Life As A School

I would like to share something with you that was written several years ago, revised once or twice, but still relevant and true. It is perhaps an exercise in being more profound than I am currently able to be, but in every attempt there are lessons learned, and all things speak to us individually. I hope you enjoy it.

Life As A School

”Fear not that your life shall come to an end,
but rather that it shall never have a beginning.” – John Henry Newman

I remember a time when the people in my life lived forever. A time when there were things that would “never happen to me,” and suicide was an escape for people who didn't believe in God. I was going to be a landscape architect when I grew up, and when I published my first novel my family would finally be proud of something I did. And there was a time when my best ideas always came to me in the shower.

I also remember a time when I thought school was the most important part of my life. I looked forward to going every day, I did well, and I had fun. Then I started fourth grade – it was all downhill from there.

Looking back, I see that most of my education has happened outside of the classroom, and I have come to believe that my academic instruction has been the most time-consuming, expensive, and stressful task I have ever participated in. While it taught me how to read, it fell short of teaching me how to apply what I read. While it taught me about the world around me, it fell short of teaching me how to live in it. And while it taught me how to copy notes, take tests, and achieve degrees, it fell short of teaching me how to learn.

Don’t get me wrong; I have gained a lot of knowledge. The only problem with knowledge is that it doesn’t get you anywhere if you can’t use it. It simply collects in the mind as useless facts: for example, given a few minutes I could tell you the names of all fifty states – in alphabetical order – but I wouldn’t be able to tell you anything about the people within their borders. I can quote Scripture passages on how to live, but I can’t honestly say that I know, with every ounce of my being, that God loves me.

And I can tell you that the odds of winning the jackpot on a scratch ticket are about equal to the chances of your submarine getting struck by lightning, but I couldn’t tell you how many men died so I would have the right and freedom to go to school and learn this useless information.

Outside of the classroom, I have learned that everyone dies – whether they’re fourteen years old and happen to be in the path of a drunk driver, or ninety-two years old and their body just can’t go on. I have learned that even “good little Christian girls” can fall victim to things. I have lost a very close friend to suicide. I have given up on landscape architecture and the large amount of money I could have made in favor of working with special needs kids.

And I have realized that it doesn't matter what I do, if I’m not making enough money, most of my family will never be proud of me. These are things that school could never teach me. They are life experiences, and life experiences are what turn scared, immature, self-conscious young girls into intelligent, provocative, self-confident young women.

This is me….do you like what you see?

I long to be understood. Even deeper than that, I long to be accepted for who I am, every piece of me, by the people I have deemed most important in my life.

This is a very human desire, one that we all share, and there’s no shame in that. And yet, most of us won’t allow ourselves to acknowledge it, let alone take steps to fulfill it. Instead, we see it as weakness. Or we put too much stock in the belief that what’s important is how we see ourselves, that self-esteem or self-confidence are the keys to being truly happy and healthy. Or maybe we did take action, back in the day, and our hearts are scarred by rejection.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I do agree that how we perceive ourselves is ultimately more important than how other people perceive us. I just don’t think we should deny our basic human desire to be understood and accepted by others. These two concepts aren’t mutually exclusive. In fact, you really can’t have one without the other. (I believe in psychology this is called “co-dependency”). Humans were created for relationship, to know and be known.

This includes knowing yourself, understanding who you are, why and how you became that way, and coming to a place of acceptance; which is really the first step to being known and understood and accepted by someone else. After all, how will you know if someone understands and accepts you if you don’t know who you are?

I have spent a great deal of time over the past year and a half exploring who I am and how I came to be me. One of the most significant aspects of this introspection is the fact that I have an Autism Spectrum Disorder (I’m an Aspie). There is no way to separate this from my identity, it colors everything about me – the way I think, the way I act, the way I speak and the words I choose, and most basically the way I interact with everyone around me and my world.

It’s been a fantastic journey so far. And naturally, the more I learn about myself, the more excited I become to share those things with my closest friends. (Just the fact that I can have close friends is one of the exciting things I want to share!) So I’ve decided to write them down.

I don’t have a title yet, but the format will be similar to an encyclopedia. This is actually an idea that has been rolling around in my head for the past couple of weeks; I was calling it a “friend manual” and making a list of things I want to include. Until earlier today, when a friend told me that I don’t need to make a book for other people to learn “how to deal” with me. So now I’m going to refer to it as “a guide to my cultural differences.” What do you think?

Or think of it this way:  when you put on a pair of colored glasses, the world becomes tinted by that color (let’s say blue, since that’s my personal favorite). When you look around you, everything is blue. Well, being an Aspie is kind of like wearing a pair of Aspie-colored glasses; the difference is, you can’t take them off.

This is the part where others come in. If you’ve never put on a pair of these glasses, you have no point of reference for understanding the world the way I’m trying to describe it to you. Unless I find ways to use points of reference we both share, like tinted glasses for example. This book is going to be filled with definitions and metaphors; it’s going to be a road map of sorts – not to understanding Autism but to understanding me. And it’s as much for my own benefit as it is for yours; maybe even more so.

Also, I firmly believe that my relationships will become stronger and more enjoyable if my friends come to understand me on an “Aspie-level” the way I’m learning to understand myself. This book is going to be my way of saying, “Ok friends, this is me….do you like what you see?”

I AM

I was regretting the past
And fearing the future.…
Suddenly my Lord was speaking:
"MY NAME IS I AM."
He paused.
I waited. He continued,

"WHEN YOU LIVE IN THE PAST,
WITH ITS MISTAKES AND REGRETS,
IT IS HARD. I AM NOT THERE.
MY NAME IS NOT I WAS.

"WHEN YOU LIVE IN THE FUTURE,
WITH ITS PROBLEMS AND FEARS,
IT IS HARD. I AM NOT THERE.
MY NAME IS NOT I WILL BE.

"WHEN YOU LIVE IN THIS MOMENT,
IT IS NOT HARD,
I AM HERE.
MY NAME IS I AM."

This is a poem called “I AM”, written by Helen Mallicoat. I thought of it earlier today as I was taking a hot shower, I allowed the steam to clear my sinuses, and the heat to relax my muscles. As I was sitting in the back of the tub listening to the sound of water, I let it clear and relax my mind as well.

Today began like many others, with a reluctance to get out of bed, and a mental list of what I might want to accomplish. My first thoughts were of working on my novel at Starbucks, then doing some laundry while I worked on my latest mini album project. I soon decided to skip Starbucks and go straight for laundry.

It didn’t take me long to get everything gathered – hamper, detergent, milk crate full of creating supplies, laptop – and head to my preferred laundry facility (the washer and dryer in the FES Resource Room). I started a load of wash, and decided to go over to Moscow to look for a few things at WinCo.

This turned out to be a bad decision. I made it there with no problems, having put some oil in at Franklin before I left, and some fuel in at Safeway. I went into the store and looked around but couldn’t concentrate – too many people, hadn’t taken my Adderall yet – so I didn’t end up buying anything, but it was a nice diversion. It feels good to just drive sometimes. When I started my car there was a bit of white smoke from the back, but that happens on occasional cold days.

Well, about the time I was turning out of the parking lot to head back to Pullman, I noticed the white smoke hadn’t disappeared; in fact, it was now pouring out of my exhaust. I pulled over and checked it out, turned off my car, opened the hood (what I was looking for I couldn’t tell you, to be honest). I called a friend who happens to be a mechanic and asked if he thought it would be safe to drive back to town. He said probably not but I could try it.

So I did. I ended up pulling over two more times, texting a friend for help, and eventually stopping in the Moscow Wal-Mart parking lot and calling a tow truck. This very kind friend met me there, took me to the ATM in Pullman, then to the Auto Repair to pay the man, to Franklin to get my stuff, and back home to my cozy apartment and adorable little hamster baby. All it cost me was almost $100 that I don’t have, a great deal of tears (of frustration), and some stress.

Which brings us back to the hot shower. As I was relaxing and clearing I thought about walking to work this week, about how I would pay for whatever is wrong with my car, about how close I came to being caught up enough that I had money left between paychecks – about how irresponsible I can be sometimes, which only brings needless stress (and doesn’t help my high blood pressure problem). That’s when I heard it, that voice, quietly whisper….I AM.

I realized that I have been neglecting this most important of all love relationships, the one with my Creator, Savior, and Best Friend. He never left, never gave up on me, never stopped waiting for me to give up and let go – let go and let God. I have no control over the future, or the past, and to be honest, not a lot of control over anything in the present right now either. At least that’s how I feel. There are only a few things that make up my life – a job, a home, family, friends, art, and God. No family is nearby, so I depend on friends, who have families of their own, and that’s hard for me; hard to ask for help, and hard to be so isolated.

My job is stressful because I don’t know how to help one student, but I also can’t seem to figure out how to ask for help. Every time I try, the responses I get show me that I’m not asking the right questions. My apartment is a mess because I come home feeling exhausted and overwhelmed, meaning I zone out or turn to the one freedom I desperately cling to….my art. Here’s where the missing piece becomes glaringly apparent:  where is I AM in all of this mess?

Like I said, He’s right here beside me, waiting for me to turn to Him and say….yes. Yes I need You, yes I want You in my life every day, yes I love You and I want to know how it feels to be loved by You. Remind me. Some days I forget. Yes I know You are leading and guiding. Yes I trust You with my life. Yes, I have been living in the past, but….no buts. Yes, I have been fearing the future, but….no buts. Just yes. Yes….I am HERE, right now, in this moment. With You.

Book It!

I own books. I don’t want to say “a lot” because what really constitutes a lot? I have over 200. Not sure how much over, probably closer to 300, but I didn’t take the time to count them all. I may do that one of these days. Instead, I counted the ones I haven’t read yet....and guess what! There are 118!!

That’s right my friends, I own 118 books that I haven’t read yet. And honestly, that’s not really even all of them. There were some I didn’t count for various reasons. The point is, I promised myself I would read all of the books I own before I go out and buy more. The thing is, I’d have to average about 2.5 books a week to get these read by the end of July 2013! That’s a lot of reading my friends! And no re-reading any that I’ve read before, which I actually enjoy doing quite often.

So I’m officially making a pledge, to all of you out there in cyberspace reading this, to read all 118 books before I allow myself to buy new ones. With the exception of books for work, my Masters classes (although I shouldn’t need to buy any more for that), and my art. I’ll try to post when I finish one for some sort of accountability, and to share with all of you what I discovered. Books are, after all, kind of like treasure maps – and tonight my journey begins!

All Dressed In White

There is a tradition practiced in the Unification Church known as the Blessing Ceremony. On July 22, 1982, it’s founder Sun Myung Moon performed this ceremony in Madison Square Garden, New York City. It’s a rededication ceremony given to married and engaged couples, not a legal marriage.

They believe that “through this ceremony the couple is removed from the lineage of sinful humanity and engrafted into God’s sinless lineage. As a result, the couple’s marital relationship – and any children born after the Blessing – exist free from the consequences of original sin.” I don’t agree with these beliefs. I believe that we are born sinful, and the price to pay for that is death. I also believe that Jesus paid that price for us and by accepting Him as my substitute I am forgiven.

Now. The reason I’m sharing this as my “today in history” event is because I want to share something with all of you. A few weeks ago something happened that I honestly believed never would:  I decided that I might actually want to wear a dress at my wedding – not just a simple sundress, an actual wedding dress.

I know! I was shocked, too! I have no idea what happened to cause this. I was thrift store shopping with my friend Crystal and her cousin Kara, and there were some dresses hanging in the window….and I don’t know. I just all of a sudden wanted to look at them, and touch them, and could almost picture myself wearing one.

I kept this to myself at first, because I have no idea how or why it happened, or if it’s a permanent change of mind. But then last night I got a phone call from someone very special to me, and we were talking about wedding dresses (she said hers looks like the one Taylor Swift wears in the “Love Story” video). So I told her about my new realization. And now that she knows, I felt it was ok to share with the rest of you. So there it is. I might wear a wedding dress at my wedding.

Will the REAL Mellena Mae Please Stand Up?

I’ve really enjoyed writing posts every day. I’ve learned a lot of interesting things, practiced my craft regularly, and opened doors to several great conversations with my friends and family. Today I wanted to write about one of my favorite topics – my tongue. But first, I have something I need to process.

I’m the kind of person who processes things by talking about them. This can be done in several ways – phone calls, texting, chatting on Facebook or some other instant messaging program, and of course face to face. However, those all involve other people, and I often find myself alone. So I write.

I want you to know who I am, and I want to be accepted for it – the good, the bad, and the in-between. I am a child of God, a daughter of the King of Kings – that makes me a Princess, right? I am a writer, a teacher, a sister, and a friend. I am an artist. I am a genius. And I am autistic.

Those are the good things. But I am also a liar, a cheater, a manipulator. I’m lazy. I’m scared. I hurt people’s feelings. I don’t always follow thru on my commitments. I don’t always try my hardest. I don’t live up to my potential. I push people away. I’m not perfect. And I am alone.

I know that if we’re honest with ourselves, we can all make lists like these. We all have attributes and attitudes we don’t particularly like about ourselves, things we’d like to change. Some of these things are choices; other things we’re born into, and we have to choose to accept them, learn how to integrate them into our lives.

For the past six weeks or so, I’ve been learning to do this myself, to identify which parts of me are choices that I can change, and which I need to accept and learn to live with. Yesterday I saw, for the first time since leaving that cave, how hurtful one of my choices could be, so I changed it; I chose instead to walk the other way.

At the time, I thought it would be enough. But I was wrong. It was a great step in the right direction, one I neither regret nor intend to abandon. I will continue moving forward in this new direction, and it will make me stronger. God will make me stronger. However, the damage was done; I hurt someone, and I can’t take it back.

There are two things I’ve learned from the loss of this new friendship, and I want to share them with you. First, I learned that lies are like a disease; once you infect someone, breaking their trust, you hurt them deeply and it takes time and patience for that wound to heal. Even when it does, you may not be allowed back in.

Second, I learned that I’ve let loneliness create a giant hole in my heart, and I’ve been trying to fill it with the wrong things. I want so badly to feel a connection to other people that I’ve focused my time, thoughts, and energy on friendships. Meanwhile, God is standing next to me saying, “What about Me?”

I’m not saying I should give up on my friends, ignore everyone I know, and become a hermit. I’m saying I need to find my strength and peace in my relationship with God, let His supernatural presence and love fill that hole. Only then will the friends He brings into my life be a blessing.

So when I feel overwhelmed with loneliness and it fills me with anger, instead of turning to Facebook or my phone to ease that pain….I want to go to God.

Dear My Love

Hello again my friends. I would like you to meet someone. This is the newest member of my family. His name is MyLo.

MyLo is a new friend of mine. No, I haven’t replaced Oliver or Donovan; just added to them. That journal he’s holding is one I started writing in on July 1, 2007. And it was the inspiration for this cute bear, and for his name. You see, the journal contains letters to My Love. (Are you following? MyLo?)

I don’t know who or where he is right now, but I know he’s out there somewhere. Sometimes I have a hard time believing that God will bring him to me. For the past couple of years I’ve been hiding behind something that isn’t real because I thought it would help me feel better, but it’s only made me lonelier. So I bought MyLo. He sits on my bed with his brothers and when I need a tangible reminder that I won’t always be alone, I go talk to him, or give him a squeeze. Isn’t he sweet?

I Had A Dream

Don’t you hate it when someone starts telling you about a dream they had, and you can tell they don’t really remember the details so they start making stuff up? It’s usually obvious where the actual dream ends and the embellishing begins. Why start telling about it in the first place, if you don’t remember how it ends?

Although, I must say, there are times when something reminds me of a dream I had, so I start to talk about it, and AS I’M TALKING the details of the dream slip away like smoke. Very frustrating. But. That’s when you stop talking, or pause for a few seconds before tilting your head thoughtfully to the side and say, “You know what? I just forgot the rest of it. Never mind.” Now honestly, that makes for a good story! (Confession:  forgetting details happens more often than I'd like)

Also, I hate it when you’re telling someone about a dream you had and they do that thing. You know, “that thing” when you say something that reminds them of a dream they had, and they interrupt your story to tell you about it? Yah. It’s rude. Like the giant vat of oil on Gilmore Girls.