Never Mind

25-27.

Those were the years I spent in graduate school. 

(I have very few pictures of this time of my life for some reason-sorry)

Prior to my junior year of college I only had a vague idea of what exactly graduate school was. 

I knew there was law school and medical school and I had heard of Masters Degrees and Doctorates but I didn't connect it all in my head. I was just hoping to survive long enough to get my Bachelors. 

But around my junior year it occurred to me that I wasn't really going to be able to do anything with a Sociology degree. (A major that I almost literally fell into)

My senior year came. 

I was working more than full time hours, I was trapped in a little town in Idaho, I wasn't dating or anywhere near married, and I was about to graduate with a degree that was next to worthless.

To say that I did not have a life plan would be an understatement. I had been (and still am to this day) mainly living in what I call 'survial mode'. 

It's typical of children who grow up with some element of chaos in their home. Frequent moves, poverty, addiction, any form of abuse- they don't develop the executive functioning skills needed to create a course and follow it. Most of them also do not have the family support and knowledge to navigate climbing up the socio-economic ladder. 

I learned what I could about graduate school and applied to Temple University in the MSW (Masters in Social Work) program. I did this for two reasons. It was close to home and I didn't have to take the GRE. I didn't have 300 dollars to take a graduate school entrance exam. A lot of fields of study require it. But social work did not. 

I based my entire career path on not having 300 dollars to take a test. 

My family (and anyone who is trapped listening to me for 5 minutes) can tell you that I am not passionate about social work. I am not passionate about being a therapist. (another job I kind of fell into)

To be completely, brutally honest- I don't even believe in half of the mental health disorders. It's not that I don't try my hardest to give my clients the care that they deserve- it's just... I don't know. 

So, anyway- I got accepted into the program (yeah, they were happy to charge me 40 grand) and I spent the next two years running around like a chicken with my head cut off.

The first year I lived at home. Took the train into Philly two days a week. The R-5. I drove up to Norristown (about 40 minutes away) to intern at a place called Hedwig House the other three days. It's a day program for people diagnosed with schizophrenia. (because I was focusing in mental health- not children, youth and families). That was the wildest internship of my life. 

I baked with schizophrenics. Cleaned with them. Broke up fights about Jesus and cigarettes. Read case history after case history. Updated the entire filing system. Lived in a little office in a corner. (with a Ouija board in it!). Fought with my supervisor Eleanor (who was from Poland and I swear spend every afternoon on the phone to Poland)

Year two found me living in the city. On Broad street. About 10 blocks from city hall- with it's iconic statute of William Penn.

I was a resident coordinator (in charge of about 15 RA's who were each in charge of a hallway of first year students)

This was my first "real" college experience. I saw it all. Alcohol poisoning. Crime. Trashy Halloween costumes. Chinese food at 3 am. 

There were moments when I loved it. But I mostly hated it. 

I don't like living in a city. So much noise. It doesn't enliven me. It exhausts me. And being surrounded by drunken college freshmen, a residential director who hated me, and being in possibly the most liberal major in the most liberal college on Earth did not make it easier. 

I wish I had tape recorded some of my classroom lectures. They really are trying to indoctrinate everyone with their ideology. Graduate school is not about free expression and exchange of ideas. It's as harsh and adherent to it's very strict belief structure as the Puritans ever were to theirs. I once said that I thought that if you loved your partner (spouse, whatever) you would tell them if you got an HIV diagnosis. My gosh, the wrath of judgement I got for that. It was insane. 

ANYWAY, 

There are so many stories I could tell. Between dragging Christmas lights down Broad Street at 9 pm at night, to listening to Eye of the Tiger and driving lost freshmen home from the Target, to the night of 6 fire alarms going off, to playing who, what, when, where, why with a group of people who were all stoned. Except me. 

Not to mention the camp reunions, the birth of one Elizabeth Mae Monroe, the BROKEBACK obsession (my gosh, I was insane), the summer of living with Erin in Colorado, getting my first ipod as a TIP, falling a little bit in love with the mountains, the second year internship at a place called POMP (completely pointless office work- I learned NOTHING), to my obsession with fourth meal. 

It was a crazy, crazy two years. 

And on my graduation day, in May of 2007, I promised myself I would never go back to school. And that is a promise I will never break. 

Lori Ann

p.s.- Up next- BARC and moving to the South, y'all. 

One

Random Saturday Morning Life Update

My seasonal affective disorder has officially kicked in. I HATE the heat. Thankfully, most days its still a nice spring like temperature. But that won't last forever. 

Last night I was googling "How to become Amish". There is such a strong part of me that wishes I didn't have to live in the world like it is. I really love the idea of leaving behind all of the distractions of the modern world and just working hard, sleeping well, and drawing closer to God in a small little PA town.

I feel like we are in a really bad place as a country at times. Like we think we know better than God. It makes me sad to see so many people wrapping themselves up in secularism and pride and their learning. Because they don't have faith. And they don't see it, but I feel like they are so lost. Because they are trying to find happiness and peace in all of that. But true happiness and peace comes from God. 

Work has been crazy lately. Good crazy some days, bad crazy others. I don't know that I have the compassion that I need for this job at times. Every day I pray for more compassion.

I've been skyping with my sister Erin. It's nice to see her face. 

I am officially addicted to House of Cards. Now that the Blacklist is over until fall, I need another older man with a lot of power to fixate on! (Kevin Spacey is no James Spader, of course..)

I have decided to just take things a day at a time with my fitness and health goals. When I make too big or too elaborate a plan, it inevitably falls apart. 

I am so looking forward to next weekend. It's going to be a 4 day weekend for me. I might go somewhere. Or just organize my life. Something. 

Our poor cat Thomas lost part of his tail this morning. It makes me so sad. He's doing ok but yikes!

I got an iphone again. I didn't really miss it but I like the convenience of having all my music, a camera, and all my contacts in one place. And directions if I get lost. But that two year contract feels like a jail sentence. 

I think the seasonal affective makes me restless and unfocused. 

Oh well.

Tomorrow will be a picture post with all the exciting life updates!!

Lori Ann

What if he's obese?

It's almost Mother's Day. 

I've written a number of mother's day tributes to my mom. 

I'm not sure that's she really the tribute type.

So, I thought I'd just share my favorite memories of her from this year and thank her for being exactly the mother that she is. Strong. Beautiful. And slightly evil. :) 

 My mom bought me 130 some balloons after I walked my very first 5k. To represent every lb I had lost at that point. She and Jack Jack made like 4 trips to the (not that close) dollar store to transport them home. They then hid them in Jr's apartment and surprised me. It was MAGICAL. I still have the deflated balloons. (well the ones the kids didn't get!). I made artwork out of them and have it in my office. Seeing her there with all of those balloons will always be one of my very favorite memories. 

Only to be topped by this one. The last 1/2 mile of my half marathon. I was tired, mildly delirious, and icy cold. It had rained the ENTIRE race. I was way, way, way back. (not last, but close). I could see the Art Museum once I hit mile 12 but it just seemed to get further and further away and I thought I would never get there. Then I saw her. This little person in a poncho walking towards me. My mom has a very distinctive walk. I knew it was her.

She walked the last half mile with me. 

I will always remember that. 

My other favorite memories are things that I have been told. I've been to my mom's work a time or two over the last year. Each time someone told me that I looked JUST like my mom. 

I have never heard that in all of my adult life. 

It made me sooooooooo happy. 

Happy Mother's Day, mom. 

Thank you for everything you have ever done for me. 

Lori Ann

Every time she falls

This post is best accompanied by a little Maroon 5. Try not to be distracted by Adam Levine's hotness. :)

Age 22 to 25 are what I think of as the Songs about Jane years. 

Most people's cognitive development has them branching out into their own music around age 14. 

I didn't really find 'my music' until 22 or so. 

And it began with that album. Which is still my favorite album of all time. 

(closely followed by James Blunt, 'Back to Bedlam' and Joni Mitchell 'Blue')

ANYWAY,

When I got home from my mission, I was kind of depressed.

Even though I didn't want to be a missionary anymore, I didn't want to be home either.

I started working as a CNA again. At the same place I'd worked before my mission.

I couldn't go back to college until I paid off this small amount of money I owed. (which it seemed I could never save) and, for a little while, I kind of gave up on college.

I began thinking about being a CNA for the rest of my life. 

Most days, I loved being a CNA. It was physically demanding but very fulfilling in a lot of ways. 

I thought that this was going to be my life.

I bought my first car. A 1994 Nissan Altima. 

I lived with my parents. 

I got to see Danielle and her kids.

 (they lived in PA briefly at this time)

My Jamesaroni was born and he was the SWEETEST baby on Earth.

I liked my life. It was calm and steady.

But I was not moving forward in any way. And I think I was driving my parents crazy.

Then my mom told me that she had paid off my college so that I could go back. 

That single act changed my life. 

I went back to college in January of 2004. 

I met a million awesome friends. My roommate Alicia, my neighbors, and some amazing church friends. Almost all of them were from Colorado and it was very cool to get to know these girls who were from such a different place and lived such a different life than me.

They were all health nuts and strong, faithful Mormon girls and they made me look at life in a different way. They pushed me out of my comfort zone.

There was the Rodeo Queen vomit incident.

The time we smuggled in a cat to our dorm. Pouncer the wonder cat.

The Jesus statue fights.

The 6 weeks of Erin.

The Beehive house and June's be-otch incident.

The 'who, what, when, where, and why' craziness.

The weddings and the diet coke birthday.

So many amazing memories.

I would spend the next two years in Idaho, finally graduating with my Bachelors in Sociology and Spanish in 2005 at the age of 25.

But, between all those crazy semesters and finally getting my undergraduate degree, I did something else that changed my life.

I worked at summer camp.

Yes, summer camp. All the stories you hear about it are true!

I worked as the camp nurse for two summers (2004 and 2005).
(which is kind of scary as I only had CNA training)

It gave me a chance to come home, work for the 8 weeks I had free, make enough money to pay for housing, and then race back to school.

Those were the best summers of my life. 

The camp is so beautiful. It is in Chester County, PA. Amish country. There is a horse and buggy sign right outside of the camp and horse and buggy parking at the local supermarket.

It was every single day stunningly Pennsylvania beautiful.

This is the dock (Eri and I, of course, fell out of the canoe)

But even more amazing than the view were the friends that I made there. I had NEVER had friends like that. 

My family and church are amazing in so many ways and they are the foundation of who I am but I didn't know what unconditional acceptance and friendship were until I worked at camp.

For a lot of reasons, I had never really liked myself. 

But camp taught me to like myself. To see everything that was cool and interesting about me. 

The campers and other counselors would literally shout my name (which at camp was "moonbeam") across the camp. 

They kind of fixed something in me that I didn't know what broken. As cheesy as that sounds. 

I will always remember those summers. I will never regret that time I spent. My only tattoo is a tribute to those days and those friends. 

Random camp friends

Poor Forrest was the only male staff member.

The after camp parties were EPIC! (and i was STILL trying to be some level of blond!) Anyway, in the middle of all of this college and camp craziness, I fell in love. OK, maybe intense infatuation would be a better word. (Because I recognize that real love is being there for someone and 40 years of marriage and cleaning up their vomit and all of that.) But this was the first time in my life that I GOT poetry and love songs and I felt like I couldn't breath. I haven't been in love since. And I hate men so much (thanks, Mom!) that I don't think that I will ever be again. Which is OK. I'm glad I got the experience once. It's changed the way I see the world. How I see myself. It's given me memories I will never forget. And that's my life to 25. Next edition: Graduate school, Philadelphia, Colorado, and schizophrenic baking groups! MoonBeam

The after camp parties were EPIC! (and i was STILL trying to be some level of blond!)

Anyway, in the middle of all of this college and camp craziness, I fell in love.

OK, maybe intense infatuation would be a better word.

(Because I recognize that real love is being there for someone and 40 years of marriage and cleaning up their vomit and all of that.)

But this was the first time in my life that I GOT poetry and love songs and I felt like I couldn't breath.

I haven't been in love since.

And I hate men so much (thanks, Mom!) that I don't think that I will ever be again.

Which is OK. I'm glad I got the experience once.

It's changed the way I see the world. How I see myself. It's given me memories I will never forget.

And that's my life to 25.

Next edition: Graduate school, Philadelphia, Colorado, and schizophrenic baking groups!

MoonBeam 

All the world to see

To my dear niece Katherine Danielle

I never know quite the right words to say to you.

I guess I'll start with- I can't believe you are six!!

I thought you'd stay our family baby forever. Tiny and gleeful and sweet.

You are growing up so quickly and there are moments when I miss the Katy Cat of years gone by.

The baby with a pumpkin hat on her almost bald head. The destructive whirlwind of a toddler. The cuddly, snuggly little girl we had always wanted. 

But as much as I love my Katy Cat memories, I love the girl you are now.

Sassy and adventurous and so smart.

You are strong and kind.

Even though you are the baby, you take care of everyone else.

You are the first to give something away. To share. To say sorry. To reach out to help.

From the minute you were born you brought so much love to our family.

Every single day you bring happiness to my life.

The best part of who I am is being your aunt.

I was thinking of you today and wishing you 100 more years of life. A life full of adventure and love and happiness. With people who are as kind to you as you are to others.

I wish for you a handsome Prince Charming and a PhD in some field related to animals.

 I wish for you a chance to see the whole world.

 I wish for you little blond daughters of your own and wonderful memories to make you smile when life gets hard.

I wish for you to always feel loved and safe and to know how incredible you are.

There is this obscure little lullaby that comes to my mind when I think of you. So, on the very first night of your sixth year, and even knowing you aren't a baby anymore, I want to end with it. And with giving you all my love.

Thank you for being you. I love you, Katy girl.

Aunt Lori

The picture from my first Katy Birthday tribute (four years ago)- PRECIOUS!!

p.s.- Let me preface this by saying that this was the only version of this lullaby I could find and it's quite creepily done. It frightens me a little. But it's the lyrics that I love :) 

Honey badger don't care

A few things I want to remember from the last week of April, 2014.

It's almost this thing's birthday. Today she told me she wanted a bike and a scooter. And various other items. I've trained her so that when I ask what the most important day ever is, she will reply "April 29th, 2008" :) 

Katy is our resident helper. While my parents are gone she has been hanging out with the cats. 

And taking over chief medical duties for my mom. She has already inspected a bruise of mine and checked my heart rate. She told me I could call her Dr. Katy. 

It was take your daughter to work day this week. And since I pretend Elly is my daughter when she is kicking butt on the soccer field and other parents are talking about her- it seemed appropriate she come to my work for a few hours.

Everyone loved her. She stopped by every department and 'tried out' being a therapist. I had her call me in from the waiting room and told her that I am stressed because my cat has been fighting with a honey badger in the woods. She told me I needed to ground my cat from the woods.

Speaking of honey badgers, we've been watching the clean version of the Honey badger video on youtube. The kids love it. Elly was telling me "the honey badger serves a purpose. He digs holes for the plants to grow and lets other animals eat his scraps" :)

I have been doing various cleaning projects this weekend. Have you ever started deep cleaning something and resurfaced like 5 hours later? Because once you start tackling the detail work you usually ignore, you notice how bad things really are?

Let me just ask these questions..

Who dumped a whole thing of cat nip in the junk drawer?

Why was there broken glass and a strange red powder under the plates?

Why do we own literally 59 forks?


Anyway, this blog update is brought to you by the "I don't want to clean anymore but am in the middle of too many projects to stop now" committee.

Wish me luck!!

Lori Ann

Llamadas al servicio

*disclaimer- this is the longest post I have ever written- be warned!* 

Growing up, I never really thought about serving a mission.

(for my non Mormon friends- a Mormon mission is a period of time (2 years for guys and 18 months for girls) in which you get 'called' to a part of the world, move there, and spend all of your time teaching people about the Gospel. You don't get to go home, date, go to school. You can call home on Christmas and Mothers Day)

Then, when I was 19, my sister Danielle left for a mission to Montreal. 

I think it was then that I decided to serve. 

I always tell Danielle that she was my Moses. Because by her serving, she led me to my Promised Land.

On the last Saturday before Christmas in the year 2000, I received my mission call in the mail.

Illinois, Chicago. Spanish speaking. 

(which means I would learn Spanish and work primarily with Spanish speaking populations)

I will never forget the moment when I read that mission call. I had a physical feeling like I was going down a long drop on a roller coaster. (A feeling I've only had once since then) and the words CHICAGO ILLINOIS seemed like the words I had been waiting my whole life to hear.

I began my mission on February 7th, 2001. 

What followed was the most intense, life changing 18 months of my life. 

I met the most incredible people I have ever met. 

I had experiences so powerful that they are sacred to me. Stories I rarely tell.

I also had moments of intense depression, frustration, and anger. 

Whatever mental illness you have, it will manifest on the mission.

My mission companions actually were worried that I was bipolar. I was so up and down and passive aggressive. I didn't know how to deal with the tiring, structured life I was living and didn't know how to communicate in a healthy way. 

(I didn't realize that about myself until years later)

The mission is amazing, miraculous, but so hard.

You have to live with one person 24-7, focus all of your energy on talking to people about God, and deal with intense daily rejection and sometimes ridicule. 

It's not for the faint of heart. 

I spent my entire mission in two areas. Addison and West Chicago. The outskirts of the city- more suburban than urban for the most part. I had 7 different mission companions. I got used to trekking in the snow and boiling in the sun. Wearing dresses or skirts every day. I grew accustomed to the flat land and Great Lakes breezes. The Land of Lincoln license plates. The specific customs and kindness of the people of the state of Illinois. 

Illinois is and will always be my promised land. 

I've only been back once in the 12 years since my mission. But I could FEEL when I arrived back in the mission field. My heart beat faster. I felt such a strong connection. 

I would never move to Illinois. It's too flat, too cold, and too mid western for me. Pennsylvania is my home.

But there is a certain peace that I experience only in Illinois. 

4 of my 7 mission comps. Monterroso, Winsor, Hendricks, and Tyler. (I will always think of them by their last names. Their first names are Yolanda, Amanda, Lorena, and Shannon- but I don't know that I've ever really called them that)

Teresa Labra. One of the little girls that we taught on the mission. She was smart and funny.

Me and my last companion (Mietzner) in one of our few trips to the city. She passed away a few years after this. I think of her every day because she hated the sound of the turn signal and I think of her every time I hear it. Her mom sent me the skirt I am wearing in this picture after she died. It was my favorite skirt to borrow from her. I am saving it for my nieces to wear on their missions. 

Roberto and Alfredo. Oh, Alfredo. Also, another companion- Sister Badger. I am not going to comment on that companionship. Not. Going. To. Comment. 

Right before I went home. I had such a farmers tan. And I was still trying to be blond. 

This was my sisters and our friend Jessica dropping me off at the MTC (missionary training center) on the first day of the mission. I would spend 9 weeks in there, learning Spanish and the Gospel about 12 hours a day. It's kind of like spiritual boot camp. (on a cool side note, Elizabeth Mae, my first niece, was born 5 years to the day after this picture was taken)

Various crazy mission pictures

This one has my other favorite companion- Sister Dalley. She was the kindest person I have ever met. 

Mietzner used to do my hair for me. I drove her nuts but she was so sweet. 

We took crazy pictures one fall day. This is one of my favorite pictures of myself ever. 

9/11 happened while I was a missionary. I will never forget that morning. We watched the news in horror with a family that we had been teaching. They were my family that day, when I was so far from home. 

I got proposed to twice. By two different Hispanic men. I was fairly certain they may have been looking for citizenship. But I was kind of hot, so there was that :) 

I made some friends I will never forget. My mission companions kept me sane and taught me so much. They will never know how much they mean to me.

It wasn't until I went back to Illinois several years later that I realized something that had not occurred to me in all of my time there. 

I was the biggest convert of my mission. I taught the Gospel to hundreds of people and baptized quite a few into the Church. But I gained a relationship with my Heavenly Father and older brother Jesus Christ when I was a missionary. 

I gained a testimony of the Book of Mormon and Joseph Smith and  every weird and wonderful thing about this church I had grown up in. 

Sometimes, in the middle of a snowy winter day, as we had door after door slammed in our faces, or were stared at in the street, or had people openly hide from us- sometimes in those cold moments, I felt like I could almost see the foot prints of Jesus Christ, walking ahead of us. Holding us up when I just wanted to give up and cry and go home. 

In the end, the mission taught me more than I have ever learned in any other way. I use mission skills every day. I spent 6 years in college to become a therapist but most of the skills I use with my clients I learned as a missionary. I learned how to set goals. How to deal with rejection. How to meet people where they are at. How to push myself. How to deal with exhaustion and pain. How to show the love of God to others. 

Y se que Dios vive. Que El nos ama. Que podemos regresar y vivir con El otra vez, y nuestra familias. Se que este evangelio es de Dios. Que nuestro hermano mayor murio para darnos la opportunidad de repentarnos y regesar a nuestro Padre. Amo mi Padre Celestial y Jesucristo con todo my corazon. Y este es my testimonio, en el nombre de Jesucristo, Amen.

Hermana Hinsdale

p.s.- The next chapter... going home, giving up on college, Idaho again, and falling in love.