The Best People are the "Quiet" People

Once when I was in college I went on a date with a guy who was really fun, friendly, nice, interested, interesting, good looking, smart, successful - and also an ENFP.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...MBTI has major limitations and is kinda horoscopey. I know, I know. But it is one fast and easy way to categorize people that is not completely useless, so I still kinda like it (and all other systems for analyzing people around me, to be honest) and probably always will: "They are genuinely warm and interested in people, and place great importance on their inter-personal relationships."Anyone who ever wanted to know me better would only have to read this precise description which has been floating around the interwebs for a long, loong time, because it fits me perfectly and has for decades.

So the date with this fellow ENFP was a total failure, and that was a weird surprise to me, since were supposedly really compatible. I mean, we had similar interests, values, and our friend groups intersected. I think we were in a linguistics or Arabic class together? Or maybe it was an Old Testament class?

During the date, we went to his apartment to drop something off before going out - probably to a movie or something else completely non-memorable. What I remember is sitting at the counter in his apartment and listening to him talk on and on and on and it was so...well, frustrating. I mean, he had interesting things to say - I distinctly remember him talking about Brazilian Jiu-jitsu as it related to his mission in Brazil, which was interesting enough - I mean, martial arts are pretty cool! - but...

But...

But he wouldn't shut up. I wanted to talk.

***

Fast forward a couple years to when I had three kids in diapers at the same time (!) in Houston. A blonde woman moved into the ward with her family. She was bubbly, talkative, gorgeous, and I immediately knew she was also an ENFP (this was confirmed later in a conversation with her). It was yet again like looking in a mirror. Myself reflected. But only...she was much more beautiful, funny, and socially adept, or so it seemed. I was struggling to survive under a mountain of laundry. I felt huge amounts of jealousy.

Until I befriended her.

Then we were great friends! She was fun to talk to, she had great stories and shared them freely. She was very kind - we hung out in play group and at other random church activities. She babysat my kids a couple times. I remember standing outside her house and just talking for a long time in her doorway, because we had a lot of things to say.

I never felt particularly close to her, but that was probably partially a function of time more than anything.

All this to say, I am friends with other ENFPs - or other personality types that are also extroverts. I don't really base my friendships off of MBTI in any way.

But yet, somehow, my closest friends seem to be the so-called "quiet" people. I want to explore why that might be in this blog post.

***

Back to that date with that fellow ENFP (by the way, we are still friends on facebook - I definitely do not carry bad feelings for him personally. In fact, if our paths ever did cross again, I would probably really enjoy catching up. It wasn't him - it was "us" that was problematic):

The ENFP needs to be given positive assurance and affirmation. 

I didn't really want to have to give it constantly!

More than one ENFP has been known to "go fishing" for compliments. 

I could totally perceive him doing this, and it was so irritating! "Hey, buddy, that's my line!"

They like to hear from their significant others that they are loved and valued, and are willing and eager to return the favor. 

But that wasn't a possibility without being able to get a word in edge-wise.

They enjoy lavishing love and affection on their mates, and are creative and energetic in their efforts to please. 

But it was just exhausting listening to him and trying to stay one step ahead in the conversation. I could never hope to please him, I had to be the quiet observer, the one who was pleased. It was a terrible role for me.

The ENFP gets a lot of their personal satisfaction from observing the happiness of others, and so is generally determined to please and serve their partners.

How to please and serve someone who is bending over backwards to try to please and serve you? It didn't work well at all.

A problem area for ENFPs in relationships is their dislike of conflict and sensitivity to criticism. 

There was no possibility for interesting discussion because we were just walking on eggshells and laughing everything off whenever anything approached a conflict. I think I may have even mentioned how we were both very definitely ENFPs during this date, and both of our reaction was just to laugh at that, though on the inside I was rolling my eyes.

They are perfectionists who believe that any form of criticism is a stab at their character, which is very difficult for them to take. Conflict situations are sources of extreme stress to the ENFP. They have a tendency to brush issues under the rug rather than confront them head-on, if there is likely to be a conflict. They are also prone to "give in" easily in conflict situations, just to end the conflict. They might agree to something which goes against their values just to end the uncomfortable situation. In such cases, the problem is extended and will return at a later time. 

Yeah. The best solution in this situation was to run away. Or rather, avoid going on dates with this guy again.

I would be so unhappy married to someone exactly like me.

***

This sums up nicely the kind of relationships that I am drawn to:

For close friendships, ENFPs are especially drawn to other iNtuitive Feeling types, and to other Extraverts who are also enthusiastic about life. Like the other iNtuitive Feeling types, the ENFP needs authenticity and depth in their close relationships. They're likely to have friends from all walks of life who they feel close to and care about, but will have only a few very close friends with similar ideals to their own. The ENFP also tends to value the company of iNtuitive Thinkers.

Introverts, extroverts - intuitive, thinking - all these dumb labels aside, it seems like one of the main qualities that my closest, dearest friends all have in common is this: they are considered to be "quiet" by many other people.

I put quiet in quotes because it's my experience that these people, if provoked correctly, will not be capable of shutting up, and isn't that the exact opposite of "quiet"?

There are legitimately quiet people, to be sure. I'm not really talking about that. Really - those "quiet" people? Not so quiet, once you get them talking. Being introverted isn't about being quiet, it's about where you get your energy: from time spent alone rather than time spent with others.

My husband is considered by my parents and siblings as a "quiet" person, but we talk for hours and hours. It isn't just because he's "quiet"; nobody likes talking to a wall, after all. He is an active listener. He shares his ideas, which I love to hear. And sometimes he needs some time to just be alone. 

There's probably some sort of game aspect involved in this. Coax-the-idea-out-of-the-mind-cave (Danny: "What, I don't get a mind palace?!") or something like that. Honestly, it's something I do without even thinking about it. On Sunday, I stopped in the hall and had a 10 minute conversation with a man in my ward who I only vaguely know. I had heard that he had changed jobs (he's a computer programmer). I asked him about it, and he did all the talking. This was really surprising to my family, since they had never heard him voluntarily say anything. 

"Quiet" people, especially those that share interests with me, quite often have secret hidden treasures of thoughts inside of them which I really love to discover. I love to hear their thoughts. They are usually better crafted than those of us loud people, since they don't seem to need oral articulation in order to process their thoughts.

***

In the workplace, ENFPs are pleasant and friendly, and interact in a positive and creative manner with both their co-workers and the public. ENFPs are also a major asset in brainstorming sessions; follow-through on projects can be a problem, however. ENFPs do get distracted, especially if another interesting issue comes along. They also tend towards procrastination, and dislike performing small, uninteresting tasks. ENFPs are most productive when working in a group with a few Js to handle the details and the deadlines.

All of my closest friends have turned out to be very confident introverted J's - these "quiet" types. I think it's because they very often are the only ones with the patience to hear out my crazy ideas. I think I'm attracted to "quiet" people because of a few reasons: 

1. Pure curiosity: what is going on in their head?

2. I have space to talk.

3. I think we generally have complimentary emotional needs: I really need attention, people with whom to share interests, projects, and ideas - people who like to be around me. In turn, without an extrovert jumping in and toppling over their lives, these "quiet" people would probably not have much opportunity to make close interpersonal connections, which is a basic human need.

4. It's fun to talk with other loud people, too, but I think the "quiet" people are usually better observers and listeners, which makes their insights much more interesting. 

There are probably more reasons why "quiet" people have turned out to be the best people for me to surround myself with, but my tiny bit of discretionary time is up. 

Limited Agency Theory

Latter-day saints should listen to deterministic atheists, because they might have some important ideas about God that we are missing.

(Then again, they might not, since it's pretty much impossible to describe a belief system around what one does not believe. And since atheism is in no way whatsoever any kind of organized belief system, it's hard to make generalizations about what one does or does not believe. In every case, those generalizations end up being meaningless. But hey, it's a sufficiently hook-ing opening line, enough to raise your eyebrows and compel you to hear me out, which was the actual point of writing it!)

I am going to make the case that our agency on earth is far more limited than we latter-day saints usually tend to think, and that limited agency is actually a "tender mercy" - an individualized blessing directly from God that demonstrates His divinity and love for each of us on the most immensely personal level that is only just barely imaginable.

We know that what causes us to make choices is not always something within our control. I think that most latter-day saints will resist this idea, probably because we so strongly value our agency, but this is an obvious fact that we must all come to face at some point. Here are some specific examples:

• Parole is more likely to be granted to prisoners by a parole board who has just eaten.
• Mass murderer Charles Whitman had a brain tumor which undeniably affected his choice to murder his mother, his wife, fourteen other people (including a pregnant woman) and eventually himself.
• (halfway through the article, the guy is named "Alex") ...and this guy's recurring brain tumor also definitely affected his choices.
• You are more likely to buy products (or help people) when you smell something good

Here are some more common-sense, broad examples:

• We can't make choices for the people that we love. We can't force our children to behave, and neither can we force our siblings, parents, and spouses to do what we want them to do.
• We are born with a set of individual, unique DNA that determines all kinds of things about our physical body: now that I am born, I can't alter that DNA (well...maybe in the future that will be somewhat possible with DNA splicing, but...) to change all kinds of things about myself which affect me and the choices which I make on a daily basis.  
• So far as we know, we don't choose where we are born, to whom we are born, when we are born, the circumstances of our families - all kinds of things about our environment are the way they are, and they aren't ours to choose. Yet these have bearing on our choices and actions.
• I learn many things which I can't remember perfectly. I have to learn them over and over and over, and even then sometimes I don't really fully understand what I've learned. My memory (or lack thereof) definitely affects my agency.

Our environment and our genetics play huge, huge roles in the everyday decisions we make, and failing to admit that is pretty prideful, in my opinion.

I had an awful nightmare the other night, the specifics of which are just a little bit too personal to recount. I don't know if you've ever experienced this, but it is truly horrible to wake up and then feel worse. In this case, the thing that was so horrible was a significant loss of my own personal agency, which also had to do with my memory. In my dream, I had no memory of x happening to me, but then I discovered that it had, and I was livid. I am not exactly sure what is the role of memory in relationship to agency, but it has to be connected in some important way.

On Sunday I got up and bore my testimony of limited agency being evidence of God's love for me. I testified to a group of 200-some-odd people that I strongly believe that God designed the exact circumstances of my life - including my environment, my DNA, all these things that work on, pull at, tug, and often limit, my personal agency. If this life is a test, which I believe it is, then the maker of the test knew what He was doing. He wasn't going to give me a test which I would definitely fail. In fact, because He loves me, and wants me to succeed and pass the test and return to live with Him again, this test He gave me has the greatest chance for me to succeed. Therefore, the circumstances which limit my agency are evidence that He thought them through beforehand, and it's okay to let go of some of the piles of typical Christian guilt that we (read: I) so often lay upon ourselves (myself) over our (my) human condition.

The test is simple: will we follow Jesus Christ?

We probably don't talk that much about our limitations because it would be really easy to make it sound like an excuse to sin. After all, if we don't have agency, or if it is severely handicapped - if all my choices were predetermined - then what does it matter if I become a whore or rob from the bank or willfully murder somebody or...? I do still scratch my head to observe my friends who do not believe in God or consequences of life after death, who are still very devoted to following their own moral codes, most of which intersect very closely with my own. Why? I know that keeping commandments very often results in temporal blessings - like, if you don't sleep around, you're way less likely to get an STD, for example. But if I did not have a strong belief in God, I imagine I would justify my sins a whole lot more and be much less apt to make righteous choices.

(This, by the way, is probably why a loving God put me into a latter-day saint family. He designed the test so that I would have the best chance to succeed. But I digress.)

Also we are limited as to our knowledge of our limitations. Sometimes we know them, but other times we actually don't. In a way, it is good for us to not preoccupy ourselves too much with thoughts about our limitations, again, to avoid making excuses for not choosing the right. 

To paraphrase a conversation I had recently about a person who was really getting on my friend's nerves:

My friend: "Do you think that someday, after we die, I'll get to talk to him and this condition of his will be removed, so that we will really be able to talk and I'll really be able to understand him?"

 

Me: "I think...I think that is what it will be like for all of us, actually. I think after we die, and are resurrected and receive perfect bodies, with perfect brains, we will finally, finally be able to successfully communicate. I think we all have some kind of "condition" - not just this person, but you, me - everybody around us."

I like to think this conversation was a great comfort to my friend. It's comforting to me that I don't have to bear the burden of all my awkwardness alone.

Christians in general also probably don't think a lot about the limitations of our agency because we've been told we won't be given trials that are too much for us to handle (except for like, the trials which cause us to die, I guess). Still, for people like me who are more apt to lament the fact that we are so imperfect, I think recognizing that my limitations were predetermined is a hugely comforting reassurance. It gives me permission to trust that things will be okay in spite of what it seems. Deterministic atheists inherently believe this. Things are the way they are, and that's okay. It's as it should be.

Elder Hales said, "Agency permits us to make faithful, obedient choices that strengthen us so that we can lift and strengthen others." I think if we had perfect agency we would be able to successfully do that perfectly at all times. In other words, I strongly believe that the difference between mortals and God is that God has perfect agency and we don't yet. Because we are limited by our knowledge, we don't have the perfect ability that God has to minister to others. The point is that we should always strive to be more godlike, in spite of these limitations; this is why the Christian message is so often completely centered on what we can do with our agency, which is to repent and to come unto Christ. This theme must be repeated several thousand times throughout all the scriptures, both ancient and modern.

I think 2 Nephi 9:25 is evidence supporting this, "people have limited agency and that's okay," theory. Basically, here Jacob suggests that if there's no law, there's no punishment for x, and without punishment for x there's no condemnation for x, and without condemnation for x, the mercy of God through the Atonement of Jesus Christ covers x. What is x? All of the pain and suffering humans have ever felt but not been accountable for, either because they were pain from our human condition, or pain from sin for which we weren't fully accountable because we didn't have the knowledge (aka the law) - or the capacity to have that knowledge.

Later in the chapter is that verse about the vainness and the frailties and the foolishness of men, for when they are learned they think they are wise and hearken not unto the counsel of God. Why should latter-day saints assume that this knowledge does not also include gospel knowledge? For my entire life I have felt like as saints, we assume that because we have the restored gospel we have perfect agency. 

We definitely don't. 

Our agency is definitely limited still because we are human. We should take a page out of the deterministic atheist's book and recognize that our agency is limited, and what a blessing from God that it is. I don't think I'd do very well in a test of perfect agency. I'm not there yet.

39 weeks

Imagine if you suddenly lost your capacity to dream.

But then, maybe you're one of those people firmly rooted in the present. Or constantly looking towards the past. Then you won't relate.

I'm always thinking about the future. Like, there isn't a moment where the future isn't a bright, shiny ball of possibilities, just right outside my reach. I want so badly to achieve and to accomplish meaningful, useful things.

Imagine that the ability to stretch towards the ideal was completely taken away.

It wasn't instantly. It was very piecemeal. It started out with a conscious decision to delay my study of Czech... FOR A YEAR. Nobody except me can really understand what a big deal that was in my life. It was like consciously promising myself not to eat chocolate... For a year.

Slowly, one at a time, other projects got filed away for another time. Imagine a stack of files from the floor to the ceiling. These files are filled with things I'm interested in. One or two files per day would get tucked away in some unknown, unfindable cabinet, starting around the time I got pregnant in January. It wasn't super noticeable, least of all to anybody not living inside my head.

For the first few months very little had changed. I was still running, I went to a Genealogy conference across the country, I continued to blog, etc. The most noticeable change was when suddenly, without at least two dozen connected "files", I finally wasn't capable of blogging about Czech gen anymore. This happened around May or June.

It was terrible. I could still remember (obviously) my feelings and passion about this, but I could no longer participate. It was like my capacity, my interest, my passion - all these things were taken away. It is hard to explain to people who haven't experienced it. It's like preferring to stare at a blank wall rather than do what I used to love. It's like being unable to physically sit in a chair at a computer because it's so uncomfortable. It's like bursting into tears whenever someone is a jerk (or might be a jerk) to you on the internet: hint: that's all the time! For my own sanity, I had to focus on the files that remained in the pile.

There are only about a dozen left, and for me that's almost nothing. Even these files seem to be missing pieces; like, I still enjoy painting but only for very short bursts of time and only with lots and lots of ridiculous extrinsic praise. I still enjoy organizing my house and making it beautiful but nothing that involves physically moving things heavier than like, a poster, is included in the file anymore. I enjoy watching movies and talking about them with Danny. But I can't handle extremely violent or negative films, and the threshold for "extremely violent" is very low. I enjoy dressing up and looking nice for church, but there is only like, one choice of outfits to wear which fit me still. I enjoy more than anything spending time with Danny. It doesn't matter what we are doing. We could be staring at the wall together, though I worry constantly that he's irritated at or bored with me, when mostly he's just panicky about not being able to *do* anything to make me feel better.

I enjoy being with my family, especially my children. I can't bend down and pick things up and put them away, which is frustrating. I can't hold my three year old without it hurting, and she always wants to be held. We finished watching the entire series of My Little Pony together - twice. I enjoyed that even though towards the end I fell asleep in every episode.

I scroll online through an endless stream of news, ideas, thoughts, ads, clickbait, photos, videos, complaints, etc. I like it because it allows me to escape from the prison of my uninterested, lonely mind. I hate it because it's a soul-sucking world full of envy, innuendo, between the lines messages, and blatant cruelty. I disconnected myself from Facebook for a week and for me, my world was a much darker, worse place. Then I was completely alone except for the very brief time when Danny was home. The "friends" folders... They mostly are not exactly put away in the other cabinet, just strewn in a messy heap all over the room, papers everywhere, with one or two in places I know about. Some friends actually are completely put away.

There's going to have to be a massive mind cleaning when things get back to normal. It's going to take forrrrrrrrever.

A file that remains is the one for my personal scripture study. I don't think my faith itself is encapsulated in any of these files; that isn't something that goes away. I still find joy from reading the scriptures. Yesterday I read Alma 32. I really genuinely like this chapter. I find it uplifting. I wish I had more creative files left because those are the ones that I really, really love, but at least I can still find some small amount of joy from imagining the extended metaphor of the tree that Alma talks about. It's a form of creativity I suppose, though nobody but myself in my own head can share it. At least I still have this.

Alzheimer's patients lose their files in a similar way and then lose the ability to understand what they've lost. This is not the same thing as being miserably pregnant, obviously. My state is temporary and if everything goes as it always has, I'll start to bounce back the second the baby is born. Alzheimer's patients won't, at least not until after their bodies are resurrected, which is not going to be soon enough to feel very relevant.

Today I am 39 weeks pregnant. I've always gone into labor on my own at some point between 39 weeks and 40 weeks. Let's hope and pray that this will continue to be the pattern. I really miss my mind, and my body. I want it back.

Some random thoughts through a foggy brain

I landed the jackpot when I married Danny. He just pulled the three year old off me. She was yelling I want chips and nachos! I am laying down drooling into my pillow. Before I was laying on the family room floor. I get to about 4:00 every day and I'm just so exhausted. So exhausted. I feel like...

It's just so unfair that by 11:00 I'm wide awake again. Nearly every night I'm thinking or talking or full of ideas or plans or just... Talking... And it's time to sleep again?! What!

It isn't always like this. But I have been pregnant for a lot of years. And so it seems it's been like this forever.

It's nice to hold on to memories of me in a pretty body when we were traipsing around the Czech Republic a few months ago. Good memories of good people and interesting things to see. I could not move there permanently unless I became an expert in cooking Mexican food first. That should be somewhere on some priority list somewhere regardless. Sounds delicious.

My kids are all playing outside and they are so loud. But I don't care, I'm so tired. I just want to wake up and have it be nine months later.

I'm constantly reminded about how other people manage routines and schedules better than me. In a perfect world that would be something I'd have mastered by my freaking early thirties. But it isn't. And fog brain makes that harder. Things like scheduling dentist appointments and especially responding to emails. I am very bad at these things. It is so difficult to force myself to do something which doesn't sound fun.

So childish! It's lucky the things I think are fun are weird and helpful and productive. I think it's great to accomplish something worthwhile. But I'd only ever start projects if I weren't also strongly and deeply motivated by my personal feelings of connection with the people I work with.

Like, there's no way I would have worked so focusedly and exhaustively for Judith's genealogy problem if I didn't care about her. The relationship was motivating. The desire to please her and help her specifically. To do something right for her. To be praised and adored for solving the problem. Some combination of motivations all related to my relationship with her. I guess I'm not just motivated by admiration alone, but a complex intersection of thoughts and feelings that originate from my relationships. I'd move mountains for the people I love, without hesitation. If they tell me good job I'd purr in stupid illogical satisfaction like a kitty cat.

I want my friends who I collaborate with on projects to blink in stupefied amazement at my awesomeness. I want them to be pleased with both my personal progress and my objective progress. I want them to smile when they open a document and notice there are some hundred or thousand edits on something. I don't want them to feel like I'm destroying their work, but mostly I pick friends with thickish skins who are ok with criticism and discussion of ideas that they don't agree with. I want them to feel a deep sense of admiration and I guess respect is part of it. I guess I'd go more for awe. But these are all ridiculous aspirations that are not actually that worthwhile. Anyway friendships aren't built on wowing and awing an audience. But maybe there's something to the interesting discussion part. Maybe my currency is more simple than I thought: maybe it's just lots of shared words spent on anything at all. Ugh the love languages call that words of affirmation I guess. But it's hard for me to see where I fall in those categories. Too much fluffy psychobabble.

It would be better to focus on the service aspect of working together to build something great. It would also be better to set a schedule and work on my projects steadily. But I'm not a steady person like that. I am a sprinter.

I really am a sprinter. Except in real life I ran the distance races in cross country and track because I'm not really athletic enough to be a good physical sprinter. But the part of me that lives in my head is a sprinter. I take breaks. And I go all out. And then I take more breaks. I'm not a plotter, I'm a pantser.

It is very important to me to not sprint alone. I need meaningful friends in many different contexts who can help me to persevere until the end of a project. I want to finish things but I'm much better at starting them. I need the extra motivation of strong relationships to help me stay focused enough to see my goals through. It's immature probably, but it's also the truth.

I think I'd be a very lonely person without Danny in my life. He doesn't generally work on most of my projects with me, per se, but he listens to me talk and talk and talk and talk about them, and about my friends, and about my conversations, and about my dreams. He is a good man who is very steady. But we both can quite easily escape together to a mental jungle gym where we discuss things from every corner of the universe, which is such a great place to be. Like a virtual world where I'm a gorgeous avatar running around fighting dragons, not an old mom in need of a shower, in yoga pants and a t-shirt who nowadays gets sore in the pubic symphysis from a pathetically short walk around the block.

Kate's Updated Awkwardness Theory

Recently I've been finding that I don't have the words, in any language, to express what is really in my heart.

Maybe it's not so recent. Maybe it's the same irony of my brother in law, who is a master carpenter, having broken kitchen cupboards for years. Or my dad, who is a math teacher, having a daughter whose highest level of math was precalculus where I got a C+. Or how the electronics at my house, where I have an in-house computer expert, always seem to either be too complicated for normal users to use (cough cough the home theater) or broken. I sometimes think our house is the place where computers in our family and extended family come to die!

So maybe it's a similar irony for me, a person who really loves languages, not to have the ability to express myself in words.

My dad taught me how to play piano. I never had official "lessons." It was always impromptu after dinner things. He made sure I always had music that was interesting to me (like the Phantom of the Opera). I made him write out by hand the Czech songs that he used to play - these tunes I grew up hearing randomly when he felt like playing them. He taught me the fingering. I remember playing these songs for my Grandpa Vasicek, and he sang the words in Czech, which I did not understand at all, but which were apparently really funny because he laughed and smiled so big.

My dad told me that learning to play the piano would serve me well through my whole life because when I got too emotional or angry or whatever, music could be a really good outlet. I've never been a great player, and there is certainly a lot of pressure to be great in my family, where my uncle just retired from the National Symphony Orchestra, etc. etc. But when I'm not feeling frustrated at how crappily I play, what a precious gift it is, to be able to play at all. I don't play particularly well, but I enjoy it.

I've been trying to take better care of my mental health recently. Running, going to yoga (which is ridiculous, but it always makes me feel much better) - and more music. Right now I'm working on Debussy's Arabesque, another tune I grew up hearing.

I could write reams and reams - well, I guess a more apt measure would be bits and bytes - I could write terabytes of words. I could fill up libraries. But these stupid words would always fall short where music doesn't.

Sometimes throwing more and more words at a problem actually makes things much worse. My Awkardness Theory which I developed as a freshman at BYU is like this:

So, here is my Awkwardness Theory #2:

When you're in an awkward situation...

...the best thing to do might be...

...nothing. 

Later, when you are alone, a wordless outlet can be a real comfort. 

One in Three Billion

You can't see God. Well, you can. But you don't.

How do you know that He exists if you can't use your senses to observe Him?

*****

I've been dealing with a really frustrating health problem for the past three months. I know that something is wrong, but I don't know what it is yet. I feel it every day, almost every minute.

I'm not a doctor. Even though I have the world's largest library at my fingertips, there is nothing I can do on my own to discover what is going on with me. Nothing.

*****

And friendships. How do you manage them. How do you know that your friends who are far away care about you. How is it possible to be a good friend when you are far away. Is it?

Me: "Finding good friends that live nearby is kind of a matter of faith, too."
Danny: "And statistics."

That was probably the most depressing comment anyone could make. Somehow thinking that there is definitely 1 person out of every 3 million that would totally get me and want to be my friend makes it seem even less likely. 1/3,000,000 might as well be 0.

Danny: "But you're not that unlikable."
At this I burst into tears.

Later, talking about it more he says, "Like, 1/300 at the worst. And that's totally doable. It might take a little work."
[Danny is not actually a jerk. This is his way of flirting with me.]

By the way, I originally accidentally wrote 1/3,000,000,000, and Danny looked over my shoulder and said, "Whoah, one in three billion? You're definitely not that unlikable! That's like one out of a third of the world's population! If that's true it's a miracle you got married!"

*****

Epistemology. How can you know something. When do you need to let go and trust that something which feels right is right? If you can't observe something yourself, how do you release your pride and trust somebody else?

On Tuesday I meet with the specialist and they will interpret the results of the test I just had. Either they will know what is going on, or they won't, and they'll do another test. I feel pretty helpless.  

I want very much for my friends to care about me. I hope that they do. It would make logical sense; why would they endure me if they didn't like me, and how do you like someone you don't care about? When your friends are across states or continents, when you only communicate with them in silent lonely typed letters - how can you trust that they are real, that they think about you, and that they hope you stop feeling like your chest is on fire and you're swallowing shards of glass and your stomach is blown up like a giant balloon and the back of your head has a constant low buzzing ache and...?

I guess you just do?

It is easy for me to have faith in my God. It is a lot harder for me to have faith in my friends. Why should it be that way? Can't I be more trusting, more patient, more submissive? Why does my pride always force me to feel like I am unlovable? It's totally stupid. Even statistically.

*****

How I treasure a true and lasting friend.

Standing with me always to the end.

How they notice my thinnest faintest smile.

How they take me stripped of all my guile.

Inner worlding, talking mind to mind.

Sharp and witty. Sensitive and kind.

Holding steady, steering me aright.

Laughing freely. Always in the light.

Never lonely, never solitude.

No pariah. Not misunderstood.

Deepest friendship, worth beyond compare.

Lasting friendship.

Somewhere. Somewhere.

Instant Messaging with the Holy Ghost

It's been a really long time since I wrote something here.

I've had the name of this post in mind for about five months. I'm not sure exactly what I want to write.

I've always been a lonely person. There's always a void longing to be filled by another person. No matter how much I try to fill it, it remains. I've come to the conclusion that it's basically a condition of mortality for me to feel this way, and that someday when I can be reunited with my heavenly parents, it will be filled.

But God didn't send us to this earth alone. There's this third really weird member of the godhead called the Holy Ghost. We have been promised he can be with us at all times if we covenant to take upon ourselves the name of Jesus Christ through baptism.

If this is true, what a gift.

I think about feedback all the time: for my part time job teaching English, for what I wish could be my full time job learning Czech, and especially how easy it is to text with people I love. They are right there, at the tips of my fingers. I can open Facebook and peer into a soul. It's supposed to make me feel less lonely. I think for a very brief second, it does. It's like sugar: the instant you stop consuming, you crave more. It's like an addiction.

If the Holy Ghost were accessible via instant messenger, and I could get instant feedback on my life, would I like that? Would it make this test of earth life too easy? Would I listen to it?

Some really specific council I've received in my life is that my close and lasting friends should be honest and have high moral standards. I really crave close friendships with people who care about the same nerdy things that I do. For the first time in my life I've found multiple friends like this, but they are in a seven hour difference time zone. We mostly communicate through video chatting and instant messenger.

It's really enjoyable to video chat with my in-laws. The dedicated time and focus and the slight lag all combine to create this personal space where we all feel heard. Perhaps even better than in real life, where physical things get in the way of our communication. Dinner. Diaper blowouts. Awkwardness that is normally hidden slightly by the camera. I'm a professional at this one.

Would I enjoy this kind of relationship with the Holy Ghost?

No. I want something even more personal.

Sometimes I catch myself mentally writing a Facebook update or a post in Czech about some mundane thing. It's really nice to have someone on the other side read it and actually care about me and my raw thoughts, someone who isn't in my physical world.

I couldn't write even a millionth part of my thoughts. There isn't a human soul alive who could satisfy my desire for meaningful connection, not even my dear husband who has a really uniquely intimate stewardship over my mind.

But God can do anything! And he knows me perfectly. I don't always hear him, or see him, or notice him, but I trust he's there and that he cares about me. I hope that someday I'll get a massive backload of life feedback, where the communication is crystal clear, where there's no doubt as to his role or presence in my life, where billions of those tiny personal spaces (like instant messenger boxes, video chat window, comments in a Google doc, etc.) flood over me enough to fill the void. I guess that is what heaven would be like for me.