The Grand Canyon

I spent a summer living in Arizona, worshiping on the edge of the magnificent Grand Canyon, literally at the feet of one of God’s most amazing and miraculous creations. I’ve been thinking about that summer, as it was this time, almost 3 years ago that I found myself preparing to be led on this truly amazing and fantastic journey. That was the most life-altering, mind-boggling, phenomenal summer of my life. I was thinking about that summer, and how amazing it was and what wonderful people I met and how grateful I am that God put me in that place at that time. I was looking through the pictures that I have of my summer there, and my return to the Canyon about eighteen months later and tears came to my eyes at the beauty of what we experienced. It was almost surreal. The Canyon has a splendor that is truly unique to the layers of rock and sediment: its something that cannot be duplicated and photographs do no justice to what the deep valley and catechisms actually look like. The Canyon road has a smell all its own; the smell of clean and unfiltered air, of dirt mixed with rock and stone, of God breathing His life into the wildlife and plant life that are indigenous to the area. Driving along the road, through Valle and into Tusayeon, through the wide gates that signify the entrance into the National Park, there is a sense of heightened anticipation, yes, but there is a feeling of coming home. The Canyon will always be “home” in a way that Phenix City can never be. The Canyon is Desert View, sunsets, Emilie and Sarah and Mark. The Canyon is purity and laughter (at ourselves, at the tourists, at the canyon itself). The Canyon… most of all the Canyon is ACMNP, the epitome of what my purpose was in this life for this specific and over-all-too-fast moment in time. My glorious friends, the family that I needed to survive while away from my “real” family; the co-workers who took care of two girls from the East and watched out for us; standing strong in the face of death and being in the right place at the right time. The Canyon, in its magnificent glory, brings tears to my eyes when I look upon the pictures, when I remember what that summer brought to my life, how much my life was altered by this experience. It is simply amazing in its grandeur and I am so blessed to have been able to live here on the edge of the world.

When is it enough? When is a doormat, tired of being a doormat?

I first posted this on Myspace over a year ago and I'm left wondering about why I still am a doormat. It's referred to by many things... but a doormat is the least flattering. I allow people to walk all over my back, sometimes throwing out the welcome mat and giving them unwritten permission. Sometimes its people I love; my family & friends. Sometimes its my students and their parents. I know that it is something that I will eventually have to figure out how to put a stop to, but I wonder, am I really trying to do so? The truth is, no, I'm not. It's not something that I'm actively trying to change. Why is that? Do I not have respect enough for myself to allow it to continue to occur? Or am I okay with allowing it to reach its boiling point before overflowing? The truth is, I don't know. I haven't the slightest idea why I let it continue or why I don't get more upset when it does occur. Maybe its the person doing the stamping, or maybe its the last-straw-that-broke-the-camels-back theory. Maybe with some people it just reaches a final point and I'm finally sick of it. I'm not sure exactly. I'm still in that situation. I allow people to be mean to me, by not taking up for myself. And truthfully, I'm not sure that I will ever change that fact about me. I can't change who I am and that quality seems to be a part of my character. And now I have to ask myself... would I? Given the opportunity to change it, would I? God obviously made me that way for a reason... it's part of the person I am, so, would I change it? So anyway, in almost its original format, my original blog entry from more than a year ago.

I have been a doormat my entire life. From the very beginning, to now, to right now. I can remember people – examples – instances when I was trampled on because I laid out the welcome mat and didn't ever take up for myself. A doormat allows people to walk all over her. She invites it, from the welcome mat at the front door, to the openness and giving of herself. I know that this is a fault of mine, that I allow people to walk all over me, take advantage of a kindness and willingness to help and that I feel guilty when I don't, or when I say "no," when I am yelled at by people with no right to yell. Why does it continue? Why do I allow it to occur? I've stopped it before – but only by cutting people completely out of my life. I have no backbone, no "balls," no gumption, no courage to stand up when I've been trampled on.

I am not a child in need of someone to take care of me, as if at any moment the big, bad wolf in the forest is going to come gobble me up at the first opportunity. Just because I was sheltered doesn't make me naïve and dumb, like a small child in need of a pity pat. I know I perpetuate the cycle by allowing it to continue by not standing up for myself. But why do I allow it to continue?

What nobody realizes is that the anger simmers on a low boil until one day the top will blow off and all of this pent up frustration and anger will come rolling off like a volcano erupted. You only think I'm calm and duck-like, slow to truly anger but quick to annoy – with everyone but you. You have to know I'm a ticking time bomb – or do you truly think that I like serving and waiting and smiling when you look down on the decisions I've made, making me wonder how long I've been the butt of your jokes. Do you think it makes me happy to feel like an afterthought?

I can't be anything different than who I am. I didn't make the choices that I have made because in the light of certain people's eyes, choosing to be who I am is a fault and these people feel that its necessary to try and force alcohol down my throat, either by bribing, spiking or just incessantly annoying me in the hopes that I will wear myself down and just agree to make them shut up. Why is it so blessedly important to make the sober girl drink? Is it fun for you? A little game, a personal victory perhaps? Why is it necessary to point out my differences as if it's a game to you, every time alcohol is involved? "Brooke, want a beer?" "No thanks" I respond… "you sure?" What, you think that the past twenty-five years of not drinking and then all of a sudden, just because you ask a second or third time, well maybe I'm not so sure this time? You should respect my decision. Don't they get it? I choose to not drink. I choose to be that way - and I somehow managed to stay that way for 24 3/4 years (minus the 3 month "rebellion" in college), through high school, through Auburn and the daily drunken debauchery at the Pi Kapp house, through CSU and work and the "post-college revelry." Don't you understand? This is MY choice. MY decision. It's not because I want to be different than you -- I'm different from you in many ways, because I like being so, but this is not one of them. It's because I just don't want to drink alcohol. I don't see the point in it. I don't like the taste of beer: I think it tastes like piss, or what I would think piss would taste like. I don't like how it makes the people around me act. I don't like that alcoholism runs in my family, on both sides and I refuse to be another statistic. And, it's just not something that I want to spend my precious dollars and cents on.

And I may be the only 25-year-old virgin on the planet, but that's my choice too. I don't sleep with every man in the universe and that doesn't make me strange or weird, or stupid and naive. I think it makes me smart and careful. Since when did those two things become such a blessed tragedy? But that's my decision to make as well and you don't get to look down on me, or consider me any less knowledgeable than you are because of it. I don't worry about getting pregnant, or contracting an STD. I don't need that kind of stress in my life. I have enough without adding to it.

I'm tired of feeling guilty just because you think I'm not "there for you." You made your choices. Deal with the consequences of your actions. I'm tired of saying "yes" when I should say "no."

Don't confuse being shy and withdrawn to being naive. Just because I'm not loud or confronting or aggressive, doesn't make me naive. It makes me quiet and observing. Do you really think that I'm naive? I am not a tiny bear cub or a bird that's afraid to leave the nest, in desperate need of protection from the "scary people," by anyone. I choose to be protected by a select few. I am a grown woman. I may have been educated in a small, private school in Georgia, but I attended a very large public university and I think I did pretty damn well. I was a little sister for a fraternity for 3 1/2 years -- do you think that they just curbed their crudeness, watched their language and didn't try anything with me for those 3 1/2 years? I have fended off unwanted advances, laughed along with their crudeness and smiled when they'd apologize for dropping the F-bomb. They didn't see me as being naive and stupid. Why do you? Because you think you "know" me better than they did? Because you've been in my life longer? Or because you think that just because I retreat or fade into the wood grain background, that I must require protection – because I'm not "worldly" that means that I must be naïve and stupid.

I made it out of Auburn without being attacked or raped or assaulted, without ever falling down drunk, unable to remember where and how I got home the night before. Maybe that's why you think I'm naïve and dumb – because I haven't "tried" things or "experienced" things. And if that's your mentality, then you're welcome to it. I'm satisfied with my life. I have no problem with the person I am and the decision's I've made. Maybe one day I'll stand up for myself... I'll grow a proverbial pair and just do it, but somehow, I doubt it.

1 month, 3 weeks and 3 days...

thats counting weekends and spring break. Actually, in terms of actual school days, its more like 35. Thats insanity. 35 days and I will have completed student teaching, hopefully passing student teaching and graduating two weeks after that. Wow.

Its been going really well. Good things have kind of halted and are a big stagnate, but that's okay. I have full confidence that they will work themselves out. At least I hope.

Other than that, everything is just groovy.