Adopting a New Attitude

     Hey there friends and readers. It's been a few crazy days, so blogging hasn't been too easy. Let me catch you up.

     1: Work is pretty awesome. The people are great, the work itself is fun and the workplace is beautiful. I get free popcorn and lemonade, that's always awesome. There are only two problems I can think of. Number one, there's one SUPER annoying girl I work with. I hate talking about people behind their backs...but honestly, I can't stand working next to her for SEVEN HOURS. She doesn't know what she's saying, she overloads customers with information, she tells them the wrong things all the time...it's just very annoying. And the second thing...I kinda like one of my coworkers. Oops, that isn't supposed to happen. Ugh, it kind of annoys me.

     2: I've been struggling with Institute. My work schedule is pretty wonky, so waking up at 6:30 has been very difficult. Institute is very important to me too...so it's very hard for me to miss it so much. And with a wavering testimony, it makes everything worse. Hopefully I can figure this all out.

     3: I don't know, it would just be weird to only have a list of two. So, yeah.

     Anyway, life is crazy, but I'd like to talk about something that, for some strange reason, has been bothering me lately.

     Here's my backstory. Two teenagers are in High School in the wonderful Pocatello Idaho. They get into a sticky situation, and the girl is pregnant. She can't keep the baby, so she puts it up for adoption before it was even born. They didn't know anything. Skip ahead 9 months and boom, a little baby boy is born. So two people from Boise drive down to Pocatello and pick up this little baby boy. I'm sure you know who that baby was. That was me. A little baby born to nobody in particular.

     Here's what I hate about this all. I'm adopted. Yeah, so maybe that's a little dramatic. Or very dramatic. But I just simply hate it. I was given up by a woman who couldn't keep me, but I know loved me. And now I'm with parents that love me, but that I don't connect with.

     So I've always known I'm adopted. But that doesn't stop the identity crisis of it all. And that's really what it is. I've never known my actual backstory. I don't even know if I'm Scottish, English, Finnish...anything. I don't know medical history of my bloodline. I don't look like my parents or my sister. It's really hard to explain, but I just wish I could figure all of this out.

     So this has been really bothering me lately, and I've decided that I need to adopt a new kind of attitude so that I don't just sit around and feel horrible about myself and lonely. I do everything I can to be as positive as I can.

     Overall, there is just so much happening and I can't figure out what my life is. So hopefully I figure all of this out soon. If any of you have a question, any question at all, just let me know.

     Thanks for reading.

In Regards to Castle Park

     This will be a short one, I promise.

     So I ended up going to my home ward today. I only went to Sacrament Meeting, but hey, sometimes that's all I need. Anyway, I was so surprised by everything that happened. Here's how it went down.

     First, I got super spiffed up. Nice tan pants, brown sports coat, some really nice Eccos, my nicest tie...I wanted to look really good. As I walked into the church building with my parents, my heart started racing. I was already starting to regret it. But that's when a complete stranger walked around the corner and gave me one of the happiest smiles I've ever seen. She was just happy to be at church on a beautiful Sunday morning. So I smiled.

     Once we got to the chapel, we had to sit in the overflow because the Castle Park Ward is huge; especially on Boise standards. So as I sat in the back, I caught the glance of some people I've known for pretty much my entire life. And they just smiled and waved. That's it! I could tell they weren't judging or thinking of what I possibly could have done to still be here. And it actually made me feel happy.

     Happy. Wait....happy. I think I remember this. I smile, right? And I actually mean it. What? Okay this is insane. It really has been a while. Many things have made me FEEL happy, but now I can actually say that I AM happy. There's a difference. 

     So that's that. I made it through sacrament, talked to some old friends and then came home. 

     You know, this whole "Blogging" thing is growing on me. Alright, I'm done for the day. I swear. See ya! 

Afraid to Go to Church

     In June of this year, I received my mission call.

"Dear Elder Jorgensen:

You are hereby called to serve as a missionary of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. You are assigned to labor in the Philippines Angeles Mission. It is anticipated that you will serve for a period of 24 months.

You should report to the Philippines Missionary Training Center on Friday, September 13th, 2013. You will prepare to preach the gospel in the Tagalog language."

     The Philippines! Crazy! Speaking the Tagalog (tuh-GA-lohg) language? And what's really crazy, is that my best friend Patrick was called to the Philippines speaking Tagalog as well! It was just an absolutely overwhelming experience.

     But wait, Friday, September 13th, 2013? Wasn't that, like, a month ago? Yes, it was EXACTLY a month ago. So that makes it pretty obvious. I'm not on my mission. And for many reasons (which I prefer to keep to myself) I won't be able to go for another year. But honestly, I don't think I'm going to. After what I've gone through in the past month and 10 days, I don't think a mission is for me. I've gone through too many phases to count.

     My first reaction when I was told (only 10 days before I was supposed to leave) that I couldn't serve a mission, was to cry. And I did. It was only me and the Stake President in his office. But I can only say that I wouldn't have wanted anyone else to tell me. He was gentle and kind about it. That would never stop me from being a complete wreck, though. So as I drove home, I had no idea what to do. My entire life just changed. The 2 years I had planned ahead of me were gone. So who do I call? Why my good friend Patrick, of course. Yes, I told him before I even told my parents. Patrick is an amazing guy. I really couldn't ask for a better friend. And I've never hear him cry, except for that moment when I told him, through my tears, that I wouldn't be serving in the Philippines with him. That we couldn't go to BYU in two years, as roommates and speak Tagalog together and annoy everyone with mission stories. Sadly, that dream is behind us.

     *Just for the record*: Patrick left on his mission this past Wednesday. Serving in Quezon City North. As far as I know, he's doing very well so far. He's in the MTC in Manila, the capital of the Philippines. He is going to be an incredible missionary; the Philippines couldn't ask for anyone better.

      Once I arrived at home I told my mom, she cried. My dad came home, my mom told him, he cried. I told my amazing big sister, Jenny. I don't know if she cried, but she definitely comforted me. (I think she was just happy I wouldn't be leaving for two years. She would've missed me too much.) So pretty much, everything was wet with tears, and I didn't like that.

     That was a Friday. Saturday consisted of me crying and doing nothing, so I'll skip to Sunday. I did not go to church. The Sunday previous was my farewell. Yeah, that's right, I'd already done my farewell. Which is why I could never go back to my home ward! I know it's dramatic, but just dealing with judgmental stares, gossiping, awkward questions and all of that was just too much for me to handle. I still have yet to return to the Castle Park Ward.

     I have started going to the Boise YSA (young single adults) 1st Ward. I'm not going to say it's my favorite, but it's church. It's still awkward, though.

Fast Forward to October 13th

     Today, my sister's childhood friend is having her baby blessed in our home ward, and I'd love to go. But I'm going to be honest. I. Am. Afraid. I hate admitting that so much. Why would I ever be afraid of going to church? Isn't church/faith/religion supposed to be a safe haven? Well, usually it is. In my case, it's a stressful hellhole of judgment. And really, I don't think I can handle that. I was hoping by after a month I'd be able to just go back to normal life, but I really can't get myself to. So maybe I have a hard time praying and reading my scriptures. So maybe I struggle with my testimony. So maybe I just wish none of this had happened. But that doesn't change anything.

     I'm being incredibly shallow and self-centered about it all, and it does nothing positive for me. But what is someone supposed to do when they're afraid to go to church? That just isn't normal. I've considered going and just sitting in a side room so I can hear the service without seeing people, but that just seems crazy.

     I know God still loves me. Can't that be enough for now? I think it has to be. 

     I have had quite a few things to help me out this past month. Amazing friends, Institute, Institute Choir (Unison), work...lots of stuff. I'll expound on those things later. For now, I'm just going to get ready for church. Maybe that will help me actually decide to go. 

     I hope all of my readers have a fantastic Sunday. It's a beautiful day. Just remember to be full of positoovity. (I'll have to explain this whole "positoovity" thing eventually...) Anyway, have a good one.