2021: An Update

 Where do I even start? 

I can't possibly catch you up on everything that has happened in the last year and a half. 

But here are some of the highlights: 

- Graduated from college 

- Got a job teaching 11th grade English 

- Fostered one more baby after Cubby and then closed my license when she went home

- Started dating someone earlier this year and planning to marry him next year :) 

- Covid: another religious shift and recognizing that I need to tighten my circle a little more

The kids are all doing well. Cubby has some struggles and I need to get him in to a behavioral specialist but I am so proud of who he is and how far he has come since those early days of drug exposure and the uncertainty of foster care. 

Teaching is quite possibly the best decision I've ever made for our family. I am so glad I'm done with school and that my schedule allows me to be with my kids. Also, high schoolers are pretty amazing. They're butt heads ;) but they're also amazing. 

The man I'm dating is more than I ever thought I'd find. I mean, a liberal Christian feminist? Yeah. I didn't really think guys like that existed. We have been dating for over five months and although it hasn't been easy for me because a lot of past trauma has surfaced, he has been patient and validating. I spend most weekends at his house with Cubby or he comes to our house when the older kids are home. 

I currently attend a non-denominational Christian church and although I'm sure this has frustrated my extended family, I am exactly where I am supposed to be. I don't want to get into religion right now but I do not miss the LDS church and feel a lot of relief. I tried really hard to force myself to go back to my religious roots a few years ago because it was comfortable but I never felt completely right about that choice and never felt totally comfortable there. I have since learned a lot of things that have cemented my decision of where I want to raise my family and I'm grateful for everything the last year has taught me. 

Any other topics to update? I'm not sure what I'm going to do with this blog. I might use it for processing past trauma while dating or I may go back to not writing at all. I guess we will see. :) 

Another December

Hi. It’s been a year. 

Did you miss me? Probably not. 😂 

I was reading through the last post on this blog and remembering what a year ago felt like—how frustrating it was to watch my son’s biological parents give up on fighting for him. 

The story pretty much ended there. After last December’s court hearing, Cubby’s bio mom never saw him again. 

Because of some mistakes made by the attorney, our adoption story took a little bit longer than planned but we adopted our boy in October of this year. 

I now have THREE children—and still no husband. 

Christmas can be such a lonely time. I definitely seem to struggle more around this holiday season. 

We made some huge changes this year that brought our family closer together. But I still go to bed and feel alone at night and wonder if I will ever be good enough for another man. I try really hard not to base my self-worth on whether I am in a relationship but it is really hard. 

Six years ago, I wasn’t the only one out of my friends whose relationship status changed from married to single. Not necessarily close friends, but friends/acquaintances nonetheless. And I often compare my life to their’s and wonder why I am the only one that has never been in a relationship since then. Is it because I’m not pretty enough? Skinny enough? Is it because I am a Mormon? or maybe it is because I am not a strong enough Mormon. Is it because of my personality? Gosh, what is it? 

It bothers me from time to time. I don’t think about it throughout each day and it definitely does not consume my life but that doesn’t mean I don’t think and wish my life looked different. 

I am a single mother. And yes, I adopted a baby on my own. And that doesn’t make sense to a lot of people. But even though I know it was right to adopt my son, I really wish he had a dad. I really wish I wasn’t embarking on a career while raising three young children on my own. It is so scary. The last of my college adventure starts in January, where I get to work a job for 14 weeks without getting paid a single penny. At the same time, I am expected to pay all of my bills and support three children on my own. At the same time, I am expected to be on time to pick my children up from school and day care and take them to their various activities.

That all starts in less than three weeks. And I am panicking. I am so damn scared that I am going to fall short as a mother, as a breadwinner, and as a freaking human being. What if I fail? What if I can’t do all of the things, all at once? 

My anxiety is high. Some days, I just wish I could run away with my children and not do these hard adulting things. I just want to be a mom. I just don’t want to fall short. 

I can’t voice all of these things to my closest friends and family because they don’t understand. I constantly feel like my life as a foster mom and adoptive mom doesn’t make sense because I am placing more stress on myself. But every time I pray about it, I get this overwhelming feeling like I’m supposed to be a foster mom. 

I am sure I sound crazy. What’s new? 

I miss my older kids right now. I am sure that is why my emotions are heightened. I hate sharing holidays. I hate sharing any time with their dad. I know they need him but I still selfishly want them with me all of the time. 

I need friends who are closer and more available. I don’t have that right now. I do have amazing friends but not ones that are close and available. I try really hard to mask some of the darkness that I feel because I watch other single moms and feel like somehow, they are just doing it better. They have their people. 

There is this part of me that believes I have my people. There is this part of me that tries to ask for help and reach out. And then there is this other part of me that doesn’t want to ask for help because I usually feel let down when person upon person upon person isn’t available to help. Belle moved away and I don’t have a relationship like that with anybody else. I don’t think anybody would understand what a huge loss that was. And then she made new friends and it all just feels so different. 

Sometimes I look back to three or four years ago, when the actual relationship between myself and Peter was a lot harder. And I wish we could go back to that because at least I had more people who saw me. I wish I could go back to that because back then, my relationship with religion was less complicated. 

I love my life and my children. But it is so hard. These nights, the nights where the demons come out in my brain, are so hard for me because there is no one I can reach out to and talk to. I’m just alone. 

My fear is that I will always be alone. 

It Hurts

*******************

The majority of the reactions included:

It was bound to happen eventually.

Good for him. He’s moving on.

You had to know this was going to happen.

So why are you acting so upset?

******************

They say it shouldn’t hurt because it isn’t happening to them, because the person they loved for 8 years wasn’t now in a relationship with another woman.

They say it shouldn’t hurt because they didn’t feel the hurt I felt when he walked away.

They say it shouldn’t hurt because they haven’t gone three years fighting extremely lonely thoughts and struggling to learn how to find a relationship worth trusting and then finding out that he gets to have the very thing they have wanted.

They say it shouldn’t hurt because they don’t see the day-to-day life of ‘single mom pouring her life into her children’ while he has 25 days a month to be a bachelor.

They say it shouldn’t hurt---but they are wrong.

Because it should hurt and it does.

I didn’t know how I would react when this eventually happened. Honestly, I think I figured it would be me in a relationship first so I wouldn’t react as poorly as I have.

My daughter got in the car on Sunday and almost immediately stated, “Guess what? We might be getting a new mom because I saw dad kissing a girl out on the front porch.”

And I should’ve handled it better. The tears that started pouring down my face surprised even me. And then my sweet baby girl felt like she had done something wrong. And I felt like a complete mom-failure. I should’ve been able to keep it together for her sake.

But. It. Just. Felt. So. Horrible.

So. Horrible.

So shockingly, devastatingly, painfully horrible.

And all of my feelings of loneliness were intensified.

I can usually keep them together but not this week.

This week, the tears seem to pour out of the corners of my eyes with the tiniest little thing.

And although yesterday was horrible because I was extremely sick and threw up 7 effing times, I think I needed that day in my bed, to hide from life a little bit. Because now that I’m back living life again today, I’m trying to deal with it a little better.

And it is extremely difficult.

And really, that is all I have today. Because my beautiful life is clouded right now by some really shitty feelings. 

Because It Matters

I often find myself alone at the end of the day pondering on the past 14 or so hours and wondering why my heart feels the way that it does.

The exhaustion of the highs and the lows that seem so intertwined and connected to each other.

The battles with myself to eat or not eat or exercise or lay on the couch.

The worrying over whether I'm doing a good enough job at mothering my two children.

The frustration over not being able to budget correctly or the excitement that I have budgeted correctly.

The fear that if I leave the church, I'll be judged and I won't be able to handle it.

There are so many things---and usually, at the end of the day, I find myself believing that none of it is as important as I'm making it out to be. I start to tell myself that I'm being dramatic and overly tense and creating problems that aren't there.

And most of the nights this happens, I forget to remind myself that it hurts because it is real. It is real because it is important to me.

It may not matter to everyone but it matters to me.

After my fight with Peter last night, we went days without speaking before I finally called him to find out when he was going to pick up our children that night. On the phone, he apologized for the way he had treated me and he told me he was going to try harder---and for a minute, I felt bad for being angry at him.

But then I remembered that even though his apology might be real, it still hurts when he calls me names and uses emotional abuse to try and negotiate with me.

This has happened way too many times and it makes it harder to trust him when he apologizes.

I distinctly remember months ago when I called him crying to relay some really emotional information that he needed to know about our children and having his initial response---through my sobbing replies---be full of judgment and anger that I had failed as a mother. 
And as I sat there stunned and vulnerable, I remember hanging up the phone mid-sentence because I couldn't believe his lack of empathy. I couldn't believe that as he listened to me sob, he couldn't find it in him to listen to my pain---instead he chose to make it worse.

I often don't understand Peter. I'm thankful that he is getting to a point where he apologizes after the fact but it still baffles me that after everything I gave him for 7+ years, he finds it hard to trust ME and be kind to me.

It is hard to navigate these feelings, to put on a brave face when I want to spew my anger out all over the world.

But that is not who I am. I am not a grudge-holding, anger-spewing, judgmental woman. I'm not.

It is hard when I feel like I'm not being who I really am---even though I am trying my hardest to stay transparent with my people.

LDS General Conference was really hard for me this weekend. I turned it on Saturday morning and liked the first talk but it seemed to stop there. I missed the afternoon session because of prior commitments and then I ended my night at Mission church where I attend service and then serve in the special needs ministry.

Saturday nights are mine. They are when I feel like I am who I'm supposed to be. They are when I see God's plan for me the clearest.

I usually find myself attached at the hip with a 4 year old boy who has Cerebral Palsy, among other special needs. He is non-vocal and usually comes in looking nervous and concerned---until he sees me. We spend most of the hour dancing around the room, singing songs about God's love for us.

It. Is. Beautiful. 

This past week, he wasn't there and we had more volunteers than children so I spent most of the hour singing and dancing around the room with the older children, laughing until our stomachs hurt. We learned the story of Gideon and spoke about how we can be brave when things get hard and how we are all warriors in our own way.

And as I danced around the room, I found myself wondering more than ever before about another volunteer in the room---a male volunteer with dreadlocks and tattoos and earrings and the hugest heart in the world---and I wondered.

Just wondered.

Because his awkward personality and goofy smile are imperfectly perfect but I wondered if thinking more about this little crush would cause an uproar among my people---because he isn't a Mormon.

And it was in that moment as I watched this man goofing around with a little Down Syndrome boy that I realized I want to be with someone like him---not someone who is Mormon but someone who is genuine and goes to church even when they are single and volunteers in a special needs ministry.

Whether that's him or it's someone else, I'm realizing that all I want is a man who is centered in Christ and knows he is a child of God. I want a man who isn't afraid to be himself and let me be who I am.

I know that was a little bit of a tangent but Saturday nights are usually so beautiful and I find myself getting carried away with the happiness and peace I feel as I spend my Saturdays with those children.

I digress---conference was hard because my mother, who I know loves me, kept asking if I'd come over and watch at their house. I politely declined on Saturday but she asked again on Sunday and after declining the morning session, she told me she would expect me for the afternoon session.

And I went but the hardest part is that I've already made some pretty definitive decisions when it comes to my faith. I've already realized that the Mormon church isn't right for me.

Spending the afternoon with my mother was hard because she kept asking what I had learned from conference and I was feeling defensive and teenager-ish and I didn't want to answer her. It was painful for me because although we made it through the evening with no pandemonium, I felt like I was fighting the urge to act hostile toward her---and I don't want to be that person!

I know it is going to be hard and that my family will mourn and hurt and be more aggressive in their attempts to help me believe what they believe. I am not looking forward to those feelings.

But the way that I feel, the happiness that I feel in knowing that I am becoming who God wants me to become is worth all of the uncomfortableness.

I am right where I am supposed to be and that is what matters the most.

My Fuzzy Gray

I had a date last night.

My favorite date so far in the history of dating.

And because he made me feel so comfortable, I was able to shake off the nerves of, "Oh my gosh, does he like me? Is he thinking about me? What is he thinking RIGHT NOW? WHERE IS MY DAMN LIP GLOSS!?!". I was able to focus on having fun with a guy who is fun---and stop worrying about whether I was doing something wrong or right or awkward or amazing.

But shit balls, I don't know how I feel about being able to shake off my dating nerves because once I did, I started to think about who this guy is and whether he is a porn addict and how many people he's lied to and WHY IS HE RUINING MY LIFE?!!

It's a bit dramatic, I know...
I couldn't believe I was even thinking those thoughts. I get that it's healthy to someday have a talk with a potential husband about viewing pornography and I get that it's normal to question but I must be the dumbest girl in the world---because every time someone posts on our WoPA support group page, I think, "That isn't going to happen to me. I won't have those feelings or fears." And then I date a few guys and don't think about it and BAM! I go on a date with a guy who is super awesome and makes me feel comfortable and I start thinking about the double life he must be living.

They're all living that double life...right? How can they not be?

And then I get all insecure again and think about the thousand ways my life could play out since chances are, I will someday marry a porn addict again.

Anxiety hits.

Chest pains, sweat, heavy breathing...

And I realize that I only have one option---and that is to lose part of me to look more like the ones they will want.
Because they won't want me after looking at that.

And then I don't eat. Surely the reason I haven't had a second date ever is because of my looks. Surely.

And then my chest pains begin again and I can't tell if they're a result of not eating in over 24 hours or if they're anxiety---or both. And my paranoia decides I'm probably having a heart attack because out of all the 27 year old's in the world, I would be the one to have a freak heart attack...

From there, I imagine the way it will feel when I've hit my goal. Alice tells me it never ends and I want to believe her. I want to believe that this isn't going to ever go away and that I need to keep fighting but I keep believing that all I really want is to lose 50 pounds. That's all. 

But is 50 pounds the equivalent of happiness? Is 50 pounds worth the damage and suffering?

I don't know.

Because I also question whether 50 pounds is worth never getting married again. Is 50 pounds worth the loneliness? Is it worth the countless birthday parties that consistent of all of my married coupled friends---and me---the odd one out?

I don't know.

Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't.

But tonight, after a horrible NON-recovery day of eating nothing until 8:00pm and then purging the things I ate at 8, I don't know which way to turn.

I'm at a crossroads and nobody can make this decision for me.

I don't even know if this is one of those decisions I wish someone could make for me. Because I know what their answer would be.

I know what your answer would be.

But is that my belief? Is that my truth?

I don't know tonight.

I feel lost and confused and my shit-damn Zoloft does not seem to be working these days but trying to find a doctor who takes my insurance has been a hay day and imaboutreadytoquitlife.
Because life is full of puzzles and fuzzy answers and a hell of a lot of GRAY in between the black and white.

And tonight? Tonight I want to feel secure about life. I want to feel secure that I'll be able to accept me for me and not go all bat-shit crazy on everyone.
I'm fighting the urge to not believe that "they just don't understand". Because they probably do.
All I really want to do is stay in bed for days and let my mental illnesses take over my brain and never fight them because they're probably telling me the truth anyway. They know how stupid I am. They know how much I weigh. They know what types of feelings I'm feeling. They know I'm the most unstable stable person in the world.

I just don't know which path is a little less gray.

I don't know which path will have more rainbows and butterflies and puppy dogs and watermelon jello.

And I don't know if my truths are really truths.

Today I am Wendy

My high's have been higher than I've felt in a year.
My lows are crazy low in comparison.

My heart is angry a lot when I'm alone. Put me in a group of people and I'll perk up. Put me in front of the cyber world of friendship and I'll perk up. Put me in my classrooms at school or at my work desk and it doesn't compare to the thoughts going on in my head.

Am I just an effing crazy person?

Because as I sit and fight for recovery to win again, I truly believe that I love myself. Am I just stupid? I love who I am on the inside. I still don't like who I am on the outside. I am fat. I am truly, by definition, overweight. Am I obese? No. But I'm not skinny.

A lot of my choices at home are stupid. A lot of them directly conflict with my Christian beliefs. Am I just so weak that I can't get my shit together when I'm not being watched?

I'm eventually going to get a tattoo. I know...right?! I have it drawn up. It's just going to happen. But when I found out about Peter's tattoo that he lied about, I flipped out. We were up until 2am fighting that night. So am I just a hypocrite?

A lot of times, I don't feel like I'm genuine because how the hell can I be this awesome serving Christian and in my mind, the most constant phrase that plays is, "Who fucking cares?"? It doesn't make sense.
Like at all.

How can I be angry at Peter for looking at pornography when sometimes I consider just sleeping around because I like sex and I want to feel connection---even fake connection? I hate that I like sex. I know that's ironic. Sex is good. It is natural. It is fun. But I hate liking it because I hate missing it. I hate struggling with the loss of connection. I don't want to struggle. I don't want the struggle to get harder the longer I go unmarried. I thought it was supposed to get easier.

I don't know if there is a bigger contradiction in my life than the fact that I teach my children gospel principles and yet, I struggle to pray. I have a strong testimony and yet, I struggle to go to church. I do not doubt that every word in the scriptures are true and yet, I don't open them up for answers.

I know my Heavenly Father loves me but I don't get why He can't just answer the prayers that I do pray. I don't understand all of this. I wish it weren't so hard.
I can give you every "correct" answer of why I've been given the specific trials in my life. I can point out the blessings from each and every one of them. But that doesn't mean I want them to continue just so I can grow more and get more blessings from hard trials.

I'm done.

I'm done being single and not knowing if there will ever be someone to love me on this earth. Everyone says he's out there. I'm supposed to trust that I'm worthy of a man's love. But have I had a single second date since my divorce? No. Have I kissed anyone? No. Have I had any type of relationship where the guy wanted to be with me more and more? No.

I can trust facts. Facts are facts. They don't need arguing. They just are. So everyone in the world can tell me I'm going to be loved by a man but how am I supposed to trust that? Dream Boy didn't have feelings for me. And I thought I was dealing with that ok but it really freaking hurts. Not because he rejected me. It's ok that he was honest. I kinda like him even more for being honest with me /damnit/. It isn't the simple form of rejection that hurts today. It is the fact that Dream Boy having any inkling of interest would've shown me that love---someday, today, a hundred years from now---is possible. Because I just don't have enough hope that it is. There's a little hope---but each day that passes, a piece of it dies.

I just don't know what I'm supposed to do. Am I supposed to just be perfect and not make any decisions against my religion because that would just make me a liar and put me on the highway to hell? Am I supposed to recognize that I am imperfect and give myself a break? What the hell is my next step? Because the one I choose will probably so freaking contradicting that I am going to go crazy.

Like literal crazy.

There is so much good. I shouldn't be struggling because I am able to recognize the good. I feel like such an ungrateful bitch for NOT acknowledging gratitude in my every day thoughts and actions and feelings.

Today I am Wendy. I am the part of me who is struggling with faith and security and connection. I am the part of me that still gets angry and ignore the empathy I've felt toward Peter's decisions. I am the part of me that is stupid and irrational and unsettled.

I'm fighting and relapsing and fighting and breathing...and fighting.

I'm fighting.

I have relapsed a few times this week but I'm fighting.

I have avoided the mirror but I'm fighting.

SCREW YOU, eating disorder. You may take your trip back down to hell where you belong. You don't get to tell me I'm imperfect and unworthy.

But truthfully, maybe I'm not fighting. Because I'm listening to Ed. Because when I'm not purging, I'm still bingeing a lot of the time. So maybe this isn't fighting. Maybe this is slowly giving up, just less vigorously than the last time I gave up. Maybe I'm giving in because a part of me finds comfort and stability in obsessive weighing and starving myself.

What am I doing?

Things are going well. My anti-anxiety meds are doing their job. I'm going to be getting on ADD meds soon because I have ADD but don't take medication for it and I'm having a really hard time in school and at work these days. My house is clean and my children are doing well.

So what am I doing?

I've been doing so well that I graduated from weekly counseling. I decided to start going every two weeks because I haven't felt the obsessive need to call my counselor every hour of every day to make sure she knows I'm alive and that she still likes me and wants to be my therapist and won't abandon me. {Yeah, I'm crazy...}. If you're wondering, I've never actually called her regarding these things. That would just be creepy. But I think about counseling a lot. A lot, a lot. And I've been getting better about living my life without her.

So what the hell am I doing?

I want to just find a magic fix and be done with this. I hate eating disorders. I hate the rollercoaster. I hate hating myself. I try so hard to love who I am and the body my Heavenly Father gave me. I want to love it. Sometimes I do love it. But I still equate so much of my worth to whether I am loved by a man---and currently, there is no boyfriend or husband at my side so I'm still struggling.

I feel like I'm dependent. I'm fine doing everything on my own right now. I like making my own decisions and being in charge of my finances and taking on the parenting...but there is just something missing.

As Maurice Harker said at the last Togetherness Project, I want interdependence. And I feel like that's what is missing. I want someone who can be at my side and reassure me when I doubt. I want someone who loves me physically and emotionally. I am done being alone.

I think about the quickest and easiest-right-now decisions---taking Peter back---and I realize I only want him back because I just want to settle for whatever love I can get right now.

That sounds so sad.

Because I shouldn't have to settle for love. If there comes a day where I feel like I'm not settling by taking Peter back, I'll allow him back into my life. But right now it just seems like settling.

Right now, anything but Dream Boy seems like settling---because Dream Boy is my perfect idea of what I want. But he never called.
Maybe that's why I'm struggling.
I brush it off and say it doesn't matter but it does. Because getting asked out on a second date by Dream Boy would've really turned things around.
But he didn't. And he probably won't. And I'm going to have to move on.

So today I am going to try fighting. Tomorrow I'll try fighting. And the more I fight, the stronger I'll get. And the stronger I get, the more unstoppable I'll be.

Because I am a warrior.

PS: I've hit another faith crisis block...so I will not object to prayers in my favor right now. I am not a fan of faith crisis'. This isn't where I want to be. But for now, I am here.

Dream Boy

This weekend was so overwhelmingly good and I think I've crashed from that intense high down to a sense of anxiety.

I had a date with Dream Boy. I asked him on a date. I really did. It was the bravest of brave choices for me and I fought my fear and asked him out.
We had a great time. He opened my door for me and asked if he could hug me at the end of the night and none of it was awkward. He made it not awkward.
We talked for five hours. We laughed and talked about serious things and explained our family dynamics a little bit.
I fell in love with the idea of being with someone like him.
A dream boy.
Not to be confused with a perfect boy. Dream Boy isn't perfect. But he is open and I like that I trust him.
Dream Boy has OCD and I'm sure he has many other faults. I'm not going to deny that. But the characteristics that I am most looking for in a man, he has.

I decided it didn't matter if he called and asked me out after Saturday. We had a good time and if that was a one time thing, I have no regrets. He's moving back to Utah in January anyway. It wouldn't ever work out.

But I find myself thinking about him every few minutes and dreaming of a future with him. I want him. I want him to want me. I want to believe that I deserve him and that he can recognize the goodness within me.

I find myself hoping he calls and wondering why he hasn't.

And this is why I hate dating. Because my heart starts to ache before I ever get a chance to breathe. I don't ease into relationships. I love with intensity and trust with ferocity. I am a giver and a pleaser.

I've learned how to be on my own and I'm stronger because of it---but my hell, can it just be over already? Can I date someone? Can I kiss someone?
I'm ready.
I'm ready to be in an interdependent relationship with someone who can take my whole self and their whole self and put those two wholes together.

I don't always feel completely whole and some days, I still fall apart. But I feel healthier than I have in a long time and stronger than I ever have been in my whole life. I feel like I'm ready to figure this next step out.

Can't it just be easy this one time? Can't I just have my Dream Boy and we can get married soon and we can build a life together? I'll move to Utah. I'll quit school for a while. I'll make sacrifices.

I just want this to work out.

But if it doesn't, please pray that my actual Dream Boy is somewhere out there. Please pray that he finds me or that I find him.

I'm ready for him. Please oh please pray that he is ready for me too.