Sunday, February 12, 2012

The Ugly Truth.

Ever since I started working at a scout camp in 2009, I've called myself a very open person. You see, at scout camp, everyone on staff knows everything that happens at camp. People try to keep secrets, but it doesn't work. This happens a lot of times with "camp romances", as we like to call them. People think they can get away with having a secret camp romance, but eventually one person on staff will see you holding hands, and the next day, everyone on staff will know about it. Trust me, I've had my fair share of camp rumors. Some having to do with boys, and some having to do with what Valery and I were doing spying on secret meetings past curfew (if Delose is reading this... we were NEVER out past curfew). The point is, working at scout camp as molded me into the more open person that I am now. I decided it was better for people to hear what was going on with me through my own mouth than through the grapevine. So if someone asked me about a boy, or what I was doing was doing at the campfire bowl the night before, I would tell them. A lot of times, I would just volunteer the information (as in, "Wanna hear a funny story? Last night..."). I heard on the radio the other day that the average woman can keep a secret for like, 36 minutes. I believe it. Keeping secrets is hard.

And now, a part of my soul... served on a shiny silver platter (also known as the internet).

There is a student in the 5th grade class I'm working in who runs away whenever he gets upset (I work at an autistic elementary school, so running away is one of this boys autistic behaviors). He won't stop and talk to a teacher about what is bothering him, he'll just take off (he is working on this, and getting much better at it). And then there's me. I do the same thing, except, I don't have autism as an excuse.

Last Sunday, I was called to be the Nursery leader in my ward. To say I was overwhelmed would be the understatement of the year. As I was sitting in relief society next to my dad (he was going to be speaking), I started to cry. It was like, I was just called to be the nursery leader by my dad who was just called to be the bishop, and I was sitting in relief society with all these happy, cheerful women, and I was crying. It was just too much. I turned to my dad and told him that I had to leave. He hugged me and tried to tell me it would be okay, but I couldn't handle it. So, I got up and ran out of the room. Literally ran. 


I need a behavior plan.

There is really no point to me telling the internet world this, except that the first step to changing is admitting you have a problem. So this is me... admitting I have a problem. Here's to changing.