I had break downs once a day. Sometimes I could control it; cry for a designated period of time and then move on with my day. But most of the time I silently wept in the private moments I had. I have now mastered the art of crying on my way to someplace and then showing up not looking like I've been crying. As long as no one asked me anything personal like, "How was your day?" or "What did you do today?" I'd be fine. I felt myself loosing my will, my resolve, any happiness I clung to... Loosing ME.
I wasn't fooling anyone. I believe my parents saw right through it all. My Dad doesn't speak much these days, but I'll never forget him walking into the kitchen one night. He looked straight at me and stared for a moment. I asked if he was okay and he said, "Yeah. I'm just worried about you." To which I gave my standard answer, "I'm okay." He left, I cried. But the next Sunday without me knowing, he asked the bishop for some counseling recommendations.
My Mom, the heart of our family, has spent countless hours listening to me rehash my same concerns over and over. She has held me as I sobbed. And has born testimony over and over about families, the Holy Ghost, Heavenly Fathers love for me, and our Saviors atonement. Plus there is nothing more powerful in a child's life than to hear a heartfelt, faith filled prayer from a parent.
I slowly bled all the way up to court and through court and home to my sisters' place after court.
The next morning I met up with many of my good friends in Washington for a brunch. I showed up a bit early, hoping to have a few minutes of conversation with A and J. J likened the experience of the final court date to being cauterized. I didn't understand fully what he meant, but knew of that feeling.
In high school the doctors ordered my tonsils to be removed. They told me it would take at least a week to recover. As a talkative, social high school student, that was like a death sentence. Removal of tonsils is a pretty quick procedure. They snip off the tonsil and then sear your blood vessels shut (cauterize) so you don't bleed too much. Although I wasn't awake while being cauterized, the pain that persisted in my throat after was unbearable. However, I didn't die. I was even talking by Friday and begging to go to school.
So the final court day was like being cauterized. The next 3 days were unbearable. The most pain and anguish I have ever felt. However, I'm still alive. The slow bleeding has stopped. Sunday night, through an experience I will never forget, my life changed.
