A New Normal

It was kind of insane when I realized that what was once "my new normal" is now, honestly, is my "normal." The things that used to throw me in for a loop are expected and habitual now; family gatherings aren't as hard as they used to be. I enjoy being with the in-laws. Being married is great, and Jacob and I are figuring out our own lives and our own traditions and what-nots. I don't dwell on the past nearly as much. I'm looking forward, and the future is honestly quite bright. Which is why now, when I feel sad or frustrated, it kind of throws me off. I realized this was happening a lot recently; I'd would randomly experience feelings of sadness, or numbness, or even anger, irritation, and frustration. The strange part was, I had no reason to. It always happened when things were ok, or when things were going smoothly. Suddenly, I couldn't stand the idea of being around people, so I'd hide in the back room when people came over and make ...

I almost went to the cemetery today. It's Christmas, it's cold, and I miss them. I don't know why, but I thought going to the cemetery would be... I don't know, therapeutic? Give me some closure? I haven't been there since well before I got married. Maybe staring at the headstones would make me feel better? Make me feel close to them? Make me feel like I'm with them? I left school. I got in the car, waited for the cars to pass, moving slowly so as to not slide on the slush. It was sunny today, so some of the snow was beginning to melt. Cars were going slightly slower. I followed them. I had to go around the block because of the way the car was parked, so the drive was taking longer than anticipated. I was alone. I drove mindlessly, barely listening to the Christmas music that blared  "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year." My mind wasn't really on Christmas. Just family. As I drove, my thinking relying more on my emotions, thinking about ho...

My Great Grandpa "Grape" is 99 years old. He has lived almost an entire century. And wow, a century is a long, long time. My Grandpa Grape is someone that I love and respect. I remember being really little, and my family going over to Grandpa Grape's and Nonny's house. I remember having sleepovers there when I just wanted Nonny-Grandpa-Jensen time. The thing about Nonny and Grandpa Grape is, they always made you feel like you were the favorite grandchild. (I'm pretty sure every single one of us feel like we are the favorite.) Whenever I went over, Nonny made sure that she had a can of Dinty Moore stew for me to have for lunch, because she knew it was my favorite. That, and Minute Maid fruit punch. They had squirrels that lived in the trees of their yard, and they would take me out, peanuts in my little hands, and Grandpa would pick me up to place the peanuts along the gate for the squirrels to get later. Then, Grandpa Grape would take me out to have Grandpa Grap...

I still vividly remember the night that I found out. I can tell you where I was, what I was doing, what I was wearing. (New apartment, on the living room couch, old EFY T-shirt and pink cotton pants. I had just finished saying a prayer.) I vividly remember the looks on my "mission parents'" faces. When I think about President's tight hug, I remember how crushing it felt, him not wanting to let me go, not wanting to be the one to tell me that my parents and brothers were gone. I remember it took him a little while to say it, and how it crushed him, and his wife. I remember my companion and the Hermanas were also in the living room sitting on the floor in their pajamas, shocked, speechless, not knowing if they should say anything. I remember that the only light in the room was the bright light coming from the open kitchen. I remember saying, "Give me a minute," and running into my room, falling on my knees at my bed, crying, saying "Why, God? What di...

It's been a while. Hello again. Sometimes, I just need to write. I want to write, because I think words are beautiful. I want to write, because I want to create. I want to write, because maybe, just maybe, my thoughts can be powerful one day. But, what happens when words fail me? Because, sometimes that happen. Sometimes, feelings are just so powerful, so passionate, so painful, so wonderful, it becomes impossible to describe. Feelings are quite something. They sneak up on you. I still think about Mom, Dad, Keegs and Liam everyday, but now, it's not always as painful. They don't control my thoughts. Their memories are there, and they are beautiful. I can say things like, "Oh, Keegan and Liam would LOVE the new Wellness Center," and I won't burst into tears. I am growing up. I am moving along everyday, and it is beautiful. I have a wonderful husband, and wonderful family and friends, and life is beautiful. And then, sometimes, all I have to do is some...

I was on my dad's shoulders. It was a cold night on Christmas Eve, back when Santa Claus was still real. We had just finished at Grandma's house. (For as long as I can remember, every Christmas Eve, Santa came to Grandma's and left us something. It was there that we would also give our gifts to each other within the extended family. I always loved Christmas Eve.) I was admiring some present I got, when Daddy said, "Jensen! Look at the sky! Do you see him?" I looked up, trying to see. There it was... a flashing red light! Surely, that could only mean one thing... "RUDOLF!" My dad chuckled, "Yes, you're right! It's Rudolf! That means we have to hurry so that you can go to bed! We don't want to be late for when Santa comes!" I remember telling Ian to hurry up, and telling Mom and Dad to hurry to get us home! (Keegan and Liam didn't exist yet.) As soon as I got home, I got into my new Christmas pajamas, brushed my teeth, made...

In about a week, it will have been a year since I should have returned from my mission. Which means it's been about 18 months since the accident. Mind blown... *** How am I doing?  Fine, I guess. Good.  Excellent. Grand. Isn't that what I am supposed to say?  *** Nobody likes a "Debbie Downer." But what about a "Rebecca Realist?" Where is that fine line?  *** How am I doing? Fine, I guess. Today is hard. Good! So tired. So so tired... Excellent! Struggling, but it's just a phase. It will pass. Grand! It has to. Right? *** Fact: it's time to move on. I know. I know that. And I have. For the most part. But there are still triggers. Stupid blasted triggers. They like to hide and shoot at me from out of nowhere. Pretty normal though. It's not even new anymore. But, they still surprise me. Like this morning when I was triggered simply because of a phone call. Or  it may be boredom, n...