In defense of my former self

Dear Self;

You lived a life that many didn't see.  One that even you didn't fully come to terms with and allow yourself to see until you were almost 30.  It's time to let it all out and see that it is okay.  Everyone has baggage.  Everyone has skeletons in the closet.  Some have more than others.  That's okay.  It doesn't mean you were bad or deserved any less.  It doesn't meant that you had to learn lessons the hard way or that you were a tool being used by God to learn a lesson you could share with others.  You suffered the consequences of other's agency for many years and didn't realize that's all it was.  You took it out on God, not fully trusting Him, because you thought He was using you.  You were happy to submit to Him.  At least He loved you.  You wanted to do good and be good and so you willingly became His martyr, His victim, His tool to help others because you knew that you would share and be empathetic...because that's who you are.  This was the only reality you knew.  This was how you understood things and thus how you lived your life for decades.  You know what? It's okay.

You were molested.  More than once.  By different people.  They told you that 'you asked for it' and 'deserved it.'

You were forced to watch explicit pornography as a kindergartner by your friend's dad.  The same friend who you used to have sleepovers with and where you developed a nervousness for sleeping with the door closed and waiting for someone to come in.  The same one you would hide in the berry bush with.


You grieved the sudden loss of your grandma that you adored when you were in 6th grade.
You didn't understand how to process the pain.  You didn't want to be sad because you didn't want to make your mom sad and have her hurt more.
Two years later you grieved the sudden loss of a boy you had a crush on that lived near you and rode the bus with you.  You were confused why you hurt so much again.  You were tired of feeling like an inconvenience to those who were supposed to love you unconditionally and tired of feeling like something to be used by everyone else.  You took more pills than you were supposed to of a drug that you reacted badly to in a half-hearted attempt to end your life so you could be with your grandma in a happy place again.  Your friend, bless her heart, told on you and dragged you to the school psychologist...who told on you to your mom....who thankfully wasn't mad or even overly sad.
Two years later you grieved the loss of another schoolmate in an accident you saw from your house.

Two years later, you buried your mom a month after graduating high school.
You wondered what lesson it was that you were missing that you kept losing all these people in your life.

You were nearly raped.  You still aren't sure how you got out of that, only that you remember the boy's friend watching and laughing and the boy saying "this is what you came here for anyway isn't it?" and you thought it was punishment for lying to your parents about where you were going.  You thought maybe this was just how boys showed they like you and maybe you should just learn to like it.  Except that other boy standing there laughing was a big red flag and you somehow came to your senses and got out.

You spent many years having dreams that haunted you and made you feel dirty and guilty.  They were out of your control but they controlled how you felt. It wasn't until your late teens that you recognized it was a replaying of those scenes you saw as a kindergartner.  It wasn't until your late 20s that you understood it wasn't your fault.

After your mom died, you had night terrors where you dreamed you or some other family member killed her.  Your brother accused you of causing her brain aneurysm because the day before you had pulled her over in a low-lying lawnchair as part of a family joke and she hit her head.  You wondered if he was right.  You wondered if other people thought the same.  Even after 2 neurologists told you it was a ticking time bomb and your actions wouldn't have set it off any sooner.  You wondered if she 'left' because you told her in the hospital that day (not that you even know if she could hear you) that you understood she missed her mom and you would take care of things on this end so she could go and that you'd understand and it would be okay. Would she have stayed if you had been more willing to fight?

Your dad didn't talk to you for years because he was upset that you said he didn't love you in an upset middle-schooler fight.  He thought you owed him an apology for your disrespect.  You thought he was just confirming your accusations and should try to make you feel loved.  You were a middle-schooler after all.

The boys in 5th grade made fun of you during the pledge of allegiance, saying you were grabbing yourself because you were already developing.

The boys in 8th grade cat-called you if you ever wore a skirt or low-cut shirt.  It made you feel important.

The boys in high school apparently said you were an amazing kisser and talked about you.  So you found out later from a friend who had kissed you, and then told you that was why.

You caught your 2 best friends in high school trying on your (size 9) pants and dancing around laughing at your 'clown pants'.

You overheard your parents fighting about you being in summer school PE, which you thought was just so you would be able to take art class during the school year instead, and there being ice cream in the house.  You heard your dad liken you to a whale and say that the ice cream shouldn't be around.
In your anger and hurt, you called a friend and decided to try pot to see what all the fuss was about and to really piss him off like he had hurt you.  It was a one-day, one-experience kind of thing but the effect was that he again no longer spoke to you except during choir practice- because he was the choir director and you were the pianist....even though that was the only time he went to church, or at least anything more than the occasional Sacrament meeting.

In high school, you got a concussion so bad that you couldn't remember how to do simple math and couldn't read a page in a book without falling asleep.

You saw your best friend get attacked by a dog right next to you when you were 4 years old.  You felt bad that it was her and not you because you didn't want her to hurt like that.


People told you that you shouldn't be sad.  People told you that you were being a victim and should stop.  People told you that it was all your fault.  You didn't even know you were sad. You didn't even recognize the pattern of victimization.  You thought it was your fault.

It wasn't true.

Self, you were victimized.  You were used by others and not by God.  You had hard things in your life.  More than many can understand in such a short time.  It doesn't mean you were deserving of those things.  It doesn't make you special.  It means you were strong.  You survived.  You, and God, have turned these things for your good.

These things do not define you, and yet they are you.  Being a new and better person doesn't mean that you were a bad person before.  It doesn't invalidate or lessen the worth of your self at any given stage in your life.  You are simply at a different point in your life now.  You are here because of what you've been through but you might have been here even without them.  You might not be here without them.  You could be in a different place, a much worse place, because of all this.  You needn't feel bad.  You are strong.  You are a survivor.  You have hurt and you have tried to take care of yourself and you have tried to protect yourself...all the best you could and the best you knew how with what you had at the time.  You really did try your best with what you had and what you understood and where you were in your life.

I know, because I am you.
And it's okay.

Don't worry about what other's judgments have been or what they may be.  Don't worry about those who've been unkind.  Don't wish these things on them either.  Don't think you willingly took these things upon yourself so that you would learn or so that you would get others to feel sorry for you in an attempt to feel loved.  No, that's not the way.  You've let it go and given it over.  You are a new person but loving yourself now doesn't mean not loving yourself then.  There is someone who gets that, and in the end He is all that matters.

Love,
Me.

not perfect at all

Today. Well. I didn't want to post about today. Which told me I probably should. Which led me to remember that quote about how when it is hardest to pray is when you need to pray hardest. Something like that. 

The boys at my house were all at a campout last night. Being that I have 3 boys and 1 girl, that is no small thing. She had been counting down the days and had determined we would shop while they were gone. Well, I inadvertently slept in (which was glorious) and when I woke up this morning she was fully dressed to her shoes and ready to go. I gave her several choices and she chose the swap meet. Since it is outdoors and since it is Vegas, that meant we needed to go pronto. No workout first thing in the am for me. I had a quick breakfast of granola (should've had my shake but wanted to save it for after my workout). A tiny whisper of a voice told me I should but I ignored it because I surely knew better. 

We ended up being gone the bulk of the day, my legs are still tired from all the walking we did. We had a rather late lunch of cafe rio salad and then by the time we got home the boys were home. It was our family's turn to clean our church with a few other families so I was home not even 30 minutes before we left to do that. 

It was after 5 when we finally left the church building. I had my ultrasounds scheduled at 6 and one was the super fun kind where you get to drink 48oz of water an hr before the test but don't you dare go to the bathroom. Lemme tell you.... Super fun when you've had 4 kids. SO glad I didn't have a pregnant belly to add to that too! 

So I went to this appointment (scheduled on a Sat because they said I had to since the dr order was marked 'at risk') feeling pretty tired and worn down from the day. I got anxious walking in but quickly pushed that aside and distracted myself while waiting with Pinterest on my phone.  I get my ultrasounds and it's all really rather uncomfortable- in fact it is downright painful at one point. I wish the tech would turn the screen so I can see but I don't speak up. I don't ask the questions I want to because I'm afraid they either won't tell me or they will and I won't like the answer. So what do I do? I sneak a peek at the thumbnail captured images when they leave me in the room to change afterward. What I see frightens me. Sure does look a lot like my son's abnormal kidney. Only I know it isn't a kidney. 'I shouldn't jump to conclusions' I tell myself. 'I am not a doctor' I remind myself.  'The fact that it was so painful doesn't have to mean anything' I reassure myself.  In any case, my husband is texting me about date night and that he finally got a babysitter so I should meet him at the movie theater. I grab a protein box from the Starbucks in the same parking lot as the medical place because I haven't had dinner and he has. I don't have time to think about this anymore.... I have places to be and things to do. So now I'm going to go distract myself with a movie. 

So this is where it went down I think. I tried to slip a hint of how I was feeling to DH by saying when I saw him "I snuck a look and it looked like K's kidney." No real reaction. And anyway, a movie theater isn't really the place for that kind of conversation. Know what I did instead? I got an ice cream Snickers bar from the concession stand. All ridiculously overpriced $3.50 of it. I had time to think about it. I told DH I wanted it and he said "Am I supposed to talk you out of it or support you by saying ok because I don't know what I'm supposed to do."  So I just got it. I really wanted it. They always make me feel better. And I just didn't want to think about it, or anything, anymore. I'm not going to lie, it was really good. I also had (non-buttered) popcorn but it wasn't as good.

It wasn't until driving home that I finally decompressed and started actually thinking. I could've hopped on fb to my accountability group and reached out that I was having a hard time and feeling tempted. I didn't want to and I didn't. What made this time different? I had the thought while driving. Just as we need to pray hardest when it is hardest, so it is with reaching out. I didn't want to reach out because that would require some sort of explanation why. Not really, but it's that way in my head at least. That meant I needed to face with and feel my feelings. I don't want to do that tonight. I don't want to say that it hurt or that I'm afraid or that I'm sad that I don't have my mom to talk to about womanly things. I don't want to admit that I worry about the worst because I've had such toxic people in my life for so long who have been very critical of me and my health (healthy or not) and my tendency to prepare for the worst just in case. It's just that the worst becomes such a real possibility when your mom dies suddenly from a health condition she didn't know about when you were only 17, and she only 38. I thought as I drove that I should've said a prayer and told my Heavenly Father how I was feeling. Even just a silent one. Just to 'get it out' so I wouldn't feel so tempted to stuff it. Having that thought, of what I should do and that it was okay to feel those things and tell Him as much, while driving felt like my own little bit of grace. I'm still sad. I'm still scared. I'm still nervous. But I'm trying, I'm really really trying, to be ok with that and to ALLOW myself to feel that fully. To be okay with allowing myself that. If it all turns out nothing then I don't need to feel stupid or embarrassed for putting this out there and feeling those things. Right? I mean, it's okay that this is my reality and I shouldn't be worrying about those toxic voices of "you're being a hypochondriac" or "I'm sure it's not a big deal" or "there's no point in worrying" because hearing those voices really probably is just messing me up more. Those people with those voices are mostly out of my life now. So why do I still let them talk to me as though they matter?  Why do I struggle so much to let them go when the further I get in my recovery the more clear their damage becomes?  Maybe it's that they are the ones who were always there for me. Or at least who I thought were. So the thought of something happening that would leave me 'needing' them leaves me anxious that I will just be all alone? Except DH. There is always him. He has never been toxic, even in his addiction. I know I've always got him. Oh, and there's that other guy. The one I should have talked to first. 

struggles.

I haven't journaled in so long and I can tell the difference.  I never realized before how much it can help you keep your head about you.  I recommitted last night to my life and to bringing order and balance back to it.  I am looking forward to that and I am grateful that my Heavenly Father clearly supports me in that as I woke up entirely without an alarm, feeling rested, early enough for self care time as I so desired.  I know that He knows the desires of my heart and that He wishes me to be successful and have all the blessings I so desire.

It has been a rough few months.  I tried, though I think now only half-heartedly, not to let it get to me and to turn it over to Christ.  It began when I publicly shared feelings I was having about missing people and missing being able to hang out with women without worrying if the conversation was going to turn vulgar and I would need to work up the courage to leave.  I meant every word of it as I felt so sad to feel so apart from everyone.  I also was struggling with adjusting to our move (after losing our home in foreclosure while we had a short sale offer on it), and with K2 having had a staph infection that kept us confined for 2 weeks.  In any case, that led to my best friend from high school blasting me in an email to all of our book club as well as in a private email where she said our "relationship was over" and proceeded to detail every criticism of every aspect of my life she said she'd been harboring for the past couple of years.  I felt shocked and stunned (and, yet, a little part of me not) and so hurt.  I felt troubled and hurt that standing for my values, ones I'd expect other members of my faith to hold or at least good friends of mine to understand, would cause so many to be offended to such an extent.  I think frequently of the scripture "the wicked taketh the truth to be hard" and yet I find myself not wanting to think that of them for some reason because it feels like I'm passing judgment on them negatively, as they have so hurtfully done to me.

So I have struggled with this and allowed it to consume much more of my mind and heart than has been good for it.  Instead I should regularly be focusing on the fact that I know my Heavenly Father supported my standing for truth and righteousness....that inside of me I knew I was risking losing or upsetting friends when I stood up to them, yet I could no longer walk that line.  I felt so strongly the need to choose the Lord's side (I need to remember that's always the winning side).... I need to remind myself often of the feeling of approval I got when I went to the temple all broken-hearted about it all- the acknowledgement of approval by my Savior and Heavenly Father and the testifying voice that told me I had kept my covenants and been willing to sacrifice all, even friendships, in the name of the gospel.  I must remind myself often that theirs is the only opinion of me that truly matters and I simply should not concern myself with any others' except to correct any wrongdoings on my part (which has occupied a lot of my mind as well- trying to find responsibility for it in myself in a way that would give me back a sense of control on the matter).  However, that is unhealthy too to the amount and degree that I have done that rather than just focusing on the feeling of the spirit I got and accepting that things have changed and for the better.

I love my family and I feel so blessed to have them.  DH has done his best to be understanding and supporting without passing judgment (which is hard for him where this particular 'friend' is concerned).  The kids are so sweet and have such great personalities and spirits.  They really do light up my life.  They wanted to play with this friend's daughter as soon as school got out for summer and that was hard.  But I was honest with them about why that would no longer be happening and I think it will be a good learning experience for them.

I am looking forward to a new week and a renewed commitment to life.  I am going to be a human being rather than just a human doing.  I am going to live as God intended me and I am so grateful to know He loves me.

the truth.

It's weird how when you feel like you should be writing in your journal but don't, out of sheer laziness, you start to feel like things are building up inside of you.  Nothing in particular- just things.  Now that I've seen the difference that regular journaling can make, I feel and notice a difference when I haven't been doing it.

I really am terrible with consistency and I want to be better about that.  But the only way to that is by being more consistent so.....

I think I'm in some sort of rut or something.  I think I'm trying to avoid something....something that's working its way out to be faced.  Perhaps it's simply that I know I have no one or nothing to blame for my obese weight but myself.  I don't want to admit that and take that responsibility because then it means I cant' do what I want- or that I must otherwise say I am choosing morbid obesity.  That I am choosing to put my health at risk.  That I am choosing to be uncomfortable around others, in my clothes, or in the bedroom.  Who would make those choices??  Who in their right mind anyway?

I recently found this photo from when I had lost all that weight after Nutrisystem.  I twas taken just days before I found out I was pregnant with K.  I look fantastic and so young.  I keep looking at it and the thought comes to me over and over "You did it before, what's stopping you now?"  And you know what?  I don't know.  I wish I could figure out what that difference was between now and then.  I suppose I wanted it more then.  That much is obvious.  But why?  I suppose it could be because that was my first true, serious attempt at losing that weight and I felt like I had something to prove- to myself and to the world- that I could do this.  Now that I've regained that weight, and more, I feel like it's just discouragement.  I guess I either don't' truly believe I can, or I don't think I have what is left to make it happen.

As I write that thought though I know it's so not true.  I know that's precisely how Satan would have me feel.  I know that I've experienced miracles and healing from the Lord.  I know that He has shown me that He cares very much about the things that matter to me, even the seemingly most insignificant things- and that He would happily give me whatever help I needed for what would make me happy if I would but ask.  So what is stopping me?  Am I afraid of losing weight?  Afraid of feeling strong and in control?  Afraid of feeling like I am attractive?  Afraid of admitting my own choices by making the choice to do things differently and having it actually produce results?  That last one seems to really ring true.  I guess I am afraid of the judgments others will make of my current self based on my future self.  That seems so ridiculous because the fact is that if they're going to make judgments then they are likely making judgments now and at least then they'd more likely be more positive?  What do I care about what 'they' think anyway?  I just remember feeling so angry about how much better I was treated, how much more respect and attention I got, after I had lost those 60lbs.  Why I'm allowing that to half me now I just don't know.  As though I think I'm proving something to the world by choosing to stay fat?  Thinking if I do so long enough they'll treat me that way again regardless???  What the heck?!  I certainly wouldn't have myself to hide behind anymore.