Tears

This quote showed up on my Facebook feed today. It showed up as tears were streaming down my face. 

For so many reasons. 

There were tears of joy---because I felt so much love from my best friend tonight. The kind of love that won't stop burning in my chest. They went home three hours ago and I still feel it. I still feel their love for me. 

We had deep conversations about the church. We talked about the Bible and my issues with our church set up and how much I love going to the other Christian church. We talked about my fears, about the hurt I felt when her husband told me I'm just being rebellious. We talked about love and how we will always be there for each other. 

There were tears of confusion---because church. Church wasn't any better today. Maybe I'm not allowing myself to be open. Maybe I'm listening with a closed off heart. But it just felt so frustrating and lonely and hard. I saw my therapist there---the lady I love so very much that I no longer see because I WAS DOING SO WELL. And I wanted to just sit next to her and unload it all. I wanted to pour out all of the messes. I felt like I was keeping a secret from her as she asked how I was doing and I told her I was good---because for two and a half years, I told her everything. Everything. It always started with me telling her I was doing good and then she'd look at me with her eyebrows raised and I'd tell her all of the reasons that it was NOT good. 

And as I end my day, there are tears of heartache---because my other friend is losing her husband to cancer. He has been fighting and it doesn't seem like he's going to win. And she texted me to check on ME tonight as she sits in the hospital with him. We've been texting since then...about so many things. Because she is scared. She doesn't know what it'll be like when she loses him. She's worried she won't be able to handle it. She isn't sure she is brave enough to be a single mom and go to church alone and raise them alone. So I promised her I'd be there. I'd always be there. Every day, if she needs me, I'll be there. And she told me the same---that she'd be there through my faith struggles. That she'd remember to check in more often (even though I reminded her NOT to worry about me right now). 

It doesn't seem fair that her two young children are losing their dad. It isn't fair that she has to watch her husband lose a battle he has bravely fought for two years. It's sometimes too much for me to comprehend. It humbles me and puts my life into perspective. 

And I have to set my questions to the side and just be there. Be in the moment. For her and for me. 

For all of us who are hurting. 

Life is full of uncertainties. It is messy and scary. 

Oh my gosh, it is scary. 

But I was praying the other night and I distinctly felt God showing me the GOOD that has come from some of the most horrible moments in my life. People who have shown up and just been there. Lessons I've learned that have shaped me into a better person. And I feel like this is all going to turn out ok. I feel so much peace tonight. I feel so much peace AND an overwhelming amount of emotions---is that even possible? 

Of course it is. 

God told me it will all be ok. I don't yet know what that means in regards to what church I'll choose or what my life will look like in the next year. But I do know that it means I will be ok, that I will get through these times that have seemed so hard. I do know that as I live each day, the pain from the hard things has lessened and I have started to focus on me, on my kids, on the people who are IN my life. 

And it's beautiful. 

It's going to be ok. It's going to be more than ok. It will also be really hard. But that's ok. 

Because I don't feel so alone tonight. In fact, I feel the opposite of alone tonight. I feel loved and supported and ready to conquer tomorrow. 

Finding Me

I get it. 

I get how hard it is to understand my side of this. 

I get why you want to save me. I've been in your same shoes. I've felt that way about the very people I love. 

But I don't need saving. I really don't think I'm all that lost. In fact, I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be. 

When I take my mind off of what people will think of me, I feel a happiness I haven't felt in a long time. 

I am happy. 

Tonight I am happy. 

I feel less burdened by so much of my past pain. I feel like a warrior. 

I told my closest friends and was met with love. 

And then I told my mom...and at first, it was rocky but she listened. 

I felt heard. It was beautiful. 

On Monday morning, my dad sent me an email that contained some advice but also a lot of compassion for the things I am feeling. 

They don't hate me. In fact, they hear me. It is more than I could've ever hoped for. 

I don't know if it will always last. I'm sure there are still bumps in the road. But I'm feeling closer to God. I'm feeling happier and more peaceful. I feel less pressure to be the person everyone wants me to be. 

Instead, I am finding out who I want to be. 

And while I'm here trying to find that out, I am so grateful to know that there are people who will always love me. There are people who show up and don't leave. There are people who love me for me. 

And tonight, that is all I need. 

I'm Afraid

Sometimes I'm afraid.

And as I try to pinpoint what I'm most afraid of, there doesn't seem to be just one underlying thing. In fact, when I try to pinpoint what I'm afraid of, I usually end up anxious when I realize just how big my fears seem.

Right now, I'm living in this limbo and I'm afraid to make a step in any one direction. Every single direction has downfalls.

In the past two years, my faith has wavered more than I thought possible. At times, it has been stronger and at other times, it is dwindling.

Minuscule.

Almost non-existent.

Shit happened this year---too much of it---and although at first it seemed like I was pulling through, I've been left with so many fears. More fears than ever before.

I've questioned how God could allow so much ugliness in our world---in my world. I've looked at where I am and where I want to be and I don't feel like my church is allowing the happiness and peace I am looking for.
I don't feel comfortable with the way things are set up---and the male dominance of my church gives me anxiety.
I don't need the Priesthood for women. I am not a feminist. But point blank, I don't agree with the sexual sins of a woman being confessed to a man alone in a room.

I experienced this in high school when my parents made me confess my sins to the bishop when they found out I had been making out with my boyfriend {This is not a joke...}. I remember how uncomfortable I was in that room alone with the bishop, speaking about teenage feelings and interaction. I hated it. And my children won't be doing that without their father or I in the room.

Ever.

 And after attending a non-denominational Christian church a few weeks ago and feeling so very emotional and peaceful, I started having really conflicting feelings. Because I'm a Mormon---and Mormons don't believe that other churches have the full truth. Mormons get upset when people leave the church, not because they hate them but out of love. And although that seems endearing to have people care so much about me that they'd push for me to keep going to church, I feel like I need this to be my decision without other voices in my head.

I'm worried that I'll lose all of my friends---or at least a lot of them---and after the year I've had where so many people believed ugliness about me in the midst of some circumstances that were out of my control, losing friends now would be devastating. I'm honestly still dealing with the after effects of what happened in March. I still feel like so many people hate me and judge me and blame me. And if they don't hate me, they sure aren't reaching out to make sure I'm ok---those kinds of friends have been few and far between.
So losing the people I DO have would be inexplicably heartbreaking.

I'm scared of what people will think of me if I leave. I'm scared of what Peter will think--because when he left the church 3 years ago, I freaked. I was scared for our relationship and how our children could be raised in that situation. I was so scared and if he found out I left the church now, he'd shove it back in my face and I'd feel stupid for fighting for the kids on Sundays and fighting for their baptisms into our church to be a part of our divorce decree.

I fought for something that I won---and now I might be giving it up.

I don't quite know what it is I'm searching for yet but I haven't found it within my church.

And I'm scared.

Because after questioning this deeply on my own for weeks, I told a friend...and then another friend...and then my best friend's husband who is my home teacher...

...and he told our bishop.

And I am meeting with our bishop on Sunday which feels ironic because if he asks, I am going to have to tell him that some of my questions involving the church are directly related to his calling.
My people-pleaser personality wants me to go in and stuff all of my feelings and doubts down and tell him everything is ok. In fact, as open as I am about my life, this subject has been extremely hard to open up about. I think I've spoken to 5 people about it.
But if I don't tell him the truth, I'd be a liar and I wouldn't be representing the kind of person I strive to be.

So I'm trying really hard to open up about my doubts little by little. I'm trying to trust myself and shut out the outside voices. I'm making small plans so that during this 'trial run' of leaving my church, my kids won't be affected.
I plan on going with them every other week and spending the week they're with their dad on my own, figuring out what I want in life and what is going to make me happy.

My belief that "one church fits all" seems to be changing. I don't hate my church and I wouldn't want to actively lead anyone else away from it.
But maybe it isn't for me. Maybe God knows I'll thrive more somewhere else.

And maybe in the end, I'll find myself coming back and realizing that my current church is, in fact, a healthy place for me.

I don't know how or when I'll tell my family or if I'll announce it to my larger groups of friends. I don't know how to feel safe in this situation that feels so vulnerable and scary.

But right now, I don't know what I believe. And I plan on figuring that out somewhere along the way.

Doing It Alone

I often feel alone, like no one can fully understand or wants to hear about what I'm feeling at every given moment.

Like I'm stuck inside this body that I hate with a spirit that is misunderstood by others.

Like no matter how much good I try to do, people will still point out the bad.

I stare at the people who love me and wonder why they love me and when they are going to realize how unworthy I am. When are they going to leave? When are they going to find a flaw they can't handle?

I feel alone as a mother. I feel like no one understands this difficult journey I am on to safely and bravely raise my children in a world filled with so many evils. I feel like everyone is judging me for worrying so much about my almost-kindergartner. But nobody knows him like I know him.

Nobody sees what I see.

The anxiety, the lack of listening skills, the daytime bathroom accidents, the OCD tendencies, the portrayal of ADHD in his little kid mind.

Everyone thinks I'm overreacting.

That is, everyone besides the babysitter who told me after one day of watching him that she could no longer do it because of how difficult he is.
I wasn't mad or offended---just sad. Sad for my little guy who needs love in different ways. Sad for my little guy who will probably be misunderstood in school and receive the label of "problem child" by teachers and classmates.

Sad for my little guy for potentially going through what his mom went through as a kid.

I feel like nobody understands our family, like we are outcasts no matter where we go.

We don't fit in at church. Church is hard. Everyone is nice but I still struggle with it. I still want to run away from it most days.

We don't fit in with our extended family. We are the only ones without a dad/husband at Sunday dinners. We are the only ones without a dad/husband for family vacations.

I'm worried we won't fit in at the new school. Or at the old school. Or anywhere.

I stood back as we watched my daughter walk in to her school building this morning and I felt alone. I felt like we were standing there and looking around at all of the families and I watched her worried little face turn away from me and walk into the school and I wanted to run after her and take her home.

Because mainly, that's my solution for all of this. I know I love my children and I know they love me and sometimes I just want to run away with them and stop worrying about all of the other things in life.

There are too many things.

What I really want is for my children to be more loved than I felt I was as a child. I want them to feel accepted and wanted. I don't want them to go through the things that I've been through.

And I wish other people understood that. I wish they could see that the choices I am trying to make for my children aren't just some obsolete worrying that I've made up in my head. These worries are valid and real.

If I'm going to be alone, I'll be alone. I'll deal with it and work through it. But not my children. I don't want their life to look like mine when they are adults. I want more for them.

I'd give them the whole world if I could. I'd do anything for them.

And I feel like I'm fighting for them by myself.

Because Peter has his own shit. He quit his job and started a new one and isn't doing the "dad" thing very well right now. It comes and goes. But right now, he only takes them 5 days a month and he told me with the new job that he can't see them in between his every other weekend (which is not what is on our parenting plan). And when I try to tell him how worried I am about our children, he yells at me because he assumes I'm blaming him.

And it's really frustrating. It's frustrating to make doctors appointments and therapy appointments and to not have him on the same page as me. It's frustrating to feel like they play with dad and do all the hard stuff with mom.

But this is divorce life. This is the life I chose to live when my addict-husband ran away. This is the life I get to live forever and ever.

And today I hate it. I hate how hard it is to feel alone when you're trying to make parenting decisions. I hate worrying about whether my children are going to be ok.

I hope they are. I will do everything it takes to make sure they are.

With or without Peter.

My Worlds

Sometimes I feel torn between two very different worlds; worlds that couldn't be further apart. 

But they are both mine.

Both contain happiness and heartache, miracles and failures. But when I think of these worlds colliding, I get anxiety. I start to panic because what if one world hates the other and I am stuck in the middle?

Or what if I lose them both...

I think that is my worst fear---losing everything. Because this is reality and it is always a possibility. 

There are very few whom I allow to bleed from one world to the other. They are select and they must be able to handle it. And if they can't, that's ok. It doesn't make me mad.

Hell, I can barely handle my worlds.

But if they can't handle it, if they hate the way the other world runs, I risk losing them. And that scares the hell out of me.

Because I'm done with losing people. I'm done with it. 

In a few weeks, it'll be the two year anniversary of my d-day---the day Peter blindsided me and ran away. And I don't know what I expected life to look like two years later but all the in between of the past two years? I couldn't have even dreamed some of the things that have happened. If someone would've told me all of the things I was going to go through from August 24th, 2013 until now, I would've just given up back then. 

Seriously. 

I would've laid my butt in bed and just stopped living. 

Because there has been some seriously hard shit. Things that have hurt my life and others lives. 

And that's been one of the hardest parts of the past two years. I have my personal struggles with loving myself but loving others? I can do that. And when people I love get hurt and it coincides with my life? No. I can't handle it. In fact, I haven't ever handled it well. 

I can remember the first time I yelled at my 6 year old brother when I was 16 and tears welled up in his big brown eyes. I hated myself. I hated every part of myself. I harmed myself, I restricted my eating...I punished myself for losing my cool with THE ONE PERSON WHO SHOWED THEIR LOVE UNCONDITIONALLY. 

And whether my loved ones get hurt by my choices or I just happen to be in the path when they get hurt, I don't deal with it very well. I don't bravely continue without meltdowns or mistakes. I don't act like a warrior. I blame myself or get angry that I wasn't able to help them enough. I cry and I ache for them. 

Because my people are important to me. 

My family is important to me.

I can hardly believe it's been two years. Or maybe that's a lie because some days, it feels like an eternity since Peter left. It seems like the person that I was and the person that I am are two incredibly opposite people. 

And I don't know how to feel about that because a part of me mourns the person I once was and a part of me loves the more genuine person I am now.

I can tell you one thing---I know my capabilities much more than I did two years ago. I may still have a lot of broken pieces but for the first time since Peter left, I stopped going to counseling because I feel ready to start living my life without running stuff by my therapist. 

Two years (minus last summer) of sitting on the same brown couch alone, talking to the same therapist about some pretty messy shit. 

Two years. 

It all feels like a big deal. An overwhelmingly big deal. It feels like anxiety and bravery. 

Because I can do this. I can attend the singles ward and raise my children and pass my school classes and have friendships and forgive people who've hurt me and LOVE. 

I can love.

And I am learning how to be loved too. 

Life is full of so much and I am ready to start living again. 

And if others show up to stand by my side, great.

And if they don't, I am going to be ok. 

I can do this, right?

I've struggled a lot with my faith in the past year but pretty deeply the past two or three months. I've wondered how God could allow life to look and feel so messy. 

I'd ask Him, "I can do this, right?" and some of the times, I'd get no answer. I'd feel completely alone. I'd sit on my couch with tears streaming down my face and wonder why I deserved so much pain. 

I must've done something. Maybe before I came to Earth? Maybe I wasn't a good enough listener? Or maybe I was just stupid enough to choose this life? 

I can do this, right?

That question pours into my head a lot. 

I've been feeling awkward this past week, like people are judging me or staring at me and on the inside, they're laughing. Laughing at my stupidity, laughing because they think I don't know that they know. 

I feel like I'm in one of those dreams where I've forgotten to put on my pants before walking into my school building. 

I feel somewhat naked and exposed, like my privacy isn't really private. Hell, like others privacy isn't really private. 

I have felt a lot of emotions but the question that I keep coming back to stays the same. 

I can do this, right? Right?

I can be brave and allow people to lash out. It's ok if they do. In fact, I'm protective of my friends too. I get it. Maybe I'd do the same thing if the tables were turned. 

I can do this, right?

I can still be vulnerable with my "safe" people even if they've messed up. We all make mistakes. All of us. Me. You. Everyone. 

I can do this, right? 

I can move on without fear of people hating me. Because if they hate me, that's their choice. And I know what they're missing out on. 

I can do this, right? 

I can remember that life isn't about how many friends I have but about making sure I am trying my hardest to love others how Christ would love them. 

But can I do this? Because it's harder than I thought. It's more vulnerable than I thought. It's scarier and lonelier than I thought. 

And giving up sounds easier. 

But is giving up better? No. 

Trying to move forward and repair the brokenness is brave and I think it'll be worth it. Realizing I can't change whatever has been done is the first step. I can't change it. I cannot reach into the cyber world and change what has happened. I can't repair every tiny aspect. But I can do my best to repair the relationships, whatever that is going to look like in the end. 

I'm scared. Really scared. I don't know where to start or how to start. 

But one thing I do know---I'm privileged enough to have some pretty amazing memories with some incredibly amazing people. They are real. It was real. And I won't be giving that up very easily. 

I can do this, right? I can walk into a room where I know at least half of the people have talked about me and I can be strong enough to love them. 

I do still love you. All of you. No matter which "you" you are. Even if I don't know you, I can love you. Genuinely, I can and I will. 

Because when it's all said and done, I've been in each of your shoes at one point or another. We all have, to some degree. We all know what rejection feels like. We all know what it feels like to think everyone is talking about you behind your back. We all know what it feels like to not be good enough. And we ALL have the power to change it, to rise above the crappy situations and love each other. 

"There isn't a person you wouldn't love if you could read their story." 

Defining Moments

Life is so full of defining moments. 

I feel like there have been so many times where I've woken up on a seemingly normal day to find that God wants me to grow a little more...or a lot more. 

With each defining moment, I find myself doubting and questioning the steps I'm taking. Trust feels so scary and hard. It always has and yet, I find myself yearning to trust, fighting to hold on to anything I can get my hands on. 

It isn't until after the fall that I see the growth. 

I can remember so many times where I've bargained with God to take a trial away. Sometimes they seem so big. And when He doesn't take it away, I beg Him not to leave me during the painful process. 

And He never has. He is always there, even if His presence seems silent. 

It's extremely scary to trust people. It's always something I want to do but it's also something that brings me anxiety. I feel like I do my best. And sometimes, when I don't feel like I'm able to trust on my own, I pray to my Heavenly Father for the strength not to over analyze life and to discern whether I am making the right decisions. 

My mind has been running nonstop the past 48 hours. Nonstop. Maybe I should chalk that up to the Zoloft prescription that got messed up at the pharmacy, leaving me with no anti-anxiety meds for eight days. But I don't really believe that's it. I think I'm just trying to trust life again and that is really hard for me. 

Because when life calms down, I feel like another huge fall is about to happen. 

I'm happy today. Anxiously happy. It isn't a perfect happiness. In fact, I feel like every few minutes, I'm talking myself down from having a mental freak out. But the truth is that I am happy. 

Happy that life seems calm. Happy that I have been given second chances. Happy that I feel my Savior's love. Happy that there is hope. 

Although trust is hard and I have been burned when trusting people, I still want to be a trusting person. I still want to see the good in everyone. I still believe there IS good in everyone. 

It's going to get easier. It's going to get better. I prayed so many nights for things to settle down, whatever the end result would look like. And it seems like maybe that prayer was answered. 

Time will tell but tonight, I am extremely grateful for the opportunity I have to be alive and learn so many things. I am grateful for friends who teach me every day. 

I am grateful that God has allowed me to recognize my warrior potential. It's been an extremely messy few years but I have faith that I can get through the messes.