My General Conference Soapbox.

I'm a stubborn person--and most of you know that alone is an understatement.
I'm also very competitive and I hate losing.
I don't like being wrong, and I have a really hard time when things don't go my way.
[Yes, I realize these are all weaknesses, and yes, I am working on being better].
Y'all can imagine how well I handled losing relationships I had stubbornly competed for for years despite them never going my way.
NEWSFLASH: I didn't handle it well.
In fact, I threw several tantrums, cried [a lot], and threw a very large pity party for a hot minute.
I'd put a lot of love, emotion, and effort into things I thought were going to last forever--and refused to accept the fact that I was wrong.

If we're being completely honest, I was upset, I was devastated, and I was very, very, very lost. I felt like I'd lost my right arm and I couldn't seem to find my bearings anywhere. You should also know that I hate losing control of anything [or never having it in the first place], and despite everything in my life that was [and still is] going so incredibly right, I felt like I'd completely lost control of everything.

Since I was little, I've been taught to ask for help when I had a problem...and sometimes that asking is simply a whispered prayer when things seem especially hard. So I did that. I asked for any kind of help, advice, anything. Not an hour later, I got a text from a friend asking if I had ever read the book "The Infinite Atonement" by Tad R. Callister. At that point, I hadn't, but she told me to read one of the chapters.
The internet is a wonderful place, and I quickly found what she was talking about. Elder Callister discusses the Atonement in relation to what he says is "suffering unrelated to sin" and said,
"Impossible as it may seem, he has somehow taken upon himself those feelings of inadequacy, sometimes even utter hopelessness, that accompany our rejections and weaknesses."
I'm an English major. I read all the time--and I have an almost obsessive affinity for meaningful words and inspirational quotes. This passage of writing? It was written just for me, I'm convinced of it, at least in that moment.
The next day in Institute, we studied the same book.
That night, my best friend sent me a quote from a talk by Chieko Okasaki that reiterated everything I'd read.
I got the message. Despite feeling like I was the only one in the world feeling like this--I wasn't alone, and someone did understand every aspect of what I was feeling.

Fast forward to General Conference at the beginning of this month, and I was feeling much better than I had been. There was still this obnoxious little ache every time I was reminded of what I was missing, but I'd accepted the way things were going.
I was just confused about where to go now.

In seminary, I was taught to go into Conference Weekend with any questions I needed answered--so I did.

I got off work and turned on the radio in my car just in time to hear Sister Neill F. Marriott say, "in order to have a healed and faithful heart, we must first allow it to break."
I'd let my heart break. I was ready for it to be fixed.
The rest of General Conference was full of speakers reiterating the idea that God wants us to have joy, and that we need to let our trials/problems/whatever is causing us pain, go.
We have too much to be happy about--it is time to move on.

Every six months, I go into General Conference with a question on my mind--a question vastly different from the time before. And every time, that question is answered.
That's not to say the problems fix themselves immediately.
Some days my heart hurts and I still don't know exactly what I'm doing. But I am now fully aware of the fact that I am not alone--and that moving on doesn't mean giving up, it just means there is something more out there.

I'm so grateful for not only inspired church leaders and an inspired prophet, but also for friends who listen to the spiritual promptings they receive. General Conference is one of those things I am more grateful for every time it comes around, and I hope I never take it for granted.
Our Heavenly Father is real, and He listens to our every word. The Atonement, although I don't understand it completely and probably never will, is the single most incredible thing that has happened on this Earth. And the church is true--I may not be sure of a lot, but those things I do know, and I believe them with all my heart.

Growing pains.

Growing up is a funny thing. Most of you remember the feeling that encompassed your senior year of high school, right? That overwhelming feeling that this was your last football game, your last dance, your last hurrah; coupled with an underwhelming sensation that finally you were going somewhere you'd never been before. It was scary and uncomfortable, but you handled it okay because you knew that if it all came down to it, everyone you cared about within those high school walls would be back in your hometown come Christmas Break and summer vacation. 

You get to your college dorm or your first college class and the newness of it all is awe-inspiring. You stay out way too late, talk to a dozen new people, and revel in the glory of this newfound freedom. 

And as these college years go on, things start to change...you start to change. 

At least I did. 

Three years later, and everything is different and I never thought I'd be nostalgic for change. 

Those first five roommates of mine are all married, have served missions, or are graduating with me in the spring. 

The boy I wasted school nights with and promised two years to and I don't make eye contact anymore. 

The new-ness of Logan has worn off and been replaced with a feeling of pure adoration; everywhere from the TSC fountains to the English building have some kind of memory tied to them. 

And even as this year has started, I've watched the people who made my world go round take a back seat and I've ached for the way things were a few months ago--even while recognizing how healthy change is. 

Nostalgia is a weird feeling, especially when you're missing something that hasn't left yet and aching for something you haven't even found. It's the panic that fills your head when you're eating breakfast and you start thinking about how on earth you'll stay in contact with your best friend even though she's sitting right next to you. It's the chaos that envelops you while filling out applications for an internship in New York while the boy who will always have a piece of your heart rambles on about Texas. It's all these turmoil driven things, but it's also the calm that comes as you pull into your parents driveway or let yourself forget about what's coming as you listen to yet another piece of spoken-word poetry at 3 am. 

I know graduation is eight months out, but I'm already feeling nostalgic for this place and the people in it. 

Eight months from now, we're moving on to bigger and better things; and unlike high school graduation, "going home" means more than making the drive through Sardine Canyon, it means cross-country flights, real jobs, and saying goodbyes that last more than just a weekend. 

It's a scary thought. And in answer to your questions: no, I have no idea what I'm doing after graduation yet. Honestly, I don't even know how next semester is going to go! But I do know that lately, I'm both grateful for and dreading change--and I'm diving a little deeper into everything I do. Council meetings won't kill me, I do have time for ice cream with [insert name here], my class readings are actually teaching me something, and [despite everything my sleep-deprived college brain is telling me] I am not too old for another football game or dance party. 

"You get a strange feeling when you're about to leave a place. Like you'll not only miss the people you love but you'll miss the person you are now at this time and this place, because you'll never be this way ever again" 

-Azar Nafisi

Here's to you, senior year. 

Just another sorority recruitment post.

"It gives your college experience a new dynamic"

"You meet tons of people who are interested in the same things you are/motivated like you are/want new opportunities like you do" 

"It will give you a home away from home"

"You'll have [insert number here] people you can call in the middle of the night"

If you've spoken to a member of a sorority about going through recruitment, you've heard these, and a dozen other reasons just like it, as to why you should join the Greek community. 

Don't get me wrong, I support and stand by these statements ten thousand percent, but there are things you learn from being in a sorority that don't double as an elitedaily.com or TSM article. 

^^^ those may be some of the reasons that sparked my interest in Greek life, and maybe even the reasons I joined initially. 

But what really matter are the reasons I stayed: 

1. Joining a sorority made me accountable. 

After joining Kappa Delta, I was thrown into a whirlwind of social events, academic workshops, and weekly meetings. My GPA mattered to 104 people that weren't my parents or myself, and the committees I was on really needed my help. Joining a sorority is fun and games--but it isn't all fun and games. It's a commitment, and I mean that beyond the "not four years but for life" we all wear on our t-shirts. I have a GPA to maintain, a schedule I'm held to, and priorities that had to be defined--and I've benefitted from that in a dozen different ways. 

2. Joining a sorority made me step outside my comfort zone. 

One of the things we tell our new members is that "you are always wearing your letters," sure we have our own idea of when and where our letters should actually be worn, but from the second you sign your bid card, you are associating yourself with letters that will always be a part of what defines you. After joining, I was suddenly part of a group of girls who were making changes on campus, leading different clubs and organizations, and making a name for themselves--and there's always some kind of publicity focused on the Greek community. This kind of attention sometimes takes me out of my comfort zone. There have been several instances at work where I have been questioned about being a member of the Greek community, and even more in classes where comments have been made about me being in a sorority. Defending (or even discussing) my involvement is something that has taken me miles outside of what I previously deemed comfortable--but has also taught me about communicating with others. 

3. Joining a sorority taught me patience.  

Sure, joining a sorority gave me friends like me. Friends who want to be in charge of everything, don't know how to say no, friends who believe the same things I do, and friends who are just as loud as I am. But the most interesting friendships I've made are the ones who have challenged everything I thought before and broke the mold for the things I'd done previously. I'm friends with girls who were cheerleaders, and girls who played football. I'm friends with girls who love glitter more than I do [if that's even possible], and girls who wouldn't be caught dead wearing sparkles. When you join a sorority, you're thrown into a group of girls who have different majors than you, come from different backgrounds than you do, and want to end up different places than you do--but somehow you all come together under the idea that you love an organization in different ways, and that's okay. I'm not even going to try and pretend like I'm best friends with all of my sisters. Some of them drive me absolutely bonkers, but because of our mutual love and determination to further our organization, I love them, and that's taught me about patience, tolerance, and understanding like nothing has before. 

4. Joining a sorority taught me about weakness. 

Y'all know I'm loud, a little bit bossy, and thrive when I'm the center of attention. But what y'all might not know is that I actually hate emotions. I'm a huge crybaby...but there aren't a lot of people who have seen me cry. I don't like talking about my feelings, or being vulnerable, because I've always equated them with weakness. One of my best friends told me one time that "there's a difference between talking at someone and talking to them" and I'm really really bad at telling people how I feel--but I'm getting better. Spring semester was rough for a bit, and I found myself in the chapter room crying to my best friend at 1:30 in the morning. A little while later, after I thought I'd done all the crying I could do, we went upstairs, because I was determined to distract myself from the issue at hand. Y'all know how heartbreak works, and I started crying over the dumbest things, in front of sisters I never would have normally cried in front of. But rather than judging me, or telling me I was being a baby, one simply looked at me and said, "I'm not good at the emotional stuff--but I'm going to sit here until you're okay." That week/month/whatever taught me that it was okay to not be okay, but that things were going to be okay sooner or later--and that tears did not mean weakness, and saying no did not mean you failed.
I also learned very quickly that my sisters and I don't come from a cookie cutter. I don't have the same talents as them, the same experience as them, or even the same ideas as them--but that doesn't make me any less talented,  less experienced, or less smart than them.

5. Joining a sorority taught me about unconditional love. 
You've all heard about the unbreakable sisterhood bonds that come with joining a sorority--but nobody can truly explain the strength that comes with 100+ girls standing behind you. The first Monday I was a KD, I participated in a DIY fashion show on campus, and I was shocked to walk off the stage with my model and see a dozen of my new sisters in the audience; girls who had hurried over after their meetings to support me. They didn't even know me, and yet they were there cheering me on and screaming my name when my team won.
Fast forward two years, and those same girls were the ones walking with me to a party I was dreading, and they were the ones dancing with me and making sure I was okay. They were the ones making over 100 crepes for me at 1:00 in the morning because Mom's Day just had to have a crepe bar.
I'm not saying everybody's always going to be happy with you, and they're not always going to agree with your decisions. But they'll stand behind you while you do what you do, back you up when things get rough, and hold you when everything crashes and burns [and if you're lucky, they won't even say "I told you so" too many times].

I don't fit the "typical sorority girl" mold. I hate Diet Coke, I can't walk in a pair of heels to save my life, and I honestly didn't even know what Toby Keith meant when he sang about red solo cups until my third year of college. I don't get the point of monogramming all of my possessions, and [gasp!] I don't a single Alex & Ani bracelet.
Never in a million years did I see myself throwing what I know and panicking about formal dresses; moving into a house with 24 girls or obsessing over a little. But it's year three, and I don't know where I'd be without KD.
My friends would probably argue that I'd have more free time or be a little less stressed--but there's something about this little army of supportive, successful, beautiful women that keeps me hanging in there.

I joined for the promise of new opportunities, leadership experience, and dozens of friends. 
I stayed because of values I fell in love with, a support system that keeps me standing, and a couple hundred girls that inspire me daily.