No Pressure...

In a continuance of last week's post, the following conversation ensued:

"Not to pressure you or anything, but I can only come back to the states if someone gets married or dies. Tatiana is out of the question for 18 months old, and I want to get back there before next fall. I'd rather someone didn't die."

Oh Blanca.

Have I mentioned that I really like this woman?

I do, and her son.

Sunday Blogging: Other people's expectations

I'm not sure I'll keep it up, but the feeling has hit to blog again... I think there are just a few of you who read this on a regular basis (Mom!) but I'm going to try to blog on a more regular basis, perhaps on Sunday nights...

I've been feeling stressed lately about my relationship. EXTERNALLY stressed. Quite frankly, I am pretty content with the state of my relationship. Justin and I have been dating for seven months tomorrow and we are "just" still dating. He moved in June to the town 20 miles north of here and we see each other 3-4 times a week, (I go up twice, and he comes down once or twice). It is a comfortable routine, and I still get a little giddy to see him. He is often the calm in my hectic life. And we talk about getting married, we talk about marriage and our hypothetical life together, but there just aren't solid plans.

I suppose part of the LDS culture includes the expectation of "ring by spring." At the BYU, if you've been dating for a semester, there must be a reason if there's not a ring on it!

I'm not at BYU anymore. I'm happily pursuing my masters degree in the armpit of America. (smelly and always hot, but not all together unpleasant with the appropriate treatment (deodorant for armpits, and a boyfriend for Portales!) But I digress...

I guess the "ring by spring" philosophy isn't just a Utah thing. There has been increasing external pressure about my relationship. Not from my family (you are all wonderful, thank you) but from people at church. The following are actual quotes from TODAY at stake conference:

Member of our bishopric: "How are you, Justin? It's good to see you two. How are you doing? (gesturing at the two of us)"

Member of the STAKE PRESIDENCY: "Are you engaged yet? (I show him my naked third finger) Justin, you've found her; now you just have to marry her."

And last week when I was Skyping with Justin's mom in Equador (just me):

"Emily, can you tell me anything else about the nature of your relationship? We just love you and we want you to be a part of our family, and we couldn't be happier that Justin has found you.... (insert all the nice things you could say about/to a girl your son is dating here)"

Her effusive compliments made me feel a little uncomfortable, I wish I could tell her that I love her son, but that the ball's in his court, and pushing him won't make anything move quicker. There is also a part of me that wonders if she just wants an excuse to come back to the states, which she can only do for weddings and funerals of immediate family, and since Justin's little sister is on a mission, it's up to us to get her back to the states.

And Thursday with Justin's mom (with Justin there):

"What is the nature of your relationship?" *Justin shrugs* "Justin, you know Emily's leaving in May, right?"

I don't know how to tell people that we're good where we are for now. I'm in the middle of school, yes, I would plan a wedding if it was right, but it would be so much stress. I'd rather not while I am in school. I just know that he'll do it in his own time, and when he's ready. I'm not going to rush him, and I don't think it's going to kill either of us to wait a bit.

So I suppose I am thankful that my stress is external and not internal, because I can just shrug and smile at all the questions. It's harder to shrug at oneself.

And maybe, just maybe there will be a ring by spring this year... but we'll see.

What I want the young women to know about modesty.

Today I left church angry. So very angry, because of something that had been said in our young women's lesson. As part of the lesson, we talked about modesty. One of the girls said something about if you don't dress modestly you could get raped. I loudly disagreed with that statement, and one of the other leaders said:

"I don't care what the feminists say; if you dress like that [immodestly], a bad man could get the wrong idea and you might get raped"

Call me a feminist, but what you're telling these girls is "if you dress immodestly, it's your fault if you get raped." You are scaring them into obedience, which is the worst reason to be obedient. Yes, you should dress modestly, but had there been time (we had already gone over, which is likely why the above statement was made without further discussion) here's what I wish I had could have taught the girls about why they should dress modestly:

When you dress modestly, you are showing that you respect yourself. You understand that you are not just an object, valued only for looking good, but that you have inherent worth, "you are a daughter of Heavenly Father who loves you."

When you dress modestly, and show that you respect yourself, you help ensure that other people will also treat you with the respect you show yourself.

When you are dressed modestly you are more comfortable. You don't have to be embarrassed when your bishop, or young women's leader show up in an unexpected setting. You're not constantly pulling your shirt up or tugging your shorts/skirt down.

When you dress modestly, your behavior will follow  You should dress for the kind of behavior you want to display. When you dress immodestly, it is like putting on a costume, you will behave in a way that someone who dresses immodestly would behave. Dressing modestly will likely lead to modest actions.

And yes, when you dress modestly, those who may have had inappropriate thoughts, are less likely to have them about you based on your clothing... but that's no guarantee that their thoughts will stay pure. Frankly, that's not in your control or your responsibility. Men  should be expected to be gentlemen, and not animals, unable to control themselves. Yes, you can help, but that is not your prime directive.

Bottom line. Immodesty is no excuse for rape. Be modest because you respect yourself, be modest because you love Jesus, be modest because your body is a gift, that was paid for by someone who loves you infinitely. That should be reason enough to treat it well, not because you are scared of being raped.

Words of affirmation and late night texts

My language of love is clearly words of affirmation. As much as I want you to hug me (physical touch being my secondary love language), if you just tell me you like me/appreciate me/think I'm cool/etc, I might float on air for some time.

I was just buckling down (yep at 11pm) to finish some grading I have to do for the department secretary, and my phone buzzed... This is not abnormal. I finished setting out the papers before I grabbed it. The text message was for the department head who I very much admire and just plain like. She is so, so busy and as her "personal GA" (graduate assistant), I try to keep her happy (she's kind of like our mom, and if momma ain't happy ain't nobody happy)... Mostly keeping her happy means keeping her caffeinated... I can do that!

The text said:

"Thanks for all you I for me. You are an unexpected blessing from The Lord!"

It's been a stressful week. Work started back up again and I've been mother ducking all the new GAs around. I'm also trying to get everything ready to start my practicum, when they changed requirements on us last weekend. This meant, at this busy time of the year for teachers asking them to write letters of reference with little to no notice/time. Anyway. In all the stress, it was nice to hear that I'm still helping someone. That I'm not just a complete self absorbed basket case.

The Worst Case Scenario.

Note: Don't freak out, this is purposely vague, and I'm okay, Justin and I are good. I'm just processing.

Almost two months ago, I thought about doing something. I held off. I told myself I was stressed and put it off till my hand was clearer. I told myself I would do it after school was out if I still felt like doing it.

After school was out, I took a few days, thought it over and chickened out. I mulled it over for the next week or so, and still felt like doing it. I kept talking myself out of it. I wondered, Would there be a right moment? A perfect moment? Should I hold off? Or should I just do it?

Last night, I sat for a minute and weighed the pros and cons. What was the worst case scenario? The worst thing I could come up with in the moment wasn't the worst thing in the world. It wasn't ideal, obviously, but not devastating. (Since then I have come up with many, many worst things that could have happened.)

So I did it. It was dark, just after midnight. We were in front of my steps, basking in the glow from my porch light (read that sarcastically), and I did it. I decided that given the events of yesterday- that's a story for another day- I just needed to put my big girl panties on and do it. So I did. And well, the worst case scenario -that I could come up with last night- it happened.

The moment wasn't 'perfect' but it seemed the perfect moment to me. With a quick kiss, a whispered goodnight, and a longing 'see you tomorrow,' that was that. I went inside and went to bed.

This morning I woke up not upset, not devastated. It had been as I kind of expected, and I'm glad I did it.

Glad to know myself.

I guess the point is: the worst case scenario doesn't seem so bad when you've considered it beforehand.

The darndest things...

I have spent the past semester at a local elementary school working with children in first and second grade who have various articulation (sound pronouncing) and language issues. Over the course of the semester when the kids would say crazy things, I just jotted them down on scraps of paper, which I've been collecting for the past 4 1/2 months. Today was the last day that I'll be at the school, and I decided it was a fitting day (especially because of my lack of anything else super important to do).

The "wh" questions: 
Q: What holiday was yesterday? (memorial day)
A: Burger King.

Q: Who serves in the Army? (soldiers)
A: Blacks.

Q: Why do we go to the store? (for food)
A: To get some food so you won't get dead.

Q: Why do birds build nests? (to lay eggs, it's their house)
A: So they can poop out their babies.

The following are a series of questions with the same little girl:
Q: How do you know grass is grass? (it's green, it grows...)
A: Because Jesus made it.

Q: Okay... Who writes books? (Authors)
A: Jesus.

Q: Who puts out fires?
A: Je.... Firefighters!

Categories:

Q: Name 3 things that scoop?
A: Shovel, bull dozer, killer robot

Q: Name 3 types of flowers
A: I know all the flowers... Sand Flowers, Roses, Dandelions.

Q: What group is a couch in?
A: Fur.

Q: What can you tell me about Jelly Beans?
A: They come from bunnies.

Volunteered information:

When it was my birthday I polled the kids to ask them how old they thought I was turning (27).
A: 19, 39, 23, 13, 25, 21, 27? ("No, if she was 27 she'd be taller").

When talking about his dog who just had another litter of puppies:
"she gets married to a lot of dogs"

Girl: Miss Z, do you have a boyfriend?
Me: Yes.
4 girls: Oooooh!
Girl: What's his name?
Me: His name is Justin
Girl: Is his last name Bieber?!
Other girl: You're dating Justin Beiber!?!
Me: um, no.

Girl: Do you like Justin Bieber?
Me: no.
Girl with dreamy look: He's cute!

When I asked my favorite little boy why he was sad:
"I just wanted to do math..."

Boy: "I was born in the year of the monkey. That's why I love bananas."

When playing a game:
Me: I didn't tell you that, I was trying to be sneaky.
Boy with lisp: You're a Thneaky, Thneaky girl.
Me: Are all girls sneaky?
Boy with lisp: Yeah. Most of them.

TGFPB

Last semester, my friend dlG was given a new client at theuniversity speech-language clinic where we are both working on our master’sdegree in Communicative Disorders. She is in her 3^rd year of theprogram and, according to her, has always been given difficult, behavioralclients. After reading her new client’s file, she was (rightfully) terrified oftherapy with the kid. Without violating any confidentiality rules, this kid wasscary. If the rather large/strong 9 y/o child became upset, there was a definite possibility ofharm to the clinician. To top it off, the mother of this child is highly litigious.(She sues at the drop of a hat for a diagnosis she doesn't like, she sues. Ifthe school where her child attends doesn't deal with violent behavioral issuesas she deems appropriate, she sues.) The instructions to dlG were: “Don’t tryto work on any behavior issues, try to get some language work done and don’tget sued.”

The client didn't show up for the first few sessions of thesemester, and each day, dlG waited anxiously, getting paler and paler as 4:30rolled around. I worked the library shift at that time, and I couldn't help butlaugh at her plight. I wasn't laughing to be mean, I laughed because it was aterribly awkward situation for her, and I didn't really know how to handle it,so I laughed.

One day, fed up with my laughing, she recruited Mr. W toplay a trick on me. He came up to me and said “Zimmerman, I think it would bebeneficial for you to co-treat with dlG this semester.” I ALMOST PEED MY PANTS.I’m not kidding, I was terrified. He was teasing me. 

Fast forward to the beginning of this semester, when Ms. Bwas assigning clients to us at the clinic. She sent me an email and made surethat I was able to take a 4:30 pm client, and said “you may want to talk to dlG…”I was scared, but with a semester of therapy under my belt (hahaha), I thought it wouldbe ok, and it was kind of nice that the supervisors trusted me to have thiskind of HARD client.

Our first therapy session went well, there were some bumps,and some behavioral issues, but there wasn’t really anything that made meafraid for my life.

Let me take you to my session last Tuesday. The clientgreeted me in the waiting room, then proceeded to follow me to the therapy roomwhile acting like a cat. Great, so long as kitty will use its words. The firsthalf of the session went fine, activities went over pretty well, and at 5:00 wetook a break and went to get a drink in the hallway, as we do every therapysession at 5:00.

The kid tried to run away. We followed the pre-determinedplan (this has happened before) and after a few minutes, things were resolvedand we got back to work.

There were 5 minutes left in my session. FIVE MINUTES. Iwanted to get in one more activity, one we’d done many times. I would hand the clienttwo rings and give directions to toss “the blue after the green” onto the back of a little chair in our room.

We’ve been working on this concept of before/after for weeksand while before is about mastered, after is tougher without some serious cueing.The client did two tasks wrong, so before handing over the last two rings, Iattempted to teach quickly “remember, AFTER means second!” The client didn’tlike that much, and so lunged for the rings I held in my hand.

Being STUPID, I held the rings out of the client’s reach.

This is the point that everything gets a little blurry. Theclient lunged for the rings; I pulled them out of reach, the client lashed outat the thing that was the closest to their face. MY RIGHT BREAST.

All I have to say about this is, TGFPB- Thank goodness forpadded bras! Vicky, you saved my life (or my right boob). 

The session ended, I got to file a report, I cried in Mr. W’soffice (I was slightly traumatized by the whole thing). I called my dad andthen I got the email:

Sessions cancelled for the rest of the semester.

Traumatic? Yes. 

A good story/ experience? Yes. 

But was it worth gettingout of clinic for the rest of the semester?

Absolutely.