A Few Items of Business

I have a few items of business that I would like to bring to the attention of my beloved fans.  Actually, did you know that I have zero fans?  Provo apartments just have air conditioning.  Weird.  And I don't have a personal portable fan either.  Besides the point.  I want to bring a few things to your attention.  And I want to get your input.  It is valuable to me.

First, my brother added a subscribe button to my blog.  It's to the left and under my picture and name.  If you subscribe, you will get emails from my blog instead of having to check Facebook just to see if I have written anything.  Just joking, you probably check Facebook for other reasons too.

Second, I would like you to comment on this post in response to two questions.  1. What has been your favorite post and why?  2. What topics would you like to see more of?

Third, I hosted a game a few years ago.  It involved eating lunch (of another meal) with me, and if the contestant laughed at anything I said or did, the contestant lost.  If you would be interested in having a reboot of that game and in participating, let me know.  You can comment here or on Facebook or on Instagram or email or text.  Whichever way you think would be best.

That's it.  There isn't a rant from me today; I just want to know what has been blessing your life in this blog.

And just for a random picture, here is a screenshot of a prompt from Facebook:

Pretending That I'm Not

I've been chastened a lot lately due to my inability to socialize.  Okay, I don't think that's really what people think they are chastening me about.  It's because I am a super negative person and can always find something negative about myself.  I pretend that I'm not any good (when I'm around people).  I pretend to be less.  And pretending to be less gets me into a bit of trouble; I have been told to fix a few things: my attitude, my perception, my pride, etc.

In my journey to being "fixed," I tried to figure out what the root of my social ineptness was. And because I love my abnormal psychology book and unofficially diagnosing everyone with something, I turned to that.  I sometimes pretend that I have ADHD-Inattentive, but that's because I never know where anything is.  Like the other morning when I picked up my car keys and then suddenly didn't have them when I was halfway to my car.  Which I wasn't actually halfway to my car because I had also forgotten where that was.  But that isn't even what I get chastened for.  Back to being social.

I decided that my closest diagnosis would be Avoidant Personality Disorder:

• Avoids occupational activities that involve significant interpersonal contact, because of fears of criticism, disapproval, or rejection
• Is unwilling to get involved with people unless certain of being liked
• Shows restraint within intimate relationships because of the fear of being shamed or ridiculed
• Is preoccupied with being criticized or rejected in social situations
• Is inhibited in new interpersonal situations because of feelings of inadequacy
• Regards herself as socially inept, personally unappealing, or inferior to others
• Is usually reluctant to take personal risks or to engage in any new activities because they may prove embarrassing

Of which I mostly just don't meet the first symptom.  All the others perfectly describe how I feel and/or what I do.  However, there isn't much on how it is treated.  The book mentions that it has similar symptoms to Social Anxiety Disorder, which uses exposure therapy.  I guess I have to be social.

So, I want to say that I am working on things.  And I want to apologize to everyone who has been in contact with me for the last month.  I have complained a lot about my calling because it brings up all of my issues and has sent me into despair every Sunday for the last few months.  I have done really well during the weeks that I just pretended that I didn't have a calling.  But, it's all in my head.  I also apologize for apologizing because I know that makes people even more irritated with me.

Okay, now to get to the positive of this post because I try to end all my posts with something positive or at least something that I think is comical.  Because of my social ineptness, my life has been filled with social experiments.  So, I recently sent out a survey.  (You should also start expecting a lot of social experiments with my "exposure therapy.")  The actual reason I sent this survey out is because I try to find reasons why boys shouldn't want to date me and height has been a recurring theme.  Despite some of you believing that I fear boys, I actually talk to boys all the time.  My roommate says that I'm a player, but I think she's wrong.  I think she is the player.  Sorry; tangents.  From my conversations with boys, I have heard, "the shorter the better," "Five-Seven or shorter," "Nothing shorter than five-nine," "five-eleven," and on.  Mostly, there is this gap between five-seven and five-nine, which just so happens to be where I fit.  So, I give that as a reason why boys shouldn't want to date me.  I pretend that I'm not what people would like.  

I sent out a survey.  Below is a graph of the heights guys like of girls.  Let's just say I have been proven wrong.

P.S. I apologize for anyone offended by my unofficial diagnosing.  I don't have these disorders.  Or at least I never go to find out.  I mostly wanted to unofficial diagnose myself with APD because I feel the therapy that is tied to that would be very beneficial to my personality and thought processes.  I don't mean to make a mock of any diagnoses. 

Shoe Shopping

Shopping is something I do not enjoy.  Grocery shopping is okay because I get food from it, even though my roommates still have to encourage and prod me to go.  Clothes shopping is a not okay but can be over quickly.  Shoe shopping is utterly the worst.  There is no contest on how depressing shoe shopping can and will be.

As my sister starts telling me that my shoes are too ratty or as I realize that I really at some point have to get boots for the winter, I start to mentally prepare myself for the fact that I must go shoe shopping.  I put it off for a few days, and then weeks, and maybe a few months.  And then I set a day that I absolutely have to go to the store by.  And then that day passes.  I must go.  But I don't want to.

Finally the day arises that I have enough courage to take on the daunting task.  I look up multiple shoe stores in the area and decide on going to the store that will most likely carry my size and the type of shoe first, so I don't have to go to more than one store if possible.  I head to the store.

As I walk up to the store, I know they won't have what I am looking for.  My mood starts depressing before making it inside.  However, I must do this.  I am a grown woman, or so I am told, and must face this.  Bravely.  I mean, let's think about this.  What kind of woman doesn't love shoes?  What kind of woman doesn't love shopping for accessories such as these?  This girl.  But I enter the store because I know I have to.

I try to keep my small chunk of hope as I walk toward the type of shoes that I need.  Luckily, there are seven options for the shoe type.  I find the one that I love the best.  And the largest size they have is 10.  Okay, there are six more options.  I go to the next best option.  Largest size is 9.  And then, the hope fades but tries to hold on because I need this.  I need new shoes.  I look through all the good options to no avail.  And then, the ugliest, most frivolous, most out of my price range has my size: the dreaded 11.  I try them on just because.  I know I'm not going to get them because they are the most impractical things I have ever laid eyes on.  Well, not the most.  I see lots of impractical stuff all the time.

So, I go to the next store.  I head to the section that is my size.  It's just a bunch of ugly old lady shoes.  And I already get made fun of for my grandma swimsuit, so I don't purchase anything.  I check the men's section though.  By the way, men's shoes are more comfortable than women's shoes.  Sometimes I am tempted to just buy men's shoes only.  I will have the cutest shoes at church.

The next store.  Nothing.

The next store.  I end up with a size 12 in the type of shoe I needed 8 months ago because the size 11 is just a little smaller for this brand.

The next store still doesn't have my size.  So, my hope has finally died.  My face no longer shines any light of happiness.  And I hold back the tears that threaten to flow.  (Just kidding, it's just one tear.)  I leave the store in misery.  I look miserable.  People tell me to smile.  And I resent them.  I'm done.  I want no part of this anymore.

And so it is that I stick with my nasty pair of $6 shoes that my sister tells me I need to, have to toss.

No thank you, I'd rather not go through that again.  But I know I'll have to in about six months.

Quotes of the Year

Emmett: What if I got married this year?
Cami: That would take a miracle.
Emmett: (slightly offended gasp)
Cami: What if I got married this year?
Emmett: THAT would take a miracle.
Cami: Yep, it will take a miracle for me to get married at all.


Cami talking about a trip that would be a year long starting in July.
Cami:  But what if I meet someone in the next 6 months and we want to get married?  Actually, that'll never happen.
Emmett sings: Miracles happen once in a while.


Cami: I talk to too many people.
Liz: Why?
Cami: People start getting ideas that I'm friendly.


Liz heard me start brushing my teeth but didn't realize who it was.
Liz: Bethany, you already brushed your teeth tonight.
Cami: Despite what you may believe, I do brush my teeth sometimes.


Emmett buying a plane ticket to go to Ian's wedding: "I was like who needs money anyways and pressed confirm."


Cami: I'm single and ready to eat a Pringle.


Cami: On February 14th, while everybody is celebrating ucky yucky stuff, I'll be celebrating Arizona's birthday.
Liz: Can you say that again?
Cami: While everybody is celebrating ucky yucky stuff, I'll be celebrating Arizona's birthday.
Liz: And how old are we?


Cami: Someday I will have nothing, and it will be the best day of my life.


Cami: Sometimes my desire to make people feel uncomfortable exceeds my ability to be socially acceptable.


Emmett: I only buy syrup if it's in the shape of old ladies.


One of the roommates saw a mouse in the apartment:

Student E: What's your favorite color of the alphabet?

Student K: Seven!

Cherise: We're going to help you get better clothes.

Cami: Yeah, looking at the outfits I pick every week, I think in my subconscious I like looking homeless on weekends.

Zac: I like your skirt.

Cami: I don't.

Zac: It's cute.

Cami: I don't like things that are cute.

Zac: You better take care; someone might try to ask you out.

Cami: They already tried that.

Chuck: You didn't happen to see how many calories they had?

Cami: No, I don't count calories.

Chuck: Then what do you do?

Cami: I eat them.

When my visiting teachers were coming over:

In a game, Student A had one life left and was asking other students to give him life.

Cami: Just die.

Student E: You're a staff. You're not supposed to say things like that.

Cami: It's a game.

Student E: Life is a game.

Cami: Life is a game.

Student E: It's a dumb game.

Cami: It's a game where you can get too many babies and push them out of the car.

Student E: How did you ever get to be staff here?

Cami: I don't know.

Liz: What are you looking at?

Cami: Volcano surfing

Cami: Someday, some awesome man will sweep me off my feet, and I'll be like, "Don't touch me."

Conversation about me moving

Anna: I need six dogs and a sassy gay friend.

Cami: Is that what it takes to replace me?

Caitlin: That's a giant mum.

Cami (in a badly mimicked English accent): I don't have a mum.

Taio Cruz: I'm wearing all my favorite brands.

Cami: Do I even have favorite brands? . . . Of cereal, yes.

Kolby trying to make a joke: Why did the four beatles cross the road?

Cami: To make an album cover.

Cami: Do you need some watermelon earrings?

Cherise: No.  Do you need watermelon earrings?

Cami: No one needs watermelon earrings.

Cherise: A truer thing has never been said.

Cami: Boys with motorcycles are wasted on girls who are afraid.

Cami: It smells like sweet.

Emmett: Yeah, I like it.

Cami: It smells like I inhaled sugar into my lungs and it burned.

Carson: We have the strangest relationship.  I think you are so funny, but at the same time, I am terrified of you.

Zac: I've been trying to figure out what to get for my mom for Christmas. 

Cami: I just don't get my mom anything.

Zac: Freaking Cami

Cami: I can't resist the temptation any longer.

Livia: Before you know it, you'll be smoking.

(Conversation about my needing to use the restroom)

About Jimmy John's

Cherise: It sounds like a large, sweaty man.

Emmett: It sounds like someone pooped in their overalls.

Cami: Get up.  You can take a nap after the race.

Griffin: No, chicken nuggets are food.

Griffin making the cat have squinty eyes: Now it's an Asian cat.

Cami: It's a Siamese cat; it's already an Asian cat.

Conversation about dating people in the same ward as you.

Cami: People say that they don't want to pee in the pool.  I think I should pee in the pool a lot more.

Livia: Do it.  The pool needs your pee.

After having new blinds for a week

Elise: Who already broke the blinds?

Cami: Uhh, that was me.

Johanna: Why is there tape in our tree?

Cami: It's an ornament.

Johanna: Who put the cockroach on the door?

Silence

Johanna: It was you Cami, wasn't it?

Cami: Maybe

Cami: And she gave him a package of oreos.

Emmett: Which is good because my love language is oreos.

Cami: Sometimes I look at myself and say, "I look okay."

Livia: Sometimes our brains play tricks on us.

Cami: I just got called sir at the grocery store.  And today was a day I actually thought I looked like a girl.

For They Did Feed Me

Matt 25:35 "For I was an hungered, and ye gave me meat"

If the gift to be fed was a spiritual gift, it would definitely be mine.  I wanted to give thanks to all the people who have fed me over the last few years.  I have been blessed with many a roommate that loves cooking.  I have been a grateful beneficiary of this cooking.  Thank you to all my roommates that have been willing to feed me or take me to the homes of your families to have dinner.

I have had family members feed me.  My cousins and siblings that have lived near me have fed me often.  And I have had many large packages come my way from an aunt who is eager to feed anyone.  She loves food and loves to share food.  For this, I have been quite thankful.

I have had concerned Bishops and ward members that have been willing to feed me.  I think I have already shared this, but once upon a time a Bishop of mine would always ask a few boys in the ward and me to finish off food at ward events.  I was well-fed during those days.  I also sometimes go to ward events and am fed.

Lastly, I have been blessed with jobs that give me food.  I get to eat dinner with the kids that I work with.  I have had some good meals because of this.

Thank you everyone for feeding me during my dreary college years.  I much appreciate the good that you have done in my life.

Just Because I was Born Second

Pick one of the below.  Any will work.  They pretty much all say the same thing.

https://www.facebook.com/9NewsPerth/videos/1834161389929346/

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/science/science-news/5241774/Second-born-children-really-are-more-rebellious-study-confirms.html

https://www.simplemost.com/study-finds-second-born-children-likely-criminals/?partner=scripps&partner-sub=KNXV&utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=partner&utm_campaign=scripps&utm_content=KNXV

I'm gonna be a criminal.  Basically that is what all these articles say.  And you're probably thinking, "Cami, you already are a criminal.  You are a troublemaker and impish."  You're right; I am mischievous and cause many a problem.  I was once told that I caused half of the trouble in the house (and I was only 1/7th of the people living in that house).  But just because I'm bad, doesn't mean that I can't be useful.

How to Utilize the Second Child

1. If you want to put someone in a headlock, just choose the second child.  Chances are they deserve it anyway.

2.  If you want to shoot something, the second child has probably already made himself/herself an easy target.  They're just waiting for it.

3.  If you have a dumb idea but don't want to look like a fool, just tell the second child to do it.

4. Need to look cool?  Just take your awkward younger sister.  She don't got shades.  She don't have nice, wind-swept hair.  You lookin' fly.

5.  The second child is good for blaming terrible pictures on because she started that chain of terrible faces.  She probably taught the other kids just how to ruin pictures.  Also, I can't help laughing whenever I see this picture.  It's just so terrible.

6. The second child is also good at not matching.  Then your family pictures don't look too uniform.

7. Second siblings are also good to do 5Ks with because then you always have someone slower than you, and you don't look as in terrible shape because your face isn't as red as hers.

8.  Everyone needs that person that makes them look good in pictures.  The second child is great at helping people look more intelligent and put together.

9.  Also, if you need someone to push down a mountain, second children can be fairly resilient.  How do you think they get away with so much?  They just live for forever.  Also, another picture where the second child just looks a little more stupid.

10.  In the end, I think the first child actually likes the second child.  They get along okay.  The first may have better grades and a better job and better income, but the second provides a lot of comic relief.  When the first child needs someone to listen to her, the second child is usually there.

P.S. Both of my parents are the second child, so I think the whole lot of us were bound to be criminal.

Thanksgiving with the Bro

If anyone in this world has ever thought for a second that I am funny, they should definitely meet my youngest brother.  He is so weird.  I can't help but laugh whenever we are together.

First thing my brother does when I get home is ask for a haircut.  Since I got home so late on this trip, he was already in bed.  Nevertheless, he got out the box of haircutting supplies and had them sitting out for whenever he first saw me.  He refuses to let anyone but his sisters cut his hair.

Our Thanksgiving day started with a Turkey trot (a first for both of us).  I went into his room to wake him up. The conversation went a little something like this:

Cami--Get up.  You can take a nap after the race.

Griffin--No.  Chicken nuggets are food.

He wasn't asleep either; he fully intended to say those words.

Within the past month, my family has also gotten some cats.  My brother messes with those cats all the time.  While I was home, he was making the cat have squinty eyes.  Then he said, "Now it's an Asian cat."  I replied, "It's a Siamese cat; it was already an Asian cat."

Also, here's a great picture of my brother bonding with one of the cats.  Not very good resolution, but it shows the awesomeness of the bonding.

Does God Love Me?

Growing up Christian, I heard a lot about Jesus being crucified for the sins of the world.  When we would talk about it at church, I often heard people say that God must have been so sad and heartbroken to see His Son, Jesus Christ, assaulted and killed.  It always made me wonder, "Is God not sad or worried about the rest of us?"  I knew that God loved Jesus Christ--His Beloved Son.  But, did God love me?  I took it upon myself to find out.

At the age of 12 or 13, I started doing Personal Progress--this weird value program that helps teenage girls become stronger in the gospel.  (It wasn't my favorite thing to do.)  I started with the value of Individual Worth because I did not see my worth.  I didn't fully believe that God loved me, and I thought this would be one of the best ways to find out.  I completed a project on family history.  It taught me a few things.

Just ignore the little "Add Husband" rectangle.  I mean, if you have any suggestions, I'm open.

As I worked on family history, I realized that there are so many individuals on this earth.  And God counts all of them.  He cares that each person is accounted for.  He knows all of His children.  (Moses 1:35)  As I read Doctrine and Covenants 121:45 and John 13:34, I understood that as we serve God's children, we will feel His love for them.  Of course, there is also the scripture that everyone knows from sporting events: John 3:16, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."

Prayer
One of the greatest ways that I have come to know that God loves me is through prayer.  If you pray to God, He will let you know that He loves you.  Prayer is the way that we talk to God.  He will put feelings in your heart and thoughts in your head that will confirm His love for you.  Often my prayers take the form of a children's song--A Child's Prayer.  Below are the words that mean most to me.  I tried to create pictures to show the spacing of the words that give me the most meaning.  I truly feel God is there when I sing/say these words.

God is our loving Heavenly Father.  It's the thing that we must learn for anything in this life to mean anything.  Sadly, I sometimes forget this.  I find myself wondering if I mean anything to God.  Moses 1:39 says, "This is my work and my glory--to bring to pass the immortality and eternal life of man."  God's whole purpose is to help his humans.  You give purpose to the greatest Being.  You give purpose to God.  You are not nothing.  He loves you.  He loves me.  And though you may forget it and may fall short of expectations, you are still loved.

The answer is yes.  God loves me.

How to be Extremely Plain

1. Don't Improve Your Talents
On Sunday, while at work, one of the boys asked me what one fact was the most important for people to know.  I told him that I was mean.  Then he told me that it had to be positive.  He dived into an interrogation that left me remembering that I am just some boring, little life form that has somehow existed for the last 20-something years.  He asked me if I was athletic.  Nope, not that. He asked me if I was smart.  Not that either.  He asked me if I was musical.  Well, kind of, but if you think about the musical capacities of all the people in the world, I would be pretty low on the musical talent.

2. Don't Go Anywhere
Pretend you are going to go somewhere and then don't.  Want to know how many travel plans that I have made and never actually gone anywhere?  Lots.  All the time.  In fact, that's pretty much what I did all of yesterday and today.  Just stay stuck in a little, old college town that drives you crazy.  That's a real good way to stay plain.

Notice the gold stars.  I was gonna go on a trip, and it never happened.  (Actually, I have been to Vegas quite a bit.  Call me a sinner, but I love them card games.  The card games like "Uno" that I played with my cousins when they lived there.)


3. Just be Plain-looking
All my siblings tell me to wear makeup, so I can get married someday.  I gave up a long time ago.  I think I gave up before I ever started going on dates.  Apparently people have to be attractive to be married, so I gave up.  Now before you start telling me, "Cami, how can you think that?  You are attractive" or "Cami, you are so cute," just understand that I am more likely to agree with all the people saying, "With that attitude, you aren't going to get married."  Also, something you should know is that I don't think I am pretty, but I don't think I'm ugly either.  I am merely plain.  There is nothing about my appearance that says, "Woah."  I look like a human.  Wonderful.  I don't make any of the other girls envious, so they feel comfortable talking to me.  I don't make the boys nervous, so they feel comfortable talking to me.  So, really it is kind of nice to look plain.

4. Deny Anything You Do that Could Seem Interesting
It's actually quite easy.  Just say no whenever anyone asks you if you do anything?  Another phrase I use to answer questions is, "It doesn't matter." Now this could have a few different results.  People could become intrigued that you won't tell them anything and think you are cooler than you actually are.  People can also just realize that you have nothing of importance to share and move on.

So, I hope this was helpful.  More likely than not, it wasn't.  My instructions are vague and uninteresting, so good luck with trying to be plain.  Hope it works out for ya.

When the Answer is "Patience"

It's frustrating.  When the answer is "patience," it's frustrating.

Since April, I have been agonizing over my future.  I have been bogged down by trying to figure out what I am doing next and where I am going.  I can't tell you how many times I would write down the names of different states that I was willing to look for jobs in just to cross them all out because I didn't feel right about any of them.  There were a few that would make the cut every now and then; however, when it came down to actually deciding where to apply, it was nowhere.  I didn't want to apply.  One thing was for sure: I didn't want to be in Utah.  I wanted to move.  I wanted to maybe travel for a little while.  And I kind of did that.  I took a month off of work and visited family in a few states.

I applied to jobs in Washington, California, Oklahoma, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Utah, and Hawaii.  I interviewed with a few of them as well.  I always ended up ending my application process before being offered a job.  Somehow, I narrowed down my applications to two states: Utah and Arizona.  Why?  Beats me.  As you all know, I stayed in Utah.  Why?  I don't know.  I have asked God over and over and over and over again.  The answer: "Patience."

What do I need to learn here?  Patience
What lack I yet?  Patience
Why don't I have any courage?  Patience
Why am I not progressing the way I want to?  Patience
Why won't you tell me anything?!  Patience

I have accepted that answer and been okay for a while.  I haven't known how long I should wait because how long does one be patient?  One month, two months? A year?  And I never know when God's gonna say, "Okay Cami, I will give you something now.  I will let you have some of the answers you are wanting."  So, I would wait a little bit and ask again.

Patience.

Then another month would go by, so I would think, "Maybe I should ask again.  I don't know when exactly the answer will change."  And when the answer stayed the same, I got angry.  I got irritated.  And, I would stay irritated for the evening.  I would go to bed and in the morning be okay.  I would be okay with waiting.  I would be okay with trying to figure things out on my own for a few days.  And I did try to just make a decision and go with it.  One day I decided to move to Arizona.  The next I was going to stay in Utah.  The next Arizona.  Utah.  Arizona.  Arizona.  Arizona.  Utah (bleh).  Arizona (definitely).  Utah.  Arizona.  Utah.

I don't know how to make decisions.  And I told God that and asked for help.  The help he gave was, "Patience."  Do you know how frustrating it is to receive the same, not comforting answer for months and months?  Probably.  I know I'm not the only one.  But something has happened; I've been forced to know/decide who I am and what I want out of life.

I know that I am a child of God.  I know that I want to get married and be a mom.  That's truly what I want.  And it's stupid and cliche, but that's what I want.  And if I don't get that, at least I can be a recreation therapist.  And maybe go back to school.  Perhaps become a college professor.  (Or an absent-minded professor.)  I have a plan for my life that doesn't depend on me getting married.  I know what I want to do and where I want to go, but I am also willing to rely on the Lord and listen to His council.  Because He loves me.  Even when I doubt.  Even when I can't hear him or am told to be patient.

Like my grandma, my faith is not dependent on outcomes.  I can learn the dreaded lesson of patience.






P.S.  Here's a random note.

End of the Hugging Experiment
I didn't get nearly as many hugs as I thought I would.  Most likely, I just imagine that people want hugs more than they actually do because I am so adverse to giving them.  Or maybe people just like asking me for hugs when they know I don't want them because they think it is funny.  During the 15 days, the most I hugged any one person was thrice.  And I even had people tell me that they would not be giving me hugs.

I think my thoughts on hugs are mostly the same.  Hugging people didn't really give me any added joy.  I don't care for them much on a regular basis.  So, I think I will just go back to my regular hug-denying self.

The Hugging Experiment

Have you ever had a stranger chew you out for not accepting a hug?  And they tried to give you scientific proof of why you are wrong to not give another person a hug?  'Cause for me it has happened a few times.  Have you had people think that you have had trauma as a child when you don't want people to touch you?  Maybe you were neglected and that's why you don't like hugs?  That's also happened a few times.

I decided that I am going to do an experiment.  For the next 15 days, I will accept hugs from people.  The following are the rules for the experiment:

1. If a person asks for a hug, I will give them a hug
2. Limit one hug per person per day
3. I have to reciprocate (aka no limp fish like my normal)
4. Unless you are being a creep, in which case, I will determine if it is necessary to punch you in the gut
5. At the end of 15 days, I record my feelings about hugs and my experience

If at any point, I feel that the experiment requires more rules due to rule #4 or other such things, I will use my discretion to add to the rules.  Just so you know, I may cry inside a lot during the next 15 days.  I will never let you see though.  Do you trust me?

Unnecessary Backstory

If you want to hear my personal view of hugging, this is the spot of the blog to read.  I don't necessarily hate hugs.  Hugs, to me, have been an elevated form of consolation.  Hugs have been what are given when words just can't cut it anymore--when you need physical support in order to have emotional support.  It can be happy support or sad support.

It may surprise you that I sometimes want a hug.  I often don't ask because I feel that people will assume I will accept hugs all of the time.  I feel people will think this because I am not super open about my emotions, and people cannot often tell what I am feeling.  I usually want a hug when there are overwhelming emotions (that I probably am not showing on my face).

So, I am doing this experiment to see if it does affect my mood and to see if I maybe trust people more.  Doubtful.  Okay, maybe not the best attitude to have when starting an experiment.  I will try to be open-minded.  Also, I do have a feeling I might be uncomfortable in the next few days.

When You Feel Hopeless, Worthless, or Want Life to End

Dear [Insert Your Name],

Hi, my name is Cami.  If you are reading this, that means I care for you, at least a little bit.  You could be my best friend, my family member, or someone I have met a few times.  You could be a complete stranger--I care for you nonetheless.  I write this letter because the majority of the people I know have felt this way.  I have never had a friend or family member commit suicide; however, I have had many friends and family contemplate and attempt it.  I also have many family and friends who have felt hopeless.  This is a letter to anyone who has suicidal thoughts and/or general thoughts of hopelessness and worthlessness.

I want to let you know that you matter.  And you have impacted my life and the lives of others.  I want you to know that I believe in God.  If you don't believe in God, this isn't me trying to preach to you.  This isn't me saying that this letter isn't for you.  I may say some things in here God-related, but my personal message to you remains the same whether or not you are religious: you make a difference.

I want you to know what you have done for me.  Because of you, I have learned how to embrace my spontaneity and be carefree.  Because of you, I have learned that I am loved.  Because of you, I realized that my life is important.  Because of you, I have learned that weakness can be strength.  Because of you, I have learned that honesty can be healing, even when it is sometimes hard to hear.  I have found friends.  I have opened my heart.  I have felt love for others.  I have laughed so hard.  You really are super funny.  Because of you, I have understood that there is more to life than school and work.  Because of you, I have spared my own life.  You are the one that made my life worth living.  And you were the one that helped me feel hope.  You made me glad to see another day.  Thank you.

There will be people in your life that will make you feel unwanted.  Sometimes those people can be the ones we love the most.  And it hurts so much.  That can change.  They can change.  What you face right now won't be forever.  Giving up now could take away years and years of wonderful things.  I know that because I have lived that.  For all the times I wanted to give up, there were several better things that came my way.  I wouldn't have known if I had actually given up.

God loves you.  And He loves you infinitely more than you can imagine.  He knows infinitely more of your worth than you know.  He knows that you can be something special.  And He has the power to help you become that.

I don't know if any of this will make anyone feel any better.  Although I wrote this with many people in mind, I also wrote this letter for myself.  There are lots of days when I have to remind myself to keep going.  That I am not worthless.  I have to remind myself that I am not actually ruining everyone's lives or making everyone's lives more difficult (though it may be a few).  It's still going to be hard sometimes or a lot of times.  In the end, you really do matter.  You have something to offer this world.

And you have made my life better.

You have made me better.

Sincerely,
And with a bit of love,
Cami

P.S. If ever you need someone to talk to, I am here.  I love when people invite me to talk with them.  And more likely than not, it will help me to not feel hopeless and worthless as well.

How to Be the Ward Joke: A Tale of Strange Popularity

I was talking to my sister about my experiences within the last year in my ward.  It was as I was relating my mildly funny tales that she turned to me and said, "Cami, you're the ward joke."  I realized that she was correct.  So, without further ado, here is the story of how I became the ward joke.

Becoming the Ward Joke

I moved into the ward last August.  I was working every Sunday on an alternating morning/evening shift schedule.  Therefore, I was a term used in the church known as "less active."  This itself became a joke.  I don't know why; it just did.  The people that I would do stuff with would joke about me being less active.  I think it had to do with the fact that I went to church when I could and actively brought up gospel topics.  It probably didn't help that I joked right along with them.  I had friends who would always joke that they invited me to game nights so I would be active again.

Come January, things really got weird.  My friends said that they were going to find someone for me to start dating.  This is the phrase used a lot by all the creepers who go to church: "Flirt to convert."  (My friends are creepers.)  I went on a few dates with some boys in the ward.  Surprise!--I've been on dates.  This is where a little fact about my ward comes in handy: everyone knows everything about everyone else.  Except me.  I tend to be a little behind and find out what happened about three months later.  But that's another story.  Just joking, it's not, I just don't talk to people.  Everyone knows everything about me though.  That's when my friends said that I really was converting from flirting.  (I actually just was able to go to church more because I changed jobs.)  So, I stopped going to church.

Actually, I didn't stop going to church.  I just took a much needed break from dating.  I don't know how some of those weird Mormon kids go on a date each week.  Dating stresses me out.  It's scary.  Anyway, I thus started my reputation as a heart breaker.  I don't think I actually broke anyone's heart, but it's now one of the jokes about me that some of my ward friends have.  So, I am now the less active that breaks hearts but needs someone to "flirt to convert" me.  I am a joke.  But, that's not it.  The next one is the true joke.  It's also the best.

In June, my ward had a kickball tournament.  I asked a group of people to be on my team.  I hadn't set a team name, so I just signed myself up as Cami's team.  Unbeknownst to me, the other people in my group signed up with Cami's team and Team Cami.  Therefore, my team was just Team Cami.  My team members said that we needed shirts and catch phrases.  They started calling me Coach Cam.

Missing 5/8 of the team, but we got some representation

We ended up winning the tournament because of my excellent coaching skills.  Actually, we were the only team that showed up to the finals.  We only played one game that month, and we lost it.  Good times.  At least you could say my team was dedicated.  They came to all the games and all the practices.

The next month, my ward started a tennis tournament--doubles. So, we had team names again.  Some of my kickball teammates named their teams after me.  There was a Team Cami and The OG Team Cami.  I was on neither of these teams.  My teammate and I named our team after my teammate.  I got texts to come play tennis when people didn't look at the players on the team.  They just saw my name and thought I was on the team.  This is what my sister meant about me being the ward joke.

Perpetuating the Ward Joke

Once upon a time, there was this really indecisive girl who made bad decisions.  She decided to move back to Arizona after finishing her undergraduate degree.  She told everyone she was moving.  She thought that if she told everyone and made plans to do so and applied to a bunch of jobs, it would happen.  So, she left.  After many weeks of thinking and debating with herself, she decided while she was gone that she was maybe better off in Utah.  At least for a little while.  So, some weird stuff happened, blah blah, something else happened.  Anyway, when she got back, the first person to see her moving in was her nemesis.  And he had to make it known to the entire ward that she was back.  The girl did grieve.

As of now, that girl still hasn't been to that ward for a month.  Is she really still in that ward?  Stay tuned to find out.

The World's Okayest Dad

I want to tell you about a man who I have thought about quite a bit in the last few weeks.  Maybe this will make up for the fact that I only called him for a few minutes on Fathers' Day and that was it.  I want to tell you about a man who has taught me a few things.  I'm not saying he is the best dad in the world.  In fact this is the mug he has gotten for a few Fathers' Days.

There were a few years that I felt that he wasn't around much: my junior and senior year of high school to be exact.  But, I don't really think you can blame him.  He isn't a bad dad.  I want to tell you about the things that I have learned from this man.

This man calls himself the Dominator.  I gave a little shout out to him in my post about winning a national championship.  I've adopted this need to dominate.  No one actually calls him the Dominator, though he writes it on his cup every time we go to my grandparents' home.  He likes to talk smack during all the games we play.  (Another attribute that I have adopted.)  Yet with all this smack, he can still get people to play games with him.  He knows how to turn everything into a tournament.  Speaking of which, I won the two March Madness bracket competitions that I entered this year.  Domination!

This man loves Christmas.  Let me repeat, loves Christmas.  Loves it.

Every June 25, he has a halfway to Christmas celebration.  He sometimes puts up a tree and puts a gift under for each person in the family.  Often he has a party and desserts.  Which reminds me, that he also likes to have parties.  With close family and friends.  I've learned that there is never a such thing as listening to Christmas music too early.  In fact, it is perfect for lightening the mood and for when one is stressed.  I have adopted this practice as well.

This man has also taught me about enduring to the end.  Once upon a time, this man had a wife.  And then she died.  He didn't give up.  He tried to be a dad that was around more.  Yeah, there were a few rough years that didn't go the way that everyone thought they should.  Yeah, he made mistakes, but everyone does.  Yeah, my dad and I had a terrible relationship.  But we don't anymore.

This man was trying to raise five really weird kids.  We were all going through hard things.  I don't think any of us were seeing eye-to-eye with any of the rest of us.  We all were dealing with things in the best way we know how.

This man taught me that God is the number ONE in our lives.  We can't make it without Him.  He is the bearer of peace.  To quote O Holy Night, "And in His name, all oppression shall cease."  I think my dad understood this a long, long time ago (he's old (kind of (actually, he's probably younger than your dad))).  I am thankful that my dad understands that the world isn't going to get better by rejecting God.  I am thankful that I know that God is the source of peace.

This man taught me that the temple is the House of God.  And by following God, we can enter in this beautiful building and make our families last forever.  He has taught me about the power of God.

So, even though my dad and I are still building a better relationship, I have learned a lot.  And you can probably guess that I am a lot like my dad.  'Cause yes, I think I am a lot like my dad.  The good and the bad.  But hey, we've got God with us.  And that is what will make us awesome.

The Worst Adventure Ever

Four years ago, I was in North Carolina.  I was starting my mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.  If you are Mormon, you have probably heard the saying, "The best two years."  This refers to a person's mission being the best years of their life.  My mission was anything but my best years.  As I see Facebook posts about people remembering how awesome their missions were, I find myself trying to forget things that happened on my mission.  I tell myself to let it go.  I tell myself to forget my mission and move on with my life; it's holding me back.  I guess this post is a way I am trying to do that.  I need to let the memories stop haunting me and enabling me to feel pity for my past.  Bad things happen to everyone, why should I let mine keep me from being happy?  Why should I feel bad?  I am not an exception.  People move on, so should I.

Before moving on, if you are contemplating serving a mission, I just want to remind you of one thing:  you will be a representative of Christ.  This means that you will be "despised and rejected of men" and "acquainted with grief" (Isaiah 53:3).  Are you ready to be hated?  Because I can promise you that you will be hated.  You will be told to go to Hell.  People will slam doors in your face.  But, I also want to remind you that as a representative of Jesus Christ, you are also charged with the care of a companion.  This, my friends, is what I want to share with you.

Again before moving on, I want to apologize to all of my companions.  I know that I can be difficult to live with.  I don't love people in the same ways that others love.  I don't give hugs and say, "I love you."  I tried to be better.  I know that some of you did not feel love in the way that you would have wanted.  I am sorry for that.  I do my best to love everyone and treat them as human beings.  I apologize if I failed.  I want you to know that I did not hate you.  Okay, now we can move on.

If you don't know already, as a child, I had a lot of suicidal thoughts.  The thing that kept me from killing myself was a fear of Hell--and then later, knowing that Heavenly Father loves me and has a purpose for me.  These thoughts were common in junior high and slowly faded away throughout high school.  I was greatly blessed with these thoughts being taken away.  Not everyone will have that.  Some people have these thoughts persist their entire lives.  Somehow I was lucky.  Anyway, by the time I got my mission call, I wasn't having suicidal thoughts anymore.

My sister served a mission at the same time as me.  She had started her mission 6 weeks before me, and ended 6 weeks before me.  When I saw her for the first time after my mission, we embraced and I said to her, "I hope your mission was better than mine."

During the last two weeks of my mission, I prayed every night that the Lord wouldn't let me wake up.  I prayed that it would be my last day.  This is how I had come to deal with my suicidal thoughts.  I thought that instead of acting on these thoughts, I should put it in the hands of the Lord.  I knew that if He kept me alive, there was still more that I needed to accomplish in life.  If he let me die, I would finally be taken from my miseries.  Here is why I had suicidal thoughts on my mission.

I felt that my companions hated me.  I felt this way because I was told that I was unlovable.  I was told I was like a ball and chain, "I hate you," and that it was my fault that things went wrong.  I was reminded that it was my lack of faith keeping us from finding people to teach.  (Which also made me question my faith.)  I was accused of being "trunky" (a word which here means mentally AWOL while being physically present) because I mentioned death near the end of my mission.  In reality, I had had three family members die while I was on my mission.  So death was just something that I thought about.  Often.  It still is.

The doubt and awful feelings for myself increased throughout my mission.  I questioned my faith.  I questioned whether or not I was actually a good person.  I began to wonder how I was such a terrible person that all of my companions hated me.  I tried to serve my companions to let them know that I was trying to not be awful.  I tried to get out of their way when I knew that they hated the way I did things.  I just didn't understand.  I didn't know how when I tried so hard, I still ended up hated.  I still couldn't do things right.  The harder I tried the worse I was.  I was nothing.

Serving a mission is hard.  You have to constantly think of others and serve them.  You have to be willing to be hated.  During those 18 months, I told myself over and over, "I am not serving my mission for my companions, I am serving it for the Lord."  The Lord is the one who trusted me.  I forgot to see that.  I learned a lot about Jesus Christ.  I learned to love people.  My mission taught me that Jesus Christ is there in every small thing.  He wants His children to know Him.  My relationship with Him increased.  Even though I failed at trying to be kind to companions and loving them in the way they feel love, Jesus Christ loved me and them.

My mission is something I try to forget, but I try to remember my relationship with Christ.  When I forgot about myself and remembered what I was doing, I was truly happy.  Serving God's children is one of the best callings ever.  He knows what He is doing, even when we don't.  I would totally recommend serving a mission if you want to know God.  Just know that serving a mission comes with a price.  Are you willing to pay that price?  I'll let you know that the price is much less than the worth.  God loves you.  He knows you.  Even when you feel worthless and that you can't get better, He loves you.  He will help you be truly happy.  His happiness is like no other happiness on earth.

Go with God