Pray. Then Press On.

Once upon a time I went through a very difficult (for me) period in my life. I felt alone, in spite of good friends/family who offered moral support.

They'd tell me, "You're such a strong person."  I'd think, "Well, I don't feel strong," crying all night, many consecutive nights, for the better part of the year.

I often wondered, "How will get I through this?" All I had to hang on to was hope. So I prayed a ton and pressed on.

That dark period started just over 6 years ago. Since that time I endured divorce, going back to school while working and raising 3 kids on my own, and numerous sleepless nights - tossing & turning, worrying how I would pay a certain bill or how I would afford to fix problems in my little dumpy house which was always falling apart, or how I was going to make the last $5 in my checking account feed my family for the next two weeks.  I questioned if I'd ever fall in love again, if someone could love me "for who I am, even if I am never any better, prettier, thinner, or less-flawed than I am right now, at this very moment."

I wondered, "Is God hearing me?" Admittedly, I even thought (like the brother of the prodigal son), "I was the GOOD one.  Why me, Lord? Why me?"

But He was listening, and He did hear me. He allowed others to serve on my behalf.  A gallon of milk would appear on my door step. A neighbor would bring over a hot dinner for no apparent reason other than she wanted to. An envelope of $200 would arrive in my mailbox the week before Christmas. The man around the corner would bring me an "extra" holiday ham because they had "one too many." A crate of Thanksgiving dinner would show up on my front porch. My yard was magically mowed, my driveway mysteriously shoveled. A $20 bill would fall from a jacket whilst retrieved from the clothes dryer. I would get an "inspired" idea for a completely made-up recipe using the last sleeve of saltines and the last small can of tuna (loaves & fishes?) from the pantry and it was plenty to feed my family, and better yet-- they liked it.  And what were the chances I'd live across the street from the best auto mechanic around with mad skills that my older vehicle always seemed to need? How lucky was I to live among loving, Christ-like neighbors who always knew when I needed talk-therapy and tears, and maybe even some warm muffins or brownies, even if it was 2 in the morning?

For these tender mercies I was always grateful. But at the same time I hated it too. I wanted to be the giver! I wanted to be the one to serve!

Years ago I received a personal promise from the Lord, that if I lived my life paying a full tithe, I would not only have sufficient for my family, but I would "be able to share with those that are in need."  Well, I paid my tithes.  What about His part of the deal?

But apparently, my "blessing" wasn't on the instant gratification fast path.  It came to me in His own time, in His own way(s).  And in the grand scheme of things, looking back, my period of 6 dark years is in reality a small drop.  After all, my life's not over yet.

As of a year and a half ago, I am happily remarried.  My wonderful, kind, and patient husband listens, comforts, and often tells me the things I most need to hear. He is a hard worker and highly intelligent, and I've been blessed in a way that I no longer worry about finances or trying to juggle work and school. He is my biggest fan and is always encouraging me to pursue my career goals.  We are walking Christ's path together and words cannot express how much joy this brings. Since marrying him I have physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually felt my burdens lift.

By the world's standards we are not rich. But our lives are richly blessed and I am finding I am able to serve others in ways which are meaningful to me (and hopefully them).  Giving to others fills something inside of me that I cannot fully explicate, except to say it's my balm of Gilead.

Looking back and seeing the Lord's helping hand, guiding me, aiding me in the midst of my trials and seeing my own personal and spiritual progression, I have a personal testimony that I am loved and that, yes, I am strong!

There is no getting around, ducking under, or jumping over our trials.  There is only going through. And only when we emerge the victor and no longer the victim of our trials, do we begin to realize our own fortitude.

I can do hard things. So can you. I am strong. So are you. With God, everything is possible. Don't give up. Instead, pray. Then press on.

Shake Off Childish Resentments

Do you now, or have you ever had that one person in your life, with whom you are "supposed" to be close, yet who drives you absolutely crazy?  Like, so crazy you can't stand to be around him or her and you find yourself feeling angry or resentful towards them and their every blasted move?  As if their sole purpose is to irritate you to no end?

I am quite ashamed to say that YES-  I have experienced these feelings in my life.  And typically, the closer the relation, the deeper the resentment.  A sibling who has driven you crazy from day one. A parent who just doesn't seem to get it.  Your cousin whom you wish you could smack upside the head for being a constant embarrassment to the family name.  Your difficult child who seems to do the exact opposite of everything you ask.  Whomever this person is and for whatever reason, your disdain for them has grown so thick you begin to feel ashamed for the resentment building inside, you aren't even sure why you feel this way, and worse-- you don't know how to stop.  I know of a woman who felt this way about her son, to the point she admits to bullying him (but not her daughter). She said she became the monster instead of their mother.

Years ago someone in my family [person A] began complaining constantly to me about another person in my family [person B], so much so  I began to notice all of the flaws and "wrong doings" of this individual more and more and lo and behold, it didn't take long before I couldn't stand to be around them either.

It wasn't until person A was out of my life I realized what had happened.  I regret allowing my relationship with person B to become strained because I was ignorantly influenced by someone else.  Had I forgotten *I* was the one in control of my thoughts and actions?  Apparently, I had.

It took me nearly 4 years to "get over" person B's "imperfections".  Whenever I was around this individual and saw something that would have made me cringe before, I'd tell myself, "it doesn't matter" and "who cares?"  Over time I learned not to care about petty stuff and began to tell myself, "that is just who they are."  Finally, I was able to notice more positive traits about this person and the more I noticed, the more good there was to notice.  Amazing how that happens.

Jared Akers, in {{4 Powerful Tips to Reduce Resentment and Feel Happier}}, explains "Resentment is like a cancer that eats away at time - time which could have been filled with love and joy." 

Akers is right.  I wasted time being angry instead of feeling love and joy with and for that person.  Akers 4 tips for overcoming resentment towards someone:

#1 - Think loving thoughts for the person you resent
#2 - Check your motives and expectations
#3 - Be grateful
#4 - Stay open to different outcomes


I really enjoyed reading his article on this and it has given me a great deal to ponder as I  - once again - find myself in a position of always feeling anger and resentment towards someone.  It isn't something I enjoy admitting and the guilt over feeling this way is eating me up and in some ways festering the growing resentment. It's like I resent this person for the resentment I feel towards them.  While my love and concern for this person is strong and does certainly exist, so does my irritability and resentment towards them.

This is not something I am proud of.  I want to do better and be better and I am ashamed of who I sometimes become around this child of God. (that's a zinger, right there)

THINK LOVING THOUGHTS FOR THE PERSON YOU RESENT
For me, this includes praying for that person.  It definitely helps increase the number of good days I have.  I also think it helps to acknowledge the fact that some of us are a better personality "fit" than others.  I can easily relate to some of my siblings, cousins and even children more so than others.  This doesn't mean those who aren't a natural fit are "bad".  It just means I have to work harder to acknowledge, accept and embrace our differences.

CHECK YOUR MOTIVES AND EXPECTATIONS
Dieter F. Uchtdorf said, "...people can usually find whatever they are looking for. Those who look for the good will find a kind and compassionate people...  those who look for the bad will certainly find things that are not so ideal."  

If we expect our son/grandson/brother/husband to continually and constantly screw up and make a mistake, that is all we will begin to see.  Overtime, we will begin to resent him, and get angry over the stupidest things.  If he eats the last banana, for example, our thoughts will immediately be, "Great.  There he goes, eating all of the bananas - AGAIN." As if his every action is to spite us or to push our buttons. We find ourselves getting angry towards him over things we'd let others get away with.

I have to stop myself (physically think to myself, "STOP!") and ask myself what his/her intentions truly are.  And then I have to take it one step further and ask myself what MY intentions are.  To get them into trouble?  To "catch" them being "bad" just like I already set them up to be???  What is the point of "catching" him or her and then "tattling" to others?  To get more people on my side?  What good will it do, other than further the feelings of frustration, perpetuating more resentment and anger?

BE GRATEFUL
Learning to show gratitude for the very person we resent might be hard, especially if they do things to seemingly press our buttons.  I find sometimes it's easier to focus on gratitude in general.  Start with things not as intimate.  I'm grateful for these beautiful mountains that bring me a sense of quietude.  I'm grateful for my health.  I'm grateful for my family...   Even if I can't bring myself to think thoughts of gratitude towards this individual on a certain day, this does help my negative feelings to dissipate for the moment.

STAY OPEN TO DIFFERENT OUTCOMES
As a mother, sometimes I struggle with this one.  Things may not always go as planned and being more open to various outcomes helps keep an open mind and broaden expectations as well.  Just because it isn't done my way, doesn't mean it still can't be right, right?  Reminding myself to be TOLERANT and to give the benefit of the doubt are things that help me work through my resentment issues.

I ask over and over WHY do I feel resentment towards this person?  I never feel like I get a clear answer. Whatever the reason, I am beginning to realize it isn't nearly as important as how I react to, behave around, and treat this individual.  Twenty years from now, how do I want this person to remember the way he/she was treated by me?

I need a new mantra as I find myself in this daily struggle.  Although "Stop, in the name of love" and "Let it go" are both fitting, I don't really want those songs running through my head day in and day out. "It doesn't matter" is one phrase I find myself repeating.  It does help some.

I love these words from a comment/response to someone else's post once:

Grab yourself by the bootstraps, shake off the childish resentments and jealousy... and be the adult.

Something Important

I do not subscribe to the theory which suggests my existence is some sort of cosmic coincidence.  I believe we all have purpose.

But more than just gaining a physical body and being tested and tried and growing and learning - I believe that I have a specific purpose.  While I am not yet sure what that purpose might be, I have days, or sometimes just mere moments, in which I have this overwhelming feeling that there is more for me to do and more for me to be, and that that "more" is Something Important.  Sometimes, like today, that feeling just pulls at me.

Often when I've made a specific choice to do something big, like get remarried or finish school, and have peace in my mind and in my heart about that choice, I feel like it's because it's part of something bigger, something greater which I have yet to unveil; like the Something Important is giving me its nod of approval. And sometimes I think, hmm, maybe doing this thing or that is a stepping stone, or perhaps even The Stepping Stone, setting in motion the Something Important.  In spite of all of my shortcomings or spells of laziness from time to time, the Something Important seems to draw just enough curiosity and ambition to carry on.

Often times, as I contemplate the Something Important, I wonder if others too have felt that same pull. I think about the apocryphal tale, "I cannot tell a lie", and wonder if George Washington, at age 6, had any inclination of his Something Important as he tearfully confessed to hacking his father's beloved cherry tree to death.  I consider Mother Teresa and wonder about the state of her heart and her mind between the very young age of 8, when her father died, and the age of 12, when she decided she wanted to devote her life to her new found religion. Had she already known her Something Important?

I also reflect on the Not-So-Greats (by the world's standards), such as my massage therapist, my piano instructors, or my high school Biology teacher.  Did they feel they discovered their Something Important?  After all, they've made, and continue to make a difference in my life.

I'm not sure if one ever fully realizes their Something Important until they've arrived, and perhaps not even then. While I occasionally muse over these things, I try not to exhaust too much time or energy wondering what my Something Important might be, or worrying if I'll ever figure it out.

I believe that by continually working towards that big thing, whatever it is, I am learning to navigate through the ebb and flow of my life, and hopefully better myself (and maybe even impact a few others) along the way.

I am grateful for the knowledge that God has a plan for me and I am grateful for the pull I feel towards Something Important. In fact, I think I would feel a bit empty without it.

The Errand of Angels

For those who don't know The Man very well, he became single when his wife passed away nearly two years ago. Little B was only 4 years old.

Little B's maternal grandmother has been able to maintain a relationship with him and invites him for many weekends at her house. This has been important to her, as Little B is her only grandchild.

The grandmother was diagnosed back in the Spring with Cancer, and her recent bout with pneumonia over Christmas sent her to the I.C.U. None of us were sure what the outcome would be, and I think we were all doing our best to mentally & spiritually prepare for the worst, while praying & hoping for the best. Thankfully, she began to get better over these last few days.

Last Sunday, while sitting in church, I had several thoughts & impressions regarding the situation. On the one hand, I thought about the sweet reunion this grandmother would have with her own daughter, and have an end to her earthly pain, should she pass on. On the other hand, I knew she worried about Little B & his welfare; she would have a hard time leaving him. While contemplating this, the words of a hymn, "As Sisters in Zion" came to mind.

"The errand of angels is given to women;
And this is a gift that, as sisters, we claim;
To do whatsoever is gentle and human,
To cheer and to bless in humanity's name."

Suddenly, I imagined me, standing next to Little B's mother in Heaven before coming to earth. Me, making a promise to her to care for her child.

I don't know for certain that ever occurred in our premortal existence. But I do know the impact it had on me on that very instant. Having the opportunity to care for Little B IS a gift  just as the hymn proclaims.

I feel like the Lord has blessed me with a tender mercy; to glimpse just a little of my purpose - my mission here on this earth.  My errand of angels.

I'm Jealous of SAHM's

It's true. I admit it openly. I am jealous of Stay-At-Home-Moms (SAHMs).

When my children were little I worked a late night shift at Delta Air Lines so that I could be at home with my babies during the day. And although I know that the "quality time" with my children was hindered by many catnaps on the sofa while they played during the day, I enjoyed being there. I loved making their meals and reading to them in the afternoon and then having time to fix dinner from scratch before I'd head off to work. It wasn't "perfect" per se, but it was perfect for me at that time. And, my children didn't have to be in daycare.

As they got older and in school, my schedule allowed me to be the room-mother for many of their classrooms and to volunteer to run the class parties or help out with field trips to the zoo or the air force museum, etc. I even subbed for some of their classes too.

Then came a time I knew in the back of my mind that divorce was on the horizon. I knew I could not work until 3 or 4 in the morning and leave little children at home by themselves. I knew that I couldn't be a single mom and keep the job I had. So, I began to look for other jobs; get my ducks in a row. However -- I did not have a college degree. Finally I decided that Real Estate was always something that had interested me and that I didn't need a degree to get my license. I took the necessary classes and within about 4 months I passed the exams and was licensed.

I loved the flexibility of being a real estate agent. I also loved learning about the industry. This job allowed me the flexibility to work from home and even if I had to go show properties in the evening, I was more often than not, home before 9pm. It was perfect. I was still room mother. I still organized the class parties. I still volunteered for the field trips. I still participated in field day and volunteered at the school carnival. I even continued to sub-teach once in a while. But I also discovered something else I loved. By this time all of my kids were in school during the day. I didn't HAVE to work from home. And many times I would go into the office for an hour or two. But I discovered I enjoyed being at home during the day by myself. I accomplished so much more without little ones underfoot. And I had the freedom to come and go as I pleased. I went to the gym every afternoon. I loved my job and I loved helping my clients buy and sell real estate. I finally felt that my ducks were in a row and that I could proceed with my divorce.

But then something happened. The market had started to slow down... And at this point I had only been doing real estate for 2 1/2 years; not nearly enough time to build a steady clientele in this "niche" of a market where I live. As my business began to slow way down and as buyers started getting cold feet and as listings went from an "on market" period from 7 days to now an average of 30, 45, and 60+ I knew I needed to once again figure out a different job. If I was going to be a single mom, I would need a steady paycheck. And something with insurance would be even better.

The title company next door talked to me about a position, but then hired someone else the next day. The following day my grandmother died and I scrambled to make plans to go to Indiana. Well, while I was gone the girl they had hired wasn't exactly working out. After I came back, about 10 days later, they told me that if I still wanted the job, it was mine... that they wouldn't even interview anyone else. I felt that this was the answer I needed so I said yes. Things have changed a little here and there, and I've moved up twice in position since then. But I am still there. Looking back I know that the Real Estate Agent gig was just a stepping stone to get me to the title company. It was the knowledge and experience I needed to get my foot in the door.

I also knew that I never wanted to be in a position again wherein my options were limited because I didn't have a degree. So, about a year and a half after my divorce was final, I started going back to school. And it's not even that I am hoping to change jobs anytime soon. But I want to be able to have options somewhere down the road should I ever be faced with a situation like that again.

So, this has been my life that past year and a half. Work and school. School and work. And trying to squeeze time in my my kids, church and my own social life somewhere in between. It's not been easy. And more recently I've come to the realization I am burning the candle at both ends, and quickly running out of wick.

Well, back to the title of the post. Last week was Spring Break at school. One entire week without class! W00t! It was much appreciated. But I wanted to feel rested and not rushed trying to get other projects done that week. So, I decided to take one full day off of work too. My kids still had school all week, because their Spring Break isn't until next month. So, there I had it. 1 day of no work, no school and no kids. Of course I love my kids and all. But a break I desperately needed.

It was a day of bliss. And even though I woke up with a headache, it was still a great day. I took a verrrrrrrry long nap. I cleaned a little. I baked a little. I soaked in the tub. I even worked on some of my writing. I felt so great to be at home with no pressing schedule. I decided right then and there that I was completely jealous of SAHMs. Not the ones with little children under foot. But the ones that get to have their own personal time during the day. And I was even thinking how I missed the days I worked a night shift, because even then I had quiet time during the day. I even considered how nice it would be to not have to work at all. Just do school! That would really be something. To study during the day in quietness. To go to class without worrying about my kids left behind and whether or not they are eating the meal I prepared for them or if they are getting their homework done.

I know it doesn't do any good to covet. And I suppose the grass is always greener on the other side, right? But if someone asked me to describe my fantasy world, right now that would be it. to be a SAHM. I don't need riches. I don't need a fancy house or brand new car. Just a little time to relax and write and soak in the tub... without someone on the other side of that door calling me "mom"... Haha.

That's all I really want.

Cyber Stupid

Ok --so, we all know there are several social networking sites. Clubs and bars aren't really my scene, but I like meeting new people... so where does that leave me? Well, the quickest way to make introductions these days is via the web. I am cautiously open-minded. Although, I will admit, that my confidence is a little bruised and things actually seem scarier to me now than, say, two years ago.

Rewind 2+ years ago. HatDude & I were each other's consultant. We applied the Principles of Prospecting (click Here), sending out 25 new messages a week to potential prospects in the hopes to gain 1 or 2 new "appointments" per week. Anyway, it was a blast and my social calendar was always full. Then it slowed down as the Big-D-ster entered my world. And now??? Well... not so much confidence anymore.

Rejection, in any form, can have that effect. Even if you know it wasn't anything you did or didn't do. Even if logically you know you have a lot to offer... rejection/break-ups can really leave you feeling...

Vulnerable. Lacking. Inadequate. Lonely. Wondering. Aching. Missing. Unsettled.

I have a great support network... my friends, my family, my coworkers, my fellow bloggers... They -- YOU -- are an awesome support system. I've had lots of encouragement recently to get back up, dust myself off, and get back in the game. So, I thought... ok! I will!

Except, it feels sort of like a chore now. I feel the proverbial dragging of feet. I think I fear rejection all over again. When something seems right and good, I become completely invested, which means I give my heart completely over... which in turn means, if I get hurt, it hurts bad. And yet I know that anything worth while is worth the risk. I know that I am the one writing my story. I am the one in control of my happiness; my destiny. Still doesn't make it less scary though. All it takes is one "Thanks, but No Thanks" to make you wanna pack it all up and hide under a rock.

Anyway -- so in an attempt to overcome my fears, I get back on the horse, so to speak, and start slowly this time. "Window Shopping" if you will. While I was on a Christian/LDS site, some dude (very hot, listed Florida as hometown) sends me an IM. Let me sum it all up for you... It went down like this.

Dude: Hey.
Me: Hey... from Florida, eh? (Already a "red flag". Florida? 1am his time. He must be after one thing)
Dude: Yup. How are you?
Me: (being cautious) Tired.
Dude: What are you doing that makes you so tired?
Me: Work. Homework. Kids. What about you?
Dude: I'm in bed...
(oh no, I think to myself. Fasten your seatbelts, here we go!)
Me: Pu-LEASE do not tell me you are one of THOSE guys.
Dude: One of what guys?
Me: The ones that have "cravings" in the middle of the night so they peruse the "who's online" list and try to start up a convo with any/all of them in hopes to get a cyber booty call.
Dude: I C
[pause]
Me:....???
Dude: Well, I *do* have a bit of a panty fettish.
Me: And, the cat's outta the bag.
Dude: Whaddya mean? It's just a fettish...
Me: You and just about every other guy...
Dude: No! I'm Different!
Me: Uh-huh...
Dude: Does that bother you?
Me: I don't know you, so I can't say whether or not any of your so-called fettishes or quirks or habits bother me. But what does irritate me is when some dude will get on this site, pretending to be an upstanding, worthy church member, saying that they live the standards, etc. and then in an instant, start to talk dirty instead of having a real conversaation.
Dude: Oh... sorry. So... what kind of panties do you wear?
Me: See... like that. Well, Mr. Florida. Good luck in your search... but this shop is not open for that sort of business.
Dude: Will do...

Then - I blocked him before seeing the rest of his response.

Talk about STU-PID!!! I mean, is THIS my only option??? Oh no... 'fraid not! there's more! I did receive NINE emails within a 15 minute time frame from some other dude that sort of had a creepy scrunched up face, complete with uni-brow and left messages like, "It's not gonna get better than this! I want to be yours and I want you to be mine! Let's go out! XOXOXOXOX!"... followed by his phone #. Ummm... can you say Cyber Stalker? Yep. There's another one to block! Check. Too bad there isn't an emoticon for "just threw up in my mouth"... My friend PartyGirl says something like this should work... :{p}

So in summary, the good-looking one is a perv and the creepy looking one is a creep. NOT helping in the confidence department one bit! I don't wanna be a magnet for THAT! Maybe I am really just not ready for this.

Oh well... what doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right???

When I Grow Up

Ever since I was in High School I had several ideas and thoughts about what I wanted to be when I grew up.

When I grow up, I want to be a musical performer.
When I grow up, I want to be a realtor.
When I grow up, I want to be a teacher.
When I grow up, I want to be an FBI agent.
When I grow up, I want to be a writer.
When I grow up, I want to own my own music academy for kids.

As a 16 year-old preparing for college and filling out forms, I had to choose a major. I knew it had to be a viable one; something I could excel at and something I could actually do. I decided that teaching was something I could do and still have holidays and summers with my future 10 children. (Yes. 10. Once upon a time, I dreamed of having TONS of kids.)

The Plan {Otherwise known as "Plan A"}:
As a sophomore in High School, I had it all worked out. I was going to go off to college for 3 years, majoring in music education. I loved music. I loved teaching (or at least I loved public speaking). I loved conducting (what little I had done for church). Then, when I turned 21, I would take a sabbatical, and go on a mission for my church. I felt this was important and something I had always wanted to do. Then I would come home, and finish my 4th year, followed by a semester of student teaching. It would be during this 4th & 5th year I would search for my future spouse. I would graduate by age 24 and get married sometime around that time as well. I would start having babies right away and I would have 1 child per year (or try), and be done around age 35. I would be teaching high school choir and loving it. In my "spare time" -- y'know, between raising 10 kids and what-not, I would be writing and publishing books, and probably get my real estate license... y'know, to keep my "busy" during the summer.

Yep... that was pretty much the "rough draft" of my plan. But, here is what really happened.

Plan B:
Age 18 I went off to college, majoring in music education. During semester 2, I became engaged. It was a whirlwind and we had only known each other for 6 weeks before becoming engaged. After another 4 weeks, I went back home to work for the summer and did not return until 2 weeks prior to my wedding. (So, yes. We only spent a total of 12 weeks together before getting married.) At 19, I became pregnant ~oops~ about 6 weeks after the wedding and by age 20 had my first child. We moved out of state and went back home so my then newly-graduated spouse could look for work. This was just not happening; it took 10 long months to find something for him; anything. So, instead of going back to school, I took care of baby during the day and went to work at night. I did that for a year, before being offered a promotion that our budget could not refuse. I found a lovely lady right across the street from my work who took my baby in during the day and refused to be paid more than practically nothing. I kept thinking, as soon as we get on our feet, I will go back to school - maybe "next year". Next year turned into 2, and then we moved across country, again for spouse to find a better job. I was 23. 3 months after settling in, I found out I was preggo with #2, and the next year, only 3 months after #2 was born, I went back to work. I worked nights so I didn't have to do day care. That was my life for the next 7 years, and I had baby #3 in there somewhere. Finally at age 30, I left the night job and got my real estate license, because it was doable much faster than going back to school. I did that for a few years and loved it. But, by age 33, I was in the middle of a divorce and the market tanked. I found an office job for the title company next door. I liked the people, and felt I was good at what I was doing. But I didn't love my job. And it wouldn't be something I could raise my family on, on 1 income. I was 34 when my divorce was final. I thought to myself, I could stay with this job, doing this until I retire. Doing this for the next 30 years? OR, I could back to school, maybe finish by the time I am 40, and then do something else I possibly enjoy for 25. When put in that perspective, there was no choice. I knew I would finally be going back to school.

The New Plan B:
So, I was once again faced with the burning question, "What do I want to be when I grow up?" I already had my real estate license. I could check that off my proverbial occupational bucket list. Musical performance might be fun, but let's face it, I am not the cream of the crop there; not realistic. Starting my own business is too risky right now, and I think I may have surpassed my window of opportunity for the FBI. That just leaves, writing and teaching. Since my goal at this point in my life is a steady income with benefits, teaching it is. I am majoring in Music Education with the hopes of teaching High School Choir.

Plan Bb:
I read once that how you label yourself plays a huge part in your own success. For example, if you run often for exercise or even fun, do you consider yourself a "runner"? Or do you think "runners" are only those who run in races, or are sponsored for their sport? If you sew a lot, do you consider yourself a "seamstress"? Or is that title only held for someone who actually gets paid for it. It was a very interesting concept. With that in mind, I decided I am already a writer. I have written several books and stories. I just haven't published them. I "write" several blogs. Yes. I am a writer. I've decided in an effort to get published one day, I am doing a double major. I am also majoring in English with an emphasis on Creative Writing.

Reflection:
I never thought, 20 years ago, sitting in my high school guidance counselor's office, that this is where I'd be today. According to "Plan A", I'd have up to 10 kids, live in the 2 story house with the white-picket fence, going to book signings on the weekends, teaching choir during the week, and married "happily ever after". Funny how things turn out.

There are 3 sayings that come to mind right now. "Sometimes the choices we make are more about the choices we leave behind.", "Patience doesn't mean sitting back and doing nothing."... and... "You can do hard things."

I feel much better about my current circumstance when I think about those three statements. Life is a journey; my journey. I have made choices that brought me here; either the choice to move forward or the choice to leave something behind. Nevertheless, they are my choices. I accept that. I feel empowered to know that I am the one writing my story now, and that although I do not know what my "Happily Ever After" will fully entail, I'm buckled in and plan to have the time of my life doing it!

I am a mother, a student-soon-to-be-teacher, licensed in both real estate and escrow, and I am a writer.

The "I Can't Believe It's Not a Bucket List" List

Bucket Lists have been all the buzz ever since the movie with the same name hit the big screen. I went. I saw. I laughed. I cried. (I gushed over the use of John Mayer's song, "Say" used in the soundtrack). And yes, I made my own bucket list of sorts. Even though the movie's been out on DVD for a few years now, the term "Bucket List" is easily understood and readily accepted as common culture in today's society. Cassie was talking all things Bucket Lists over at her blog, cuz one of her teachers has assigned them to make a list of 100 things! Talk about a daunting task.

Anywhooo... got me thinking, "but what about the things I've already done, that I never even ever would have imagined I'd do once upon a time?" (Like that grammar there, did ya? ;) )

Looking back, sort of realizing the many things I have already accomplished has really been strengthening for me. It confirms my beliefs that I can do hard things and lends affirmations that there is a plan for me and that my Heavenly Father loves me. Not everything on my "reverse" bucket list is something others might view as particularly positive. Nonetheless, these are the things that I never ever even would have imagined, and in some way or another they have made me stronger.

I never imagined I'd ever...

• fall in love the first time at age 15.
• have my first heartache at age 15. :)
• have 3 oral surgeries as a teenager.
• be involved in 3 car accidents as a teenager.
• get accepted into the Indiana All-State Honor's Choir 3 consecutive years in High School.
• have a lead in a High School Musical Production.
• do missionary work in Bloomington on the IU Campus.
• go to college in Hawaii.
• get married at age 19.
• have a baby at age 20.
• move back home to Indiana.
• move to Utah. (Once I told my paw that I'd NEVER move Utah. He said, "never say never". I said, "mark my words...[evil laugh]")
• Learn to cook, or cook well.
• work for the airlines.
• have 2 more children.
• become ill and have 2 more surgeries.
• get my real estate license.
• get a divorce.
• get my Title/Escrow license.
• become a certified public notary.
• have a second chance at 50 first dates.
• become a "born-again" virgin (tee hee)
• get my concealed carry permit.
• get a gun.
• write a novella (still needs publishing, but hey! it's written!)
• become good friends with the now-wife of my then-boyfriend.
• be the target of neighborhood meanness.
• be the receiver of many generous people who have helped me over the last few years without expecting anything in return, and many times while staying anonymous.
• go back to school
• get straight A's
• feel love again...

I am sure there is much more that I have surprised myself with over the years, but these are just the first thirty or so that came to mind. What about you? What have you done or accomplished that you never would've guessed "once upon a time"?

Who Am I?

Ok, so one of my classes is an Interpersonal Communications course. One of the principles of communications is that "all your communication starts or ends with you." You code or encode things you reveal or receive/interpret through your own frame of reference. Anyway, to understand the role you play in your own communication, it helps to do a little self-discovery. Here was the assignment:
____________________
Consider this question: Who are you? More specifically, ask yourself this question TEN TIMES. Write your responses... It may be challenging to identify ten aspects of yourself. The Spanish writer Cervantes said, "To know thyself...is the most difficult lesson in the world." ("Interpersonal Communication, Relating to Others,5th edition", Beebe, 34)

I Am...a daughter of God

I Am...curious.

I Am...talkative.

I Am...creative, I do things OUTSIDE the box.

I Am...kind & giving.

I Am...no respecter of persons.

I Am...positive (usually).

I Am...enthusiastic & playful

I Am...devoted, committed, loyal.

I Am...loving.

______________

Ok... I admit, this was sort of hard at first. But then, once I got going, it was like the flood gates opened, and as I neared 10, all of a sudden I could think of ten more, and then ten more on top of that! But, I wanted to limit it to the assignment and stick to ten. Try it... see how you do.

Who ARE you???

Hello, My Name Is...?

When I got married the first time I never doubted for a second that I would take my new husband's last name. I had no desire to keep my last name, to hyphenate or anything. It wasn't that I hated my maiden name. I just figured I'd take my husbands. Besides I figured my name was as Plain-Jane as they came, so a new name would be fun; exciting.

Then as I was going through the process of getting divorced, I had to fill out the paperwork and check the appropriate boxes of which name(s) I would go by. I again assumed I would keep my married name. After all, I argued, I had children with this last name, and I would want to keep it the same as theirs. I didn't want to upset them. Plus if I ever did get remarried, I'd probably change it then, so no use changing it more than necessary, right?

Well, AFTER the divorce my youngest asks if HER last name was the same as my maiden name since she lived with me. I told her "no", that her name hadn't changed at all. She then looked at me and said, "But yours did, right?" I explained to her that no, mine is still the same as hers. I think that actually confused her more! Apparently, she thought that my name reverted BACK to my maiden name automatically, just because I had gotten a divorce.


Then a few weeks ago, my oldest said I should have switched back to my maiden name. I thought that was sort of an odd statement. Here I thought I was somehow "protecting" them by keeping my name the same as theirs, and maybe they would have been okay with it after all. Maybe they are seeing that somehow I am NOT the same person I was when I was married to their father (thank goodness for that).

This I know. The more that time distances itself between me and that marriage, the less and less I feel like *that* person... the person with *that* name. Except, that is my name, isn't it? Legally anyway.

In all actuality, I now feel like the REAL me, only better; the OLD me, only newer. I am feeling like I am discovering the ME I was born to be. Funny, because I catch myself writing my maiden name All.The.Time. It's the name I have always tethered to my creative writing pieces, and thus it has never truly left me. And now it is the name I find myself telling people. I slip, I stumble, and I have to think... is this a "legal" question... do they need my "legal" name?

No... I don't think I will change it legally just yet. After all, it *would* be a pain to change ALL the forms, the id's, the bank statements, the credit cards, the gun permit, etc... not to mention all of the $10 fees to get NEW cards. Bleh. No thanks. But it's ok; I KNOW WHO I AM.

So, if per chance I slip and give you the "wrong" name... just know that I am still me... :)

I Guess I Should Explain...

So last week I had some posts that were sort of "self-reflection", "self-realization" posts. These posts were pivotal for me. They were supposed to illustrate my recent shift in paradigm thinking... the "ah-hah!" moment, if you will, that *I* am in charge and *I* have choices to make.


They were empowering for me to write. They were cleansing. They made me feel strong. I think some people could sense that. But when I read some of the comments, I had to do a double-take cuz many almost seemed like condolences, etc. I even had few people ask me if I was "OK". They said I seemed "down" or "hostile" or "bitter". I went back and reread what I had written. I *guess* I could see how it might sound as if I were whining or complaining.


Huh... I thought, Well, call me Captain Backfire. I guess my attempts at self-reflection, sarcasm and wit didn't come off quite as planned. I guess that most people perceived my posts as a "Struggle" and didn't get my humor. I know... I can be a bit unusual...


Please know that I.AM.OKAY. I feel great! True. I am a little stressed with school. True. I do tend to allow doubt and fear creep in at times; but who doesn't right? True. I HAVE had a few meltdowns lately, but those are mostly due to lack of sleep. True. There are recent events that didn't turn out exactly as *I* would have liked and it still hurts. A.Lot. However, I know that I will get through this.


And truly, though I am an over-sharer, I do not like to be seen as weak. I HATE when others feel sorry for me... That is the LAST thing I want. Ergo, when I *DO* decide to confide about my feelings of inadequacy or panic, I will usually do it with an individual whom I feel I can trust, who perhaps has even gone through something similar. I try not to put the most private things on here - via the blogosphere. (I know... this leaves you all wondering with what I HAVE posted, what could possibly be left, right? Trust me... there is plenty!)

I have always been a glass-is-half-full kind of gal and I seriously try to look for the bright side of things and am always looking for creative ways to make life fun and enjoyable.

Thanks to all of my wonderful bloggy-family and friends for coming on my journey with me and sticking around!

Gag Me With a Cute Personality!

I hate-Hate-HATE when people say

you won't be single for long, cuz you've got such a "cute personality"!

Wanna know why I hate it? Fine! Let's "go there". Let's pick it apart.

1) you won't be single for long
First of all, you don't have a crystal ball, so you don't know this for sure, so it's irrelevant! Also, this is just what you say when you don't know what else to say, like if you're not sure if this was something she wanted or not. Like if the Dude just up and one day says, "Yo Wife. I'm leaving You's and da kidz!" or something like that... perhaps she didn't see it coming. Maybe she is even devastated. On the other hand, maybe the whole thing was her idea. Perhaps he was a dead-loser-butt-head that sat around all day eating cheetos, scratching his junk while watching TV, and getting crumbs all up in her sofa and she was like, "uh-uh, oh no he di-unt! he gots to go!" See, if you KNOW the sitchyation then you can say the appropriate, "Aww, I'm sorry to hear" or the "Way to go! kick him out!" But when people don't know... yeah... that's when you get the , "you won't be single long" routine.

2) you've got such a cute personality.
Seriously folks, this is just code for, "Wow! What happened to you? You got all fat, frumpy and dumpy!" I mean it's sort of like the consolation prize; you can almost hear the voice in their head as they absorb the news the first time about your divorce, "They got divorced? Well, he should fare out pretty good -- he does have the sports car. Her? Hmm... well, she has a cute personality...so maybe..." By the way, if you know Jim Gaffigan, totally imagine his "voice-in-head" voice on that last part. It totally helps.

Anyway, I guess for me, I have heard the line about having a "great personality" or a "cute personality" so many times the past few years I just get tired of it. I know what's going on...I'm not stupid. I mean, I have been married my ENTIRE adult life, up until my divorce. I had kids right away. I was one of those women... the kind who gained weight and lost whatever it was I had going on.

I remember being little and/or a teenager and being complimented on my looks. I admit, I enjoyed the attention. Then, after having kids and gaining weight, it was the "what a pretty face" comments. So, here we've narrowed it down from entire package to face. Then, eventually it was "You have nice eyes". Oops, not even the entire face anymore. And finally, not even eyes... just this intangible thing... this "personality".

Sure, personality is important. But so is feeling sexy, or pretty, or beautiful, or at least just presentable! lol! I mean, picture this...

It's Friday night - Date night. All the men are taking their ladies out for dinner to a nice restaurant. The couples are arriving, putting their names on "the list". Then the waiting begins... So do the games. You know what I'm talking about. The "silently checking each other's dates out". Ohhh yeah. It happens. The girls are checkin out the other girls to see how they stack up against their competition. The guys are also checkin out the other girls to see how they fared out. The guys with the hotties, yeah... they know they've got it going on. The guys with the gals with "pretty faces", well, still not so bad. And the guys with the dates with nice eyes. Well, they just keep their dates close by and try not to notice the others. But let me just say this. NO MAN is standing there thinking, "Oh yeah? Well, MY girl has a Cute Personality!"

Anyway, I was telling this to my Friend From Back Home (FFBH) who is also a counselor. Of course he is laughing at me, telling me I have put way too much thought into this. And says that perhaps some of the Hotties don't have anything else going on for them. Maybe their looks is all they have. Hmm... it *could* be possible.

And then I was at the office, telling my co-workers a funny story about some guy that didn't want to date me and instead thought he'd have better luck with this other girl. I made the comment that this other girl was WAAAAY out of his league, and as it turned out she was, cuz after one date she was not interested in him. My boss came out of the office, stopped me mid-sentence and said, "You know what? YOU are out of his league!" I stopped. I thought for a moment. I had never really considered myself out of anyone's league. Then, because I was Freakin tired, I cried. It was probably the sweetest thing I had heard in a long time.

I wondered the rest of that night, why do I tend to sell myself short? I mean, sure I know I am never gonna be the tall, slender babe with perky breasts. I will probably never be down to my college waistline. True, I've got some double dangs. And once upon a time, these gals coulda probably "stood" on their own... but you know you're old when you practically have to roll them up and tuck them into your bra each morning... *sigh*...

Anyway, I guess what I am saying is I know personality and all is important. But I want to be somebody's sexy somebody. I want to be wanted. I want someone to think I am a hottie. Someone who isn't like some old sixty-something perv, with four bellies and a goiter on his neck anyway.

I wanna know that if I never get any better than I am *right now* that it will be MORE than good enough for somebody. But at least in the meantime... please stop telling me that I won't be single for long because I have a cute personality! lol!

You Took

You took away my once innate ability to have confidence in myself. Now I question, I fear.

You took away my instinct to speak up. I hesitate. I keep it to myself.

You took away my desire to touch and be touched. For years, I thought I was the broken one.

You took away my capability to trust first and doubt second. I'm always looking for the lie, and often the lines are blurred.

You took away my appreciation for certain types of music, because now upon hearing it, triggers memories of you.

You took away my capacity to feel intelligent or sexy or good enough around certain types of men.

You took away my inclination to love your people. Granted, out-sourced call-centers don't help... but still...

You took away my feelings of hope. Though I realize now perhaps it was a false hope all along, it was some sort of hope nonetheless.

I had hoped to be loved, to be wanted, to be good enough. To be... happy.

But you took, and you took, and you took, and you took!

And then you had the audacity to Blame.Me. [Sometimes, you are a Freaking Jerk-Face.]

...[deep cleansing breath]...

But YOU WON'T WIN!!!

I may have been physically exhausted. I may have been emotionally beat down. I may have even been spiritually suffering. But I survived; I am still here. I am still my own person, and you cannot take that away from me...Ever. *I* am the one writing MY story now.

I am learning that I can do things I never thought possible. I am learning that I have potential, and that I CAN do hard things, and that people DO love me... and that one day, when I find *THE ONE* he will be so much better for me than you could ever have even hoped to be.

And yes, there are still times when the things you TOOK still have an effect on my actions, but (luckily) those times are dissipating.

As I recently wrote on the Blogstalker's blog while guest-blogging...

I love the notion that, “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience, but rather we are Spiritual Beings having a human experience.” This adds significance to my plight in determining who I am, as now I desire to figure out who He already knows me to be. It fills me with hope and gives my journey purpose.

The Process

8-15-09

I open my eyes, and rub them for a second. I squint and rub some more until my contacts, which I am not supposed to wear to bed but do on *occasion* come into focus. I look at the clock on the wall. 11:30am. I smile. Nice, I think to myself. I was able to sleep in. The kids are at their dad's this weekend and I do not have to be anywhere by any certain time today. I should be able to get a lot of stuff around the house accomplished. But first... Blogging!

I read a few blogs. I check Facebook for updates. I go back and read a few more blogs. A friend starts a Facebook Chat session with me. We chat. I laugh. I feel...calm...

But, I know I have to get things done, and now it's 1:30pm. I say good bye to my friend. I get up and do the whole wash-my-face, brush-my-teeth, pull-my-hair-into-a-pony-tail routine. I think I shall start with the Living Room. Not in too bad a'shape. I straighten pillows and fold blankets, and put books back on shelf. I notice a book I haven't read yet. I sit down and flip to the first chapter. I just wanna read the first few lines...y'know... to see if it will be worth reading.

I get all the way through chapter three. I realize it's 2pm. I put the book down and think that perhaps I shall tackle the kitchen. I start unpacking the picnic basket from our trip a few days before. As I put things away in the pantry, I notice that *someone* has left an EMPTY BOX in the pantry! UGH! This is a pet peeve of mine! I shake and rattle each and every cereal box, fruit snack package and chip bag. I take the empties out to the trash. I return to organize a little more and notice a cake mix with a recipe on the side. I sit down, and read through the recipe. Sounds easy. Reminds me of another recipe...what's it called??? I put the cake mix back and walk over to the cupboard with the cook books. I know it's here somewhere. I rifle through and finally find the recipe. Hmmm, I think. I am WAAAY off. This is nothing like that recipe on the side of the cake mix box. Oh well. Back to "cleaning" the kitchen.

I straighten bar stools and take trash out. I sort through the mail on the side counter. One envelope catches my attention. I pick it up, along with a few ponytail holders that were left out and start to open the envelope while walking towards the bathroom to put the hair bands away. I secretly congratulate myself for totally multi-tasking, cuz y'know, placing pony-tail holders in their correct location while opening an interesting-looking envelope is far harder than walking and chewing gum at the same time.

Hair accessories are back in their place. I notice an empty grocery bag on the bathroom counter. I pick it up and tuck it under my arm as I pull the card out of the envelope. It is from a neighbor.
I enter my bedroom and sit on the edge of my bed to read the card. I smile more. She's thanking me for singing in a double quartet at church and is saying how great we sounded. How nice. I crumple it up and toss it in the empty grocery sack that I am still carrying around (again with the multi-tasking) and suddenly notice the stack of un-opened mail on my bedroom desk. Well, as long as I am here and have this grocery-now-turned-garbage-bag with me, I think, I shall go through the mail and get rid of the garbage items.

At the bottom of the stack is a catalog. I sit on the edge of the bed, efficiently thumbing through the catalog determining if it's worth keeping. It isn't. I throw it away. It's now 3pm. I feel tired all of a sudden. And not just a little sleepy, but exhausted! I lay back and close my eyes for only a second.

I feel cold. I open my eyes and realize I have fallen asleep. I wonder what time it is. I check the clock and it is 4:30pm. I am surprised at how tired I am after already sleeping in until 11:30am. Nevertheless, I am still EXHAUSTED, and now cold too! I crawl to the head of my bed and get under the covers. I snuggle with my pillow. I nap for Two.More.Hours.

I get up and feel refreshed. I get a funny text from a friend. He tells me about something he has posted on Facebook. I sit up and get my laptop and look. Sure enough, it is hilarious. We end up chatting for two more hours.

It is 8:30pm. I am starving. I haven't eaten all day. I debate whether to cook or go through the drive-thru for a dollar taco that is sure to give me a food baby and make me sick. The thought of sour cream lures me and the taco wins.

9pm. I am home and taco is finished. I feel rested. I feel...calm. I feel like I do not care whether or not the rest of the house got clean. Besides, I can't help it, I think to myself. I was obviously tired and obviously needed to sleep.

This is my life. I don't pretend to make it look easy... it's a process.

Journal Journey: Seeing Amy

I have really enjoyed rereading my old journals. I can look back at the lessons I learned once-upon-a-time and I can re-learn them. I can reread about the trials I faced and how I overcame them and find renewed strength in myself. Mostly, my old journals make me laugh at myself and cringe... such as the "love entries" like I already posted. In talking to Eric about that lately, I came across another journal entry. It was about his sister, Amy. I shared the entry with him. I haven't read that entry in forever, and now upon reading it again, I think it was poignant to me, in helping to shape the way I tried to live my life as I finished high school and went off to college. I was 18 when I wrote about this. Without further adieu...

January 4, 1992

The first time I met Amy I didn't like her. She just seemed too perfect. She was a straight-A student, a well-versed scriptorian, a skilled conversationalist, extremely talented, the perfect daughter and the perfect sister. She and her brothers were the best of friends. I guess truly, it's not that I didn't like her; I realize now I was jealous. She emulated the kind of person I want to be and strive to be and yet it seemed to come all-too-easily for her.

One Tuesday night I had signed up to babysit in the nursery for the Relief Society Homemaking activity. Amy had just turned 18. She was officially in Relief Society now. It was summer and it was warm outside. The kids were getting antsy in the nursery, so I decided to take them outside and let them play in the grass. Soon, Amy came outside, oddly appearing a bit nervous. She asked me if she could hang out with me and the nursery kids. I did not expect that. I said yes. She sat down on the grass next to me and explained how she did not feel comfortable in Homemaking with all of the "older ladies". I was utterly shocked. I thought for sure that she was so mature she'd just love it there.

We sat in the grass and talked and laughed for over two hours. I suddenly saw Amy as a real down-to-earth person. The more we talked, the more I realized that while I was jealous of all of her incredible qualities, she was too humble to recognize most of them within herself. She didn't realize how close-to-perfect she actually was. I also discovered that she was shy in groups where she didn't feel like she belonged. And I tried to imagine what it would be like to move to a brand new school my last year of high school. It would be a little overwhelming. Amy admitted to feeling like she did not fit in. I immediately felt ashamed for the way I had previously misjudged her.

In that instant, the very moment in which she chose to share her personal insecurities with me I had a new respect, appreciation and love for her. I think it took a lot for her to leave the Relief Society and come join the nursery to hang out with an immature girl like me. I realized through our conversation that we weren't all that different either; and in fact she had done some quirky things too. She showed me the orange streaks on her legs where she tried to use that spray-on tan stuff. We laughed so hard over that.

She taught me more about loving and not judging others in that one evening than I had learned up to that point on my own. Shortly after that night, Amy went off to college. I never looked at her the same way again. She is a pillar of strength. Anyone who has ever met her, even if only briefly, knows at least that one thing about her. I will never forget what she did for me that night; how she gave me eyes to see.

Amy died January 2, 1992 of Lukemia.

Pity-Party and the Prodigal Son

So, logically, I KNOW many things. Emotionally, I know what I feel. Most days, I choose to let logic win. But, once in a while doubt and fear creep in, mixed in with exhaustion and stress, I choose to let my emotions get the best of me. Sometimes, I choose to have myself a Pity Party. Well, the other night I was having just such a party. I ended up venting to someone via email, actually two different someones. I really just wanted to talk to someone who perhaps had been going through or already gone through what I have been feeling. However, I didn't think it would be very nice to call anyone in the middle of the night. Here's a compilation of the emails I sent. After re-reading it, I decided to Blog it because I use my blog as a journal of sorts. And I know that one day I will reread this and think, "Boy, was that lame!" or "wow! I've come a long way." So, pardon the rambling, as it was after 1 in the morning...


August 8, 2009

So its the middle of the night and no surprise that I cannot sleep. Having one of those down moments where all I seem to do is cry, toss, turn and cry some more. Pathetic, I know. I was in Nevada for our family reunion and I came home Thursday. I feel like the odd one out. I hate that feeling. I am supposed to be the strong one. I do not feel strong. I am someone the others are supposed to look up to. I am supposed to be a support system for my family. Being there amidst my sisters, I realized I was neither.

And I know this is rather haughty of me... But you know the story of the prodigal son? There are 2 sons. One is obedient and works hard. The other is not and does not and ends up straying from home. While he is gone, the good one continues to be good and work hard. Then the wayward one returns, and is showered by his father with love, gifts and affection, while the obedient son sits back and watches and thinks, "this is not fair! I was the good one!" Well, there are days in which I can relate to the obedient one. I did EVERYTHING I was supposed to do, or I tried, really hard. I had a few sisters that didn't always do what they were supposed to. They did "return to the fold" and now, like upon the return of the prodigal son, they have the very thing which I desire. They have the happy marriages and the good spouses. All while I sit back and watch and feel like crying to everyone, including the Lord at times, "but I was the good one!"

I realize we all have our trials; and it is through our trials that we become stronger, and enduring our trials is a way to define who God already knows us to be; like a refiner's fire.

But today, for this moment, I just need to cry. I want with desperation to be wanted. I want to love and be loved. I want to be held; not held back. I want to be able to not cry any more. I want to feel that somebody could love me for me, even if I am never better than what I am right now at this very moment.

On the one hand I feel like my heart is so full of love to give that it will burst. On the other hand it feels so empty, it might shatter. I realize in the grand scheme of things, my time, my "waiting period" if you will, has been but a small moment. But I also feel exhausted; tired of waiting. I want to see the end from the beginning. I want to know my place. I want to feel less lost and more found, and I don't know how else to do that without feeling love.


So, the next day, I am uploading family reunion pics to FB and one of my Friends From Back Home (FFBH) sees I am online. The dialogue goes somewhat like this:

FFBH: So... I've been thinking.
Me: Uh-oh...this doesn't sound good. Maybe I should just say sorry now?
FFBH: No need to apologize, lol.
Me: Whew! So, what have you been thinking about?
FFBH: the emails...
Me: Ohh snap! I forgot about those. Isn't there like a magic eraser button or something?
FFBH: No. Actually, I was quite impressed. You have this ability to identify how you are feeling and put it into words. A lot of what you wrote rang true for me, I just don't always write it down.
Me: ok...
FFBH: You realize that most of what we go through emotionally is what we allow ourselves to go through?
(Yeah, um, see, he's like this therapist... so he's good.)
Me: Interesting...I guess I can see that.
FFBH: It's amazing what we as humans actually put ourselves through.

So, as I thought about that all day, I decided I could not allow myself to go through certain feelings/drama/duress anymore; it was just too hard. And that if there was a question I felt was going unanswered, perhaps I wasn't asking the right question. Or perhaps I wasn't asking it direct enough. I decided to change that.

Also, the more I thought about the Prodigal Son and his "Not Fair" Brother, the more I realized this: The brother WAS rewarded. He was rewarded in that he already stood to gain all that his father had. He WAS rewarded in that he didn't have to go astray, live among fifth, and live in despair to know the truth. He didn't have to endure those same trials his brother did. He was already firm in his faith.

I am reminded time and time again through myriads of accounts in the scriptures that after the trials come the blessings. I know that I will be blessed. I know that I have ALREADY been blessed. I was blessed to be firm in my faith. I didn't HAVE to "hit rock bottom" and stray a little as perhaps some of my siblings, in order for me to recognize and come to know the truth. I ALREADY stand to gain all that my Father has in store for me. I am already rewarded in so many ways. And of course, it could ALWAYS be worse.

But sometimes, I suppose I just need a good cry! :)

Journal Journey: He Broke My Heart

Fact: I've only been dumped twice in my entire life. The first time was 20 years ago; I was 15. The second time was 6 months ago... I was...er, um, yeah... 35. Grrr...Big-D.

Fact: Both times sucked. Both times I felt like my heart was going to explode right through my chest cavity and burst into a million pieces on the ground in front of me. Must by why they call it heartache.


Sunday July 23, 1989

This past weekend was Youth Conference. It was really great, except for one main thing. Eric. I suppose you could say that Eric let me down. We had a talk and he said that we should just be friends. But he hasn't seemed to act very friendly lately. Like today, when I said hello, he didn't respond. But no matter what happens, I could never hate him. A big part of me still loves him because we shared so many things that were like secrets to everyone else. We told each other things we never told anyone else. Right now I'm feeling like a big part of me is missing; a part of my heart. It's like I had a nice package, neatly wrapped up and then he came and untied it.

Fast forward to age 18. I went off to college at BYU-Hawaii. Eric was there, serving a mission for our church. There were a lot of "coincidences"; too many for this one post.

Age 19. I was engaged and having several doubts. I wasn't certain. And yet, for some reason I said "yes" anyway. I flew home for the summer to attend my sister's wedding just a few months before my own. I remember this incident like it was yesterday and think about it All.The.Time.

Monday July 12, 1993

There are many emotions I am feeling right now. It seems lately that everything is so confusing... just this past year Eric and I talked several times. Then, shortly after Christmas, shortly after meeting [the man formerly known as my husband] I talked to Eric on the phone. It just didn't seem like we had anything to say anymore. I thought perhaps that I was finally over him after four years of pining over him. And I'm not in love with him anymore; I mean I am getting married to someone else. But maybe you just never really forget your first love.

Anyway, yesterday I saw Eric at church. He came home from his mission. I was surprised to see him there as I turned to walk out of the chapel. As I walked towards him, I looked at him and he looked at me. I tried my best to smile at him, as if to say hi. He sort of nodded back and gave a half smile. As I reached the point where he was standing, I paused and we looked at each other for a brief moment. His eyes told me he had lots to say. My heart ached for him. I knew that he was going through something. There were so many things I wanted to say to him; wanted to ask him. I wanted to know what everything meant from the last 10 months. I wanted to know how he was. I wanted to talk to him; to hug him and to have him want to hug me back. I wanted to tell him everything would be okay. I said nothing. I walked on. I am engaged to someone else; in love with someone else. He seemed to understand.

Experiencing my most recent heartache this past year has brought me back to this one pivotal point in my life several times. I know that the life I am living now is a direct result of the choices I have made thus far and I am truly grateful for my children. I realize that my experience may be somewhat altered today if I would have made a different decision back then. But I do not want to live with any more "what-if's" when it comes to love.

I want to give my heart and my trust and I want to give it with everything I can. And then, after I have given everything, when or if it doesn't go my way, I can move on in peace.

I'm not trying to move mountains here... just looking for that thing called love.

Babysteps

I have already told you that I am "training" for a 5k in August.

In college I used to run every morning. I loved running outdoors because I could feel the trade winds off the ocean and I loved the fresh Hawaiian air. And afterwards - I know this sounds gross - but I loved tasting the saltwater off my lips.

Then I got married and had children and had to work outside the home. Running wasn't a priority. Eventually exercise wasn't even a priority. I struggled to find peace and happiness in what was supposed to be wedded bliss. I became sick on top of that and was on several medications (mostly hormones and a partial steroid) for years. It seemed that as each year passed, another five pounds was added. Sure, within a year a five-pound gain isn't horrific. But times that by oh - how many years? and that's like a gajillion pounds! Well, all right, maybe not THAT many, but still.

Finally with my divorce, I wanted to start feeling good again. I had already had surgery to remove the diseases so that was taken care of and no more meds. I had ventured a few trails on my own and I also found a place I like to walk outdoors. I had a great view of the valley and I usually walked at night, so the setting sun was always gorgeous. I walked that path several times a week, saving my trail for Saturdays.

Then I met Big-D, who is a trail-runner. I was impressed by how far and how high he'd run. Suddenly my little 2 or 3 miles seemed like nothing. I went with him a few times to his trail and loved it. The more I went the more I wanted to go. We would always start off at the same point, but he would take off running and I would of course, walk. I would time my walks so I knew when to turn around at the half way mark, and we'd finish together. I made it up to the radio towers and back for a total of 3.22 miles.

Then the "break-up" happened and I no longer went to the trail with Big-D except on occasion. I have done a lot of "walking" exercise over the past year, but the more I walked, the more I wanted to run. I can't explain it other than to say it was like an itch that needed scratching. As I would walk on the trail or the track or treadmill, it was like I had this energy brewing, waiting to explode. Like, I had this "thing" that was being held captive... I don't know what this "thing" is, other than perhaps "desire".

I decided to go back to the gym. I really wanted to run. BUT I did NOT want to run in front of all of those girls... You know the ones; the ones that aren't really even there to work out. They show up in their tight short-shorts and sports-bra tops and perfectly sculpted, perfectly tanned bods and they "pretend" to work out while they check out the guys who are of course also checking them out. NO. I did not want to run in front of them and feel all fat and frumpy and dumpy. Then I discovered the MOVIE ROOM! Yes. The gym has two rooms with big screens and the rooms are dark. I started going in there to use the treadmill. I figured most people were watching the movie and therefore, would NOT be watching me.

So I started running one night in the movie room. Or should I say I TRIED to run. I was no good at it. My knees started screaming, "Hey, Fatso! Remember us? We haven't hauled you around at this speed in over 16 years! And there's MORE of you now! What are you trying to do to us???" So, I walked. Then when I got home, I googled.

I found an article online called "From Couch Potato to 5K". It was a coaching guide for beginning runners to get them ready for a 5K in 8 weeks. It was perfect. After reading that along with other articles, I started to find a common denominator. They say for beginning runners, the first thing you should do is WALK! Brilliant.

So, I changed my work out a bit. I started riding the stationery bike first, to condition my knees. I did this before every "run". After 2 weeks of that, my knees felt great and I no longer needed the bike. Then on to the "training". I warm up with a 5 minute walk and then alternate running with walking. I only run until I feel winded or my chest hurts, and then I slow down to a walk. At first the running was as little as 90 seconds; sometimes more. But the whole idea is to gradually build up to a pace in which I will be able to run the entire 5K without killing myself. Again, brilliant.

A few weeks ago, I went with Big-D back to the "radio towers" trail. He was going to run "only 7 miles" that night. I figured out my half-way time and we were off - though not before him telling me to keep my eyes open as he had recently seen several rattlers and even 1 tarantula on that trail in the last few weeks. Great, I thought.

I put my music on and started off with my walk. The weather was perfect. And I noticed that I could walk much faster than before without getting winded. Then came the first little incline in the mountain. Ok, I can do this, I told myself. And I did. A few more turns, a few more inclines, and then one little down-hill. I decided to run down. Soon, I was at the radio towers. I looked at my watch. Holy Cow. It was my best time ever. I still had 10 minutes before I would have to turn around to go back. I kept going.

I felt exhilarated. I was now going to see what the other side of the mountain looked like. "Don't cry," I told myself. "It's just a freaking mountain." And yet to me, it was so much more.

I figured I wouldn't get very far in the ten minutes. But, I was wrong. To make things better, I even saw a baby deer. Soon I had hit my ten minutes and it was time to go back. I got back up to the radio towers and took some deep breaths and stretched my shins out a little. Then, I looked down the mountain towards the car. I suddenly felt on top of the world. I felt a surge of energy throughout my body and it consumed me. I decided I was going to run the rest of the way.

And I did. I ran the entire way down the mountain. When I could see the car, I slowed to a "cool down" walk. And when I got there, I realized I still had a few minutes to spare before Big-D would finish. I stretched a little and waited; secretly feeling proud. I wanted to cry and giggle all at the same time. We mapped my progress on google earth when we got home, and I had added a whole other mile! I walked/ran a complete 4.22 miles with a total elevation of 700 ft! I felt sore and tired, but I also felt great.

I don't know if I will be able to run the entire 5K come August. But I will say that my progress has me excited. For once, I feel like I am accomplishing things. This is something ONLY I can do for myself; no one can do it for me. I finally feel like I am on my way, whatever that means. And I'm not even really sure to "where"... I just feel like I am on my way.

Crap! Now I'm gonna go have a good cry... self-realization does this to me sometimes. ;)

Meeting Normal: A Pathetic Attempt at Free Verse

I walk into a crowded store and start to feel anxious.
Am I normal?
If I know I'm gonna see him or talk to him, I feel happy and nervous and sick and giddy inside.
Am I normal?
I can't sleep. I toss. I turn. I flip the pillow over to get to the cold side.
Am I normal?
I feel like I'm breaking or broken or falling or spinning or something.
Am I normal?
I feel like crying because I'm tired, or I stubbed my toe, or simply because the sky is blue.
Am I normal?
The things I love I don't do and the things I do I don't love.
Am I normal?
I pace. I fidget. I can't sit still. I don't know what I am supposed to be doing.
Am I normal?
I think about the word 'normal' and say it over and over until it sounds funny.
Am I normal?
I read. I blog. I cry. I blog. I laugh. I blog. I can't sleep. I blog.
Am I normal?
I meet someone crazier, poorer, messier, lonelier, and quirkier than me and think,
I. Am. Normal.

Dear Self,

Dear Irrational-Self,

I know that you mean well. I know that you have hopes and dreams and ambitions. I know that you get the "big picture". But sometimes, I wonder if you get the little ones.

I know that you start the day with certain expectations. You have a certain schedule. You even make certain plans. I know that you hope that things go according to those plans.

I know that when you are tired you tend to get a little bit over-the-top emotional.

But things don't always go the way they should, or the way that you want them too. That's just the way life is. It's just the way the cookie crumbles. You need to learn to deal with it instead of sitting there feeling all sorry for yourself.

And, by the way, the *thing* that you are actually moping around about and on the verge of tears about isn't even a BIG DEAL!!! So, pray tell, what is your problem??? Grow up!

I know. I understand it isn't what you wanted. It didn't go the way you planned. But unless you have some Quantum Leap special powers, you're not gonna be able to go back and change it.

So, swallow your self-pity and wipe away your tears for Pete's Sake!

And if this little pep-talk isn't working, then I give you permission to eat whatever the H-E-Double-Hockey-Sticks you want tonight!

There...Y'see? I knew I could cheer you up! It will all seem better in the morning.

Love,
Rational Self