I Want to Take the Preconceived Out from Underneath Your Feet

There is so much to do so I have to go fast. Two exams tomorrow, two papers, a whole binder of work...and banquet. Hello, that time of year again. I have recently discovered something important about myself: it is okay to be no further along than I was this time last year. It is also okay to rejoice when I have actually grown.

Another recent epiphany: I am so happy to be single. Yes, a common theme lately, but nevertheless groundbreaking. I have spent my entire life trying desperately to not go at this alone and it has only ever turned out badly (hello! I'm single). Yet here I stand, relieved. Someone else's happiness is not resting on my shoulders. I am not turning into a bitchier version of myself because this guy who is supposed to remember things forgot something. I am free from that stuff. Actually, I think I would be free of it anyways because I am beyond over those kind of shenanigans, but still. No fear, baby.

Life still blows. I have too much going on. I have taken on too much, of course. I am wildly unsure of the future, as always. And yet. It is 12:41 in the AM and I am smiling. Go figure.

My Skin Is the Smoothest It has Been in Years

I haven't blogged in really big letters in a really long time.

Tonight was a miracle. I wrote a majorish paper (not including research time) in less than 2 hours! I feel as though the old Leanne is re-surfacing. How to explain? I remember what I wrote; this time last year, I probably wouldn't even know the topic of the paper I just finished.

Today was a miracle. I did not once give in to my old habits of procrastinating by watching movies, talking to people who I have no business talking to in that moment, or doing anything I would normally never do just to avoid what I absolutely need to do (cleaning, laundry, painting my toenails, painting a house, driving to London Drugs to get batteries for a mouse I never use anyway). And, most bizarre of all, I was in the library for three hours straight...not doing gratis.

And it only gets crazier. I have been doing homework non-stop the last few days, and I am not stressed. I feel the need to hurry a little bit, but I'm not sweating the small stuff. Oooooor the big stuff.

I desperately want this to last. On my own, never. If I give it to God, absolutely. Dude, I love Him.

Ben&Jerry's

You know it's bad when the first thing you do is speed to Superstore and buy Cherry Garcia, even if it's ridiculously overpriced and way out of the budget.

This has to get better sometime...right?

Phoenix Day 7

So it's a brand new year, and I'm still here. New Year's Eve was the hottest day yet: 22 degrees celsius. Not that I'm complaining...a lot. My body just longs for snow and the wood fireplace and humidity of some kind.

I guess I could be updating on what I've been doing and going into great detail on golf, swimming (in a pool that is hotter than the air outside. It's gross), and my amazing shopping exploits, but the most amazing thing I've experienced here is a new desire to know God more.

I'd be lying if I said that my relationship with God has been good lately. In fact, it seems like ever since I went to Bible College our friendship has been suffering (go figure). And by the time I left to come here, I felt hopeless that we could ever get back to the way we were.

Yet, as I'm in this place trying to figure out my junk and other people's junk, I feel the strongest pull to God I've ever felt. I'm desperate to get closer to Him again, I just don't know how. I'm starting with the basics, though. Getting back to reading my bible daily is a must. Talking to Him at every possible moment has to turn into a habit again. Walking every step for His glory needs to be at the top of my priorities.

I have no idea how long this process will take. My greatest hope is that I will take from this dry season lessons learned, and it won't ever again take a time of pulling away to put me back where I belong with my Father.

So, to start off the new year, I'm not making a typical resolution: silly attempts to lose weight or become something unattainable too quickly, only to be defeated by the mere thought within the first few weeks. I am striving for so much more. I am putting my hope and trust in God, resting in Him and trusting that He knows far better than I do what is best for me.

"I Want You, I Need You"

The more frustrated I get, the more I'm realizing how crazy my priorities are.

I am stressed beyond belief because of finals and trying to finish all my assignments on time, I have no car and almost no money to get a new one that I desperately need, and I'm not getting enough sleep to nurture my battered body back to health. But where is my head in all of this? Marriage.

What is wrong with me? I've barely begun life on my own, and all I want in the whole world is to give myself completely over to someone else. My life is a mess (but are lives ever not?), and I want someone else to come in and either help me tidy up or just sit with my in the midst of the chaos.

Then I remember that there's someone who loves me more than life itself, and he is desperately trying to romance me. The same way I'm waiting for the perfect person to come along and sweep me away, Jesus is waiting for me to acknowledge his attempts and love him the way he loves me. And being the jealous God that he is, he's waiting for me to fall for him before I'm allowed to fall for someone else.

I often wondered why I was never as close to God as I wanted to be, until a couple months ago it was revealed to me: I am desperately afraid to let him love me. My experience on this earth has told me that any time someone said they loved me and promised me that I could count on them, they left. And it was always my fault. So how could I offer myself up once again to someone promising love and expect him to stand by my side, even in the rough times? Impossible.

It has taken so long to finally let him in, to let him love on me the way he wants to. I still push him away all the time, afraid of how much this will hurt if it ends. I still cannot wrap my head around the idea that he will NEVER leave. Ever. And no matter how many times I mess things up or try to push him away or get too emotional, he won't throw his hands up in the air and tell me he's through. How did I get so lucky?

Yet even knowing all that I do, I still try to do things on my own. I give it "all" to God, but tell him that there's just this one space in my life that I've got under control and I don't need him meddling in. Or when he tries to go deeper with me, I push him off and tell him that it's really okay, I'm good for now. I tell the maker of the universe that I'm fine without whatever it is he wants to reveal to me. In fact, I'm just fine here on my own. ...but I know, deep down, that's not really true. The human condition that we all suffer from is loneliness. Here is the one who wants to cure my disease, and I push away the remedy.

So this is why I'm still single. This is why I don't yet have my hubs and everything that comes with. I'm still too stubborn to let God all the way in. I haven't yet figured out how to be loved. Thankfully he has enough grace to sit through the process with me and whisper in my ear all the ways that he has planned to make me fall more in love with him than ever. And with every word, I get a little bit closer to trusting him.

The Biggest Convo of Life

It's not too often that something pops into my head worth putting down on paper, but what comes out of my mouth is often of far more use. Too many in the past have suggested that certain forms of mental activity are considered symptoms of psychosis, as well as a danger to the rest of the world. I, on the other hand, would argue that this specific "line of work" is actually to the benefit of all, especially my roommate. I am referring to...talking to myself!

I'm sure we've all done it at some point. You know that crazy guy who always sits across from you on the skytrain, muttering about the birds and what will happen when they realize their own intelligence, as he spits into an old tuque? As much as we want to sit around and judge him, we've all been in the same place at some point. Picture this: you're in Aeropostale trying on a sweater, and you know you're meeting your sweetie in exactly 47 minutes for THE BIG CONVERSATION (dun dun dun). Will he want to continue the way things are going? Move forward? Take a step back? Break up altogether?! But then you breathe and remember, "Oh yeah, I still have 46 and a half minutes to get this perfect." And so you begin. "Well, you see, Petie, I've been doing a lot of thinking lately," (throw in the hair twirl) "and the thing is..." (loooong, dramatic pause) "...I care about you way more than my dumb words could ever say! In fact, I don't know how I'd ever go on living if you decided to just leave me here like this!" (Enter my good friend, Mr. Desperation) "I need you Petie! Not just for now, but for forever!" (Here come the waterworks) "Don't l-l-leave m-m-me like this!" (And cue frustration). "No no no! Dumb me! DUMB ME! Because THAT won't scare him away! Gosh, WHY DO I HAVE TO BE SO DUMB?!" And it's in that moment that you realize you're no longer having a fanciful monologue in your head, but are in fact screaming out your hopes and dreams of a life with Petie to the entire store. We've all been there. Or, at least, that's been my experience.

So what led to this onslaught of horribly thought out blabberings directed at my defenseless keyboard? As I was sitting on fb (facebook, for the under-informed) and desperately seeking out the meaning of life through no-thought-required wall posts and less than satisfactory chat conversations, I realized that for the last hour I had been laying on an assault of mind-blowing proportion. My roomie (her name is Stephanie, you will come to know her very well) was lying on the floor, completely helpless, as she was mercilessly exposed to the inner workings of my mind via talking to myself. And it's not enough that I just let slip out whatever first comes to mind. No, of course not. I'm far too obnoxious for that. I'm also the kind of person who sits on her laptop, headphones in with the rest of the world tuned out, watching Gilmore Girls and laughing and giggling like crazy...while other people sit in the room and have no clue what has brought on my newest psychotic episode (sidenote: I have a horribly ridiculous laugh that makes you wonder if I'm choking, hyperventilating, or just never learned how to laugh at all. But this will all be covered in more detail at a later date).

So, in summary, I probably do have mental issues. However, the most important part of the entire talking-to-myself process is learning to be ok with myself...no matter what comes through my scattered, mess of a head and out my mouth.