My Friends, Chapter 12: MOLLY

When I was 17 I walked into a local cafe with my brother, Danny, then 16. We laid eyes on a girl with light pink and blond hair. She was tiny but something shone like an aura around her that made her seem grand and immense. Turned out my brother knew her and so I got to meet her. I found her instantly charming, poised, and radiant. I had pink/blond hair, too but our similarities went far beyond that. We shared a propensity to date local musicians and an aversion to responsibility. We both loved punk rock, cobb salad, and feeding the homeless.
Fast forward a bit to college: both of us were dating new local musicians so we'd bump into each other at shows about town. My brother became a close friend to Molly and so I would often see her at gatherings with mutual friends. When my engagement to my musician vaporized I called her for comfort and she invited me to make chicken and rice for the homeless downtown. It helped. I interviewed three homeless guys that day. It broke my heart in ways my breakup couldn't compete with. Peculiarly healing.
I moved to Austin shortly after that. She'd often visit and she eventually ended up moving here, too. I saw her rarely; just at parties with mutual El Paso people. Then she went off to art school in Denton. Didn't hear from her much for a few years. She came back to Austin and she and my brother had turned into best buds. Danny spoke of her all the time. They had so much fun together. I was glad Danny found such a kindred spirit.
Molly was always someone I was aware of and I'd ask about but it wasn't until fairly recently that she and I have become soul sisters. Two summers ago we started the grown up version of our friendship. She started inviting me over for little gatherings. We began to realize that we had a special connection. Maybe it was the fact that we had just made huge life changes; both of us had recently experienced significant break ups with nerdy, genius, cool guys. I guess we've always liked the same types of guys. Yesterday's punk rocker is today's computer genius I guess. We found we both loved strange books, long psychoanalytic discussions, distinguished and moody kitties, sparkly pedicures, and delicious ethnic food. Oh! And The Cheesecake Factory, which we visit with embarrassing regularity.
Above and beyond all the afore mentioned connective aspects to our friendship was our dual commitment to health and happiness. It takes a village to raise a child. Perhaps it takes a more specialized crew to maintain a grown up. Molly's roles? Therapist, art teacher, chef, fashion consultant, comedian, beautician, traveling companion, mother, sister, docent, book/movie/music critic, photographer, pal. We are so different and yet so symbiotic. I literally have no idea what I would do without her in my life right now. With all the transition, confusion, and arduous amounts of growing up I've been up to within the last year or so, I can't think of a better person to have by my side.
Molly, I look forward to all we have ahead of us and I cherish all our memories. I can't thank you enough for your sincere interest in my happiness and well-being. I respect you more than I know how to articulate. Just let it be said, you are so precious to me. With all my heart, I love you, lady.

Something Like a Poem, by Kristin M. Ferrell

Let us talk about Nature

What it is and isn't

What it pretends to be and what it can never be

Nature can be good

Can point us to things which are true

We survive by it

Survival is one thing

Existence is a precursor to better things, and worse

Like delight

Like despair

Yet, truth be told, Nature only goes so far

If we only did the natural thing,

We'd get ourselves into all sorts of trouble

And we'd keep ourselves out of things we'd very much hate to miss

Though, how would we ever know it, if we should never get there?

We'd mate with barbarous oafs because they are strongest

We'd eat too much or not enough

We'd always mow the other man down

But there are finer things

Things Nature knows nothing about

It speaks in a different tongue

It is exquisite and so rare only a fair few know it

It is made of something strong, like diamonds

But they are quite small diamonds

It is composed of minerals like honesty, charity, love unfeigned

It thrives on the purest intelligence, unmuddied by suspicion, guile, lust, or vanity

When the whole world operates in illusion

It becomes so arduous to recognize truth from error

But once your ear attunes to the chords of things everlasting

Once you get your verbs and nouns all straightened out in the new language

You understand

A whole world unfolds

It seems to burst wide before you!

It's much more grand and graceful than your old world

You used to think the best things were made of earth

Turns out they were made of things you'd never envisioned, things without names,

Colors you had never known

And how can such things be described?

I'm afraid we have no hope of that.

It can only be realized through experience.

Like singing an aria to a little baby

She may like it

But she doesn't understand

It will take her many years to understand the words

And then the notes

And last her feelings about those words and notes together

Nature is quite a thing, THE thing in fact

When it comes to life on earth

Survival

Being of this world

And this world only

But there is a better

And should we glimpse it, even for the briefest breath of a moment's time

We would never forget

And we would long for it unceasingly

Operating in illusion is tempting

Being natural takes very little courage and even less strength

But I cannot deny

I am made of something finer

Something the best microscopes will always miss

I am made for a better world, the place we've always missed and ached for

The place we must be conditioned to arrive

The place we would never be able to see without this conditioning, without submission

To an exquisite sort of pain, paying a very high price, but gaining all in the end

Nature will condition me for life on earth

I am grateful

I am

But…

Humility will condition me for a celestial life

I am profoundly grateful for that

I am

Oh how I am

Panic Stricken

About a year ago I experienced what my doctor would eventually tell me was my first panic attack. I've only had two in my life. Hopefully those are the only two I'll ever have. I went 31 years without ever having one. I figure I'll opt for at least 70 something more years without any more of those beastly episodes. So far, so good.
The first happened in my car one night. I was parked outside the house I was living in at the time. There were four of us living there and this caused me tremendous stress. Not that the people themselves were stressful, I just didn't know I would be living with so many people at once in such close quarters. It had originally just been me and one housemate.
I was going through something very strange and foreign to me. I couldn't put words to it at the time. It had too many moving parts for me to get my head around back then. I didn't want spectators. I was falling apart and no matter how much denial my subconscious mind was trying to administer, I knew it was true. There had been a number of severe and abrupt changes that dropped into my life all at once, or in quick succession anyway. I had given my precious little doggy, Bella, to a family in order to move in with a friend and hopefully save some much needed money. I had just moved out of the apartment I'd lived in for two years with the same roommate and friend. Me and my boyfriend broke up after a series of discussions I'll call "Getting Around to Life, and Making it Happen." Life kept not happening. We had to break up. This was more tragic for me than I had predicted and I took it harder than I had intended to. I was coping with the reality that I wasn't in charge of how much I cared about things, not even if certain things were in my better interest to leave behind.
Virtually all my stuff was in storage. I especially missed my books. Nothing felt familiar enough. All my comforts seemed ripped from the outside and inside of my life. Despite all this, I had to somehow "keep it together".
I was teaching and trying to continue to operate as Relief Society President of my ward, no relief in site yet for me. I had to keep my head above water. I wanted to be alone but I was surrounded at every turn. I felt simultaneously smothered and yet lonely; an odd coupling of emotions for me, born a people person. I looked alright on the outside. People always commented on how happy I was looking. What a joke. I was dying inside. I felt like black ink was swimming in my veins and anvils were attached to my eyes and my heart was all ash and ruin.
So, back to that night. It started with a thought, you're going to be alone forever. It grew into an idea, that's exactly what you deserve. It snowballed into a series of notions, how many times do you need to learn the same lesson? You can't trust anyone. Everyone is out for himself. Others only see you as a means to an end. You're just a thing! Just a thing! And one day you might not be anyone's anything. Some people are capable of love, of trust. Other people, people like you, perhaps damaged in formative years and at pivotal times, can't hope to trust, to love, to let someone love them and to love in return. This describes you, Kristin. Deal with it. And with these cruel and twisted affirmations came the accelerated breathing, rapid heart beat, cold sweat...I wanted to scream and yet I wanted to disappear. I wanted someone to find me and help me and yet, in my shame, I wanted no one to see me in this condition. How could this all be happening? To ME of all people?! I am the one who is always laughing! I'm the one who is serving other people who need help. Do I need help? DO I?! Why am I always in charge of everything? I'm so freaking tired! I wish I could just sleep! Hard and sweet like a baby, without worries waking me prematurely. Without wondering what I'd inevitably forgotten to do for the next day. Without wondering if I'd forgotten to become who I had one day meant to become. I am so TIIIIIIIIRED! My nose was running. Then I noticed, it was bleeding.
At some point I began to sob uncontrollably. I felt a jolt in my stomach like I'd soon have to throw up. I just tried to breathe it away. I noticed a tremendous pressure in my head, behind my eyes. I heard my heart beat inside my ears.
Somehow I was able to collect myself enough to leave my car, walk in the house, and go to my room. My hair was sticking to my head with sweat. It was cold. I had no concept of how much time had passed. Had it been ten minutes? Twenty? An hour? Two? I was aware of my shaking but puzzled about why I was powerless to stop it.
I had to admit it. Something was very wrong. I talked with a few trusted, old friends. I talked with my brother, the psychotherapist, and my aunt, the clinical social worker. They said to monitor my moods closely, slow down, relax, get a therapist, keep a journal, look into medicine. There were book recs, health tips, schedule ideas. I was grateful. The episode scared me out of my wits. Was this a manifestation of a serious condition? Did I need medication? Was this what preceded a "nervous breakdown"?
I moved into my own apartment. I had to distance myself from anything stressful. I had to work out some rough inner terrain and I had to do it shamelessly. This meant I had to sequester myself.
The inner landscape was completely foreign and totally treacherous. My sanguine, gregarious nature had to take a back seat as I explored the stretches of my own soul, so mired in denial, self doubt, mistrust, harsh self judgment, and seemingly endless amounts of insecurity. I really had no idea how sad I was. What had also escaped my attention was how all encompassing my anxiety was. I didn't give myself a break, ever. There was always more I should be doing, things I should be doing better. I didn't seem to want to ask for help yet I knew the time would come when it would be my only healthy option.
Months passed. I left the singles congregation and with it my responsibilities as Relief Society President. I was a bit forlorn but mostly relieved. My life was really different now. Attending a family ward was such a welcome change. I loved the diversity of ages, situations, backgrounds, and abilities. I received my new calling within a week's time. I was called as the Young Women's Personal Progress Coordinator. I was thrilled to be with these superlative leaders and young women. They struck me as some of the more self-actualized individuals I'd been around in some time. I found their sincere confidence refreshing and very comforting. I craved the companionship of people who knew who they were and were unafraid of their individuality. These leaders and girls were just that sort; happily living the way they had covenanted to live, serving others and each other in amazing ways, expanding their talents and acquiring new abilities at remarkable rates and in various ways. And they loved each other! No one seemed affronted or put out by the beauty or talents of anyone else. How novel! How inspiring! Everyone was respected, honored, even cherished for being wonderful! I reveled in this. It went beyond age, interests, and incomes. These girls loved each other and it was obvious. It could be seen, heard, and most of all, felt. These associations began to heal me.
I was spending more time alone than I ever had in my entire life. Living alone was often lovely but more often torturous; lovely because I felt a lot of peace and had time to think and process things but torturous because I felt a lot of sorrow and had time to think about that, the causes of it, and my feelings of helplessness relating to the cure and prevention of said sorrows and those that may be forthcoming. Maybe some people's lives just yield a disproportionate level of sorrows vs joys. No reason for it. Just the way it goes. You're one of the unlucky sort. No one to blame for it. Just the way it is. Ugh. Could it be? No order in the universe? No way to avoid it? No rhyme? No reason? Haphazard sorrows and joys thrown about in the cosmos landing on whomever for whatever whichever ever or never whatever? Could it be? Or was there a divine design? I had believed that once. Did I still?
Thoughts and feelings like this swam in my head whenever I had the chance to think. Up to then I hadn't had much time or energy to think about such things. My mind had always been preoccupied with teaching my students and addressing their diverse needs, my calling and the needs of my single sisters, grad school ideas and ambitions, my relationship and the oxymoranic way it kept manifesting itself in our lives, my doggy and her happiness and health, my family and the various emotions that ebb and flow there, and of course friends and all the things that can both thrill and tax you about maintaining those relationships. Suddenly a lot of this was gone. I still had my job, friends, and family but everything else had either changed or disappeared. Even certain friendships expired and fell away. I had time to consider myself, without all the trappings, under all the responsibility and what I found there scared me.
The realizations came in waves. First there was the fact that I wasn't as strong as I had previously thought. I was far more fragile and had wounds gaping that I thought had healed over nicely long ago. I thought I had forgive my ex-husband, for example. Then I realized there were a few barrels of bitterness yet to wade through. I thought I had resolved some issues from childhood. It only took a peek to realize this was far from actual. I took a look at my recent break up and discovered I could barely breathe while my brain hovered over that quagmire. Was it me? Was it the way I have to have life "just so"? Were my demands too great? Turns out that it was true that I had to have life "just so." To me that meant having a partner who works full time, is formally educated, has health/dental insurance, and wants to gear up to support a family within the forthcoming decade. The hard evidence left so little to grasp onto. I had to get real, and I did, but I was ill prepared to deal with the sickening loss of the relationship, the companionship, his friends, and most of all his family. It was horrid for such a long time. The longing for my previous life was piercing and aching at intervals. I was quite literally ill over it for probably a year, maybe longer.
Then panic attack number two happened. Again, I was in my car, but this time I was driving. It was really scary. The snowball of thoughts was coming on again and then WHAM! There was the breathing thing again, heart pounding, ridiculous crying, nose threatening to bleed. I'm gonna have to pull over! I can' t breathe! I was stopped at a red light. It was broad daylight. I was afraid to look around to see if anyone was looking at me. I prayed like never before, help me, just please help me. By the time the light turned green I was okay and could drive home in whimpers instead of sobs and gasps, bloody nose, sweaty face, etc.
I read voraciously, per usual, on anything that might help me. I poured over self help, brain research, and health books of all shapes and kinds. I took seminars on healing, depression, and anxiety. I researched human behavior, studies on grief, and watched YouTube videos on human attachment and self mastery. I read my scriptures, wrote a lot in my journal, wrote a couple decent songs, and turned out my best poetry yet. I drew some decent human figures, painted some pretty mediocre flowers, and became obsessed with moving to Seattle.
The brain is a funny little organ. The minute you think you know the landscape, it changes. I was at the gym, lifting weights like I always do in Body Pump class, when the city skyline of Seattle moved through my brain like a helicopter full scan film shot. It was nighttime in the involuntary day dream. It was gorgeous. From that night on I simply could not get Seattle off my brain.
I began to research the city, the grad school programs, the demographics. I began several grad school applications, none of which I ever completed, and researched jobs. I called various entities asking about job availability, benefits, and living expenses. Every time I went on a date I would see something about Seattle on the TV at the bar in the restaurant. It was scary. I began noticing that I would see and hear things about Seattle all the time. On the radio, in magazines, on the news, on a bumper sticker. I was intrigued. I watched Sleepless in Seattle. Seattle had to be the answer!
My mom thought I was going nuts. Most of my friends did, too. My dad was worried. My brother, Dave, concerned. I kept telling everyone, "It's just a feeling. I just feel like I should do this." Most people were really exasperated. Even I was starting to suspect my psyche was tricking itself into thinking that moving away would somehow fix everything and my whole life would fall into place if only I could manage to detach myself from everything I'd ever known and start afresh in a very wet, wet city far, far away on the other side of the country.
I continued my Seattle research with more or less enthusiasm, depending on the day, and booked a trip for Spring Break, but that was months away. Somewhere between Christmas and MLK Day I finally went to the doctor.
"What are your symptoms?" "Well, I cry a lot, like more than I should, pretty much as soon as I'm alone it just starts pouring out." "What do you suppose you might be crying about?" "I think I'm afraid a lot." "Of what?" "All kinds of things. Being alone. Not being alone. Never having kids. Having kids. Seattle." "Seattle?" "Yeah. Not worth an explanation at this point." "No, please explain." "Well, ok," I said, "I'm obsessed with moving to Seattle for some seemingly mystical reason. See? Ridiculous, right?" "Hmmm, when did this obsession start?" Then we talked about my break up and how I wasn't managing my pain over it very well and didn't seem to be able to get over it in a reasonable amount of time, etc.
Long story short: I got on meds. My doctor had determined that I was experiencing mild to moderate levels of depression and anxiety. One pill, a generic form of PAXIL, would help. Well, it did, and HOW!
The first two weeks were pretty strange. My head was in an annoying fog and I was sleepy all the time. After that I was amazed at how I felt. I was so even keeled. I felt energized, excited about life, grateful. I was able to focus on things more easily, problem solve effectively and quickly, and just enjoy things without worrying. The obsession with Seattle died off almost instantly. I was gleaning so much more satisfaction out of my job and my associations, my friendships and my stewardships. I was calm. It was a whole new world. I didn't care anymore if things were perfect or not. I didn't mind if someone was upset with me. I didn't feel hungry for anything. Instead I felt really, really full. I'm not referring to anything food related. I'm talking about life. It dawned on me, like it never had before, that life was really good.
With the help of an awesome therapist, a great doctor, a wonderful family, some elect friends, and a little purple pill, I became myself again. I noticed things like leaves on trees again. Many of you may remember when I noticed things like that all the time. Somehow I'd forgotten how to notice those types of things a few years ago. Well, I see them now. I listen to music I've heard a thousand times and I hear words and instruments I'd missed. I wonder about things I've never really dared to wonder about. I ask questions that have never occurred to me 'til now.
I've been wanting to write this post for a while but I was a little afraid to do so. I was afraid I'd be judged for turning to medication for my depression and anxiety. I was afraid of being labeled or unfairly treated or talked about. Maybe I'm still a little afraid of that. But I think the benefits of sharing outweigh the potential costs. If one of you reads this and finds hope or direction or even just sympathy, it was worth sharing.

"To life! To life! Lahiam!"

~Fiddler on the Roof

"I like life. Here and now. Life and I made a mutual vow. 'Til I die, life and I, we'll both try to be better somehow."

~Scrooge, the musical

I should have been a sea thing

I've been watching IMAX documentaries about the ocean for a couple weeks. Apparently when I was making my queue on Netflix I thought I wanted to see a fair amount about the sea. Anyway, about how I should've been a sea thing, sometimes as I walk down the halls at work I imagine myself suddenly swimming, gliding down the halls instead. I want to swim so badly. It's still too cold. I love ocean creatures. They're so strange and colorful and symbiotic. I like how they move, so gracefully. Jellyfish are especially interesting; transparent, luminous, stingy, diminutive if not massive. And octopi! Incredible. They change their color and texture to match their surroundings instantly! Vicious little buggers, too. Sea snails are amazing as well. I would never have believed in them without the photographic proof. Every color, incredibly decorated, venomous, some have shells, others poisonous quills. They're all born male. Those who survive long enough mature into females, eventually. Very interesting! I love the diversity of this ecosystem. If I had been born a sea thing I think I should have been a leather back sea turtle. They are fantastic swimmers, well protected, and live to be very old. Seafood is my favorite. Time for a poem!

I should have been a sea thing
Living where all is now
Swimming in the cool forever
A little risk always tingling at my back

The wet worlds of such alien life
Layers of sunlight, shadow, hunters, victims
Feeling every swell, every ripple, every wave
Breathing in the secrets of a hidden world

Things alive for ages, evolving, changing
Linking a destiny with mine
All shimmer and glitter, scale and fin
Gill and tail

Things like brains grow in scarlet, bronze, deep purple
To float on time, in time and out of time
Beyond it, beneath it somehow
Tentacles curl around the things they want
And they take

A life always on the brink of an ending
Old things new, now is all there is
I should have been a sea thing
Perhaps the air knew better

"This is OUR Year, I promise!"

Written at 2:37am, Mountain Standard Time, January 1, 2011.

My Auntie Sharon said it tonight on the dance floor, and I'm inclined to believe it.

WHAT A NIGHT!!! My cousin Rosie's daughter, Alegra, had her quincenera tonight, or rather, yesterday. It was such an amazing way to ring in the new year, surrounded by loving family. I had a number of incredible moments I'd like to share. My brother, Dave, and his dear wife Kelley, son Aaron, daughter Lauren and I all went to the party together. It was a wonderful drive over, lots of laughs accompanying my rendition of Over the River and Through the Woods which mentions the Rio Grande, cemented feet, and never making it to grandmother's house. Once we arrived we stepped into the gorgeous room, decked in black, white, and silver; roses, calla lilies, candles, chandeliers, sheer draping from ceiling to floor, towering cake, incredible tables, full brass band. But it would only get better.

Our family was together! Alegra came in wearing a stunning crimson gown. Her dress was absolutely amazing but the girl in the dress made everything around her shine. She is a precious jewel, a rarity. As is her darling sister, Sophia. Radiant doesn't even being to describe it! It isn't hard to understand where these girls get this glow. They are lucky to have the most precious parents imaginable: my cousin Rosana and her sweet husband Rene. They have always been living examples of loveliness to me and they've passed that on to the next generation. Everyone seemed to be shining tonight. My Auntie Vicky and Auntie Sharon were dazzling to behold in their long gowns and resplendent countenances. My brother and his wife and children were too wonderful for words. They make everything fun and amazing and sacred somehow. Just being near them is divinity. My little brother, Bryan was there with Sol. They just had a baby three months ago. Baby Amina is our newest little miracle. They looked so beautiful together. It was really something to see. Sol reminds me of Regina Spektor; poignant, pure beauty. My sister, Wendy and her jovial and effervescent Lee came in looking like Hollywood itself. My cousins, Melanie and Victoria, are exquisite beauties with hearts of gold and eyes that prove it. And I sat there, looking around at my relatives, far too many to mention in great detail, and I just tried to take it all in.

The women in my family scream when they see each other. It's a distinct sounding out pour of emotion, one I wish I could spell out but I can't think of the letter combination I would use to do so. But suffice it to say they scream, the most loving, adoring, joyous scream one could ever imagine. That is what my aunties, cousins, sister, and nieces do. And of course I do it, too. Our great aunts and grandmother did it before us and our little girls will do it, too. The sound put and exploding bliss into my heart that I had almost forgotten. If I had to put it into words I might say it was like coming home after a long journey in a wonky wasteland. Not that life has been too unkind but, truth be told, 2010 kicked my trash in ways I prefer to forget, so I'll spare the mentioning of any tedious detail on that note. But that noise, that feminine shriek of adoring, it healed me a little. It just did.

Dinner was fantastic. Dessert was interesting. I ate a sparkling, silver, glittery cake ball. My face was awash in fairy dust the rest of the night.

The music was intoxicating. I danced like a banshee on a date with a bewitched pirate. Make of that what you will. I like how it sounds and it felt even better. Everyone was dancing! Even the shiest members of our family made it to the floor eventually. I loved it! I loved seeing my sweet siblings and their significant others so joyful. I was full of gratitude for it. We've been through so much it sometimes seems unfair and ridiculous but tonight there was this feeling of balance, like everything was in God's hands, safe from injurious variables and unexpected capers of any kind. It was simply, I don't know how else to say it, miraculous. Everyone was so beautiful and yet silly and yet poised and just ridiculously wonderful. It filled my guts with awe and inspiration. How did I end up deserving these guys? How? How? How? How did God know we belonged together more than any other souls?

When the countdown was over and the white balloons descended, we toasted, kissed, hugged, and cried. Yes. I cried a little. Don't act surprised. It was a sacred little moment in time. I looked up in a sort of amazed state, said a little prayer of thanks and made a few wishes, too. Something seemed to wash over me, warm and tingling at the same time, like being doused in a magic elixir. My Auntie Sharon saw me in that little trance, motioned me to her, embraced me and said it, "This is our year, babe. I promise!" We sneaked out in a dancey little way. The valet brought round the car. We hopped in, in our crowns, hats, blowing our horns and spinning our noise makers; everything right with the world. If this is any indicator of how 2011 will be, I'll ask you to stay tuned. I think this is about to get interesting. Happy New Year!

...A retraction

I have been feeling remorseful after writing and posting something quite untrue on this blog. I didn't mean to be dishonest but as I examine my feelings on a certain subject I discover I was writing from a very wonky point of view. As I thought on the matter more and more my feelings were changed. In a recent post titled "..A rant" I said that many of my super cool genius guy friends seem to end up with the blandest girls they can find. But as I thought about each one of these couples, I became more and more ashamed of ever making that statement. While some people are less vocal than others, that certainly doesn't make them less interesting. Perhaps it takes a bit more time, energy and effort to get to know certain personality types and perhaps, in many cases, those we get to know slowly are more worth knowing. Perhaps these women who I hastily deemed "inferior" are in fact superior in the ways that count the most. While their husbands and boyfriends are verbose perhaps they are pensive and reflective. Where their "better halves" are well versed, perhaps they are well mannered. Where I am brash and overconfident perhaps they are aware of their worth and keep it quiet rather than making a spectacle. I am so sorry if my words caused hurt feelings. I want you all to know that this blog operates as an ongoing experiment in self discovery as well as a mechanism for communion and connection. Nothing herein should be seen as conclusive or taken as inflexible fact. I often write when my feelings are at their pinnacle, whether for good or for bad. I write at my happiest and most excited and I also write when I am feeling hurt or confused. Occasionally writers have to make public retractions and I am happy to do so now. As I think more and more about the matter, I feel inferiority itself may be a fallacy altogether.

...A rant

Do you know how many times a day someone tries to engage me in a conversation about being single and how I should fix it? By that I mean people try and match me up or offer suggestions about online dating or say things like, "Who are you dating?" or "You're single! Why?" or "Those guys must be deaf, dumb, and blind!" My response, "No. They have other problems." And many guys I've dated have had complex problems. Some of them just weren't a good fit. Some of them were great and just not "mine". So, daily, I am bombarded with questions from my students or their parents or my friends or the cafeteria ladies or the cashier or well meaning people at church. It seems like people are really uncomfortable with me just being a single person. It must seem unnatural or strange. It often feels that way. I'm not really sure how it looks on the outside or why so many people are endlessly preoccupied with it. Many people have wanted to set me up with their brothers or sons. Occasionally I will get random suggestions, even confident declarations like emails titled "A Man for Kristin". I'd like to be excited. I'm just so dubious at this point I don't know how to muster any enthusiasm. For the sake of entertainment and perhaps to illustrate a point I would like to share one of my responses to such an email. The friend trying to make the match is a dear man who served in my previous ward's bishopric before he moved himself and his family to Arizona. I love that he thinks of me and wants to help. As you'll soon see my response to his enthusiastic set up was a bit singed around the edges. I'll admit, I'm a little embarrassed about how strongly I reacted, but at the same time I am really glad that I am passionate about my own health and well being and I am happy I have the strength to protect myself.
Here's my response to his invitation to fly the blind date out to meet me:

"Dear Bro. H,

So, here's my rant: (not that you asked for one....) As it relates to blind dates, and dating in general, really: Over the past four years I have been unsuccessfully matched and/or interested in the following "types":

• the prodigals son
• the wayward genius
• the recovering addict
• the born again straight guy
• the perfect man who happens to be an atheist
• the guy who touts his 18 year relationship with marijuana as being "spiritual"
• the wonderful EQP who is 8 years my junior

None of these has panned out. So, I'm a little wary, if not wiser for the wear. Do I need a perfect guy? No. Am I a perfect girl? No. But I would like someone in reasonable health, especially mentally. Addictions are a NO. If there is a history of addiction I am going to say firmly: NO. I have already suffered enough with the vices of men. I really literally cannot stomach another round of anyone else's addiction(s). On another note, if he is an overly aggressive type he won't like me and I won't like him. I'm alpha and there's no pretending not to be. Powerhouse guys love powerhouse girls. They just don't marry them. They can't stand sharing lime light. Understandable. I, however, love sharing lime light and would prefer to be with someone just as dynamic as myself. I've just noticed that many of my genius, dynamic, super cool guy friends end up with the blandest girls they can find; HUGE discrepancies in intelligence, talent, and general sharpness. It is VERY interesting. The only theory I have on this so far is that it is somehow comforting to be coupled with someone you know to be inferior. While I don't personally think I could manage it myself, I can honestly say I "get it". I could go on and on about that but I'll spare you the dearly won, tedious data. So, if he is intelligent, driven, humble enough to date a sharp girl, righteous---as in TEMPLE WORTHY, and cool enough to make me laugh then let's say YES. If this is scary for him then he fails the test and that's a NO. Bro. H, I don't mean to sound crazy or difficult or (insert euphemism for bitter here) but I have been through so much. I have had high hopes in hopeless situations. I have given years of my life to people who didn't know how to treat a human, much less conceive of her as being a daughter of God. I am very protective and wary of guys who treat women like objects, belittle women, or perceive women as things to be "won". I'm not a walk in the park, Bro. H. I'm too smart to pretend to be simple and rumor has it guys don't like complexity. That's too bad because that's all I know. I couldn't dumb it down if I wanted to. So, that said, do you still think your man is up to the challenge of meeting me? Think about it. You let me know. I won't try and "scare him off" but I won't be able to pretend to be cute and simple with any success. Bro. H, I want you to know I love you. You are beyond great and I've always enjoyed you. We miss you here. Please visit. I hope I didn't scare you or dishearten you in any way. The fact is, I may be better off alone. It's not ideal but it's better than many, many other outcomes. Your fan, Kristin Ferrell"

I know what some of you are thinking. You're thinking I'm trying to be scary. I'm seriously not. I'm honestly trying to prevent disasters. I'm the guardian of my own precious little life. This is a ridiculously precarious existence. I am too sensitive to put myself in the hands of a reprobate, liar, pervert, cad, or any variety of idiot. Is it wrong to articulate such things? Sue me.