Iteration

(I'm regretting not posting last week, because I want to summarize the events of two weeks ago, but my mind is in more of a philosophical-rambling-while-tired mood than a coherent-storytelling-writing mood. You'll just have to suffer through a less-than-stellar post, I guess. Every time I read it, I find a completely inexplicable grammar error.)

The last week at BYU was surprisingly good. I think my brain was just like, "Okay, you figured it out, now I am DONE thinking about this."
"But what about -"
"Nope. Done."
"You realize you only have a few days - "
"Hey look, chemistry!"
"You're not even listening to me, are you?"
"No, so you might as well stop talking about it."

I had a bunch of finals, and managed to study more than I usually do, which is a slight improvement. When I got my marks back, I had all A's and A-'s, so that was nice to see.

Mason and I spent a lot of time together. He finished his finals on Tuesday, so he spent Tuesday evening hanging out with me while I studied for my chemistry and French finals on Wednesday. (And yes, I actually got quite a bit of studying done. I know what you're thinking.)

On Wednesday, after my finals, we hung out and just enjoyed being done.

I packed on Thursday. That made me kind of sad, to realize that yes, this was real, I was leaving. Christa and Alex signed out of the apartment that afternoon, so by Thursday evening I was tired of being productive and I was all alone in my apartment. The solution, obviously, was to go up to Mason's apartment. We hung out there for a bit, then went bowling at the Wilk. Afterwards, we were both really hungry, so we went to J-Dawg's, a hotdog place that BYU students apparently adore. It was pretty good, but it was a hotdog. Not really a big deal.

After eating, we walked back to his apartment to get my jacket and computer. When we arrived, a firetruck and a police car were in the parking lot, because some kid in his building had apparently set fire to the dumpster. (We were both pretty confused as to what the heck that kid was thinking.) After absorbing that situation, and saying goodbye to Mason's roommate who was checking out, we walked back to my apartment.

We ended up sitting out under the stars, because it was finally warm enough for that particular romantic gesture and Mason wasn't going to let a little thing like breaking up get in the way of that, apparently. Thursday evening was one of the happiest nights I've had all year.

Internal conversation:
"You're not dating, remember?"
"Wow, the weather is so nice."
"Seriously, you're not dating."
"Look, there's the big dipper!"
"Are you even listening to me?"
"Isn't it cute how he uses words like 'ephemeral' in everyday conversation?"
"...apparently not."

On Friday, I cleaned my apartment obsessively in preparation for my checkout. Mason came over that night, and we spent one last Friday night together.

I had to be out of the apartment by 10 on Saturday, so I moved all my stuff out onto the lawn and sat outside watching it. Eventually Mason came over and sat with me, and then Dad drove up. We loaded my stuff into the van, dropped some unwanted items at DI, went to Cafe Rio for lunch, and drove by my apartment for next year. Finally, we came back to Wyview, and I said goodbye to Mason. We didn't say anything particularly heartfelt - we'd already said everything.

Now, for the few people on this blog who haven't heard my parent's favourite tale of my childhood woe, I have to take a slight detour.

As a kid, Marie was my favourite aunt. She was still a teenager, and she loved playing with me. I loved every trip to visit my Grandparents in Lethbridge, because I got to play with Marie.

At the end of one trip, I was particularly upset about the idea of leaving Marie. I think I was about two or something, and may have still been in a booster seat or even a car seat, but I don't really remember the situation that clearly. I remember it was dark, and the house was all lit up, and I made enough fuss that Marie came out to give me another hug after I had already been buckled into the car.

Apparently, as we drove away to the sound of my devastated two-year-old-tantrum sobbing, I screamed, "This is the saddest day ever!"

So after Mason gave me a last hug, and said goodbye, he walked away and I got into the car, trying to not cry. Dad said humorously, "So is this the worst day ever, or is that still with Marie?" and I kind of laughed. Being me, I started thinking seriously about the question. On one hand, no offense Marie, this seemed like it should be the more upsetting situation. Marie would always be my aunt, I would have tons of opportunities to see her in the future, and the aunt/niece relationship is inherently less emotionally involved than the not-boyfriend/not-girlfriend relationship, while I have really no assurance that Mason and I will get to remain a part of each other's lives.

On the other hand, there was a part of me that recognized the inherent bias in trying to decide this, because my immediate emotions would obviously feel stronger than some vaguely-remembered emotions from 16 years ago. And that's what made me realize that no, this was not worse than "the saddest day ever", because even in the midst of it, I could think about it with perspective. I could recognize that even though I didn't feel like it then, there might be something more upsetting in the world, and it wasn't the end of the world either. I had perspective, and that perspective told me that it was going to be OK.

Perspective that I promptly started losing.

We were driving away, and I started recognizing the familiar situation of changing a stage of my life. Internal conversation:
"So, is this the part where you move on with your life and sever all emotional ties?"
"What? No!"
"...are you sure?"
"Yes."

I realized two things, one hopeful and one discouraging. The first thing I realized is that I really don't want to give up this time. The second was that it had been maybe three hours, and I was already thinking about giving up.

Internal conversation:
"I miss Mason."
"Seriously?"
"Well, yeah, why not?"
"I don't know, maybe because you saw him this afternoon. You're ridiculous. You're not allowed to miss him until, like, Wednesday."

We got back to Calgary on Sunday evening. Chloe and Carmen were extremely excited to see me, and Chloe promptly declared that she was going to beat Mason at hugging me, but he could win at kissing if he wanted. Steven eventually emerged from the basement a good while later, saying something about double overtime.

It didn't take long for me to feel a little overwhelmed by the amount of attention I was getting, the number of people in my face, etc. I was probably a little shorter with Carmen and Chloe than I should have been.

I basically spent last week doing whatever I wanted. Staying up late, sleeping in, going to Tim Horton's, going to Peter's, going shopping, etc. I knew I didn't have long before Mom decided my vacation was over, and I decided I might as well take advantage of it.

Choice internal conversations from last week:
"You're listening to a song called 'Jet Lag' and thinking it applies to you and Mason? You're in the same time zone."
"Shut up."

"Okay, it's bad enough that you're making nutella-and-raspberry-and-powdered-sugar french toast when you decided to start eating healthy, but could you at least not eat spoonfuls of Nutella while you prepare it?"
"What? I can't hear you."

And now for the title: iteration. The act of repeating a process with the aim of approaching a desired goal or target or result, according to Wikipedia. I'm most familiar with it as a way of numerically approximating a number in chemistry by performing the same calculation over and over and over, getting the percent error to decrease until it's at an acceptable level.

I feel like I'm going through my own process of spiritual iteration. This weekend, I managed to break a two-week streak of feeling good about the whole breaking-up-with-Mason thing. I started feeling like maybe it wasn't going to work out, and then I realized that even though I'd been praying and praying, hoping to feel like it would work out, I really didn't want to know the answer to that question yet. And, to make a long and emotional story short, I arrived at the same conclusion that awaits you at the end of each of these blog posts: Mason and I are going to act like friends, and only friends, for the next two years. Maybe it will work out, maybe it won't, but either way, I'm going to trust the Lord that what happens will make me happy. Because at this point, I don't need to know, I can't know, I just have to trust.

And apparently, I don't want to know. Even though I'm always aware that either way, this day will be the same, that either way I'll still text my friend Mason and do things unrelated to the situation and not be at a place in my life where the situation gets resolved, I've kept wanting to just get it resolved, to know one way or another. I like to focus on a problem until it's done, I like to beat a dead horse well past when it stops moving, and I don't like to set something aside, unresolved, and ignore it, wait to resolve it, trust the Lord while I'm blind. When I chose my major, I made an Excel spreadsheet for the next four years of classes. That's the kind of person I am. So over this whole thing, I've kept picking at it, kept trying to figure out whether it was going to work. But I realized today, I really don't want to know. I'm not ready to hear the possible answers.

It frustrates me sometimes. I arrive at this conclusion, usually with some small change, (like realizing the Lord is right to make me trust him now, because I'm not ready for the answer), and then I start hoping, because it's not wrong to hope for it, and I want it to work so much. Then I get overzealous, and start hoping too much, and forget that I should be working on other things instead of preoccupying myself with something I can't know for about two years. And then I start wanting it to work out my way so much that I forget to trust the Lord, and I start feeling like I know better.

And then I humble myself, and cry, and manage to get myself to accept that letting go of Mason and not having it work out wouldn't be the end of the world, wouldn't be "the saddest day ever". So I come back to this conclusion, and feel peace. And then I start hoping again, because I can't seem to not hope. Even in the midst of facing the possibility of letting go of him, even when I wonder if I'm supposed to feel like it won't work out, there's still a part of my mind that feels sure that it's all just a part of something I can't see that will make it work out between us in the end.

At this point, I'm not sure whether I'm grateful for this part of my mind, which will apparently keep hoping either until I meet the reincarnation of Captain Moroni or something happens that conclusively, finally, definitely, and inexorably proves it wrong. Because on one hand, giving up and moving on would spare me this process of iteration, a refinement that burns every single time. It would provide the most immediate resolution, and I like resolution. I like being able to say, okay, this experience is over, this trial is over, I'm done feeling stressed out about this, this is the end of the chapter. But on the other hand, I don't want to give up. I want to hope.

I just feel so tired right now. So unprepared for another round of iteration. A part of me feels like what I want more than anything right now, more even than it working out with Mason, is to be able to feel emotionally rested, to just be happy now. Part of me is tired of pressing forward.

And part of me wants to hope.

We must never let fear... divert us from our faith and faithful living. Every person in every era has had to walk by faith into what has always been some uncertainty. This is the plan. Just be faithful. God is in charge. He knows your name and He knows your need - Jeffery R Holland

You will come to know that what appears today to be a sacrifice will prove instead to be the greatest investment that you will ever make. - Gordon B Hinckley