Mental Health

My Love

(LG and I – Dec 1997 – quite possibly my favorite photo in the world)
Oh the title makes me sing….”My love, there’s only you in my life, the only thing that’s right”.
Am I the only crazy person in the world who hears lyrics in my head on a daily basis?
Now that Valentine’s Day is over, I have had a whole half of a day to reflect.
On love.
Who knew it is so complicated?
I learned in therapy last week that I am really not the greatest at receiving love.
Try fixing that one. If you have success let me know.
I am a little worried that I am not going to be able to improve in the area and I’ll be left a non-loved hag.
Just call me Grinch, or Scrooge, or even Ornery Old Lady, Maxine.
So, as I told you before, LG and I have been trying to figure out ways to enhance our marriage.
I could tell you all of our baggage, but that seems to bring out some serious haters.
And I am trying to learn how to receive more LOVE not HATE.
So, let’s just say that 6 years ago when LG started law school, we hit a 6 year slump.
And we are trying to slowly dig our way out.
It takes individual and combined efforts.
It’s complicated and difficult.
And exhausting.
Thank goodness we have a therapist to throw us a line from time to time.
But, I have every reason to believe that we will come out on top.
Together.
Meanwhile, I am spending a lot of time reflecting.
Instead of blogging.
As you have all noticed.
(And I’ve been spending too much time on Facebook.)
One thing that was told to me on Facebook was to read a book.
The Five Love Languages
by Gary Chapman
I found a copy at the local and awesome used book store, McKay’s.
I didn’t want to wait behind 32 other people at the local library, so I forked over $7.
I had to search for the book.
It was finally found in the Christian section in the subsection High Demand.
Funny they had only two copies compared to several shelves of Bibles.
Now that’s a modern conundrum.
Can I now use my reading of The Five Love Languages as an additional argument for why Mormons are Christian too?
So, I have read a good twenty pages.
I am trying to decide my love language.
The choices are:
1- quality time
2- words of affirmation
3- gifts
4- acts of service
5- physical touch
The earth shattering gospel of the book is that every person has a love language that they understand.
Love languages are learned just as a native communicating language is learned.
If your spouse doesn’t show love to you in your language,
it’s as if a Chinese person who speaks no English is married to a Spanish person who speaks no Chinese.
Well, because my therapist says I am not good at receiving love.
Which I have come to believe is true.
I am wondering if I even have any love language at all.
LG and I were discussing this little worry of mine.
I was reminded of a little conversation we had recently.
I said, “I think I might have a little of the language of “gifts”.
A few weeks back I was telling LG that I had read a great article in Good Housekeeping about the art of the love letter.
I told LG he should read it.
He agreed that he should.
He was distracted at work on the phone.
I didn’t think he was listening to me.
I said, “Do you know what would be the best love letter for me?”
He said, “What?”
I said with all the confidence I could muster:
“The dishwasher is on it’s way.”
He was actually listening because he laughed.
Hard.
LG hasn’t bought into the idea that buying me things will make our marriage more loving.
He questioned last night how him bringing me things home from The Dollar Tree could really help our marriage.
I told him that he should try it and see.
And that I think it really would.
Help our marriage.
He said, ‘How does some random glass figurine make you know I love you?”
I reminded him that the first gift he ever gave me was a porcelain skunk.
And it has sat in a place of honor in our front room,
for the last twelve years.
He was silent.
As he pondered.
What he is going to buy me at the dollar tree.
Until he can afford the dishwasher.
And, my love language has been uncovered.
Now, we just have to figure out LG’s.
We think his might be words of affirmation.
He likes it when I tell him that he’s sexy.
I told him that spending $1 on something stupid is sexy.
Watch out therapist.
Gary Chapman is gonna steal your hardest clients.
Please, don’t ever argue that facebook isn’t good for a marriage.
Because although my therapist helped me to see that my love needed help in the receiving department.
A friend on facebook pointed me in the right direction.
So that I could see that I would most prefer to receive love,
in the form of a gift.

Grace
This link is a wonderful story full of power, truth, and grace. thanks sheila.
And here is some more fun YouTube listening.
I thought that these boys should each be locked away and saved
(one for each of my girls)

Oh, and I may need to be finding another one of their friends very soon….

I’m dialated to a THREE!

In this life, I was loved by you

Yesterday,
Bella was throwing a typical fit.
She even wrote me a note.
It said,
“Nobody likes me.”
Did I teach her to feel this way?
To self depricate?
I worry about it.
I tried to reason with her.
I told her that lots of people love her.
I told her that if she whines and cries,
it makes people uncomfortable,
and they may not want to play with her,
when she acts like that, but they still love her.
She was on the couch pouting.
It was funny,
I had been feeling kind of the same way.
I was doing dishes pouting.
I laughed.
Just as Bella was waiting for someone or something
to make her feel better,
I had been waiting
for my husband to make it better.
I should have written him a note
that said
“Nobody likes me.”
It might have been a little less subtle than my pouting.
I thought about what I wanted to hear.
I decided to test it on Bella.
To see if it would make everything better.
So, I said to Bella:
“Alice…um…I mean, Bella, I love you.
You mean the world to me.
I am so proud of you.
You are such a good helper.
Even if nobody else likes you,
I like you a lot.
I love you a lot.
I’m sorry that you are sad.”
She was miraculously cured.
People say women are complicated.
Really we aren’t.
We just want to be loved.
Like everybody else.

Here are the ever so true lyrics to one of my favorite songs:
For all I’ve been blessed with in this life
There was an emptiness in me
I was imprisoned by the power of gold
But one honest touch could set me free
Let the world stop turnin’
Let the sun stop burnin’
Let them tell me love’s not worth going through
If it all falls apart
I will know deep in my heart
The only dream that mattered had come true
In this life, I was loved by you
For every mountain I have climbed
Every raging river crossed
You were the treasure that I’d longed to find
Without your love I would be lost
Let the world stop turnin’
Let the sun stop burnin’
Let them tell me love’s not worth going through
If it all falls apartI will know deep in my heart
The only dream that mattered had come true
In this life, I was loved by you

Who snores at your house?
I love you LG!
A few posts back, I confessed something HUGE.
Yep, LG and I are in marriage counseling.
I would like to take this opportunity to clarify a few things,
as LG was a little (o.k. A LOT) worried about telling the world.
And even though I got his permission for disclosure
way before I even considered writing the post,
he was still very skittish about everybody knowing.
In fact, he checked my comments hourly for the two days after the post.
He was convinced that I would get no comments at all
because people would feel awkward with the topic.
So, even if you feel awkward about it,
I beg of you, support my hubby and leave a comment.
Or don’t. (He’ll get over it)
LG wanted me to make it known that
just because we are in counseling,
he and I were never really on the virge of divorce.
O.k. there may have been a week or two there a few years back,
like the first and second year of law school.
(But I am sure most couples are on the brink of disaster during law school.)
Or I may have entertained divorce frequently our whole first year of our marriage,
but recently we have been mostly happy.
We just started having many experiences that our own weaknesses
were becoming very evident.
Our own “baggage” was affecting us way too much,
and it was eating away at us individually
and at our marriage.
We wanted to change the cycles.
So, we went with an expert.
Because we are humble and smart.
Not because we are weak or ignorant.
One of the first things we learned in therapy is
that we need to not point fingers at each other.
I read this quote this morning and thought it very appropriate.
“A marriage is always made up of two people
who are prepared to swear that only the other one snores.”
And after months of counseling,
I still say with a sure knowledge that LG snores
way longer and louder than me.
But, I can now also admit, that I snore too.
That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
And, I’m not pointing fingers.
I have video.

Forgetting the Roadkill

Just a few weeks ago as part of our Spring Break activities, we went, as a family, to one of our favorite places, Bays Mountain Park. As we searched out our favorite animals, we stumbled upon an elderly naturalist volunteer as she gently balanced a black vulture upon her forearm. It was the most intriguing fowl. It was big. It was black. It was a vulture. It eats roadkill. It is not the kind of bird that is beloved or even admired. Yet, I was fascinated; for some reason I saw beauty. I saw the majesty of an eagle in this bird. I wanted to hear all about it.

As the natulralist spoke of the vulture with such endearing admiration, it got me thinking about the conversation I had just had with my therapist. He told me that as I understood myself better I would change my outlook of myself. I would learn to love myself and stop my destructive inner conversation. Well, gee, if this bird could be loved by me, why in the world could I not love me? I thought, “I don’t appreciate myself, and I don’t even eat roadkill!”

As I looked at this vulture, I knew my therapist was right. It wasn’t easy to realize that deep down I don’t have enough self regard, but it was true, and I could work to change it. But, how?

This has been the theme in my life lately. How does one change their thought patterns? How do you change the future without changing the past? How do you love a big black bird when all he does is eat roadkill?

I guess the secret lies in the roadkill. The vulture has a useless reputation because he eats roadkill. In fact when people think of vultures, they rarely think of anything besides one sitting up on a wire waiting for its next dead feast. They don’t think that a vulture is made so unique and strong that it can withstand whatever disease it may eat. Everything about a vulture seems to be designed to assist in his one big job….cleaning up the dead in nature. A vulture is uniquely useful, not useless.

This vulture held powerful wisdom for me. What if I quit thinking about my own roadkill and started thinking about my personal majesty? What if I start realizing that God prepared me very specifically? Just as he had designed the vulture, he had designed me. He may not have given me the most majestically known shell, but he designed me to be useful and he designed me to survive. He masterminded me uniquely to not just deal with life, but to soar above the roadkill.

Well, if I start to see those good qualities, those blessings, those unique abilities, then maybe the roadkill could be diminished, or at the least, shrunk back down to its view from the sky. The vulture in me could be admired and endeared. I wouldn’t have to change from a vulture to an eagle. I could just be amazing because I was a vulture. And if no one else saw me for who I was…..my naturalist would. My maker designed me. And when he loves me, and appreciates me, and is amazed when I just perform up to design, how could I not love me?

Ta Ta’s
Here’s a car magnet I saw while driving around town the other day.
I want to get this cute little saying on a t-shirt.
I’m just a little worried that it might give too much attention to my ta ta’s.
And, that would not be very modest, I’m afraid.
I guess I will just have to settle with adopting the cute little name.


I am thinking about doing the Race for the Cure
to celebrate Debbie McFarland.
She’s the secretary at the girls’ school
and I am happy to report that she has beat breast cancer.
And, I must say that her ta ta’s are looking as good as ever.
Three cheers for modern medicine.
Or should I just give modern medicine just TWO great big cheers?
That may be all it needs to keep on saving those ta ta’s.

Church in the eyes of a comedian

We recently saw some friends that we haven’t seen in about six years. We used to go to church together in Utah. Marie reminded me of a funny thing that I did once. I’ve told you before that I am such an idiot. Marie says that the following is a story that she shares often about her crazy friend who worries people constantly…you never know what might come out of my mouth.

So, Marie and I were at church choir practice. And after the practice it was typical for everyone to visit and eat delicious refreshments provided by the perfect Mormon hostess/choir director, Nancy. After a perfect hour of music, Nancy asked me to say the closing prayer and to bless the refreshments. I gladly obliged.

During the middle of the prayer, I realized that the typical Mormon phrase of “bless this food to nourish and strengthen our bodies” wasn’t going to work…they were desserts for heaven sakes! So, I improvised with, “please bless the refreshments, that they”…..um…think fast, Alice!….no, you can’t say not make us fat!…that may really offend that fellow Weight Watcher friend….um….think…think…fast. “Please bless the refreshments, that they won’t make us …. sick!”

That’s the best I could come up with. Needless to say, after the Amens, and everyone lifted their chins and opened their eyes, all eyes were on me and all jaws were dropped. Nancy (being the perfect Mormon that she was) showed great restrain and didn’t kick me out of her house. She was perfectly composed and ignored me all together. I hadn’t even thought about offending her by alluding to the fact that I thought her food would make us sick.

I quickly tried to make it right, “Nancy, I am so sorry, you know I love your food…it’s some of the best ever….I just couldn’t think that fast…they’re refreshments, they aren’t going to nourish us and I thought sick was a better choice than fat.”

Nancy didn’t react at all. I don’t thinks she ever cared for me much after that. My Weight Watcher friend, on the other hand, said, “You should have said fat!”

And who knew that I had a comic routine on my hands. Here’s a clip to prove the point.