run away, run far far away

Rejuvenated and Refreshed.  A little R and R.  That is the glory and purpose of a vacation. This past weekend I went to Bear Lake with 4 of my 5 roommates. Vacationing at Brandi’s beautiful lakehouse was fantastic, and not only the most darling “cabin” I have ever seen but the perfect atmosphere to do some serious bonding and recharge my emotional batteries.

In the beautiful yellow room I was privileged to call my own for 3 days I acquired adequate sleep—a first since Christmas break! The ladies of Northwoods 4 shook off our sleep with Yoga for Athletes, nourished our bodies with delectable German Pancakes and candy galore, bundled up in 4 layers to speed along the windy lake shore aboard 4-wheelers, entertained ourselves with several card games and Scattegories, and looked through old pictures from the 80’s laughing at the fly-away bangs, shoes that tie over socks, as well as floral leggings and outfits I cannot even begin to describe the ridiculous-ness of. We talked and laughed and talked and laughed, and took some great pictures.

Sunday I felt ready to face Provo. I can handle this! Just 5 more weeks. I am feeling phenomenal, ready to handle all the couples of Provo, my major meltdown of last week seeming an eternity away and my concerns and troubles inconsequential.
Even pulling into the parking lot I felt content and happy to be back at my apartment-- a real first, I will have you know.

And then… I walked through that maroon door.

I still felt cheerful but… I was not ready for my vacation to be over, in addition to the fact that I am a terrible person. Truly. I have tried to be kind, I have prayed for charity beyond what is reasonably comprehensible for a person to pray for. But there are some situations when your environment has such a huge impact that you have to run. And that’s precisely what I did. Because the grinding of my roommate’s voice and the echo of her laugh and her odd platonic-but-not interaction with her 37 year old fiancée magnified the oppressive feeling I can’t help but feel being around her, and the positive feelings of the weekend were nearly driven away in an instant. I had to leave. So I unpacked, repacked, and headed to Sandy.

Blogging really is my outlet—so here goes. I love, dearly and deeply, my roommates. They are wonderful and funny and caring and so fantastic to be around. I lived with them last year, as well as this, and we have never had drama or problems. They are my support system in Provo and I don’t know what I would do without them. Seriously. We have made so many memories that, cliché as it is, I will treasure forever. We’re the roommates that 20 years from now we’ll leave our husbands and children and have a weekend get-a-way, a roommate reunion! Love them!

There is one… that has made for a challenge to live with (mentioned earlier, 2 paragraphs up). Living with her was not by choice, and as luck would have it she’s my room roommate. We’ll call her Shannon. She is one person that try as I might, I have extreme difficulty getting along with. It’s not that she’s disagreeable-- No-- it’s that she has no personality, or at least not one I have been able to decipher in the 7 months we have shared a room smaller than my freshman dorm room, because she does not interact on a competently social level, with me or any of the roommates.

I have tried. How I have tried to extend an effort at establishing some sort of roommate-relationship. I have tried to open up, tried talking, tried to be supportive, tried to be excited that she got her Masters and got engaged, and prayed like crazy. I have tried everything I can imagine, and yet… I have no warm feelings towards her. Thus, the reason I am a terrible horrible person. She is non-responsive. And I don’t know quite what to do with that. I’m still trying to figure it all out, 7 months after our initial introduction. Our biggest conversations now-a-days revolve around the girls we visit teach. Our longest conversation on record is probably 40 minutes. And that was a miracle.

She’s always in the room. Always. I don’t even feel comfortable in my room besides the rare occasion I’m alone. I avoid it as often as possible, praying she’ll leave and go be with her old-man lover.

There is a routine, every morning: her alarm goes off. She sloowwwllllyyyyy turns it off. She sniffles—not a regular sniffle, a nasally sniffle that continues for at least 10 minutes until she blows her nose. Then, she opens her computer and the gentle hum of it rings in my ears and drums at my sanity. Sniffle. The clicking of her mouse and the pitter-pat of the keyboard, the opening of the blinds and swinging of the door open and closed repeatedly and loudly causes me to pull my polka-dot covers over my disheveled bed head in an attempt to block out the sound, praying I can fall back asleep until my alarm goes off, silently pleading I can get decent sleep. Sniffle. But then it gets really hot huddled beneath those covers and I realize in my half-dream state that I’m starting to suffocate, so I reluctantly lower the sheets and endure the sounds until she finally leaves. And then my alarm goes off. Yes, every morning.

Which leads into the meltdown of last week—the big major sobbing meltdown of the year. My mother, the wise woman that she is, got to the root of the problem-- recognizing the toxic (harsh word, but true) effect of my environment and the resultant oppressive feeling that seemes impossible to shake, coupled with extreme sleep deprivation. She sympathized with the reality of bad roommates (fortunately only one in this case, I love the others) and encouraged me to limit my interaction for the next 5 weeks as much as possible. She’s not going to change, but I can do something about it. So that is my new resolution-- sleep over in Sandy, study at the library, sleep on someone’s couch, on my own couch perhaps, go shopping, stay far away and just get through the next 5 weeks in one piece. Run away, run far far away. Fight or flight—I am choosing flight.
A quote from our beloved quote wall freshman year has been running through my head as of late:
           ‘I could be that girl you read about in the newspaper— “Roommate Kills Roommate”.’

Funny as this was at the time, and I’m 99% positive everyone can reflect that sentiment at some moment in their life with regard to a roommate, sibling, or spouse, I do not want to be that girl on the front page of the newspaper. Thus (I love that word) to counteract the natural man I am going to do everything possible to endure the last 5 weeks of the semester before moving into a NEW place with my own room and a swimming pool! Yes, I can do hard things—I can do this.

I will not be a product of my environment.
I will rise above and conquer.
I will not kill my roommate.
And I will try, try, and try again to love her and not be such a horrible person in my flight.