How to Be an Adult

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When B and I started to discuss medical school and moving I was slightly horrified. That is, I basically had a nervous breakdown. It took a long, hard year of evaluating and discussing and {I'm not going to lie} drama, to get me here.

As was expected there were plenty of nay-sayers. Everyone was {naturally and, I would like to think, lovingly} concerned and offered their own opinions and advice. And I mean every. one. It was ahard choice, but one I'm ultimately extremely proud of and happy with. While I know these two years of medical school aren't The Big Picture of Life as a Doctor's Significant Other and my experience is completely unique, the worries that I {and others} had turned out to be just that -- worries. Not to discount their legitimate concerns {or to say neener-neener-neener}and obviously each couple, school and family is different, but after almost six months on the Island, I want to address those worries and -most of all- say: Make your own choices. Own up to them. Listen to others' advice, but make the choice you feel comfortable with. It makes you an adult. Trust me. I'm 23 years old. And I know everything. 


#1. You'll never see B. 
Ha. Ha. Hahahahahahahaha. While most ladies I know have husbands that study at school, B studies at home. So, I see him more than I ever have. I know this will change but for now we just enjoy it.

#2. B will be too busy to hang out with you. 
B is very busy. And he does work very hard. But, he's not a jerk and we do occasionally get out of the house and do something that isn't sitting next to each other reading books. He knows when to have fun too. And by occasionally I mean pretty often.

#3. You'll be a distraction.
Thanks. I think I'm not a distraction. And so do B's grades, test scores, Honor Society Membership and Dean's List awards. I try not to be a pain in the ass. I want B to do well!!

#4. You'll be so bored. 
Hello. Beach. Dog. Island. Writing. Reading. Friends. Yes, there are times I get antsy, but I'm rarely so. miserably. BORED.

#5. What about getting a job? Money? Do you want  to be a mooch? 
Luckily, I have a writing job online. I also work on campus once a week. It's not a whole, whole bunch of money, but it does help. And I do all the regular stuff a "Housewife" would do. Laundry, Groceries, Dishes, Lunch and Dinner, Cleaning the Things...B helps too {obviously}, but if I can help him study a little better because he doesn't have to do laundry or make dinner or whatever, I'm happy to. This also falls under Not Being a Distraction and Not Being Bored. Also falls under Generally Having a Successful Relationship. Give and Take people.

#6. You don't have any friends at B's medical school.
B's school has an excellent Spouses Org where I've made friends!

#7. What if you hate it?
To which B always said, "What if you love it???" Remember what I said about being an adult? Make your own choices and live with the consequences. I could have hated any number of things I decided to do with my life. But, that's not a reason not to do something. Decide for yourself whether the risks are worth it. Happily, I love it here. Not that it's always perfect.

But it's definitely, definitely always worth it.
- Emily

Q is for...

Quiet: 

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I’m getting frustrated.  

I wonder if anyone else feels this way.  The struggle between wanting to stay true to yourself and staying true to your family.  Do you remain quietly sitting in silence, respecting your family’s wishes, silently drifting like a specter through the hallways of your home?  Do you speak up when your family insists that teachings you find offensive and false and true and right?  Do you question your parent’s teachings to your teenage siblings or do you respect your parent’s wishes and right to teach their children all sorts of....beliefs.  

When my little sister asks me, “Aren’t black people cursed because of Cain? Isn’t that why they have black skin?”  I scoff and mumble something about melanin.  “You know.  It makes you darker.”  

“But, the Bible...I heard...”

“It’s melanin.  When your skin is in the sun, it produces more melanin...so...” I trail off.  Like I’ve mentioned before, science is not my strongest point.  I like it but, damn.  Tenth grade biology was a long time ago.  My teacher kept a dead fetus in a jar.  A floating, shriveled baby.  It scared us all into submission.  No wonder the basics of life science escape me now.  

I wonder:  is it easier to remain wrapped in the snug folds of Mormonism because it doesn’t require much thought?  I mean, relatively speaking.  I will be the first to admit, I didn’t think much.  The world around me?  Who cares? The Book of Mormon?  True?  If you say so.  Granted, I was 15 and what teenager isn’t completely self-absorbed?  

I did the whole EFY thing.  The Girls Camp Testiphony.  Everyone cried at the mere mention of Joseph Smith.  But I...stayed quiet.  Sure, the songs were nice.  Sure, Sarah cried her eyes out because she shared the prophet’s birthday. I stayed quiet.  I liked learning about Jesus.  I could get behind his Love Everyone message.  I read the Bible.  I wept openly when I read in John where Jesus tells his disciples, “You are my friends.” I felt Jesus was my friend...or could have been.  He was all about love.  And I wanted to be loved.  Those words made me feel secure.  Just the idea that someone taught that kind of love rocked my selfish, teenage brain.  Like those Relief Society sisters who set up their tablecloths and flowers proclaiming, “ I know this lesson was for me.”, I felt moved.  Certain that somehow, John had me in mind when inscribing those words.  

A few years later, my mom decided it was time to get my Patriarchal Blessing.  Patriarchal Blessing? Sure.  The day dawned.  I’d lost my recommend.  My parent were fighting with me.  My dad briefly considered canceling the whole thing.  But, we went anyways.  I met with the Patriarch.  A tall, old man with white hair.  We went to his house.  Chatted about...what I don’t recall.  Sat in his living room.  I nervously sat in a chair as he placed his hands on my head...

K is for...

Kolob: 

or Where is Kolob? 

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For some reason, I didn't feel quiet ready to write this ABC.  My writing teacher calls this a Red Flag of Avoidance.  She can tell when something is being left out of writing because the author is ready to talk about it.  

I knew I wanted to write about Kolob, but where do you start?  

"If you could hie to Kolob in the twinkling of an eye and then continue upward with the same strength to fly, do you think that you could ever through all eternity, find out the generation where man became to be?"  - LDS Hymn # 284

On warm summer night, my sister and I father outside to watch a meteor shower.  My dad joined us as we gazed up at the tiny pinpricks of light.  I sat explaining that the stream of light from the meteors happened as the entered the atmosphere and started to burn.  (Correct me if I'm wrong.  My area of expertise is most certainly not science.)  My dad looked up and marveled at the stars.  He wondered out loud, "Where is Kolob?"  My sister, only 14, asked "What is Kolob?"

What, my dear friends, is Kolob?  Why is my father, an intelligent, graduate scholar and business administrator asking, "Where is Kolob?"

The answer, as usual, comes from a "Primary Answer."  No, not Pray, Read Your Scriptures or Go to Church.  The answer, of course, is Joseph Smith.