Author: alicewgold

I would like to state that I am a brunette, but now I am a mix of grey, white, brown, and blonde. I would also like to say that I am 150 pounds, but that would be a boldfaced lie. How about I say I am work in progress because that is the truth? A beautiful work in progress. I love the sound of my fingers tapping on the keyboard and my greatest hope is that something that I write will lift someone else on their journey.

Really Need to Count Blessings Today

I really need to count blessings today before the misery I am feeling swallows me whole. This will more than likely be the most pathetic counting blessing post ever as I am not feeling grateful. Not one bit.

I am grateful to be alive even if it means that I have to experience negativity and adversity. I am grateful for the privilege of mortality.

I am grateful to have a home, no matter how humble.

I am grateful for my husband who loves me and is willing to go to therapy with me so we can tackle our weaknesses together. I know a lot of other really great men that are too afraid to take a really good look at themselves in the mirror and do their own housecleaning. My husband is my hero for how hard he works at our marriage.

I am grateful to the three friends who showed up to help me clean our old place, one in particular who was red-faced when she got through with two hours of hard-core cleaning. When I did my final wipe down I didn’t have to redo any of her work. She scrubbed my walls with lysol (I don’t know how she got them so clean) and vacuumed with what later I discovered to be a totally full vacuum bag. (I threw that piece of junk vacuum away.) Thank you Lori. Your service meant so very much. And thank you to the other two ladies who didn’t work as long but still showed up to support.

I am grateful to my husband’s brother and sister and their spouses who took a big chunk of their Saturday last week to help us move our furniture. I am grateful to my sister-in-law Jill’s dad for letting us borrow his landscaping truck and trailer when we realized that our van and my brother-in-law’s truck just weren’t going to cut it.

I am grateful to the friend who on FB messaged me and offered up his truck. I haven’t seen this friend in over a decade (we used to work together) and his offering touched my heart so much.

I am grateful to have lived in the ward that we did for the past two and half years. I am grateful for the lessons learned and the friendships forged. I am grateful Chelsea just showed up one day when I was really struggling. I didn’t have to say anything to her, but just her physical presence was a stabilizing force.

I am grateful that I was able to sell enough of our stuff on KSL to cover the expenses that we had no idea how we would cover when we were told we had to move with such little notice. I am grateful that someone bought our piano so we didn’t have to move it.

I am grateful I had a teenage kid in my ward that I could pay to take my old bed to the dump. I am grateful for the years of service that bed provided and for the friends who a long time ago donated it to us. I am grateful to now get to sleep on Abigail’s old bed. It is firm and I don’t sink to the middle every time LG gets in and out. I am also grateful that I get to be back in 600 thread-count Egyptian Cotton sheets.

I am grateful that I left our old home spotless. I am grateful I worked my tail off to leave it better than I found it, even if the landlord e-mailed me to tell me that she may not return our deposit because of the barely noticeable oil stains on the driveway (that I spent weeks scrubbing). I know in my heart that if she keeps our deposit it is really because she wants to use our money towards the driveway replacement that needed to happen years ago. I know that I bore the inconvenience of shoveling that broken down driveway for the past two winters and never complained when the shovel didn’t work over the deteriorated cement.

I am grateful that my van is working even if it spews oil like a broken pipeline. Before we moved it wasn’t running at all and we didn’t know if we would be able to afford to get it fixed, but we did and I am so grateful it wasn’t a really costly repair. I am grateful I have street-side parking at our new place so I don’t have to worry about repeating the oil in the driveway.

I am grateful that our landlord allowed us to just give her two weeks notice on our move and didn’t make us pay rent for the obligatory additional two weeks as our new landlord made us start paying immediately. That two weeks without rent at the old place will make up for the fact that we may not get our deposit back.

I am grateful for my kids and their resilience. Even though Caroline seems to be taking this move really hard I am grateful that she is mine and that we can be there for each other.

I’m grateful that I have internet service even if it means that there is a cable running through an open window because the new landlord is too cheap to pay for a decent solution. I am also grateful that I have running water, even if it comes out of a kitchen sink that whistles like the Titanic. I am grateful to have the shower that has a constant hot water leak that the landlord will probably never fix. I am grateful that he pays the water bill.

I am grateful we own a shovel, so that I can shovel the neighbor’s dog’s poop that is always threatening to be stepped on close to our walkway.

I am grateful that we are only going to have to pay half of the utilities at the new place. We will split the bill 50/50 with the people upstairs and I am grateful that they keep it at a cozy 90 degrees so our easy solution is to just open the windows when we are hot. I am grateful we won’t have to worry about the A/C bill come summer because there is no A/C.

I am grateful to the friends who took me out for my birthday early last week. I was actually able to enjoy myself. I am grateful to the other friend who brought me a present yesterday and a balloon. I haven’t had a balloon on my birthday since high school and having a gift to open made the lack of gifts on my actual birthday not quite as hard to swallow. I am grateful my sister-in-law made me a chocolate cake. I can’t remember the last time I had a real birthday cake.

I am grateful that LG and I were able to have a date on my birthday even if it was just a last minute let’s get out of the house. His best of intentions didn’t pan out but after the last few weeks we’ve had, just getting out with no children was divine.

I am grateful the trail sits solid on the ground every day and waits to greet me so I can breathe deeply, enjoy the sunshine, and find serenity.

I am grateful that Caroline has preschool so that she will have something consistent and familiar among the chaos.

Feel Like I’m Falling

Fall has been my favorite season for as long as I can remember. I love the weather, the start of a new school year, football games, the eye-catching colors everywhere, outdoor adventuring, and of course my birthday! I turned 40 yesterday. I feel pretty good for forty. I feel better, happier, healthier, and fuller then I did at 30. I feel self-aware. I love myself. I really do. I think I am blessed to have great self-awareness and am working on giving myself more credit for the good in me while simultaneously tackling the weaknesses that hold me back.

I’m far from perfect. So far from perfect. I still get depressed from time to time. It is nothing like it used to be, but there are still dark periods that I don’t like to experience. I am trying to keep this blog as real as I can, but I am also trying to keep it positive because if I’ve learned anything in my last decade of life it’s that life is what we make of it.

So, I am a bit down today. That’s the real for you. The positive is that I know it won’t last. I will think my way out of this. I have learned not to dwell on the bad and I know that I can’t squash the negative feelings away by not acknowledging them. I have to feel through it and keep the light burning through the dark. I have to allow myself to have crappy moments. I have to give myself the space to mourn for the things that I don’t like, the things that don’t bring me happiness.

I write from my new little writing space in my teeny 3 bedroom 1,000 sq. foot basement apartment. I don’t like our new living arrangements. Not one bit. I am deeply depressed about the fact that I am forty and don’t have the securities that I’ve longed for since I can remember. I don’t like not being able to give my kids more. I don’t like that I can’t get a moment of peace and quiet anywhere. I don’t like that the only time I will see the sun until I move is when I walk out of my home. I don’t like that I have the inconvenience of letting my dog outside at the minimum of four times a day. I don’t like that my four-year-old Caroline cried at bedtime because our new place scares her. She wakes us up all night again because she isn’t at peace. I don’t like that my fourteen-year-old cried because she misses taking the bus with her friends and my ten-year-old and newly turned twelve-year-old have to be driven and picked up from the school they used to be able to walk to and from.

I don’t like goodbyes. Today I said goodbye to many good friends that I’ve had the privilege of sharing lives with for the past two and a half years. When my Bella ran up to give her special church leader a hug today it made every part of me cry. I wish things could be different. I wish things were better. I wish money wasn’t always a constant worry. I wish that I didn’t always feel the tug between being home with my kids where I can nourish and teach and going out and getting a job where I can earn the money that could keep bad things from happening. I wish we didn’t have $800+ a month in student loan payments and I wish my husband earned the salary that all his education should have earned him.

So as you can feel here, tonight I am falling. I am surrendering to the sad because I’ve got to get through this sadness, resentment, and regrets. I can’t just power through. I have to lay my broken pieces down and then pick them back up again and once again move forward.

Tonight I am just pieces of a broken puzzle. I’ve fallen off my wall. In fact I don’t even know where the wall can be found. I’m in a place of total unrest. I’m angry with myself, with my husband, with my God. Why do things have to be so hard? Why can’t I give my kids what they deserve? Why are we always the ones who have to make sacrifices when others just get what they want? What am I missing? What do I still need to change? I’ve worked so hard at living as frugally as possible. I have always paid my 10% tithe. I work hard. I support my husband. I babysit other people’s children so that I can be home with my own and still pay the bills. I try my hardest to listen to God. I pray constantly. I serve other people. Why then is my life so hard? Aren’t I doing the things that are right?

If God tried to wrap his arms around me tonight I would push Him away and that is the truth. Sometimes I just get so mad that He continues to let me suffer. I know, I know, someone is out there screaming at their screen that I am selfish, I am prideful, I am stupid, I am ungrateful. And I am. Maybe tomorrow I will do better. No, not maybe. Tomorrow I will do better. Tomorrow I will continue to forge ahead. Tonight, however, I will cry myself to sleep and that’s o.k.

Love grows best

After lamenting on my last post about my anxiety over moving into a home so small,
on the corresponding FB post a really good friend linked a song that came to her mind.
How I love lyrical therapy! Leave it to Anna to do it just right.
She may be one of the most musically talented friends that I have
and interestingly I have a lot of musical friends.

Yesterday we finished removing all of our possessions from our old place. After working my tail off for a week straight and scrubbing down every surface of 2,400 sq. feet I was relieved to have it over. However as I drove away from our home of two and a half years for the last time I was filled with profound longing to stay.

This morning I had an hour to kill all by myself and I couldn’t make myself want to be in this dreary basement so I took the dog on a walk. It cheered me up to be in the fall crisp air and to soak in the sunshine.

When I finally got home I listened to the Little House song and cried like a baby. I may hate where I live, but it will be a good home if it makes the love in our family grow best. I am looking forward to finally having a night to just sit home and watch a movie as a family. I bet that someday I won’t want to leave here either. (or not)

Relationships

I got up at 7 am and tried all day to blog and between three non-working keys on the laptop (that have fixed themselves miraculously) and the million other interruptions/to-do items, I never even typed in the blog url to get started until ten o’clock tonight. How I’ve needed to write. It’s silly, this love affair I have with writing. It’s as if the blank page is my sanctuary. I fill it up and become the sanctuary for myself.

Firefly Lane is my latest read. My 4-star review can be found over on GoodReads. The book is about two best friends over a thirty year period of time. It was heart wrenching and touching in every single decade. It made me wish for a friendship like that of fictional Kate and Tully. I have great friends but none who know me as well as these two knew one another and none who have been around and close for 30 years. Well, maybe my sisters count. I’ve known them a long time and they are pretty intimate with my insanity.

2012-11-27 11.36.24

As I set down this book upon completion I was overcome with the idea that relationships are all that matter. The only thing I am taking with me when I die is my relationship with God, my relationship with myself, my relationship with my family, and my relationship with my fellow human beings. That’s it.

I can hope that I can take my relationship with paper and a pen but it ain’t gonna happen. Anything I write is stuck in mortality. Hmm. Maybe that’s not actually true. Maybe this explains my love with language. Like Kristin Hannah, I can write something that could inspire someone to have better relationships. If I do, they will take that inspiration with them….take my words with them. Even though that is a total tangent, it’s cool.

It lifted my spirits today to know that material stuff is petty. It’s not necessary for a happy fulfilled life. Sometimes its a hindrance.

So, life has been pretty crappy around here lately. Our landlord decided to sell the house we have been renting for the past two and a half years. We have a home here and love our neighborhood, but now we have been forced to move on. It’s been hard and emotional.

Not only is it hard to leave our beloved home, it’s also hard because LG and I made the decision to be financially responsible and make a significant downgrade. The downgrade is depressing yet necessary so that we can save money to not just get into our own home again but to be financially secure once we get there. We could have borrowed money to buy the house we are in and saved ourselves the hassle of moving, but if and when the furnace went out, we’d be in trouble. We have learned the hard way that we really don’t want to borrow money and we also don’t want to put ourselves in a position to need to be rescued.

So in the next few weeks we will be leaving our four bedroom 2,600 square foot home with a beautiful yard and a heaven-like neighborhood to reside in a 1,400 square foot 3 bedroom basement apartment with ONE bathroom!! It just sucks. There is no other way around it. There is nothing worse than knowing I am a parent who is failing my kids. They aren’t getting the stability we want them to have. They don’t get a lot of what we want them to have. What feels really crappy is knowing if we hadn’t taken our vacation last year to Disneyland, we may have had a different outcome now. If I would have known at the time that I was choosing future stability over one nice vacation for my kids before they fly from the nest, I don’t know what I would have done.

I do know one thing: I’m not taking my place of residence with me when I go, but we will all hopefully take with us the memories that were made. We will even take with us the memories we are going to make while fighting over the one toilet for the next few years. Somehow that makes this broken mom feel o.k. with it all. It also makes me feel better to know that the relationships I’ve forged in our current home are not just gone because I am moving, they will continue with me forever.

A song comes to mind.

You Make Me Smile

It’s been that kind of day. Actually it’s been that kind of week.
I am tempted to say that it has been that kind of life, but that would just be stinkin thinkin.

I just switched over from the laptop as just to be in sync with the universe it has decided to crash every 30 seconds. At least I had enough patience to get this awesome photo uploaded first.

I really really love my husband.

He makes me smile.

When I am having the kind of week when the pressures just keep mounting: I am in the middle of searching for a new place to live that seems impossible to find, dreading the goodbyes with current friends and even the beloved family pet, crying over my phone camera breaking, having a car that repeatedly won’t start, and figuring it all out on a drained savings account (and these weeks seem to happen too often), I can always count on my man to be my calm in the storm. He’s the apple of my eye, the beat in my heart, the light of my life and he always knows how to put a smile on my face.

How could I ever want for more? When I have my perspective right, I let it all go and just watch him sleep. I try not to worry about where I will watch him sleep in the future or the fact that we will both sleep permanently one day. Right now I just let him make me smile and the smile is enough.

CYB – I Never Leave His Hands

My life is so beautiful. I don’t say that to brag or feel better than you but I say it because it is true. God has repeatedly opened my eyes to the beauty of Him, the beauty around me, and the beauty inside me. I bet your life is pretty amazing too whether you realize it or not. It is hard for me to believe that my gratitude can grow more and more every day because sometimes my days are hard, but by practicing gratitude even my bad days seems good. Sometimes I am so filled with love and gratitude that I feel like I could burst, so I usually just bawl for a second or two to get it out.

A friend brought over roast beef, protein shakes, and ovulation kits (which I may be giving back after further consideration.) She couldn’t use any of the three because she is pregnant. Being thought of was wonderful but sharing her joy in her pregnancy was the better part. The time she took to visit meant more than the consumables.

Logan and Jill went to Abigail’s soccer game and my heart was full to know that my daughter has support from an extended family too. They also took the girls for an adventure and they all seemed to have a blast. Visiting with Logan and Jill and our girls while we debated between Harry Potter vs. Percy Jackson was an extremely enjoyable evening that will remain with me forever.

LG and I got to go see Diana Krall as our belated 16th anniversary gift to ourselves. We bought the tickets early in the summer when our savings account was a lot more full. It was such a beautiful concert and an enjoyable evening together. LG had a $10 Red Robin gift-card leftover from his birthday too and so even though our budget barely had the stretching room for the drive to SLC, we were still able to go and enjoy a meal out as part of the evening.

Even though it meant we had to eat more frugally I was finally able to pay down some doctor bills. This year we were put on a high deductible plan that means we pretty much have to pay for all of our medical expenses out of our pocket. It’s been a rough transition but we’ve survived. We may even end the year with every doctor bill paid in full.

The van’s engine light went off again and then came back on. It makes me smile when it is on or when it is off.

I have an opportunity to volunteer with The United Way in their Welcome Baby program. I will get to go and visit new moms and take them a little care package (donated by the community) and discuss important parts of mom and baby health. I’m really excited about this service opportunity. Mothering is a passion.

The neighbor Teresa brought over homemade salsa. It was way better then what I make.

We got to go to General Conference last week. I really love the perks of living in Utah. We also get to go to the temple on a monthly basis. Being so close to church headquarters is a huge blessing in our lives right now.

Abigail is getting straight A’s because she wants to and that makes me feel like we’ve done something really right. She wants to get a college scholarship and she is planning ahead.

LG thought he had a job offer in China but it ended up being a scam. It didn’t work out but it was sure fun for our family to have the excitement for a day. It was kind of a bummer coming down off of it, but I learned a really cool lesson: it’s about family. Our kids were ready to leave all their comforts and take an adventure. They didn’t even bat an eyelash. Abigail’s exact words, “It’s freaking China, mom. Who cares about my clothes, prom, or American boys. Let’s go!”

Jennifer brought over banana bread on a rough day. Sometimes the littlest gestures are a really big deal.

After caring for a friend with a bad back, she gave us a bucket of apples to say thanks. It was unexpected and unnecessary but pretty wonderful…especially since she packaged it up in the cutest ever red bucket.

Everyone is healthy. I take that for granted, but having so many friends pass through trials of sickness and hospitalizations this past month has made me so grateful for our health. I just got done reading Heaven is for Real and reading about Colton’s hospitalization brought back the three awful days of 2005 when 2-year-old Bella was in the hospital with a serious respiratory virus. I was so scared. Not only am I grateful for our health, I am grateful for all the healing we’ve had collectively over the years.

Reading the book also solidified a beautiful message from God about my last miscarriage. The pastor who wrote the book and his wife came to the same conclusion that I have about a miscarried baby. I had a pretty spiritual experience in the temple after mine occurred. A child came to me and told me not to forget him. I originally thought it meant I was supposed to have another baby or adopt some kids, but I am becoming at peace with the fact that maybe I will raise up that child in the millennium. That will be a blessing of no description so why mourn now?

LG gave me a priesthood blessing that said the Lord was pleased with the way I am raising my kids. Is there really anything better that I could ever hear?

A friend going through rough times chose to be grateful and told me I was her inspiration. It made me so happy not to be the inspiration but to see her able to have happiness during tough times.

After running 6 miles in 54 minutes the other days I bawled like a baby for my quarter mile warm down. God does strengthen, enable, and bless us when we seek him. I was so very grateful to Him for my physical strength.

Amy and Tyler had a baby. No really. Amy and Tyler had a baby!! After 15+ years of infertility and unsuccessful In-vitro and 2 cool adopted kids, my brother and sister in law were blessed with a little miracle biological baby girl.

LG and I have never been better, but helping other ladies at church going through hard times has helped me remember how far we’ve come and how grateful I should be to have a husband who didn’t give up, who works hard for our family, and who loves me wholeheartedly.

I had a profound feeling of love contentment and joy walking with Caroline along the sidewalks of SLC while people lined the streets singing hymns. I felt the spirit of the Lord testifying to me that He is in charge of the whole earth.

I know he watches over me. Which brings me to a song….

Loving my Enemy – Literally

I’m a sucker for humanity. I love touchy-feely stories of love, hope, kindness, and self-sacrifice.

I love stuff like this, this, and this.

Contention makes me a little uncomfortable. I can handle it but it just sets my heart at unrest. Because I’m a Mormon I’ve experienced some pretty intense contention directed at me. I’ve been called a bigot for standing for traditional marriage. (I still self-talk myself through one really personal de-friend not because I am hurt but I am sad I may have really hurt someone else with my unwillingness to change my religious views.) I’ve survived an anonymous commenter on my old blog who for years always told me how stupid I was for my beliefs. (She/he is the reason I don’t have commenting open on this blog – I just don’t need anonymous stalkers who are cruel.) I’ve been teased by one of my very best friends about getting magical underwear after attending the temple for the first time. (I flipped her off – not my finest moment. I still love you friend, if you happen to be reading. Glad we can agree to disagree.)

A few years back when I attended the LDS Women’s General Meeting in SLC some anti-Mormons got sneaky and handed out their propaganda inside tissue packets. The attendees just thought someone was doing something really nice by handing out the tissues and were accepting them in droves. The meetings can get pretty emotional when you start feeling the influence of the Holy Ghost and tissues are always a welcome commodity. I am not afraid of a fight. Once I figured out what was going on, I gathered up all the tissues I could find and took them back to the lady on the corner with the wicker basket. I said calm yet firm, “I would never in a million years come and crash your church gathering and hand out crap against your church leaders.” I filled her basket back up with my stack of retrieved tissues and walked away. She was speechless. For the next two hour meeting I sat with a lump in my heart feeling like I should have been more kind. I let her offend me and I should have just showed her love and invited her inside to see what she was so threatened about.

This past Saturday we took our kids back to Salt Lake City for General Conference. Kids under eight years old aren’t allowed to attend and so LG took our older three girls into the Conference Center and I took Caroline across the street to listen wherever we could park ourselves. (We ended up in the basement of the Visitor’s Center in an almost empty theater with stadium seating – Rock on!) There are always a lot of protesters on the sidewalks and we passed one particularly vocal one. He was saying things like, “Your underwear is dirty. You are not saved. You are fools. You are deceived.” You know – the typical. I got a thought, “Go give him a hug.” I chuckled. No way! He was so loud and everyone couldn’t help but give him attention while passing by, there was no way I was going to put myself up for a lashing like that especially with Caroline in tow. I walked on. We watched the meeting and then passed him again while going to meet back up with LG. The thought came again, “Go give him a hug.”

As we sat and waited for LG at the end of the sidewalk I couldn’t shake the impression. Once he and the girls arrived I told LG, “I’ll be right back, there is something I have to do.” He questioned knowing I am never afraid to stick up for myself and probably a little afraid he might have to pick me up from jail, “Alice, what are you going to do? Are you going to get into trouble?” “No, no”, I assured him. “Just give me a second, I will be right back.” I ran back to the protester with the beard, the Mormon temple clothes wrapped around his wrists and the sign that said, “You are going to hell.” Now a really large crowd had gathered. I chuckled a prayer up to God, “You’ve got a sense of humor, you know.” And then I prayed the hug-receiver wouldn’t hit me. I walked right up to him as an obvious person on the opposite end of his views. Amazingly he quieted. I looked him in the eye and said, “Can I give you a hug?” He looked dumbfounded. As he answered I closed the space to not get fully rejected. He said, “I don’t think my wife will appreciate that.” I said, “How about a half hug then?” I quickly wrapped my left arm around his back and squeezed his left shoulder as he watched suspiciously. I explained, “I try to always follow any promptings that I get and this morning my prompting was to give you a hug.” I’ll give him credit as a human. He wasn’t mean. He didn’t hit me. He didn’t yell at me. He smiled. I smiled back and then returned without incident to my waiting husband relieved that he wouldn’t have to bail me out. It felt good to love my enemy.

I hope God doesn’t ask me to do something crazy like that again, but I hope if he does, I’ll have the courage.

I stole this photo off the internet. Oh internet police, please be kind. I needed a visual to match the story. My protester was right inside that gate on the left. Not shown in this photo…although that kind of looks like it could be him on the right sans his 5 other signs and temple clothes.

Funny side story. Abigail told her seminary teacher about this exchange on Monday and I guess he shared it with several of his classes. On her way home from school a lot of her friends asked her if I was the one who had hugged the protester. I guess I have a reputation as the crazy lady. I guess that is why I can still love my enemy….I can relate to them. I get their craziness and I get their passion. Even if we have polar opposite views, I mostly get that we share humanity and that is a beautiful beautiful thing.

remembering in the winter

Here in Orem, Utah the first snow of the year is on the ground. It’s always so beautiful and daunting at the same time. The snow always seems to come too early. It sneaks its way onto the ground piercing the darkest hours of the night when all the sleeping are oblivious. They went to bed smiling while thinking about how much they were enjoying the fall only to wake up to see fall squeezed out all together. Snow is tricky and rude like that. Its like the supermodel of weather. Nobody really wants it around with its cruel personality but they can’t help but admire it for the beauty it brings to the table.

In response to yesterday’s post I received a text last night. A stranger was thanking me for encouraging words during a hard week. It made me feel so happy. I felt like I made a difference for one person. I ask for no more than that. All I want to do is help people be happy. All I want to do is be happy. Such a small moment made me so proud and grateful. I felt as if I was fulfilling one mission in my life: spread hope.

I have been pondering about happiness this morning. I’ve been thinking about the winters of my life. When I was in the middle of the winters I wasn’t grateful for them. In fact I felt robbed. I felt abandoned by God. I felt hurt by perpetrators around me. I felt disappointed in myself. I was freezing and buried deep in snow. I felt like I would never live to spring.

The day I was diagnosed as Bi-Polar Type II sticks out as one of the harshest winters. I never wanted to be crazy. I felt totally cheated. What had I ever done to deserve such a cruel label? God must not have loved me. The time we lost our home in TN? That wasn’t fun. Receiving the news that my hubby didn’t pass the bar the first time was a big blow that seems totally minuscule now. One time in eighth grade a really cruel kid humiliated me for five minutes straight while my classmates all looked on and did nothing. He berated me calling me fat and ugly and worthless and everyone just stared as I tried to hold back tears. There was a day that I walked in on my ASB advisor to hear him bad-mouthing my family. The day I gave birth to Caroline I was fondled by the doctor who would later deliver my baby. While in labor, I cried and cried to my husband and mother-in-law who had been forced to leave the room right before the instance occurred. I was violated but I didn’t know what to do about it. Neither did they – that’s why we let the perpetrator deliver my daughter.

I’ve had extreme poverty as a child and as a mother of children. I’ve had difficult marital issues. I’ve lived three years of my life when both my hubby and I depended on one car to get us from work to school…that car was in the shop at least on a monthly basis. I’ve had health issues…pancreatitis, pluracy, gall bladder issues, club feet, and a chopped off toe. I served a mission for my church for eighteen months with nothing but a suitcase full of clothes that I bought myself at the thrift store. I’ve struggled with resentment that no one helped me understand earlier in life that graduating from college was something I could do. I’ve had excessive pride, envy, and impatience.

Losing multiple family members and friends too early is when I might have been the coldest. I’ve suffered with four miscarriages and infertility. I’ve also suffered from the decision my hubby and I made to start our family earlier than I would have preferred because that is what we knew God wanted for us. It was very hard to raise three children for the ten years while my hubby was in college. Finding out that a most trusted loved one had been untrustworthy – that winter lasted about ten years. There have been plenty of struggles with friends. I’ve had dark depression and have also been so manic that I did and said really stupid things. I’ve been engulfed in the chains of codependency wondering why people couldn’t even try to make me happy. I have hurt people. I have hurt myself. I have wallowed in pity. I have felt totally hopeless and in complete despair.

I’ve had a lot of winter in my life, but I’ve had more summer, spring, and fall. I appreciate the warmer seasons but I am most grateful for the winters…they’ve made me a permanently worn warm woolen coat. Without my winters, I wouldn’t be so resilient. I also couldn’t help other people experiencing their own below freezing temperatures. I’ve found nothing more sweet and full of sunshine in this life then first helping myself to overcome and second being a beacon for others.

While pondering about winters this morning I came across this video below.
It’s a beautiful reminder that if we just courageously stand up to our winters,
we each have a moment of sure summer joy to claim for our own.

I’ve always loved this song by Bette Midler.

“The Rose”

Some say love, it is a river
That drowns the tender reed.
Some say love, it is a razor
That leaves your soul to bleed.
Some say love, it is a hunger,
An endless aching need.
I say love, it is a flower,
And you its only seed.

It’s the heart afraid of breaking
That never learns to dance.
It’s the dream afraid of waking
That never takes the chance.
It’s the one who won’t be taken,
Who cannot seem to give,
And the soul afraid of dyin’
That never learns to live.

When the night has been too lonely
And the road has been too long,
And you think that love is only
For the lucky and the strong,
Just remember in the winter
Far beneath the bitter snows
Lies the seed that with the sun’s love
In the spring becomes the rose.

For All Suicidal Teenagers

Hi guys. Please hear me out. It will just take a second. Do you see this cute girl up here? This is my daughter Bella. Do you see that sad look on her face? She doesn’t like to smile for pictures. Maybe you don’t like to smile for pictures either. Maybe right now you are feeling like you will never smile again. Ever. There may be nothing to smile about as far back as you can remember. I have felt like that before. It’s a crappy way to feel. I want you to know that I don’t feel like that any more. In fact I smile almost all the time. I want you to know that just because right now things suck, they don’t have to stay that way. I need you to know that.

When I was a younger person there were a lot of times that I would go to the beach and think about jumping off the cliff. I would stare at a razor while taking a bath and wonder what it would be like to end it all. I wanted to end it. I really did. There were a lot of days when I was sick of it all. I was sick of not feeling smart. I was sick of my crazy family. I was sick of being called fat. I was sick of being poor. I was sick of feeling ugly. I was sick of being unappreciated. I was sick of knowing that I was not special. I was sick of knowing that I would never do anything amazing with my life. I was sick over the boy that I really liked but didn’t like me back. And to be honest, I had a right to be sick of it. A lot of those days were really bad and I didn’t have anything to be happy about.

But I do now. I have a lot to be happy about. I have Bella up there and I have three other kids who are awesome. I have a great husband. I am not even that fat any more. I ran 3 miles yesterday in 27 minutes. That’s pretty good for an old lady. I’m turning 40 next month and that is pretty cool. But guess what? I wouldn’t have any of that if I would have jumped off that cliff. I would have never figured out how to be happy if I gave up. I’m so glad I didn’t give up. I am so proud of myself. Only I can take the credit for choosing to stay alive. Nobody else did that for me. It was all me. There was a light inside of me that pushed against so much dark. Over the years that light has gotten brighter and brighter and the darkness is now the small part that tries to push against the light. I am proud to say that it doesn’t usually get very far any more. I have learned so much. I have grown so much. I have overcome so much.

I know you might feel all alone. I know you think nobody cares. I am not here to tell you that you are wrong. Nobody wants to be told that they are wrong. I am here to tell you that you are right. You are right to feel the way that you feel. Feelings aren’t bad. You don’t need to be ashamed for your feelings. Feelings just are what they are. All of your feelings are important. They are important to me and they are probably important to other people, but more than anything, you need to let them be important to you.

Right now, you may, in fact, be all alone. There may be no one else out there who cares. Nobody may know that you are hiding away ready to harm yourself. They may know that you are hiding away, but they probably figure that whatever you are going through can be worked out later. They may not understand the depth of your hurt or worse they may understand how much you hurt but they aren’t doing anything to help. There may be so many things that they can be doing and they aren’t. I am one of these people. I am a stranger to you. I may have NOT smiled at you today when I had the chance. I may have been unkind.I may have been thoughtless and said something stupid. (Heck, this post may be one of those things.) I hope I wasn’t, but what you are about to do could be all my fault. I don’t like sitting with that idea. That’s why I am writing this post just for you.

Now here is the part that you don’t want to hear. Sorry I am a mom. I have to throw one part in here. The most sad part about the way that you are feeling right now is not the fact that nobody else cares….the saddest part is that…..you don’t care. Somewhere in the last few minutes, hours, days, months, or years, you said….Forget it. I’m done. I’m not doing this anymore. I don’t care anymore. I quit. I’m not trying. It’s never going to get any better. I suck. I’m not worth it. I can’t fix me. I can’t be happy. I will never be happy.

Now steel yourself because I am going to tell you what you really don’t want to hear – you’re wrong. You’re not wrong in the way that you feel. You have every right to feel that way. You’re wrong that you believe that it can’t get better. I feel compelled to tell you today that it not only CAN get better it WILL get better if you just give it a chance. I know this because I have lived it. The only chance you need to give it is to live. That’s it. Keep living. I am begging of you. Please don’t think that killing yourself is the answer. It isn’t your best option. Yeah it’s an option and yeah it will make things go away right now, but what you can’t possibly understand right now is that you won’t just be killing all the darkness, you will also kill the light. Even if it’s just little right now and you don’t even believe that it is in there, you will never know if it could have grown. You will never get to see its beautiful potential living to its fullest on this earth.

Yesterday I got a call from a friend about an attempted suicide of one of her children. It hit home. Hard. I thought about it all day. I thought about you all day. I thought about what I could do to help. Her scenario was one that has already played out in my life with someone who I love dearly.

I wish more than anything I could have done something for him. I wish more than anything that I would have known he was feeling how you are feeling. I would have ran to him as fast as I could, and so would the other 300+ people who were at his funeral. We all would have wrapped our arms around him and wept with him for how crappy he felt if we just knew.

Last week, my friend found her son hanging in the closet and the only difference between her and others is that she found her son a lot sooner. He was purple. He had not been breathing for five minutes, but his light was still on just a tad inside his heart. Yes, inside his heart! Where else would it be? It was at the very deepest part and the dark was about to take it over. Sometimes the light is hard to find when it gets so small. But her son’s light wasn’t leaving. It wanted to stay, even though her son didn’t want it to.

She and her husband were able to revive him and get him to the hospital and hours later with a respirator down his throat his eyes opened showing he had come back to life. Everyone rejoiced. (Oh, how I wish I could have had that ending with my loved one) The medical staff said that this kid was a miracle. He was only the second kid that they had brought back from death and the first without any significant brain damage.

My friend was so relieved at the outcome and is relieved that her son is now getting the help he needs to find happiness in his life. She was so glad she got to say sorry for the fight that they had minutes before he decided to end it. She is so happy that he won’t miss out on so many of the great things that lie in his future. Maybe he will climb Mt. Kilimanjaro. Maybe he will learn to surf. Maybe he will find medication (like I did) that will make the dark go away. Maybe he will grow up to be a teacher and help other kids. Maybe he will just wake up tomorrow and really that is pretty amazing considering the alternative.

I know this may sound too dreary. It may be really hard for you to read. Why am I spreading this morbid message on the internet? I mean really, aren’t those scenarios only for THOSE families? The rest of us don’t need to hear about this stark reality. Only the crazies have to deal with their children taking their own lives. Well, I am here to tell you adults that you are wrong. We’re all at risk. This is a harsh truth.

Adults and kids are dying every day because they are taking their own lives. They aren’t crazy. Well, that is, they aren’t crazier than the rest of us. Aren’t we all a little crazy? The adults may be too afraid to deal with their mental illness because of all the sad stigmas in our society. (Adults, don’t be afraid.) The kids are discouraged and they lack reasoning skills. (Kids, it’s a proven fact that you don’t think rationally – you have limited vision into your future) That’s why I want to help you see that your future is pretty bright. The sun can come out tomorrow. You all see a way to escape unhappiness and are taking it. It’s not just tragic when it happens, it’s tragic because we are not doing enough to stop it. It’s tragic because when people rob themselves of the present darkness (which is undeniably relieving) they are also robbing themselves of the potential light (which is so bright they can’t even fathom it.)

Kids, please listen to me. I may not love you now, but I would if you gave me a chance to meet you. Stay alive. Keep fighting. Most of all keep caring about yourself because you are not worthless. You are not unloved. You are not stupid. O.k. you might be stupid, actually. You might even be fat, but you can change that. You can change anything that you decide to change. Your potential is only measured by you. Your light is the most beautiful thing in the whole world and it wants to live. It wants to chase out the dark. Just let it. It may need some time. Don’t rob it of its chance.

If this post hasn’t been enough to convince you, please call me and give me a chance to tell you to your face. (Don’t tell me that I don’t care as I am about to put my personal cell phone number on the internet and we all know how stupid that is) My number is 801 then 3 then 5 then 8 and at the end is 666 (my husband apparently thinks I am evil – he’s funny like that) and 2. Call me now. You have the choice to change the stupid part right now. Kill yourself – stupid. Call me – smart. See how that works?

Here is an interesting news story that I can’t get to embed for the life of me.
You are going to have to hit the link.
http://www.ksl.com/?nid=148&sid=24937434

Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death. Let’s change that.

The United State is the 33rd highest suicide nation. The whole world is hurting people. See, you aren’t alone in misery.

Suicide is growing. We can stop it.

If you don’t want to call me, call the hotline found here.

My ManBoy

My latest read is Rules of Civility by Amor Towles.
I don’t know if it could really be considered a book about happiness,
but it is definitely a tale of how NOT to be happy.
I’ve enjoyed it. It must have been so liberal for its time.

I’ve been having a lazy day with Caroline finishing up the last 50 pages
and the above quote was such a beautiful way to explain
what I love most about my husband that I had to come and write.
I haven’t even finished the last few pages yet.

Being married is the best thing that has ever happened to me in this life. It is also the hardest thing that I have ever done. Staying in love takes a lot of work, but it is the best kind of work that I make myself want to do. Funny the other day a lady at church came up to me to tell me that going to marriage counseling was unnecessary. It was almost as if she thought I had crossed some line of impropriety. Meanwhile she lives in a loveless marriage. I tried to explain to her that marriage counseling is a wonderful tool that my husband and I use to both get what we want. I am so grateful to have a really good counselor. LG and I both have never been healthier or happier.

Back to the above quote. Reading those two short lines brought back a flood of images of times when I observed my husband with such great love I thought I would burst. I didn’t realize when they occurred that those moments were so special because they were when his boy and his man collided. One of the most beautiful parts of sharing a life with a partner is knowing them better than anyone else in the world. Knowing their self in the present and the past and therefore the future also. Knowing where they’ve come from is sacred but knowing what they will become is the most powerful. Being with my man in the past and present is my greatest privilege second only to the future of guaranteed togetherness that lies ahead.

So, I want to write those moments before I forget them.
The moments when my husband was perhaps the most beautiful to me, when his man and boy were both present:

Riding bikes along a trail together. (He used to love to fill his backpack and leave for a whole Saturday with his Vienna Sausages)
Building fires. (Whenever I see him build a fire I think of him as a ten-year-old Cub Scout)
Playing video games. (Thank heavens this doesn’t happen very often like some men who stay stuck as boys)
Nerf Gun fights. (There’s just something about a man and his gun)
Watching Lord of the Rings, Avengers, Superman, Batman, etc. and hearing him name the villain as they show up on the screen. (He has a photographic memory for those old comic books and fantasy novels)
When he plays The Entertainer on the piano. (It’s as if he shrinks by 150 pounds right before my eyes)
Listening to Sarah McLachlan. (His teenage crush cannot be hid)
Singing along to John Denver. (We share this childhood memory)
Watching him play basketball. (He bites his tongue and its just so cute)
Picking beans and shucking corn. (The lyrics to a great song that I love but also something LG did a lot of as a kid)
Listening to bluegrass. (Always makes me think of the first time he promised to someday take me to Dollywood with his slightly detectable Southern accent)
Rollercoasters. (He always recalls that Dollywood used to be Silver Dollar City)
Watching him plunk away at random instruments. (He has this love and interest that he cultivated as a kid)
Hearing him say Mama. (When we first met he always called his mom Mama)
Watching him use his Priesthood. (I always think of his little 12-year-old self passing the sacrament)
When he cleans. (His mama taught him good – he is especially meticulous – just like her – with folding clothes with perfection)
When he doodles his L’s and G’s in 3D form. (A little bit of mindless habit)
Mowing the lawn. (Um yeah he did a lot of that as a kid and still does)
When he ties a tie. (It’s a talent that I love to admire)
When he’s immersed in a novel. (That man loves to read)
When he helps the kids with their math. (I’m pretty sure he could do calculus in elementary school)
When he eats a bowl of cereal. (We used to love to watch Saturday morning cartoons naked with our cereal when we first got married, I watched him more then the cartoons)
When he plays with the guys. (One of my most fond memories was watching LG at about 28 with his two best friends Scott and Conan. They had made up a game with a ball and a electric wire.)
When he held our babies. (I could just imagine him as his mama’s oldest child helping her so sweet and gently with all his younger siblings)

I am sure there are so many more. I could write all day, but I will stop myself there. Perhaps the most intimate moments are too private to share, but when a grown man can cry and share with you moments when as a kid he was scared, wronged, ashamed, lonely, and confused it is such a beautiful vulnerability. Those sad moments are just as important and touching as his paradoxical times of love, happiness, pride, and joy.

I married a wonderful man. I just happened to get a pretty great little boy in the deal, and I don’t even have a single son.