Hi all,
I came across my old blog today. I'm pretty proud of it. I remember thinking back then that "personal blogs are going to be the next big thing." And what do you know. Everyone I know now is a "mommy blogger" or "fashion blogger" or "lifestyle and wellness blogger." Other people caught on, too, I guess.
Why did I stop posting? I don't know. I do know, however, that during junior year at BYU, life got busy.
Junior year, I was over-confident, high-energy, and super excited about life.
I was active in the extracurricular activities of my major, public relations. I went to San Francisco on a school trip, ate Ghirardelli's chocolate and clam chowder for the first time. I took an ice skate class to get over my fear of ice skating, fractured my collar bone (not while ice skating, actually), learned how to play guitar. I got my heart broken, broke someone else's heart, went on a road trip to Cali with friends, slept on the beach under the stars. I went salsa dancing every Thursday night for a little while and learned some slick moves with a handsome man. I rode on the back of a motorcycle for the first time back then.
I lived with 3 beautiful people: Laryssa, Melissa, and Kaitlin. They taught me about so many things, but most importantly, friendship no matter what crazy things we each did.
That year I got my mission call. Sapporo, Japan. I left on my mission that summer. You could say it changed my life, but it also changed me. It was the hardest thing I have ever done.
I learned that not everyone in the world thought I was awesome. I learned that perfection literally cannot be achieved, despite how awesome I had felt before my mission. I worked so hard in Japan. I loved so hard in Japan. I've never cried that much. I've never laughed that much. I've never ridden a bike that much or walked that much or been so exhausted.
My front toenails split in two. My left toenail is still broken, on the mend. I got diagnosed with depression. My weight went up and down and up and down. I couldn't move for a couple weeks at one point because I had worked my body too hard. Deep, emotional struggles came with companion problems. I thought I was the perfect roommate? I thought I was an incredible friend? I thought I was perfect? My over-confident, high-energy and super-excited-about-life attitude was not so brilliant anymore.
But I made life-long friends. I learned Japanese. I learned more about the gospel. My testimony was solidified by own words every single day my companion and I went outside and rang doorbells, knocked on doors, talked with people on buses, trains, cafes, stores.
Endless buildings. Endless faces. Sometimes I felt so alone, but yet so close to God.
I served for 18 months and came home at Christmas, a completely different person than the big-eyed, bushy-tailed girl who had bounced her way through MTC doors what seemed like forever ago.
Missions are bizarre things.
--
I came back to BYU a month after getting home from my mission. I had become Japanese -- my body language was quiet, reserved. My voice was softer and at a much lower volume. I was scared of so many loud, college kids -- so American, so expressive!
I was going to be roommates with my best friend from before the mission, but felt strongly that I shouldn't. For reasons I still don't know. So I moved in with strangers into a basement apartment.
I came back to my public relations program, expecting to be welcomed with open arms. But everyone I had known was gone. New peole, more confident than me and ahead of me in the program had replaced my friends. It seemed like they were all taller than me too. Maybe it was just because I had gotten so used to my short Japanese friends? I didn't go back to those extracurricular meetings again. What if they didn't like me? I was different and awkward. I got a job doing public relations for BYU because of an old connection. That helped me learn how to be "American" again.
Everyone's body language and they way they spoke -- Americans are so different. I could be charming and make you laugh if I was talking in Japanese. But in English? That took a while. I had always been confident in talking to boys before my mission. Give me 5 minutes of chatting time and I would get asked for my number date and get a date for the next day in one breath. Almost every time, if I was interested. After my mission? So many failed attempts. So many bad dates.
My confidence came back a little at a time, but not as brilliant as before. I was more scared of people and what they thought of me. I was so sensitive. Japan had taught me to notice the subtleties, both negative and positive. I was so aware of everything. My sensitivity brought back my depression which came back in waves, sometimes small ripples, other times, large, intense surges.
About 6 months after I had gotten home, I moved into a really nice apartment where I knew people. I made new friends. Dated new people. I got an full-time internship at Adobe. That fall, I moved again into a cute town home and got a part-time job as a marketing associate at a startup. I made new friends again, dated more people, and worked hard, trying to finish school. Nose to the grindstone.
Almost exactly year after I had gotten back from my mission, I finished college. B.A. in Communications, with an emphasis in Public Relations.
But graduation was quiet in December. There was no walking ceremony then. No fancy parties or pictures, just a diploma in the mail.
I shared a car with my brother and so decided to stay in Provo -- just a little longer. My job as a marketing associate at a local startup became full time. I helped them grow. I worked so hard.
--
In January of 2016, I moved into a new apartment. My own room. Close to my brother's apartment and close to work.
That move was the best thing that could have ever happened to me at that point. I lived with girls my age, who were at the same stage of life as I was. They were kind and patient and didn't expect me to be anything but myself.
Then I met Easton. He was confident, happy, and going places. He was strong in the gospel and strong in his desire to live righteously. Nobody else was just right for me. I remember thinking, "Easton is the blessing I got from serving a mission."
We got married last year, almost a year after I graduated college. He is my blessing.
I still have waves of depression and moments of anxiety. I still have days of feeling not confident about myself at all. But looking back at my memories from my freshman and sophomore years of school help me dig up that confidence I used to have and remember how excited I was about life.
I know some of that high-energy confidence is still there. Waiting for me to remember it and strike a fire into its glowing embers.
Please enjoy my memories as much I have ~
Love,
Katelyn
P.S. My husband and I have a new blog: http://www.lovethehills.wordpress.com. Check it out!
