My Hope

And here’s the thing that I keep thinking about: so I do something really sucky and stupid and everyone looks at me like I’m a Klingon for a second; then what? Who cares? Is anyone going to stab me in the gut with a javelin? Is the government going to repossess all of my belongings for writing a bad blog post, or getting a script rejected a thousand times, or forgetting important birthdays? No. And I think the simple reason behind it is that no one cares as much about what I’m doing as I do. In my mind, the process of me failing starts with people saying, “She’s terrible,” and ends with them saying, “let’s murder her in the alley.” When in reality, it’s more like, “She’s terrible. Ooohh…nachos!”

I read the previous quote in a blog by Melanie Crutchfield. I had my idea for this post before reading hers because of another friend who had blogged about the Hope 2012: A Blog Relay. What she says here has alot to do with my post though, so I figured I'd include it... Now onto my post. 

I have always been the kind of person who was too worried about what others thought.  It has caused issues my entire life, and I wish it was just something that I could just STOP doing… but alas, I've done it for as long as I can remember.

In fact, one of my very first memories is about getting my feelings hurt when I heard my parents laughing about me singing along to a Whitney Houston tape. I think I was like 3 or 4. As a parent, I realize that what I was doing much have been crazy cute to them and that they were probably laughing because of how adorable I was (and still am!) At least, that's what I do, as a parent. But even then, I took what THEY were doing and let it affect how I viewed myself. I still feel uncomfortable singing in front of people.

This type of behavior has affected my WHOLE life. I remember feeling "uncool" as young as first/second grade. I remember feel laughed at or made fun of, when I'm sure others had much better things to do than worry about me. The worry and concern over what everyone else is thinking has followed me into adulthood. And it has been a thorn in my side the entire time.  

I recently had some enlightenment regarding my worry. I was actually trying to defend some previous actions, and it hit me… "WHY!" I realized a lot of things at that moment.

People are going to think whatever they want about you and generally it has nothing to do with who you actually are, and more to do with who THEY are - their own personal perceptions, struggles, worries, issues, experiences, beliefs, etc. You can try to explain what you believe is true until you're blue in the face. It does no good. People form their opinions around experiences and perceptions, most of which are skewed to fit what they NEED to believe at that time.

I have been terrified my whole life of not being liked. I have no idea why… I'm a nice person and I try to be kind… what's not to like ;) But still… It's a HUGE fear. So when I perceive things, that fears skews it. For example, if I walk into a room and I'm not part of a conversation, I worry that it's about me and the people talking are bashing me or whatever. In a way, this is really kind of conceited. Nobody is really talking about me… and if they are… so what. How does that change who I am? How does that make me feel bad? More than likely, most conversations that I worry about have absolutely NOTHING to do with me. And even if they do, I am the one who gives it the power to affect me. My whole view of others is skewed by my own personal fears.

But with this realization that people are going to think whatever they want about me (and that's their right) I have robbed this fear of its power. LET THEM TALK… they're probably not talking about me, and if they are, who cares! I can be myself and not worry about what anyone else thinks… Liking me and being okay with me is all that matters. I have my own personal standards that I try to align with my understanding of the Gospel of Christ. No one except for my Father in Heaven is my judge.

“Everybody in this life has their challenges and difficulties. That is part of our mortal test. The reason for some of these trials cannot be readily understood except on the basis of faith and hope because there is often a larger purpose which we do not always understand. Peace comes through hope.”

James E. Faust

Letting go of this fear has also helped me to be more genuine. When I'm not trying to fit what anyone else wants or expects of me, I can be more of myself. And I am so much happier for it. It's exhausting trying to be what everyone else wants you to be or expects you to be (or what you THINK they want and expect you to be.) And you don't have to do it. I can figure out what I want for myself, what standards I want for myself, what my personal beliefs are, where my faith lies.

I have realized that my Heavenly Father does not want me to fit some cookie cutter mold. That was Satan's plan… for us not to have choice or be different or unique. My Father in Heaven created me different from everyone else… just like everyone else. No one else has my soul, my experiences, my thoughts, my strengths, my weakness, or my perceptions. He doesn't expect me to try to be like anyone else… only to be the best that I can.

I have also learned to be more understanding of others, more accepting. I do not know their thoughts, experiences, perceptions, etc… And because of that, I cannot judge their words or actions. That's not my place or my job. It's my job to be a listening ear and a sympathetic arm. It is my job to be encouraging and uplifting. That's it.

“Genuine hope is urgently needed in order to be more loving even as the love of many waxes cold; more merciful, even when misunderstood or misrepresented; more holy, even as the world ripens in iniquity; more courteous and patient in a coarsening and curt world; and more full of heartfelt hope, even when other men’s hearts fail them. Whatever our particular furrow, we are to ‘plow in hope,’ without looking back or letting yesterday hold tomorrow hostage (1 Cor. 9:10).”

Neal A. Maxwell

This enlightenment has given me one of the greatest gifts in this whole world. HOPE. I have hope for the future that I will be able to learn more about whom I am and what I am here to do and accomplish.  I have hope that I will overcome my ridiculous fears and my awful thoughts that come with depression. I have hope that I will be able to teach this same understanding to my daughters, and that they will then be able to grow into good, strong, confident women who are examples to those around them. Maybe I can also help others to realize this about themselves too. That you don't have to be afraid of what anyone thinks. You only need to worry about what YOU think. If YOU are okay with YOU, the no one else can break you down. I have hope for the future. And that helps me to be happy with today. 

Now it's time to pass the torch on. Keep it going... What gives you Hope? Hope in anything, the future, humanity, the weather... any of it. Just blog about Hope ;) 

My Hell (Warning: May Trigger) (With UPDATE)

I sat down an hour and a half ago to begin writing out a story. This story is my story. It's terrible, and haunting, and makes me sick to my stomach to think about.

I am damn proud of myself right now. I just finished writing 17 pages worth. There is more to write but I cannot manage anything else at the moment. I have most of the major stuff written... kinda. I have more ideas and thoughts swimming in my head, but I'm physically, mentally, and spiritually exhausted. I feel as if I have been beaten up and broken and left bleeding on the pavement. But I'm still proud. A bit scared of what I may do til sleep comes and replaces the thoughts in my head with some much needed nonsense...

But I just had a thought... I'll probably dream about it, about what I just put on paper to try to help ease it all out of my head. I will probably dream about him. The more I've thought about it, the more literal my dreams have been... no longer verging on metaphorical, but being much more straight forward. And it's scary. I wake up most mornings feeling as if I had been molested during the night. It's hard to share a bed with my husband when that is going on. It's hard to sleep at all when that is going on. So I've been staying up til the sun is rising and my eyelids can't possibly stay open for another second. I know those dreams are just that... dreams. They are not real. The touching, abuse, and trauma from them is not real. But the feelings, the pain, the hurt... all that IS real. And it sticks around, ruining my days and leading only to more sleepless/nightmarish nights.

And here are the chills, up and down my spine as I think about it all, like his nasty fingers on me. The headache and stomach ache have been there since I first began writing nearly 2 hours ago. The chest pains have come and gone while I wrote, depending on where I was in the story.

I'm scared to even move. I know I'm on the edge. Do I try to take something to calm myself down? Do I wake Handsome and ask for his help in distracting me? Do I just accept that my night is going to be Hell and get on with getting it over with? It's difficult because I guess I knew this would come from bringing up so much of the story to the forefront of my mind, So I probably shouldn't be writing it in the middle of the night, so that I can protect myself from moments such as this. But at the same time, This is about the only time I can find the privacy and "flow" to write it out.

I need something uplifting. Something to completely redirect my thoughts. Something to get these images out of my head. Anything to get HIM out of my mind. At least tomorrow(later today) I will be able to see my therapist and hash some of this out. But again, that will result in keeping all this in the forefront of my mind, leave it swirling in there, and it will be a shadow on the rest of the day. And handsome will not be home tomorrow night to be my safety net to catch me if/when I fall to far into hell. But a friend will be stopping by. Maybe the whole purpose of planning our catch-up was divinely inspired, so that I would not be alone during this time.

The most random thing I can think to do to lift my spirits at the moment is a McDonald's Rolo McFlurry. I love those freakin things. And I want one, right now. My reward, for a hard job well done. But I'm afraid to go alone. If I'm alone, I will feel the shadows behind me in the car. Not even the radio on full blast will shoo them away. If I'm alone there may be thoughts of self-harm that creep in, and I'm trying to avoid them at all costs... especially after I lost my head a bit this evening and hurt my thumb in a fit.

So I could wake Handsome up and see if he would be willing to go get me one, or ride with me. Pregnant women do stuff like that all the time right?  I have one awful baby in my head that needs a McFlurry to calm down... Only I can't use the excuse that he made me like that, so he had to deal with it... The exact opposite is true. He tries so hard to be understanding, to help, to relieve as much of the pain as he can, to be exactly what I need him to be (though most times neither one of  us know what that is.)  So If I wake him up to help me, there will be guilt from him losing sleep. He has work tomorrow, and scout camp after that. He needs to sleep. I need to be stronger. But as I said before... I'm tired. That story wears me out... and maybe I should have stopped before I got too deep into it.

Regardless, I need to stop thinking about this and find a distraction. Not sure what I'll find yet, but something (anything) has got to help.

I also found this website tonight. (http://writingourselveswhole.org/)  If you're trying to write about traumatic experiences in your life, this is a great place to go and check out. It helped me get started tonight. Maybe it could help you as well.

****I've had a few messages from people on FB and emails and others just checking on me to make sure I'm doing okay. I'm great. I ended up waking Chris up and we went to McDonald's at 3 in the morning (and they were busy... WTHeck?)  Turns out they were cleaning their ice cream machine, so no McFlurry, but Handsome helped me get my mind off everything and we laughed and laughed and ended up turning on the Princess Bride when we got back home. So yeah... I'm good. Thank you all for your concern and for making sure I'm doing good. I appreciate it and love you all.

1st Annual Mommy Blogger Scholarship

So, I just found this on Twitter...

The 1st Annual Mommy Blogger Scholarship

(please note the badge on the right side of this blog... it may be towards the bottom)

As a new "mommy blogger", I think this scholarship thing is AMAZING and just finished my application. I wanted to share a bit of it with you if you don't mind...

The very last question on the application was

"What do you need most as a mother?"

And my response?

Charity - pure unconditional love.

I need this from the mothers around me - Do not judge me because I don't mother the same way you do. Do not judge me because my kids get high fructose corn syrup. ;) Love me because we are sisters. Love me because we both understand what it feels like to have our hearts and souls walking around outside our bodies. Love me because I need to know that I'm not alone, that I'm not the only one who's ever just thrown a towel on a pee stained bed and waited til morning to take the sheets off, that I'm not the only one who has gotten so frustrated at my kids I wanted to drop kick them. I need to know that I'm not the only one who would lose it all if I ever lost my children.

I need Charity from my children. I need for them to love me no matter what. Love me when I lose my patience. Understand that I'm not perfect, but I'm trying my best. Love me when I struggle to get off the couch to make them breakfast. Love me because I tease them about being zombies and bite their pudgy little cheeks. Love me for making them stick to their responsibilities and for not doing things for them that they can do for themselves.

I need This kind of love from my husband. I need him to support me... again understand that I'm not perfect. I need him to feel just as passionately about me as I do him. I need him to realize that the number one way to take care of our children is to take care of each other. I need him to be forgiving when the dishes and laundry aren't done. I need him to not care about the chaos of having 9 of our nieces and nephews spend the night, and for him to jump in and play right along with me and the kids. I need him to love me in spite of my depression and anxiety, my constant questioning of him. I need him to love me for my craziness. I need to know he will always be there, right beside me, supporting me, as I support him.

I need Charity from myself - and this is the hardest one of all.  I know my faults, my weaknesses, my desires, how often I give in, how often I feel guilt. I don't feel worth of those around me, my friends, my family, my children, my husband - heck even my house and my dogs. Being able to love myself regardless of all these things is one of the hardest at all, but the most desperately needed. You must love and take care of yourself in order to love and take care of others. It's not being selfish... it's appreciating this wonderful gift of life that you've been given. It's hardest to be compassionate and understanding with yourself, but it's the most crucial. This is something I have been learning over the past few months, and have tried to include in my blog. It's something I want other mothers/women/girls/humans to realize.

Love is what I need most. With that love from those around me and myself, I can do what I need to do to be the mother/woman/human I want to be (not perfect, but trying my hardest.)

If you are also a fellow mommy blogger, go check out the scholarship and apply.  It couldn't hurt, right?

This is my Happy Face

Very convincing, isn't it?

Well today has been a good day (I actually showered!) I got to spend pretty much the entire day with T-bone's Pre-K class and Mad-dog was able to be there and participate as well. (Side note: Mad-dog was accepted into this class for the next school year. Way exciting. Only 20 kids out of like 300 get in! So I've been taking her up there when I can so she can get to know her teachers before school starts this fall. And then both my girls will be in school... SO EXCITED - insert mommy guilt here... because I shouldn't want my girls to be gone during the day... right?)

Moving on... 

Most days aren't that good. The majority are kinda okay, and a lot are pretty bad. I mean curled up crying in the fetal position bad. (And that actually happened yesterday, so it's not an exaggeration.) I was thinking about how often I put on a Happy Face for those around me when I'm feeling the complete opposite inside. I was talking with Handsome last night. I asked him why I feel the need to fake it for some people, but can be completely open with others. And actually now that I think about it, I'm not sure I really am completely open with anyone about my depression. I even hide some of it from Handsome - the one person who I know will not judge me or hold any of this against me - who knows me better than anyone else.

When I was in high school, I had a code word. Dandy. I had a few good friends who knew what it meant. If they asked how I was and I said dandy, they knew I was having a bad day, though the happy face was plastered on. But only a select few knew my secret... 

Obviously, I am putting this all on the Internet for everyone and their mom to read, so why do I still feel the need to hide my crazy from some people? Is it to protect myself or to protect others? Maybe a little of both... There are some people who are close to me that I feel the need to protect a bit from my crazy. I've seen them be completely freaked out by the things I've said about my depression, and I don't want to drive them off. Others, I'm afraid will dismiss my issues and treat them as nothing. Or worse, makes jokes about them. It's like a sibling... I can make fun of it, but you can't. I can say I'm crazy, but if anyone else says it, I'll turn into a pile of tears. 

Talking to Handsome, he related it to cancer, like I often do. Do people with cancer want everyone to know of their struggle? Or do they put on a brave face for those around them. They may mention the fact that they have the disease but brush off how badly they  hurt and how dire the situation is. Maybe I do that too. Most everyone in my life knows about my issues, but hardly any know the severity of it all.  And maybe it is to protect myself from the judgement and the ass backwards ideas that still surround depression and anxiety. 

What is the point of this post? I don't know... just to say that I fake it alot of the time. But I think we all do to some extent. We only let people see the parts of us we know they'll be comfortable with. I think that's okay though. Maybe it helps us all stay a bit more sane, less stressed for sure. And for me, every little bit helps.

Reflecting

I've been doing some reflecting about past posts. The very first post on this blog makes me cringe. I can't believe that all my crazy is out there for the world to see and read and judge. It almost makes me panic and I want to delete it and erase it, but at the same time, having it out there makes me feel strong. Like I'm standing up to the depression and facing it head on instead of backing down, and hiding it, ashamed.

A few posts ago I mentioned the fact that I have been molested twice in my life. One I can remember and one I don't. Some people in my circle (family and friends) only knew about one of these instances if any at all. Announcing it on here was a huge step for me. Putting something I have kept secret for half of my life on the internet for the world to read was difficult to say the least. I posted it so that people might understand me more or better, so that they would know where it is I come from and how some events in your life can truly effect your mental health, whether you are conscious of them or not.

I have realized there may be people who read that and are offended. Crazy as it may sound, and maybe this is all in my head, but there are those who are extremely close to me that I have never said about about the "events" to. I feel as if they may be offended that I didn't confide in them or go to them when these things happened.

I want to start by saying that they should not be offended. These events involved no one else expect me and one who hurt me. I had many reasons for not exposing what took place, and because I was still a child at the time some of those reasons may seem petty or even silly, but they were my reasons and should still be respected. I did not share these events with some because I was hurt. They were there when all this took place and while I screamed out in my heart to God that they would be prompted to come save me, no one came. Others I feared would take what happened and twist it to use to their own advantage, holding it against those involved and only causing more drama in a severely dramatic situation. Some I just felt as if it was none of their business. Others I thought would judge me because of it, because I was too scared to fight back.

Regardless of my reason for not telling some of my closest family and friends of these experiences, I made the decision long ago. If you are hurt that I did not tell you originally, I do apologize. Maybe I should have been more open about what happened. But I was hurt, scarred, and scared. It has been a shadow with me through out much of my life and I'm tired of it following me around so I'm leaving it here. I have forgiven those involved, those who personally and physically hurt me and those who didn't come to my rescue. I'm moving on as best as I possibly can and maybe one day I will be able to truly forget about it.

Part of me kind of wonders what my life would have been like if I had been open about what happened.  Would the abuser have been charged with a crime? Tons of heart ache and issues I have had and still have could have been avoided, I'm sure. But I made the choice then not to come out about it and I have dealt with the consequences. I have prayed about it and even spoken with bishops about it and how to handle the telling of certain individuals about it all. I'm not sure that it even matters now though. It's so far in the past, it wouldn't change the future if I did.

Anyways - Thinking on that too much brings me down, and that's the opposite of what I need today, so there. Happy thoughts now.

It's the last week of school before summer... the last summer before both daughters are in school. Time to plan and play (and clean... blah)

Maybe some of this will help someone to deal with their own depression or "events" that occurred. Maybe it helps others to be open and honest. Maybe it'll just help my friends and family understand me a bit better. If you're reading this though, let me know. I'd love to know you're there and that I'm not just typing into nothing.

That's the thing about depression: A human being can survive almost anything, as long as she sees the end in sight. But depression is so insidious, and it compounds daily, that it's impossible to ever see the end. The fog is like a cage without a key.

Elizabeth Wurtzel

From Book Prozac Nation