It's been six months. Six months?! Wow, well I'm not dead, though some people may or may not want me to be. Time for an update.
Six months ago was August 29th, which was right around the time I decided to start a relationship and try opening myself back up to all the aches, pains, and other fun times that come with a relationship. Everything seemed to go just right. All the while, a nagging feeling in the back of my mind was saying that it wouldn't work out like I had hoped. I went with it, anyway, dismissing the nagging feeling as just myself being scared to go into another relationship. There were many reasons to start dating her and, so far, one or two reasons not to. One of those reasons grew bigger and bigger as time went on, but I'm getting ahead of myself.
The semester was typical to any semester at BYU-Idaho, with a few variances. I was learning how to condition someone for an endurance sport (e.g. a marathon, triathlon, the Tour de France, "Cross Fit" competitions, etc.), how to feed them properly, even how to administer first aid to them (or anyone, for that matter) if I found them stranded at least an hour away from professional help. Indeed, I became a certified "Woofer" (WFR: Wilderness First Responder) and have a nifty little card saying so. As a side note, Wilderness First Aid was one of the best, most fun, yet scariest classes I have taken to date. Anyway, I was trying to remain studious while maintaining a relationship and not skimping on my church calling as the Ward Family History Consultant. Sad to say, all during the time I was trying to juggle the three, there wasn't a time I was reaching down to pick up at least one of those things. At least I earned good grades in my classes.
The relationship went well, and at what felt like, at times, break-neck speeds. By the end of September we were talking about marriage. I remember that night clearly. We had just spent some time with some dear friends of mine in Nampa, which is a 5-hour car ride from Rexburg. The entire ride home was sans music and was filled with good conversation between the two of us, her and me, that was punctuated by brief periods of silence in which one of us was hesitant to drop any bombs like the "L word". It wasn't until we got to her doorstep that the topic of marriage came up. After a day or two, the decision was made to go for it. There's that nagging feeling again.
"Shoo! I'll show you!"
Everything became that much more exciting, yet there were times that I didn't quite feel that way. Normalcy in a relationship. We were officially engaged about a week after a first and somewhat awkward phone conversation with her father: October 12th. In order to not bludgeon you to death with every little detail, it's sufficient to say problems began to arise. Another side note: there will be no assigning of blame to any one party in this; as they say, "It takes two to tango." There was no true resolution to be had after six months, the nagging feeling had been growing more constant and intense. It weighed on my mind much like my feeling to end the last relationship. Not a good sign. There was much effort by way of prayer, fasting, scripture reading to help clear the water. I attended the temple, a place of sacred worship and a refuge from the tumult and distractions of the world, with my concern. That was it: it was over.
I called her up the next day after mustering about as much courage as could be mustered at the time. It happened to be at an unfortunate time and I tried to delay, but she was insistent. So I broke it off with her during a 2-hour break that she had at work. It was a short conversation that didn't even last a minute. The real conversation came the next day. Under an onslaught of angry, sad, hurt, hurtful words, failing attempts at comfort, and frustrated silence the conversation made it's way to an end. It seemed to go much like a conversation we had about two weeks earlier where I attempted to end the relationship but backed out of that endeavor; coming away from the conversation feeling manipulated; I was wrapped around her little finger. I'm not proud, nor do I have any satisfaction in saying it, but that's the way it was.
So that's it. It's over. I'll never see her or her family again (unless one of them decides to do something physically drastic to me or we unintentionally cross paths). I will also never see the ring again because of its use in helping fund her mission, nor my beloved Puma jacket as I was informed of its use as a target for at least her and her father's guns.
I have confidence in my decision and have received lots of support. It wasn't easy, it still isn't easy, but I just keep plugging along in life. I won't guarantee frequent or even regular posts in this baby, but I'll make a contribution every now and then. I hope this explains things a little further for everyone.
