A Long Story

The word in Spanish for "vent" is "desahogar." The word "ahogar" means to drown, and so literally, to vent is to "un-drown." If that makes sense. In my head, it makes a lot of sense, and I feel like this post is meant more to "un-drown" than to vent.

I wanted to write about a neat experience I had last night. But then I realized that to make it all the neater, I would have to write about my week, beginning with Monday.

But then I thought, "Well, what happened on Monday won't make a lot of sense unless I talk about what happened in April of 2012. And THAT won't make a lot of sense unless I explain November 2011."

And so it went from a quick, one-line Facebook post, to a really long story. But I still think it's worth the time to write it down, so here goes my "un-drowning."

In November of 2011, I was living in Provo, UT. I was attending my last semester of school at BYU and I was engaged to an awesome man, who happened to live in Peru. I was a little stressed with the amount of classes I was taking, but I thought I had it all under control.

Well, around the beginning of that month, things began to come unglued. I stopped going to school. I stopped eating. I stopped leaving my apartment. I tried to break up with my fiance nearly every other day. I spent most of my time in bed, crying.

Depression has been something I have struggled with all my life. It's funny, because I'm generally a really happy and upbeat person. But when I get sad, I don't just get sad. I stop functioning. My body shuts down. I lose my desire to live. And all I seem to be able to do is think about what an awful person I am for feeling depressed. Because I know that so many people have things worse than me, and yet they are able to be happy. So it's a downward spiral: I'm depressed about being depressed, which make me more depressed and so on.

Anyway, November hit worse than ever before. I finally decided it was time to seek professional help. I started seeing a therapist and taking anti-depression medicine. Things got better eventually, but the damage was done. I dropped out of school and moved home.

Fortunately, I had amazing academic support at BYU--people who were determined not to see me fail. I was able to work out contracts with my professors in order to finish the classes I had started. By April 2012, I was all set for graduation, with just a few generals pending for the 6-week term afterwards.

So I got my cap and gown and I walked! Woohoo, everyone was so proud of me! College grad (almost)! But I still had 3 more classes to go, plus one pending contract from the November before that I still had to finish up.

So Spring term started in April. It would go until the beginning of June. My wedding was planned for May 25. My fiance was still not in the country. I was taking 12 credit hours, which during a 6-week term at BYU is the equivalent of about 21 normal credit hours. And I started working full-time. And I had been accepted to the Teach for America program, with a position in New Jersey, starting in June.

Yeeah...I know. I'm nuts. Anyway, one day, just a few days before my wedding, I decided that it was better not to graduate than to die trying. I dropped one of my classes. I informed Teach for America that I would not have my degree in time to join the corps. Plans changed, but I was alive and didn't fall into a massive state of depression again.

Fast forward to Monday, April 1, 2013. I've finally almost finished with EVERYTHING for graduation. Last week I finished my last contract course. Monday, I took my final for my online Physical Science class, the very last thing I would need in order to graduate. All I need is for everything to be turned in by April 5 (this Friday).

When I turned in the final on Monday, they said my professor has 2 weeks to grade it. The reality that I might not actually get everything in on time finally hit me. That was depressing.

Tuesday I came into work. Finances have been pretty depressing lately too, especially because my husband is still not eligible to work yet (another LONG story that I will not take the time to explain here) and we're having a baby in May. At least I'd have a job up until then. But I was taken aside and told that they would not be able to extend my internship like they'd originally thought, and I will have to stop working on April 23. Less than 20 days. Which, really, is not even a month less than I was going to work. But, a month when you have no other source of income, can make a world of difference.

Discouraged and depressed, I tried to make the best of things anyway. We will be alright.

Wednesday (yesterday) I was feeling a little better. Still, the looming black cloud of finances hung over my head. With my savings and the last of the income I have coming in the next 2 weeks, we should be able to make it out alright until June or July. Hopefully by then my husband will have his work permit. Just as long as no crazy unexpected expenses come up.

...Like a traffic ticket. Which I got yesterday, on the way home from work. That was the last straw. I was pulled over on 500 South, just as I was about to get on the freeway. I would have loved to see the look of bewilderment on my face as I rolled down my window. The officer told me I had made a wide turn onto the street. Also that I hadn't used my turn signal to get into the next lane. Two separate citations. And when I told him I had my insurance information on my phone, he told me that I had to have the actual card in the car--another citation.

As he left to put my license and registration information in his system, I exploded. I started to weep and shake uncontrollably. How was I going to pay for this? How could I be so stupid? The worst part was that I didn't even realize that the turn I'd made was illegal.

When the officer came back, I could hardly breathe. I kept apologizing for crying. He must have felt bad for me, because he only wrote me up for one of the citations, rather than the three.

Still, the damage was done. The dam of emotions was broken, and I couldn't pull myself together. I sat there on the side of 500 South, sobbing, shaking, and convulsing for the next hour. I kept trying to stop, knowing that it is not healthy for my baby, but I couldn't get a hold of myself. The last thing I wanted to do was go home and tell my husband that I'd gotten a ticket.

(Just, FYI, I had a perfectly clean driving record, no tickets, no accidents, up until the end of last year. Since I've been pregnant, I've been faulted for one accident, given my first speeding ticket, and now this.)

By the time I got home, I was a mess. I went straight to my closet, turned off the light, and laid on the floor. I couldn't stop crying. Diego tried to console me, but I am not very consolable. I went to bed without dinner.

The incredible thing happened not too long after. I couldn't sleep. I was laying in bed in the dark. I rolled over and saw Diego sleeping peacefully next to me. I touched his face and all of the sudden felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude. We'd spent over a year in a long distance relationship. During that time, all I wanted was to be close to him. And here we were, in the same bed, husband and wife.

Then my baby girl kicked me. Again, I felt that overwhelming sense of gratitude and love wash over me. I am married to an amazing man. There is a human being growing inside of me, nearly ready to meet the world. I love her more than I could have ever imagined, and I haven't even met her yet.

In that moment, nothing else seemed to matter. I had everything I needed right there within arm's reach.

And that moment wouldn't have made that much sense without everything else behind it. If we have no misery, we cannot really feel or appreciate that true joy. But I felt it last night, and I hope I never forget it.