essay," and I chose to do mine on the idea of pinkwashing, and how it needs to end. 

During October, pink becomes the end-all for questions. 

It doesn't matter how much money goes to cancer research, if you slap a pink ribbon on your product you're good! That's not the way it should be. 

 Because in reality, most of the companies that are supposedly "supporting" cancer research are actually taking most of the money for themselves and donating a minimal amount to research. 

There's an organization out there called "Think Before You Pink" who's goal is to promote those companies who actually help with cancer research, and dissuade consumers from supporting those who don't. 

I know I'm just a 19-year-old girl who may have a slight conflict of interest with this whole thing. 

But I know for a fact that a lot more good would be done if instead of buying a pink pair of pliers, we donated our money directly to an organization devoted to finding a cure. 

A news reporter by the name of Gayle Sulik said it best, "If you're going to eat a pink bagel because you like it, eat a pink bagel. But if you're going to eat a pink bagel because you think it's going to cure cancer, think again."

The fact of the matter is, no amount of pink rubber ducks, pink make up brushes, or pink gift wrap is going to cure cancer--or more personally, bring my Grandma back. 

That's the truth. 

And in reality, we could all be doing a lot more good with the money we're spending on those products.

[Okay. Rant over.]

Once each year.

Sometimes, just when you don't think you can handle one more emotion being thrown in your face, life hits you like a figurative brick wall. 

I thought I finally had everything under control after moving all week, working all weekend, and finishing finals; but I hadn't really had time to process what month it was. I've never been a fan of May, it's windy, it's AP week (or finals, now), and the anticipation for summer is getting the best of everyone. 

So when I got a letter from my best friend on Friday that said, "I know your least favorite day of the year is coming up. And I want you to know that I'm thinking about you, that the Plan of Salvation is real, and families ARE forever." I was caught a little off guard. 

Then I realized what he meant. It's been three years since my Grandma passed away; three years since the hardest day of my life. 

Even though I miss her so much it hurts to breathe somedays, I've learned so much over the last three years; things I wouldn't have learned otherwise. 

The night she passed away, after I'd told my friends good night, turned off my cell phone, and my family had gone to bed, I turned to my scriptures, desperate for some kind of comfort. 

Opening to a handout in the New Testament, I turned the page to 2nd Corinthians 4:17, which reads: 

"For our light affliction  which is but for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory. " 

Even though I wouldn't want to go through any of that again, I know that I wouldn't be the same person without that trial. I've learned how to rely on my Heavenly Father for comfort, and how to apply the Atonement to my life. I learned how incredible my family truly is, and I think the sealing power we find in the temples is even more amazing now. I know how much it hurt to lose my grandma, and at the time, that seemed like the worst thing in the world to me--and it might have been. But I do know that that trial will be worth it in the end, when I get to see her again in the spirit world and be with her for eternity. The pain of that loss is nothing compared to the glory we'll experience after. 

In the meantime though, I'll do my best to follow her example. To love without hesitation, and serve without a second thought. To focus on others more than I focus on myself, and set goals that will help me in a celestial sense. I want to be the kind of mother she was, and the kind of relationship that she and my grandpa have. During her fight with cancer, she adopted a motto of sorts, the phrase "You can do hard things" and I'd be lying if I said I hadn't applied that in my own life. I can do hard things, and I will keep doing hard things--because I had a nearly perfect example of endurance to follow. 

I love you, Grandma. 

A tad forgetful.

So. I missed a week. And I don't have time to catch up on everything. Just know that I am so grateful for my life in general. I have the world's most amazing family [who sends me cookies as a surprise with the rest of the stuff I forgot.] the best roommates [who are my best friends.] the greatest friends [who put up with everything I do.] a fun job [that makes me far less stressed about life.] and some of the sweetest boys in the world [who fix my tires, explode watermelons, and go grocery shopping with me.] and I couldn't be happier with where I am.
However, I am going to do a delayed post for the 18th. The 18th would have been my Grandma's 60th birthday. Even though she passed away two and a half years ago, I'm thankful for her and her example every day.

She was the best example of selfless service I've ever seen, and true Christ-like love. She put everyone else before her, and loved like no one I've ever known. And I'm grateful for that example everyday of my life. I miss her every single day, and even more so during the holidays, but I'm also grateful for the sure knowledge I have that I will see her again. And I can't wait for that day. 

Now, to today's post. 

November 20th: Today I'm grateful for a whole lot of little things that make every day easier. I'm grateful for a warm apartment, and hot water. I'm grateful for electricity, and a warm bed [that I really never want to leave] I'm grateful for cars, and for my iPod. I'm grateful for my computer, and the stereo in our apartment that will let us listen to Christmas music full blast come Friday. I'm grateful for 24-hour drive-thru's when we're too wide awake to sleep and need some ice cream. These, and a million other little things, make my life so much easier and so much more fun. And I'm grateful for that. 

Not perfect, but wonderful.

Curveballs are being thrown, ladies and gents. My major is being changed. I got a job. My roommates are the best friends I could ever ask for. And my best friends are leaving on missions. 

In preparation for Hailee's departure, Emi made me sign a "legally binding document" that says I won't get married until Hailee is home. Best part about it? Ron said that since the words "Binding legal documents" are written, and my signature is on there, she could sue if I get married. Shucks, looks like I'm out of the game for a few years. ;)

Kenzie turned 19! You won't meet a girl who is more sincere, more kind, and more willing to serve in your whole life. I can't even begin to count the times she's helped me with whatever I need, cooked for us, and cleaned up my messes. She's the most genuine person I've ever met, and I'm so glad I get to live with her this year. Happy birthday again Kenz, because you're great and you deserve it. 

Last Saturday was the LLS's Light the Night walk. Hailee, Emi and I put in a 14 hour volunteer shift--and I've never been more satisfied with what I was doing. Not only was I with my best friends, but I was helping Hailee out with something that she is truly passionate about, and something that hits close to home for me. It was cold, rainy, and muddy. But seeing the hundreds of people there to support the cause was incredible. We definitely lit up the night, and I'll be back to do it again. 

And last but not least, Kelsey gets a shout out of her own. This morning, she decided to go to the temple with a bunch of people. And being Kelsey, forgot her keys. I didn't even read these texts until 9:30, but it cracked me up. I seriously doubt that any one else's roommates would be this sweet while they were locked out at 6 am. 

Life certainly isn't perfect. In fact, it's downright hard most days. But sometimes there are things that happen and people that you're with that make it seem like the control you have over your life isn't as fleeting as you believe. They might be the five girls you live with who you can't wait to see again after the weekend, and stay up until the crack of dawn to fill each other in our your lives. They might be your parents who fill up your car and send you back to school with dessert even after you're only home to sleep and eat on the weekends. They might be the boys who fix you and your roommate's cars, and help you all study for your economics and biology and creative arts tests. They might be the best friends left at home that call you every day and make sure everything is good. 

Whoever they are, they make you keep control, and make everything seem tolerable. And I'm so grateful that I have those people in my life. 

I'm well aware.

There are a few things in life that I am truly passionate about. My family, the church, lacrosse, and cancer awareness. It just so happens that October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, and seeing as this is the kind of cancer that has had the most--if not only--direct impact on my life. So it's time for a little story. 

I remember going to my grandparents house one Sunday when I was in 8th grade, and having my grandparents sit us all down to "talk." I'm the oldest, and I was 13, so there was a mass of small children running around. My grandpa told us that my grandma had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and I remember my parents and aunts and uncles all crying. I didn't really know what that meant, but I knew that cancer was a bad thing. I guess then it didn't really process how dangerous and terrifying the situation was. 

That year, my grandparents, my aunt Maddy, and my little sister Brittany and I registered for the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure. Coincidentally, that day marked exactly 15 days after my grandma's first chemotherapy treatment. As I found out, 14 days after the first treatment is when the effects really start to be visible, and sure enough, as we were getting our posters and outfits ready for the walk, her hair started to come out. We tried to make light of the situation by making posters with lines such as: "The Tortoise with No Hair." "No More Bad Hair Days"  and even went as far as to make a heart with the hair and a message about how much we loved our grandma. As much fun as the walk was, I don't think I'll ever get the image out of my head of my grandpa shaving the last patches of hair off while we all watched on the back porch.

Watching the effects of chemotherapy and radiation take it's toll on my grandma was the second hardest thing I've ever done. (We'll get to the worst later.) But there has not been a better example of perseverance, courage, and endurance in the history of the world. Not once did she complain, or even stop doing what she'd always done. 

Cancer has put a huge "black mark" of sorts on the last five years of my life. And I know that I'm not the only one affected by it. So many people are diagnosed daily with so many different kinds of cancer

If we're speaking technically, my grandma passed away because of a brain tumor. But ultimately, breast cancer is the cause. Breast cancer is the reason I hate October, and can barely make it through May. Breast cancer is the reason I am an avid supporter of the Huntsman Cancer Institute and while I offer to volunteer for the LLS Light the Night. Breast cancer is the reason I'm not a huge fan of the color pink. And breast cancer is the reason I don't have my biggest hero here with me today. 

When it comes to Breast Cancer Awareness month, I can honestly say that I'm well aware. And a silly blog post won't help find a cure, but it does show the world that I'm aware. 

I'm aware of the effects cancer can have on a family. I'm aware of the mass of people that are required to help a single person through treatment. I'm aware of the funds needed for a cure, and I'm aware that in some cases, there is no cure. I'm aware of the grief that comes when cancer wins, and I'm aware that for the rest of my life, cancer will be a possibility. But I'm also aware of the millions of people out there fighting, and even more people who are helping them, as doctors, therapists, surgeons--you name it. The moral of the story? Cancer sucks. And I'll never get over it.