College Kid

I am a college student now.

It feels really weird- I'm trying to figure out when exactly I became mature enough for this. I don't know that I am yet. I think perhaps this whole "Running Start" business is supposed to help me mature. I think.

My mom was concerned about me starting this year. She didn't know if I was ready. And honestly, after the first week of school, I wondered if she was right. My head hurt, I just wanted to sleep, and I was rude to my family. And I started calling myself the bad names that I'd heard my professors use (and some that I learned on my own. Or maybe from "The King's Speech") It was pretty not pretty.

The stress was just through the roof. I felt so much pressure for no reason. I am scared to death of being a failure, and what do you know? Things started failing for me when I let the negative patterns take over, which of course kept the vicious cycle going, and so on.

But thankfully, my priorities have been straightened out. Thank you, Mom, for your prayers in Seattle :) This weekend has been so relaxing for me. I actually had time to do a blog post, which is saying something.

One thing I realized about college: It's not my life. It's not my God. It's a tool to help me learn. And I am learning so much, specifically in my Psychology class. It makes me rethink my decision not to become a clinical counselor- I could so see myself doing psychology as a living.

This next week, I am working really hard on keeping my focus where it needs to be. I shouldn't be dreaming about volleyball during speech class. I shouldn't be thinking about school (or *clearing throat* boys) during daily Mass. And I probably shouldn't be doing a blog post when I should be reading "Utopia" for English class. Oh dear. I have quite a ways to go.  

I miss my Lizzy

Last week, we dropped off Elizabeth in Helena, Montana. Yep, the time has come. Lizzy is now an official Reach Youth Ministries team member. Gone are the days of youthful bliss- the days that require maturity and patience have come.

The crazy thing is that Lizzy is an adult now- she is capable of fending for 9 months by herself. As much as I hate to admit it, she is probably managing just fine without my reminding her every five seconds to pick up her stuff. I imagine her ears are no longer ringing from my incessant questions. I have to admit, I am the perfect stereotype of a "little sister": helplessly annoying yet loved dearly (at least I think loved dearly ;)

 

I feel like this picture sums up our relationship well:

I look like I just did something really stupid, and Lizzy is just

looking at me like, "Please tell me you did NOT just do that" ;)

But seriously, I am the older sister now. I am the oldest. I can do this (actually, I am just saying that to make myself feel better. I really don't know if I can do this).

The fact of the matter is, I miss being the younger sister. To be blunt, I miss Lizzy. Yeah, I was jealous of her. A lot. And I was kind-of a brat to her. A lot. But she was a good older sister. She encouraged me and critiqued me and helped me become a better person. She taught me to work hard- she never went easy on me. She didn't even let me win checkers.

 Life has just seemed a little more lonely without Lizzy here. It was bad enough when Stephanie left us, but now the emptiness just seems like a little too much. Actually, I tried sleeping in my own bed after Lizzy left, but for some reason I hardly got a wink of sleep. The next night, again, I tried to sleep in my room, but I just couldn't sleep peacefully. I then realized that I just don't think I can sleep in my room alone. For years, I've begged for my own room, but now I see how lonely and tiresome it is not to have somebody to chat with into the night. Both my old "roomates" have moved out, and now I'm laying here wondering how the heck I'm supposed to sleep by myself. Impossible.

I hope I can sleep tonight- hopefully I'll feel better after lamenting, my bowl of ice cream in tow. But ice cream can't heal a broken heart; it will only make me fat, and then Lizzy and I won't be able to share clothes when she does come back. I guess there is still hope for the future- 9 months isn't forever. But it's long enough for me to be able to truly appreciate who she is and what she brought to our family- something I should've done long ago.

"They say you never know what you've got til it's gone." Tobymac