Life is Crazy

Enough said.

:)

in C O N C E R T

Last night was a fantastic night!!! I got to go see Jon Schmidt and Steven Sharp Nelson in CONCERT!!! AAAAAAAAHHHHH THEY WERE SO AMAZING!!!

Oh my gosh. I love them.

I went with Cambry, Dan, Sabrina, Kennen, and Tyson. It was at Thanksgiving Point in the Waterfall Amphitheater and it was fabulous. Absolutely wonderful. I loved LOVED the music, all their cheesy jokes. I loved being there with my friends. Even though I almost ruined it by forgetting the tickets, and then getting freezing cold right at the end... It was still just, well... Amazing.

So just barely, I was thinking about the amazingness of the concert and I decided to stalk Jon Schmidt, and I found this video. I just smiled and laughed the whole time, DANG it's cute!!! :D Enjoy.

I Can Handle It

That one insecurity is driving me insane.

Just a lot a bit.

It's not entirely rational, but then again, what insecurity is?

Here is mine, although I don't want to come across as whiney or complaint. It's just something about me that could, maybe, define me a small portion.

Here it is:

There is a part of me. A small part, but a powerful one, that is entirely convinced that some person or another hates me. Usually it is someone I care about, or someone whose opinion I value, or someone I want to be friends with. I'm not exactly sure what the qualifications are, but it is always someone whose relationship with me stands at a nondescript point. Sometimes there are twenty people, other times only one. But there is always someone.

It can be a teacher, or a friend, or a classmate. No matter who it is, the thought plagues me that maybe, possibly, this person doesn't like me. Or doesn't want to be my friend. Or is annoyed by the little things I do, by my very being. I'm afraid of being afraid of, but I think that the person I'm afraid of most is myself.

I'm afraid of myself. I think that this is at the core of my little big insecurity. I think that maybe, I am the person who a part of me is entirely convinced doesn't like me. Not speaking self-esteem or anything, but self-criticality. I am too hard on myself socially, emotionally, sometimes spiritually. I'm not saying that some self-assessment doesn't have its time or place, but perhaps too often I analyze myself in the view of other people. The only view I can see clearly through is my own. So I think it's time that I learn that other people's perspectives shouldn't matter to me, and that it is a pointless struggle to try and assess exactly what someone thinks of me. Because I'm never going to know.

And should that stop me from being happy? Should that stop me from reaching out to people? From being who I am?

Of course it shouldn't.

There will always be someone who thinks I'm annoying. There will always be someone who looks at me with disdain, who wishes I wouldn't talk to them, who holds back because they don't want me to know what they really think. There will always be someone, and there will always be me. But I can ignore that. I can ignore them.

If I just trust Heavenly Father's perspective, and stay true to myself and who I believe myself to be, then I will be happy. I won't be weighed down by possibility. I won't freak out. Though that one insecurity will never leave me, I can handle it.

I can handle it.

*Lather, rinse, repeat*

I can handle it.

Chapter Three

My Grand Entrance to the World

Growing up, there were never any secrets. I always knew I was adopted, I knew my parents couldn’t have children. I knew the same way I knew the sky was blue and the sun came up every morning. It just was. And I think being is the thing that makes all the difference, for when you are a child, there is beauty in simplicity. My birth story has always been something beautiful to me, because through a child’s eyes, it is all simple.

It was the morning of January 5th that my parents received the phone call informing them that my birthmother was in labor. My parents quickly boarded a plane bound for Vancouver, Washington, where I was born. They were ecstatic, to say the least. Six years of marriage had already passed by that time, and they were ready to become parents. After twenty-something hours of labor (my poor birthmother!), a beautiful baby girl emerged weighing seven pounds, six ounces. This was baby Brittney, and I became the first child of Mike and Jann Theurer.

My parents had tried for years to adopt, all without any luck. Finally, a friend of my mother’s introduced them to a young girl named Jeniece. She was nineteen with golden brown hair and a big smile. She was pregnant and searching for a family in which to place her child because she wanted me to grow up with both a mother and a father. Over the course of several months, she and my parents exchanged letters. They met on occasion, and ultimately it came down to the Theurers and one other family to adopt me. On one fateful evening, my mother sang a song she wrote for Jeniece. My birthmother was moved by the music and the spirit, discovering at last that Mike and Jann were truly meant to be my parents.

I am forever grateful to Jeniece, not only for choosing the right family to place me in, but also for being a strong woman in the gospel. After my birth, she pieced her life back together, went through the temple, and eventually served an LDS mission. I can’t express the joy that brings my soul. Instead of being a hindrance to her, I think I helped Jeniece grow.

I have a theory.

I believe Jeniece and I were good friends in heaven. I have only met her once, when I was born, but reading her letters she sent to me and my parents during the first two years of my life, I feel like she is close to my heart. I hope that after returning from a mission, she was able to find a worthy young man to marry and raise a family with. I wish the best for her, for she is one of the reasons my family is what it is, and I am who I am.

When my parents brought me back home to Utah, the whole family rejoiced. We were greeted at the airport with nearly forty smiling people—aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents—all holding balloons and giving hugs because, after all, it was quite the wait to get me! But the wait was worth it. According to my parents, I was a wonderful baby and much like I am now. Inquisitive. Imaginative. I was a “happy baby” and loved to laugh and giggle. I did have a hard time napping—with all the new sensory information I took in as a child, I guess it was just too much fun to stay awake. I was beautiful, bright, and learned quickly about the world around me. I was also an early talker, and one of my favorite stories about my infancy was that once I was sick with croup and my mom was told to take me outside in the brisk air to help me breathe. Sick with a fever of 103° and barely able to breathe, I looked up at the sky and said simply, “Hi, moon.”

Stories like these I love the stories because they are so innocent and sweet. Once when I was eighteen months old, I counted to ten for the doctor, making his jaw drop. I also made the nurses cry. When I went in for my shots, I was all smiles and giggles right up until they poked me with their needles, and then I just looked at them with the look that breaks hearts. Another time, while my mom was in the shower, I snuck out of the house and stopped by my neighbors’ house for breakfast. Their little boy fed me eggs on his doorstep until my mom came to find me. One last memory--I was in love with a certain cowboy hat when I was little, and whenever my dad or anyone else would say, “Brittney, go get your cowboy hat!” I would drop everything and run for it.

All these and more memories mark my first few years of life. From my birthmother’s arms to the arms of my parents, my entrance to this world was a special one. It is characterized by a beautiful simplicity and grace of young life. I learned many things in just a few years, like how the sky is blue, the sun comes up, and after a time, things change. After four years of being the only child, my baby sister, Brianna was born. Soon after came Bradley, then Brayden, then Brevin. My life changed purpose as my family grew and was filled. I remember the day my mom and dad drove me in the car to see my little sister for the first time. She was right up the stairs and around the corner in a beautiful bassinet. So was the rest of my childhood, I soon found. My grand entrance to world then transformed into a grand journey, and as I embark upon it I will remember those first memories and moments that make my birth story and young childhood unique, and I will smile.

People People 101

I envy people who let words flow as freely through them as water does tap. It's something I've never been able to do as long as I've tried (and let me tell you, it's been a long time). But I'm working on it. And I'll get there. Eventually.

Back to people. I love them. So much! It didn't use to be that way, I didn't use to get excited after talking to one of my friends or learning something new about someone. I didn't use to call myself a people person.

But now? I almost can. :)

I guess the change has been in the past few months, where an introduction to proper teenage-hood and growing up subconsciously enrolled me in People People 101. I love it. Every bit of it. I love who I am, I love who I am becoming. And the reason I do is because I'm beginning to love other people.

Remember a few months ago--was it really just one?--where Cambry and I went to a YCL overnighter, went to bed "early" and then stayed up talking for a while? Remember me saying how I don't feel the love for people that Cambry can? Remember me saying I wish I did?

Well, my wish came true. Something about having a best friend as a role model and being provided experiences to grow can shape a girl. And it has definitely shaped me in the past few months.

The result?

I want to get to know people. So bad. I want to call friends on the phone and talk to them, I want to invite someone over and just play. I want to walk up to somebody at school or marching band or wherever and ask them what they're up to. I actually, really, truly want to know. Is that crazy, or is that just me? Where is this coming from? I feel like this feeling is an alien part of me I haven't met, but that's okay. Because wanting to be a people person is a good thing. I am human, after all. It's time I embrace humanity and go for it. Go for making friends. Go for meeting people. Go for calling someone up or inviting them over. Though hesitancy still rules me and those parts of me that hold me back still have control, my mind has begun to discover all that I could be as a friend and person. Perhaps that idea might just gain hold and allow me to act, but for now I'll just watch. And love. And learn. And hopefully become the person I am meant to be. I can see now that I am just starting that journey, and though it's a long one, it's definitely worth it.

[press save]

**************

And now comes the question I ask myself: how did it taste?

I might be starting to like this tap water.

;) *wink wink* ;)

Rain

First, let me say this:

I love the Lord. He is my strength, my redeemer, my savior, my friend, my brother. He helps me in times of need and loves me always. And, because He knows I need it, He'll prove His love to me in little ways. Small, tender mercies that seem insignificant, but have really affected me and that I cherish.

I had one such experience this week, on Wednesday. To put it simply, I was having the worst mood swing of my life. I was in a weird mood all day, and around 5:00 my brainwork collapsed on me. A plague of irrationality took over, and I was crying, whimpering, angry, hurt, confused, annoyed, and otherwise insane. I knew what I was feeling wasn't real. I knew that I was fine, that nothing was wrong, that there was no reason to be upset over anything. The trigger itself was harmless enough--I was simply feeling lonely, but that feeling exploded inside me until I could no longer stand being in my house.

So I walked to the park. And I walked. And I wandered. And I felt a little better moving around and being left alone by everything else. I just let my mind run away for a bit, I let myself go numb. I went to Cascade Elementary and paced around the front of the building. I traced a pattern in the grass where the mower didn't quite get. I walked through the playground, and around the field. I passed the hill in Cascade Park and followed some trails here and there. I took a few pictures, watched the people on bikes, the people playing tennis, the people on the hill. I wandered.

And then my isolation was over. I turned to walk home as I replied to my friend, telling him what I was up to. I was in the park, and I liked the thunder. As I was texting the words "I hope I get rained on," I walked out from under the cover of a large maple tree and into a downpour.

I laughed. I laughed the whole way as I walked. It was the heaviest rain I've been in for years, and it just made me... happy. :) Soaked from head to foot, my dad came to find me right as I was starting to get cold. I knew the moment the rain started that it was my rain. The timing was too perfect for it NOT to be!

So of course it was my rain.

It is how my Heavenly Father showed me he loved me that day. He let me know how much He cared for me, how He was looking out for me and understood how I felt. All those negative feelings and irrational thoughts were washed out with the rain, and I was left in peace. Nothing wrong, nothing to regret or to hopelessly wish for. Just a warm, clear evening as the last of my raindrops fell to the ground.

All is well.

:)

Mind. Blown.

Freak.