To Those Who Suffer

     You know, I'd have to say my life is pretty good.  I grew up with loving parents who took care of my siblings and me.  We weren't necessarily rich, but we always had food, shelter, and Christmas presents.  I have a religion I love.  I've had good friends throughout the years, and many of them have stuck through until now.  I love my school, I usually enjoy my job, I loved both junior high and high school.
     But, as I'm sure you're all aware, no life is without hardships.
     My maternal grandfather died when I was eleven, and my paternal grandmother died when I was fourteen.  I struggled with P.E. classes all throughout junior high, even to the point of breaking down in tears at the mere thought of going.  I went on trek and hated almost every second of it.  I got horribly sick afterwards and was practically bedridden for nearly two weeks.  My friends have gone through all sorts of physical and mental ailments, from FIRES to severe depression and anxiety, from colon issues to suicidal thoughts.  Couples I looked up to got divorced.  Friends became people I didn't want to be associated with anymore.
     However, it could be so much worse.
     Starting high school was one of the most difficult things I've ever done, as I think I've mentioned before.  Something about it was just so jarring and unfamiliar to me that I often described myself as a piece from the wrong puzzle: I look like I need to be somewhere specific, but I really don't belong there, and making me fit in will only cause problems.
      I had really loved junior high, and to say I was hesitant to leave would be an understatement.  I was in an entirely new situation, which freaked me out.  Most of my friends had vastly different schedules, so I couldn't rely on them as much as I previously had.  There were only a couple classes I really felt happy to be in.
     I was miserable, but I didn't want to be that way anymore.  I came to understand that permanence is important, and that basing all my happiness on something temporary would only leave me in despair.  I realized that there's no one specific thing, person, class, etc. that could provide me happiness.  I had to rely on many people, many books, many friends.  But for me, the one permanent thing that I knew would never let me down was the gospel of Jesus Christ.
     I know that for some of you, that's not it.  I'm not saying it has to be.  For me, though, that was the only way.  And because of that--because I found something I knew I could hold on to--I learned to smile and to laugh with meaning.  I knew that the bad days were still going to come.  I knew that I'd still be stressed and worried.  I knew that my friends would still have their problems.  But I also knew that none of that would last forever.  None of it.
     I know that life is hard.  I haven't even experienced the worst things about life, and I am still confident in saying that life is hard.  There's no quick and easy fix that will solve all your problems and allow to live happily ever after.  It doesn't work like that.  What does work is finding something permanent--something that cannot be taken from you--and holding onto that like your life depends on it.  It just might.
     So, to those who suffer, please remember that you are not alone, and that every night must come to an end.  There is a light at the end of the tunnel, but it's your job to keep moving towards it.  I know you can.
     I love you.
     "So count your blessings every day.  It makes the monsters go away.  And everything will be okay.
     "You are not alone.  You are right at home.  Goodnight."

Not a Paid Promotion

     Sometimes I wonder if I'm really as introverted as I think I am.  And then we have eight people join our usual five on what I anticipated to be a quiet Sunday and I realize that I'm even more introverted than I think I am.
     Anyway, that has nothing to do with what I'm about to write, but now you know.
     Today, I would like to tell you a story.
     It was Friday night.  My roommates were all out with guys, and I was thoroughly enjoying Lord of the Rings.  They slowly trickled back to the apartment, and my dear roommate Hannah soon arrived.
     We got to talking, as we're wont to do, and soon the conversation turned to keyboarding.  As usually occurs when the conversation pops up, my mind wandered back to third grade, when we used Dance Mat Typing to learn how to type properly.  I, however, had misunderstood some of my teacher's instructions, so every time we went to the computer lab to practice, I started at the beginning instead of continuing from where I'd left off.  This meant I did the home row lesson an inordinate amount of times.  Eventually, though, I was set on the right path.
     I told Hannah this story, and then looked up Dance Mat Typing just to show her.  She'd done it as well, so you know what we did until 3:00 in the morning?  We played Dance Mat Typing on our individual laptops until we completed all the lessons.
     Was it a waste of time or a waste of time?  I mean, what else would we have been doing?  Sleeping?
     Typing is basically a way of life at this point.  I do it often enough, anyway.  And not to brag, but I'm pretty fast.  I'll never forget my seventh grade keyboarding class, where I finished all the lessons by the time we were halfway through the semester, so my teacher found random articles for me to transcribe.  It was actually kind of fun, not going to lie.  This same teacher also watched me type once and said, "You're going to melt the keyboard, you're going so fast."
     In case you were concerned, no keyboards were harmed in the making of this typist.
     Anyway...information you didn't need but that I was going to share anyway.  Bye now.
     "So count your blessings every day.  It makes the monsters go away.  And everything will be okay.
     "You are not alone.  You are right at home.  Goodnight."