Older Sister Mode

This week I've had several opportunities to step fully into my "older sister" shoes. I don't know why, but it doesn't feel like I get that opportunity often. Maybe it's because my family's so close and I feel more like friends with my siblings, especially now that I live a thousand miles away. Back when I lived at home I didn't spend much time at the house. I was always at school for plays and the like and when I was at home, I'd be in my room, reading or working on homework.

First experience this week was with my sister Kate. She's been on a Girl Scout trip for the past few days and has been telling me all about her travels (they traveled by train which I, in my Harry Potter obsessed mode right now, am extremely jealous about) through text. At one point, she started talking about some plans unrelated to her travels, something I didn't quite approve of. To protect her, I won't go in to the details, but suffice it to say, I told her it was her life, but I didn't like it.

A couple hours later I get a text telling me there's been a change in her plans, a change that I fully approved. I did a little happy dance at that point and decided I officially had succeeded as an older sister.

Second experience has kind of been spanning out this entire week. My brother, Tucker... well, let's just say he's sort of a freak of nature. I love him. He's only eight years old yet he's only about a foot and a half shorter than I am and skinny as a stick. No, seriously. I have no idea how his pants stay up. And? He's a genius. He's read the Harry Potter books (I'm not sure if he's gotten through all seven yet, but still) all by himself and he's now working on his own novel. He read one of his short stories to me the other day and, especially for an eight year old, it's insanely good. Plus? He's hilarious! He is a bonafide comic! I can't help but sit back in awe at Tucker.

Right now he has a cyst. On his neck. It looks like an Adam's apple, but he's too young for one. They were told that he's going to need surgery to take it off, but the doctors were being pains about scheduling. This next week we have a family reunion on my mom's side and it's going to be the first time we're all together since my grandmother passed. It also happens to fall on my grandmother's birthday and her and Grandpa's anniversary. Yeah. So my parents told the doctors this and they said that if they didn't do the surgery next week, it would have to wait until the middle of July.

Okay, clearly we're not going to wait that long. So for the past couple of days we've been waiting to hear back about when this surgery is going to be. Mom just got the call today. The way it works out, it seems right now as if Mom and my sisters are going to be able to go to the family reunion while Dad and Tucker stay home.

I. Hate. Humanity.

I mean, now, seriously. We all hate this idea. Mom, it seems, especially. This is her baby, her little boy, going through surgery. She wants to be there with him! Also, Dad's been really busy with work and as the Bishop lately, so he was looking forward to some family time. We don't need anything special, just some with the six of us. Heck, the drive to and from it sometimes the best part!

So... This is what I have to say to the doctors:

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Yeah. I'm okay. *sigh*


I'm Okay

Strangely enough, I am okay. I don't feel like I really should be, but I am. Let me explain. ("No, there is too much. Let me sum up." Reference? Anyone? Anyone?)

I was not okay. I was doing a good job of pretending I was okay and even fooling myself sometimes, but overall, I was not okay. Then something happened and, suddenly, the world seemed brighter again. I could hear the birds singing, I could feel the sun shining and I was constantly excited about what the future held in store. That pretty much sums up my May. It was AH-MAZING. I can't really begin to describe just how wonderful it was.

This week things have started to change. I've left campus and I'm currently at my grandpa's house where I'm weeding the backyard and will be doing so all of next week as well. It's just me and my grandpa. Other things as well have started to change, which I won't go into here. Suffice it to say, I'm a worrier. I tend to freak out and panic. And there was one day this week that I was completely consumed by panic and worry all day.

That night I went for a walk. I'm not a person who wrings things, yet my shirt was in a knotted ball clenched in my fists the entire time as I sobbed and soon fell into a conversation with Heavenly Father. Eventually my plea boiled down to one simple thing: I don't want to feel like this. I don't want this panic, this worry. I hate it. I hate it more than anything, how it completely consumes me and I feel utterly miserable.

The next day, though nothing in the situation that made me panic had changed really, I was, albeit strangely, okay. And I still am. The situation is not at all better, in fact I would even say that it's gotten worse. But I'm okay.

Even tonight, the panic and worry took over for a couple minutes, but I quickly fell into another conversation with Heavenly Father. There is an easy solution to this dilemma, we both know. I would love, love that to happen. But if not, I told him, all I want is to be okay. Never before has the quote "Nevertheless, thy will, not mine, be done" had so much meaning to me and me alone.

I don't know what's going to happen. I get a foreboding feeling that things aren't going to go the way I want them to. If that's the case, I'll cry, yes. But I know that, with Heavenly Father's help, I will be able to pick myself back up and carry on. I am okay.