The Two Decade Roommate.

Now a month ago, I got rid of my acrylic paints and brushes that I had bought the same day I had taken out my first car loan. It was on a whim and I was 17 years old. I had high hopes of becoming an artist but lacked the talent, so alas! After almost 4 years of being cooped up in a box with my “stamp” collection (another failed attempt of me being “crafty”), I decided to say goodbye and blessed my Mom with a present of old textbooks, paints and brushes.

I’ve been feeling slightly sentimental of late, which is probably what has been stopping me from getting rid of more stuff that I have stowed away in boxes. All my old class notes, writings of mine (and Hope’s that I found on the wayside, meant for the trash can), and other sentimentalities, like a piece of a cracker jacks box and a rusty old penny, I keep hidden away. Sometimes I hate my memories and try desperately to forget something or some person existed, but I hold on for dear life to the insignificant and happy.

But then comes goodbye.

My roommate of 20 years is moving out. I caught myself looking forlornly across the room at her socks scattered on the floor and her messed up bed and chided myself.

She’s only moving how many minutes away.

I’m both happy and sad. Sad for me, happy for her. Happy for more space but scared to be alone. She’s my big sister, my best friend despite all that we have been through. I love her to pieces, and now goodbye is coming.

At times it felt like we would be stuck together forever. Now, no more fighting over who has to clean the bathroom. No more hounding you to clean up your side of the room and for heaven’s sake, throw your dirty socks in the laundry. No more spitefully dusting my half of the dresser and leaving your side untouched. No more inconsiderate moaning as I come in late from work or from a long night of studying. No more late night talks about life before we fall asleep. I remember when we were little and all the ridiculous bedtimes stories you would tell me. We would laugh and laugh….but somewhere down the road we stopped being so silly. Even though we still have our good times. Somewhere between graduation and college, we found different interests, jobs and friends. We wanted to stop living in each others shadows, I guess. Which is understandable, but still hard nonetheless. I remember how many times I thought I had been replaced as we grew up. It seemed at times that you were always too far gone for me to reach, that you never wanted to hang out with me because I was just your little sister. You would then go find other “sisters” who were the same age as me, yet somehow more mature in your eyes. I have to admit, at times I would be jealous…and cared way too much about what you were doing. But then one point came when I stopped living in comparison and stopped being jealous. I decided to be me, and let you be you.

But that just grew a wider gap between us.

But we always shared a room.

I could always count on you being there at the end of the day. We didn’t even have to talk or say one word to each other. There was just comfort in knowing that we couldn’t be entirely apart because our beds were only a few feet from each other.

But now there is nothing to keep us from growing apart. Now there will be more space for us both to stretch…but somehow I can’t quite picture room without you in it. How will it feel to come home and you not being there? I probably won’t notice at first. After all, we have gone a couple weeks apart. But after a month, and then the next…it will probably dawn on me that you really aren’t going to be my forever roommate, but that we will really did have a time limit and now I’m all alone with more space to put my things, but my heart will be overcrowded with lonesomeness.

Ah, look at me getting all sappy. It’s not like your moving a million miles away. Geez. Pull yourself together Trudi.

I’ll miss you Hope. I hope we grow closer and our sisterly love will only grow stronger. I just want you to know, contrary to your opinion, that I am impressed by you. I am so blessed to have you as my older sister. You may not like the first born status, but you’ve made my life easier by being so. You’ve showed me the ropes of college. You went through all the firsts and paved a path that I sometimes chose to follow. Heehee. Even a few week you helped me find dress pants for my internship (what can I say, the only pants I have are in scrub form). I love it that you’re my older sister and my friend. You don’t know how highly I think of you, and often you think of me as judging you, but that’s only because I have these unrealistic high expectations of you that I shouldn’t have I guess. But I’m always going to expect the best of you, because you are the best.

Hope…just know that I’m always here. I’m always praying for you. I’m always loving you. I’m always wishing the best for you. I’m always happy for you in all your accomplishments.

So now your side of the closet is getting empty. Your books are packed away. I’ll act all tough, but you may get a wailing phone call a couple nights later.

Remember your first roommate and how awesome she was. Because she sure is going to miss you.

Love you Hopie.

Your little sister (and best friend forever…literally, forever. FOR.EV.ER.)

First Impressions.

It’s strange that I have lived in this area my entire life, but I suddenly feel like a stranger in the confines of downtown *insert city*. I’ve been a fan of my college football team since I was little. I’ve walked along these now not so familiar streets and felts fine up until now. I am carrying a backpack; I’m rushing from one class to the next. I’m a student of this large, intricate community called the University of *insert state* and I don’t know how I feel about it yet.

At my community college it wasn’t hard to fit into the small crevice I found myself in. It’s not hard now. Actually, it’s mostly the same. We still wait in the halls for class to start in silent nervousness. No one makes eye contact with each other on the streets. Class discussions are still forced rather then flowing. We are still just trying to get through these next couple years with as little damage to our grades as possibly. Yet…something feels different.

Maybe it’s just me.

Maybe my attitude has changed for the better. I realize that these last two years of college are extremely important.

Not because I need scholarships and good grades (all of which would be great to have) but because after this my future starts or stays the same.
I fear the word “same” and yet I still get nervous over the word “change” and fear the word “future” as much as I do the present. Because as much as I don’t like the present, I keep hoping toward this future that has something more then 8 hour shifts and working a job that doesn’t hold any of my interests except money.

As much as I love money, I realized quickly that money won’t make me happy, neither will my physical surroundings. It’s what’s inside that matters. What values I hold and what I believe in. How willing am I to live a life where I’m standing up for what is good instead of sitting down and staying silent?

The easiest is staying silent. That’s more comfortable, more safe. But I don’t want “comfortable”. I want to break out of this comfort zone that only goes a few feet out my front door.

These last two years are important because this is my time to build up my resume. To volunteers and get internships. I’m in the major, but that’s not enough. I have to pursue all of these things in order to proceed in the career path I’ve chosen.

I know I sound hopeful (maybe a little desperate). But let me tell you, I’m scared. But as much as I’m scared of this new school that I have grown up around my entire life…I want to succeed.

But first I have to try.

A New Year

Happy New Year!

I was sitting at my desk on New Year’s Eve thinking about what to write…but all that came out was an emotional spilling that just made me feel sorry and discontent.

Now that we have crossed the threshold into 2016 and my mind isn’t bubbling with nostalgia, I’m going to just sit here for a little bit and try to figure out what I can say that hasn’t already been said on this dear little corner of mine.

To be honest, because I usually am…2016 looks pretty much the same as 2015. There are still things to accomplish and fears to face, but maybe I can have a stronger, more sure step this year then in 2015.

By all means, I’m 20 years old now. Maybe I will give you some wise insight from this unwise mind of mine and tell you what I have learned over the past year.

The first thing is that I have grown. Not in height sadly, but in maturity…although even that doesn’t look like much sometimes. I’ve learned to let go of things and people that at the time I thought I could never let go of. I’ve learned to say no but also yes…I can’t tell you which is the scariest to say. I’ve also learned to ask for help when needed…and that is probably the hardest thing for me to do. I’ve made friends that will last a lifetime, met new people; gone new places & revisited the familiar.

And even with all the bad…I can say that it was a good year and I really do have a wonderful life.

But you see, my year of change really didn’t happen. I found that this “threshold” I talked about in my last New Year post wasn’t really a threshold, but a barrier. A barrier that still needs to be overcome, that sometimes I can break through, but inevitably comes back up again.

That barrier is me and circumstance. It’s a constant battle. I talk all big about opportunity and change, but when the moment arrives for this said change and opportunity to happen, I get scared. My social anxiety gets the better of me. I make up every excuse in the book. I run and hide because that is my instinct. And I realize this. But it doesn’t make it easier to breakdown my barrier. Not even the changing of the year will make a difference because it’s what inside me…not in the year.

Tomorrow I will still be the same. The difference is what 365 days will bring until we are back here again, reminiscing about the bulk of it all, compacted into 2016.

But I don’t want to do that anymore.

I don’t want to measure by the length of days, but by how deep the day is. I want my accomplishments and activities to have more meaning then how many. If you understand what I am saying. The thing is, as much as I have grown in 2015, one never stops growing. My maturity level probably went up a few centimeters, but it still has a long ways to go. These barriers, probably will be my struggle for the rest of my life. Whether that be my anxiety or stress…or whatever emotional or physical state I go up against. But I can rest easy for I have the ultimate force on my side that will never leave me. My faith. My Jesus. My Savior. It all comes down to Him. No matter what this life has in store, when the act of trying doesn’t seem good enough; when my heart feels worn and heavy, can I not give it all to Him? My prayers, my praise, everything that I do. I know it’s easier to say, that when it comes down to it, how many moments of the day do I forget Him in the middle of call lights, bubble sheets, early mornings and frost bitten cheeks? My grumbling heart never ceases to be discontent, but His love is steadfast…and how underserving I am of it!

This morning I heard something on the radio that caused me to think, and pardon my paraphrasing (it might not be correct). The radio announcer said something along the lines that life is full of good opportunities but that doesn’t mean those opportunities are guaranteed good outcomes. So maybe that is my lesson to go forth into this new year that is already four days old. Life isn’t fair, it holds lots of opportunities to go out and chase, but there is no guarantee that the outcomes will go in my favor. The only guarantee in this life is Jesus and what’s in store of us in Heaven.

~ Trudi