notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 15.

it's been six months since graduation.
five months since finishing my final externship.

i suppose it's time i finished up these gradnotes, eh?

i think for a long while there will be residual grad-school-related comments to be made.

i have commentary on side notes learned from classes.
i have commentary on how graduate school affected me.
i have commentary on the endings and beginnings and people inside of them.

but overall.
i've run out of steam.

this past summer i spent an inordinate amount of time unable to really process much.
i spent a lot of time moving around and traveling, but also a lot of time just being still.
and it was very good for me, though also hard in some ways.

it's been over two months now since i started my
real-life-grown-up-big-kid-salaried job.
and i've got to say--
it's a pretty good life.

it's late on a tuesday night right now.
husband is asleep in the other room, but i couldn't sleep.
that's how it happens sometimes, you know?
in the most unexpected and unlikely moments--
that's when my words start to come back to me.

i was at work until almost six,
though my contract is only 8-4.
it's not very often that i actually leave at 4,
but i honestly don't mind too much.
i like my job overall. i like the people i work with. i like the students. i like the community.
i don't mind too much.

we live a quiet life right now, and i must admit it's a relief from the chaos
of dating and engaged and newlyweds
on top of
grad school and externships and finding a job.

at last we get to settle into ourselves--
he and i as we, and he and i in our respective careers and ventures.
together and separate and together again.
that might not even make sense.
but in short it's this:
life is in a stage of relief.

i'm glad i went to graduate school.
i am.
i'm grateful for the professors, the clients, the supervisors.
i'm grateful for the classes, the tests, and the study.
i'm grateful because i did it.
i'm grateful because it matters.
and i'm grateful for what it allows me to do daily.
i'm grateful for the world it opens up to me.

and now, in the phase we're in right now.
i'm grateful most of all because,
as noah and the whale says:

day by day, old joy comes back to me.

you'll sing, day by day, old joy comes back to me.
forget the things that get away, don't dream of yesterday.

song of the day: old joy, noah and the whale.

whatever else anything is.
we're in a good place right now.

and.
this is as good of place as any to realize.

i think this blog has served its purpose.
i think it has reached its culmination.
so many years of musing and thinking and feeling and writing.

i started it around the time i graduated from high school--
laurs and i both did, engrossed in quite the love of blogs.
it's evolved immeasurably over the years,
as has my writing,
as have i.

and with that i say: 

it's time.

a new era of life, 

a new era of writing, 

a new era of memories.

and if you're interested in following along:

where i plan to record our story from courtship to wedding--

especially now that grandpa ray has passed away--

all the way through to daily life. 

now that i have more flexibility with my time, 

i so hope to return to writing again--in some form or fashion, 

even if just as a recording of our story to start. 

because.

i've been missing that deepheartsoul of mine.

the one that clings deeply to russian literature and nearly weeps over some pieces. 

the one that has words bubble up when in the car, doing dishes, or anywhere in between.

pieces of life that need to be expressed, 

even if they're parts that most people don't often speak of.

i've always loved digging deep inside to the raw and the real.

words that have never quite had a place to go for the past little while. 

i miss that part of me--

and hope to bring her home again.

along with the funny and light and twinkly parts of life.

come with me?

it's time to let go of

emily janette nevers

(with grand respect and reverence)

and say hello to

( emily janette christofferson )

does it help convince you if i share a darling photo

of the love that lets us share a (relatively-new-to-me) last name?

ps. yes. i'm also saying goodbye to blogger. 

it's been real, but kind of like high school--

after awhile, you've really just got to let go.

pps. i know there's not much there. yet. #powerofyetandgrowthmindsetandstuff

notes from the underground--grad school edition, volume 14.

the past few months have been a whirlwind, if ever there was one.

at long last, though, i think the winds are calming.

march 10th:

i finished a 10-week medical externship that began at the beginning of the year.

(and kicked my trash.)

it was an immense opportunity for learning and growth.

(and sometimes it was just excruciating 

given my lack of experience, lack of exposure, and what felt like overall incompetence.) 

that said,

in my last two weeks i started to hit my stride--relatively speaking.

and it was sincerely such a good opportunity.

my eyes were opened to a whole new world of understanding.

i was working with adults with neurocognitive communication disorders--

strokes, traumatic brain injuries, cancer, etc.

i learned a lot about cognition.

(and a looooot about cognitive strategies.)

it was remarkable to watch progress,

and to see people experience really significant changes in their lives.

it was also heartbreaking to witness the frustration of the given difficulty.

i led a book club for patients/former patients while i was there, 

and though i probably won't be working in this setting or with this population in the future,

i'm grateful that it happened.

and to have had the opportunity to work with so very many remarkable people.

furthermore, it was enlightening 

to be so thoroughly exposed to individuals who had experienced a traumatic brain injury--

an invisible struggle that infiltrates so much of everyday life. 

i wish a larger proportion of the general population was educated regarding brain injuries,

that more people were more compassionate towards those who have experienced a brain injury.

i learned so much about compassion.

compassion for others.

compassion for oneself.

giving people the benefit of the doubt.

seeking to dig inside their day-to-day functioning.

the learning curve was steep, but still i climbed that slope.

and.

i was relieved to just make it through.

cognitive therapy is so important and so beneficial.

but doing cognitive therapy is not my career jamboree.

there's probably so much more i could say about this medical externship of mine.

but for now i'm just not quite sure how.

and so we'll leave it be with this:

i'm glad it happened and for all that i learned (more here and here),

though i'm glad that i'm now in a place more suited to my own aptitudes.

march 13th:

i started my school externship at an elementary school.

it's kindergarten through 5th grade, though they also house a headstart preschool.

so i work with prek-5th graders.

it's the best thing.

i adore it all.

for awhile i was wondering if i needed to find a new profession,

come to find out i just hadn't quite found my place yet.

until now.

i love this setting.

i love these kids.

i love this role.

i love this work.

the learning curve wasn't so steep this time.

it's only been three weeks, 

but it feels ever so much longer--in the best way.

i took over most of the caseload by the third day.

the rest starting on week two.

and i don't even mind.

i'll write more someday about all this,

but suffice it to say:

i love every second.

even the worst days are not really that bad.

i almost wept on the first day with how good it was.

sometimes i almost feel bad with how good life is right now.

but instead of feeling bad,

i plan to enjoy the ride and soak it all in.

it's a good life, you know?

it's a really good life.

as of a week and a half ago my last class is over.

i took the last final i'll ever take,

and am done with all formal college courses.

(CEUs are a different matter--and not nearly so intense.)

it was rough to have the class mostly coinciding with the first 10 weeks--

with the weeks that kicked my trash 

and drained every ounce of energy from me 

because of their intensity.

but hey. c'est la vie, right?

is what it is. and now it's over.

go team go. and i think i'm mostly still kind of standing.

after all these years--

classes and papers and tests and presentations and projects, oh my--

i really am almost done.

feel free to start prepping yourself 

mentally and emotionally for calling me 

master

master em

master krem

master emily

master mrs.christofferson.

oh, yeah.

and by the way.

in the middle of that intensely grueling 10-week medical externship?

i up and got married, 

thereby joining the christofferson clan.

(haaha. and by up and got married, i mean after over 14 months together we finally wed.)

more on that later--because i really do wish to start writing again.

(spoiler alert: it's the best thing, this marriage thing.)

happy (almost) start of april.

just look what the wind blew in.

highlights and lowlights and redlights and golights.

because a little listed summary is the only adequate way to include all the important things.

in no particular order, some delightful lights of the break are included, but not limited to:

+ jillian's sealing. (the most beautiful morning of light.)
+ megs being back in america for a little minute. (can't even. those armknechts, though.)

+ fabfour reunion and an impending #apartment210 reunion. (i can't get over these women.)
+ break being one week longer than the byu one i'm used to. (more than a day after new years? what?)

+ having my first entirely solo session go supa well. (we gonna be bessst friendzzz.)
+ being just as entertained by the 'science experiment' as my client. (and the toy dinosaur that helped us.)

+ reading and reading. on my time. by my choice. the little things, you know? (i highly recommend the giver.)

+ naterson. (i mean. i know. right? i know.)

+ family parties. (and getting to know his delightful fambam.)
+ shnuggletimeourturn. (never gets old.)

+ movies. so many movies. (with a harry potter marathon on top.)
+ chinese food for dayz. (pass the sweet and sour chicken, please.)

+ dinners and laughs with laurs. (we're hilarious.)

+ christmas eve traditions. plus one. (the night before christmas is a crowd favorite.)

+ so many occasions for playing rosatheviolin of my own accord. (and fingers remembering things i forgot.)
+ jenniferannemariemckay. enough said. (cosmic soul connections.)

+ twinkle lights and the poinsettia quilt. my favorite place on a cold winter's night. (always.)

+ visiting with renaenae. (and. logan is literally in the middle of nowhere. how does anyone survive??)

+ the symphony. (always makes me heart-eyed. i really adore evenings at the symphony.)

+ sleeping in. naps. sleeping some more. (sometimes i think i spent the whole break asleep. opa.)

the only lower lights?

- it's january. (my januaryhatred is real. not over it. never over it.)

- snow. everywhere. (is winter over yet?)

- break ends.in three days. (i just.can't.even.)

to ring and to wring.

if i were to describe 2015 in one word, it would be this:

upheaval.

i know it's common trend for everyone to be saying how great 2015 was, and look at the new year with hope and excitement for even more good to come. that's what you do at new years, right? but if we're being honest, 2015 was a reeeal doozy. getting to the end of it and greeting 2016 has felt more like crawling to the finish line than actually arriving with glory and thrill. survival has been only with the packets of light that provide a second wind, that's really more like an incredibly needed two-hundredth wind. forgive me, therefore, if my approach to 2016 is a bit more apprehensive.

ring out the grief that saps the mind

for those that here we see no more;

ring out the feud of rich and poor, 

ring in redress to all mankind.

(ring out, wild bells, alfred, lord tennyson.)

these are the words with which bean welcomed me into the new year. and perhaps that has been the true purpose of this year of 2015: ring out the grief that saps the mind. because. without consciously realizing it, over the past few years i've been accumulating griefs of all kinds--old ones returning and new ones added upon. and this year as a whole? well. over the course of these months the year has taught what it is to ring out the grief by the means of its very own homonym: wringing. by wringing it out, bells rang through my soul--first quietly, then more strikingly, to teach me the importance of feeling. not only feelings themselves, but also the value and purpose in the process itself. the process of allowing oneself to feel. not only to feel, but to feel together with others.



in the first third of 2015, while living a life of allrussianallthetime, i was consumed with a study of grief and loss, spurred by various pieces of russian literature and enriched by life's own experiences. my eyes were opened to the effects that ripple through us and those whom we love--or conversely, don't love--as a result. i won't go into it any further here, not specifically. heaven knows i've already written more than enough words on the subject. (if you've the desire for a larger part of them, here you are.) i simply must first acknowledge the value of that process. the way it redefined how i interacted with others. the way it taught me to look at the whole of a person's experience, not only who they are inside of the messy middle, and to receive their stories with greater understanding. with greater depth.

throughout this year, i've lived inside the very manifestations of some of my greatest fears in varying degrees. i always thought i understood loneliness. that i'd had enough emptiness to see and understand the importance of human connection. but it was only when living for a time in an even more extreme lack of connection that my understanding of people, empathy, and the importance of connection became even deeper. people need people, you know? to share our memories. to share our souls.

in the transition between that first and second third of 2015, i found myself in israel. while there, i made a profound realization about myself (many, actually). this certain one, though, was made manifest in a perfectly blended piece of metaphor from real life. and it all comes back to bags. the bags we carry. i never allow others to help carry my bags. i never want to burden them, and i'm not used to having someone else to take care. i have a finely honed, it's okay, i've got it. and i march on my way, not wanting others to have to bother with these bags of my stories that can be rather heavy. i'm terrible at sharing my life and my story with others. i'm terrible at trusting others with these pieces that are mine. and i'm not used to having anyone persistent enough to ask with sincere desire for the answer. there's frequently the courtesy request, of course, without knowing exactly what they're asking. but when it comes down to it, often it's simply a courtesy. because no one knows what to do with these griefs. no one knows what to do with the heavy, broken pieces. the very pieces that give of that greater depth. that depth again.


the light eyes were not only a rarity but gave the one who had them a certain look--what was it?
depth, he decided;
as if one were looking into the clear water of the river, 
down to the bottom, where things might lurk which hadn't been discovered yet.
(the giver, lois lowry.)


as our russian capstone project, we performed a dramatic adaptation of a portion of chekov's чайка. (the seagull.) and one of our added pieces was an emphasis on these bags people carry, filled with their griefs, fears, and the experiences that have defined them with their presence or absence. the way people so often cling to these pieces. and israel. well, it was like an extension of that russian capstone. these bags we cling to and never let go. these griefs i've been holding, unsure of how to let them go.

2015, though. he rebelled. (sorry. russian gender of nouns. sorrynotsorry.) forced me to learn to give up some of my pieces. to share my bags in varying degrees at varying times. he started by showing me and giving me these things to be mourned, while also showing me what it means to feel. to allow feelings to be as they are. to allow experience to be whatever it is meant to be. more than that, i learned the importance of trusting myself. trusting my own instincts. trusting my own life. trusting my own story. and further trusting God with it all in addition to trusting others. not that the broken pieces of the pottery of your heart should be passed around willy-nilly. by no means. but when you've carefully found and selected someone who can be trusted. well. the sharing itself is a relief, you know? and a beautiful connection unlike anything that can be described. because there's something to be said for the sharing of souls in all human relationships. small pieces exchanged with people you meet only once. moments shared with longtime friends that delve into an unexpectedly deeper level. connections established by the sharing of the deep. these people with whom we share our souls.

the second third of 2015 was a beginning of the emptying--a loss in many respects of the connections i'd built up to that point. the final third of the year then constituted both a climax and a denouement as the emptiness and fear in my soul reached heights i'd hardly realized were possible. only in the final two months has a denouement finally come in pieces. release, relief, and resolution flooding in, even if only for a time. until the next story begins. despite my snarky impatience that comes of a soul being weary, i fully acknowledge the end being perfectly appropriate timing for a denouement. and these final few months? a culmination of all this moving and upheaval? well. they have been showing me what it means to feel. to trust God, myself, and others. and to learn to hope again.

at the beginning of 2015, in a review of the year behind and a look at the year ahead,

i made a declaration in the name of choosing hope, love, and joy.

choosing to let anything be possible.

choosing sunshine.

in short, i asked 2015 to be good to me.

well, if these twelve months were what it looks like for a year to be good to me,

he certainly has a funny way of showing it.

(or perhaps a different definition for good than i have?)

either way.
it's been a long year.

this coming year, as can be expected, i'm simplifying even further.

happy new year.

2015, it's been real--but let's never do this again.

welcome, 2016.

be as you are.
ну и всё.

Д В А. [T W O.]

уже два года прошли.

уже?

два года. же.

the truth is, there are still days i feel a whole lot like this, or a bit of this.

(i still have an obsession with the concept of home--did you know?) 

the truth is, i hardly ever look at these emails i wrote home, and as i wrote them i never edited or reread.

and most of them left out a grand majority of my experience.

because you just can't send those things home.

the truth is, everything was always just a stream of writing.

(the truth is, nearly all of the things i write are like that--with only minor edit or revision.)

the truth is, i should probably read my mission journal more--

because that's where the real truth of it all can be found, inasmuch as is possible to capture.

i should reflect and embrace the struggles and the miracles together.

but the truth is, sometimes i can't. 

because sometimes it is too much to go back there.

and because i'm starting to think i don't really believe in the validity of should's.

i remember vividly the process of writing my final email home. the dingy, but large, internet club in center donetsk that was infinitely nicer than nearly all the others i'd used each week throughout my mission. all the little boys and men playing games and other things on computers all around us, the scent of beer and breathe reeking of cigarette smoke wafting all around. the emails exchanged with my daughters still in-country. the beautiful emails i received from jillian and megs that made me nearly cry two tears. and most of all, starting the email i was trying to write over and over again. because what do you say at the end of so many months like that? what do you say, when you start to realize that it really does end and there really will be the juxtaposition of simultaneous relief and heartbreak at being pulled away from it? what do you say when dreams and nightmares become reality, and reality becomes dreams and nightmares?

sometimes i feel like God lets me to write, so that i have something to hold. so that i have some way to capture experiences or feelings that cross me, of course. but--perhaps more importantly--to hold the lessons He teaches me for later. i wish i could say i feel like this all the time, that i maintained a status quo of that perspective. i don't. sometimes that wintergrey still gets me.

i've found myself talking a lot about ukraine lately--more than i have in a long time. there's still so much from ukraine that defines so much of who i am, but time's a funny thing, you know? distance is a powerful informer of perspective. as are these 730 days. i'm still 93 million miles from the sun, though some days feel much closer to the warmth than others. it seems fitting that this two-year mark collide with the weekend of finals, the end of my first semester of grad school, jillian's wedding, among other things.

i wish i could say that i've progressed a lot in these two years, though i'm not so sure that i have. it looks like it, of course. objectively speaking. i graduated form college. applied, was accepted, and began graduate school. went to israel. met a million different people--some who have stayed, others who kept moving onward. but has my heart and soul really changed? i don't rightly know. or perhaps she didn't need to change. but i'd still like to hope i've learned a thing or two in these two years.

when i first came home, i wanted so badly to throw out every piece of my life that preceded ukraine. i didn't like the girl i saw there--the way she was or how she thought and lived. i wanted so badly to begin life anew, keeping only small and important pieces from anything before, and building mostly upon ukraine and the woman she made me.

i've started over a lot in the past two years--in every sense of the word--just as i did in ukraine. starting over and over again, here i am living in radical uncertainty. moving all around, often nothing quite staying.

and yet. it's all part of the path. how it ever ends? only God really knows. but you know what? all those things and people that don't seem to stay are a sifter for the things that truly do. because it's in that process that you come to find the things that truly matter--not only inside yourself in regards to where you're going, but also in discovering what matters most in building your life.

december the twentieth was an odd day this year, with a little piece of everything inside. one that ranged through a whole lot of different experiences. because apparently, just like last year, there's just something about these important days, you know? you know.

in the middle of the day, i purposefully chose to walk a ways through the snow to and from my churchings, and there was something so cathartic about that walk through the cold and snow, ukraine style. the chance to breathe and be. walking along and having a good talk with God about who i am and how i got to where i am. in addition to where i am striving to go.

and this twentieth day of december? a day that went from cold and icy to pure and sweet. i'd like to think that it was an odd sort of metaphor. a microcosm of life. i certainly hope. because two years later? in all this building and all this striving? here i am living and breathing. finding that perfect blend of selected pieces of past working with selected pieces of present, paving the way towards future.

two years already? now we've only just begun.

who needs pictures?

brought to you by some places and faces filling my cameraroll the past couple months.
how was life ever documented pre-iphone?
can you believe people used to carry around cameras alldayeveryday?

right. me neither. and i even was one of those people.

steve jobs must be laughing a devilish laugh.
viva le iphone.
(in all its sometimes-blurry glory.)

if it seems i'm

in the same shoes, in the same places,
sometimes with people, occasional visitors, mostly alone,
sometimes eating, always reading--
you are seeming right.
всё правильно.
#gradschooling.