"Horse with No Rider"

"Horse with No Rider" Alan Menken, Tangled

This piece of score is barely two minutes long, but the title is what I was going for.  We all have those moments where you feel like you've lost your head and you can't see up from down.  You try to prioritize but when everything is just as important as the last, every type of scheme seems to fail you.  You're a wild horse running for no reason other than you're scared or startled into action.  You have no rider to direct your ways.

I think I freaked out several people earlier today with my pleas for prayer, but I was at that point.  Too much on my mind and in my head to fathom it without the help of prayer. I'm the type that always has some sort of list in her head of things she wants to do, needs to do, and has to do.  It's the length of the list that stresses me out, no matter when the decisions have to be made, or if they're even in my control. A short list means a happy Lindsay.  The long list of today is what sent her into an emotional breakdown.

It's fairly normal for college students to not graduate in 4 years now-a-days.  But I thought I could do it.  I've tried everything humanly possible to make it work, and my professors were so very helpful in the process, exempting me from a class here, and letting me take another with graduate students.  It was so very great of them, even if it is their job to do so.  But to pull this magnificent feat off, I'd have to take 8 credits during the summer, plus a non-finalized job at camp.  During the school year I'd have to fit 20+ credits into one semester, plus choir, a senior art show, a half recital, and sleep.  I wouldn't be able to have a real job.  During student teaching I would still have to take another class.  Even listing these in a place other than my mind sets my nerves on end.

This is also my pre finals week, or 'dead week' as my lovely friend Alison calls it.  My finals will be fine.  With the amount of literature I've read in my life, I have no problems with tests and the like.  My friend Denise laughs in exasperation when I ask her what she got on the art history quiz to find out that I got 100% without even reading the chapter, just skimming for the answers.  And this has happened multiple times! I thank God for that blessing.  But it's the shear amount of additional work I need to do that's got me spooked.

Human Relations: Text Responses 9-14, Discussions 2-4, Action Plan, Scrapbook of Educational Adventures (made the title up), DRIE on my experience with the refugees, 4 more hours of time with the refugees, and a synthesis of three course topics

Sculpture: assemblage sculpture

Computer Solutions: make up Excel Project

Art History: Presentation on the Americas Before 1300

That actually doesn't look as bad as I thought it would.  But I do also have to figure out how to get my poor couch home.  Sounds silly doesn't it? I'm worried about a couch?! But hey, it's on my list, so it's a worry.  If I can't come up with anything I'll give it to the refugees.  They need a couch more than I do anyway.

Also, the last two days my room has had one of Sarah's friends over for a visit.  She is a wonderful and very sweet girl.  I've worked with her actually, and as pretend janitors, it's always great to be partnered with someone who loves to clean toilets :D. But I really wasn't prepared for her to move half of her previous dorm room into our already packed room.  And to give up, in my mind, what I call a sanctuary, was just another stressor.  She was a wonderful guest, but on top of everything, I have to say, it all drove me crazy to have to shift things in the room so I could get to my desk.

Today had to be the day I lost it.  I could honestly feel my chest tighten up and I thought I was going to have a full blown panic attack.  Last week was pretty bad, but today was a special case for two reasons.  One was personal and one was family related.

My mom is one of the most wonderful people in the world.  It was terrible to have to go home and tell her that there was no way you were going to allow her to walk down the stairs in her condition.  One of the times I came home her face was swollen quite a lot, and she was reacting badly to a new pain medication.  She'd loose control of her speech, and for someone who used to tuck you in every night to  read you the adventures of Laura Ingalls and Rose Wilder, and always know where everything in the house is, it's hard.  I know that people go through these kinds of things all the time, but my mom is only 54... I think.  After shoulder surgeries, electrocution, skii accidents, farming accidents, asthma attacks, and the like, hasn't she been through enough?! Today she had her back surgery.  She hasn't been able to walk around much for months.  She couldn't work.  My mom has ALWAYS been a teacher.  It's weird to be able to call her at any time of the day.  It's weird not to get to hear funny stories about little girls thinking their hair will grow back like Rapunzel if they cut it off with their safety scissors.  She got through surgery well, and the doctors have said it will help, but to be slightly sadistic, I've heard that before.  And so has she.  It took them nearly 5 years to figure out that it was her back that was causing a lot of her problems.  It's not normal for your kids to have to put electrodes on your mothers back to help with whatever the doctors said was wrong that time.  It's not normal that I grew up sitting in a chiropractors office playing with my Gameboy or reading another Black Stallion book.  I got to level 8 in Super Mario Brothers and was never able to finish it.  I just hope this last surgery will help.

I also said I was mad at myself.  I've loved Harry Potter since the 5th grade.  I read the first one because I was out to prove that it couldn't be as great as everyone said it was.  I was right.  It was even better.  Even after my old pastor and church told me I was going to hell for reading them, I loved them.  There are books I like better now, but there's something special about opening the first book and rediscovering the wizarding world all over again.  I've read the Goblet of Fire 22 times now, and it still doesn't get old.  That tells you something.  But I also have a problem with it.  In middle school I discovered fanfiction.  That stuff is awesome.  But it comes in all kinds of forms.  Some of it is so cute you start squealing in public places and people look at you funny.  Others are so beautiful you want to cry. And some of them are disgusting.  But I've read them all.  Well, not the really terrible ones, but I've read some not so great ones.  But I get addicted.  I've mentioned my addiction to stories before I'm sure, but sometimes it gets really really bad.  I spent 8 hours straight yesterday reading a new story I found.  It was brilliantly written, but it wasn't all great.  But I couldn't stop myself.  I didn't even eat supper and then I didn't get to bed til 1:30am and I was so mad at myself for getting to that point that I didn't sleep all night.

Other people wouldn't think that was really any big deal, but I think it's terribly sad.  I'm disgusted with myself.  I wish I could cut myself off from those sites.  Why can't I read my Bible like that? Why can't I pray with that same type of fervor that I have when reading an engaging story? My faith should be my first priority.  Before anything, whether that be school, friends, family, my faith should be number one.  When I missed Computer Solutions today because I was close to tears, I should have opened my Bible, not call to check on Mom and then read more of this story.  That was stupid!

About a week ago, I got an odd message on Facebook.  It was from one of my guy friends here at school, and apparently he has no idea how to ease into a conversation.  He just straight up asked how I came to know Christ.  I gave him the easy answer. "In middle school I read this book..." yada yada yada, And so then he asked "So what does it mean to be a Christian?" I was reading fanfiction at the time.  And for the life of me I could not think of an answer.  After three years of counseling and learning at the most wonderful Christian camp I have ever been too, I couldn't even come up with words for a question I knew I had the answer to, at one time.  The reading had deadened me to any feeling or original thought.  I don't remember all that I said, but I did admit that I was struggling, and that it was hard for me to answer at the time.  I eventually played it off into an average conversation, but the whole question continued to bother me.  Why can't I answer it? I told my sister of the question, and she said, "Well? What is the answer to you?" I wasn't exactly expecting that.  My sister was usually the one that came to me with these questions.  Why was she asking me? Have I really fallen that far?

The Christian life is often a struggle, with ups and downs and twists and turns.  I've known that as long as I can remember.  But above everything, I know that it's worth it.  I don't know how long it will take me to get back up on my feet spiritually after this year, but I know that it will happen.  It's important.  It's the most important thing in my life.  I do know in two weeks all my stressors will be gone and I will be back with my mom and my just as wonderful dad and sister. And the best dog in the world.  And the weirdest cats. And I'm sure something will remind me of another thing that I've forgotten that's stressed me out, but the greatest thing of all is that God's laughing at me right now, saying, "How many times to I have to tell you and prove to you that I got this all figured out?! I love you!What's there to worry about?!"