Patience

Sometimes I forget to write when it's good, when life is peaceful.

And it is peaceful. 

God is so good. So, so good. 

For a really long time, I've tried to force myself into recovery. I told myself to start the process and just get it done and over with it! 

But my heart was never in it. There are still days my heart isn't in it. But I've realized something about myself. 

I needed to allow this process to start naturally. I needed time. I wasn't able to just recover because it had been X amount of days since the last trauma. I needed to have patience. 

And although I'm not perfect at it, I've been working to love my body---my body that is clearly overweight and imperfect and scarred. 

I look at the tattoo on my foot, the one that says Warrior, and I am grateful that my body gets to display that new beauty mark. I look at my foot and I am reminded that I have lived through so much. So on the days where I panic about my weight and start the internal dialogue of unworthiness, I have a reminder that I am so, so worthy and that I can live through anything. 

It's funny, really, because it hasn't been easy lately. I've been overly obsessing about lost friendships. I've been off of my anxiety meds for over a month (Sorry, Alecia...I know you've told me a million times not to do that). I can't sleep with my back to the bedroom door because I get anxious about someone stabbing me. Not kidding. The anxiety I swear up and down I experience while on the meds is intensified by a thousand and the chest pains are real. 

In fact, today at Walmart, I looked at my knuckle and thought there was blood on it---not my own---and I freaked out and scrubbed my hands raw before realizing it was remnants of a bottle of lotion I had picked up a few minutes earlier. Super weird that my first reaction was to believe it was someone else's blood that had been wiped on my hand...

So there have been a lot of hard moments. But it doesn't matter because I'm working hard against them. I have a natural positive internal dialogue---NATURAL---that now coincides with the negative internal dialogue that presents on many occasions. I have been reading the Bible about Christ's life and learning about true strength and sacrifice and I'm learning to work FOR myself instead of AGAINST myself. 

And because it probably won't always be this way, because I don't believe God gave me all of the hard stuff at a young age to get it out of the way, I needed to write this out to remind myself that time is a part of the healing process for me. It takes more patience and hope. Recovery isn't a magical fix that starts and ends with books and meetings. Recovery is internal. 

And as hard as this part is, recovery takes trust. I am learning to trust my tribe again, to let people in who tell me they love me, and to BELIEVE them when they say it. 

I am learning to be open with people and trust that they won't leave---and then to trust that if they do, I'll still be ok. 

These are hard things for me. I don't know if they'll ever be easy. But they are worth it. They are worth it because real relationships are worth every scary moment and every insecurity I've ever had. 

And because I now believe I am worthy of vulnerable relationships again, I am able to reciprocate the type of relationships my tribe has shown to me during my darkest hours. 

God is so good, you guys. He is. He knows me and wants me to succeed. And the life that I'm living, the choices that I'm making---I really, truly believe that I am exactly where I'm supposed to be. 

I know that not everyone understands. I know it's hard for my parents. I know a lot of people believe this is me falling further into the hole. 

But it isn't. 

It really isn't. 

I feel like I'm carrying so much less burden than I was before. I feel like I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, doing exactly what I'm supposed to be doing. 

Whatever this is---permanency, a learning experience, etc---it is worth all of the uncomfortableness that comes along with it. 

I stayed where I was because everyone told me it was safer---but my world still crashed. I still experienced so much turmoil. And I have learned throughout my life so far that my experiences aren't punishments. I am not a bad person because I have experienced a lot of grief. I didn't deserve it. It wasn't God's way of punishing me. 

And through it all, I am learning that I have held onto the things I truly know---that Christ died for me on the cross so that I could be made whole and have growing experiences in my life. I also know that love is more powerful than hate and that true Christianity is not tearing someone down to build others up but a fellowship of love and empathy for all of the heartache AND the happiness each of us feels throughout our lifetime. 

It's beautiful, really, when you imagine life through the eyes of Christ. His compassion and forgiveness seems unreachable but it isn't. We can all get there. And the amount of work it takes to get there is worth it. 

Trauma:Trauma:Trauma

It's been a month since I've been here.

I'm sorry. 
Or maybe I'm not. 
I guess I don't need to be sorry. 
But I probably am sorry. 

Lately, the world has been turning too fast and I can't catch up. I feel such highs and such lows.

The waves have been changing with Peter and I.

The kids are in bi-monthly therapy sessions with one of the most amazing ladies I've ever met in my life.
During one of these sessions, my youngest little one told the therapist about some disturbing things happening at Peter's house. And although she reported them, nothing else could be done.
And then a few weeks later, my baby came home with more reports of violent behavior and as we talked it through with the therapist, she looked up at me and whispered, "Are you worried he is hurting the kids?"
And I shook my head---hesitantly.

Because the man I married would never hurt his children.
Or his wife.

But the man I married isn't the man my children currently have for a father.

It has been over a month since this started and I haven't had time to catch my breath. I've been too busy with work/school/parenting life.
Or maybe I just didn't want to deal with it.
Or maybe I didn't know this was my way of dealing with it.

Because as life is slowing down, I'm feeling waves of trauma hit me harder than they usually hit. I'm realizing just how scared I am and how worried I am.

These are my babies. My babies.

And whether the state classifies this as physical abuse or emotional abuse, it is still abuse.

And I can't even deal---truly, I can't. When I think about it, I stop functioning. When I think about it, it triggers some of my worst fears and I go to a very dark place.

I tried talking to my mom about it and it was so hard. Her eyes were staring at me widely and I felt like I was ruining her life by opening up to her.
But for so long, I've been carrying this burden on my own.

And I know I willingly chose that. I know it is my fault no one was there to support me.
Because I can endure trauma and pain and I will do my damndest to protect my children from it---but putting that burden on anyone else is too much.
It's too much.

I can handle this alone. Silently. {and with the help of the kids' professionals, of course}
I will protect these babies every chance I get.
And when they are gone, I will pray.
And when they come home, I will ask questions.

In my lowest times, I hate myself for allowing this to be my childrens' lives---for marrying their dad and putting them in these shitty situations.
I know it isn't my fault---at least there is a part of me that knows this---but I feel so helpless in this situation.
I feel like I'm failing the two people I care about most in this world.
And that alone sends me into a downward spiral faster than anything else.

But this isn't every day life---it doesn't consume my most prominent thoughts. Every professional I've spoken to tells me it is ok right now. And that helps me to handle life. But there are days where I realize just how traumatic this has been for me and I think, "It's no wonder I'm exhausted at the end of each day!". Because trauma is exhausting even if you don't know you're feeling it.
I've been there before. I did that with Peter for seven years. And although I couldn't recognize it then, I can recognize it now.

Right now, life needs to be taken day by day, sometimes hour by hour. Because I cannot handle much more than that.
I've been dropping the ball with friends and missing appointments. In fact, last week my visiting teachers had made an appointment with me TWO HOURS PRIOR TO COMING OVER and I still dropped the ball and wasn't home when I promised them I would be---because that is my life right now.
Trauma sucks because I feel like I disappoint people left and right. I haven't been volunteering at the kids' schools or making time for my friends or replying to all of the text messages and it isn't because I don't WANT to do any of those things. It's just that my brain isn't fully capable of handling so many things at once right now and it is taking up a lot of space worrying about my littles.

Exhausting.

Worth it---because they are worth it---but extremely exhausting.

But God---He is the only reason I'm still standing right now. I know it and I'm grasping onto that as tight as I possibly can. I know He can protect them. I know He is more powerful than I am and that all the worrying in the world is not going to do a damn thing.

But the biggest hope I have right now is teaching my children about His love for them and how to rely on Him when they are scared or feeling alone.

And for that, I am given ounces of hope.

Dreams

As a little girl, I dreamed of becoming a wife and a mother. I read fairytales and watched Disney princess movies and believed I'd be able to follow those dreams someday.

At the age of 14, I received my patriarchal blessing and it talked about getting married and having children. I was elated. I couldn't wait for those days. I had always known I wanted to be a mother.

I never worried about whether my husband would treat me well. I never worried about whether I would have miscarriages or be infertile.
Those weren't part of my plan so the thoughts never really entered my mind.

But I've learned some pretty important things in my life. The growing up I've done in the last 4 years is insurmountable in comparison to how much growing up I did the first 18 years of my life.

I know that there is something much bigger than me---God---and that He knows how to take care of me. I know He will help me fight my battles and bask in my joys. I know He loves it when I smile and He is sad when I'm hurting.

And I know that even though my dreams have changed, they are still possible and real.

I was a dancer for 12 years growing up. Twelve years of my life, I spent hours in front of mirrors, perfecting my balance and pointing my toes. And I knew what I wanted to be when I grew up---a dance teacher. I knew I would never want to leave my happy place.

But when I became a wife and mother, I stopped dancing. I never found the time or the place for it.

I stopped dancing for 8 years and it was hard for me. When I was hired as a dance teacher this past year, it was a struggle. I was rusty. (I still am rusty)

But dancing is magical for me. Dancing can cheer me up anytime I'm down. Dancing clears my thoughts and allows me to listen to my body.

I realized something tonight. It could've been a horrible day. I had an old friend say some really hurtful things to me and I could've let it affect me but I taught dance tonight. I watched myself in the mirror and admired my capabilities.

I was happy and free.

It reminded me why I dream.

I dream because hope is real. I believe in my dreams because I believe in myself.

I have an amazing life and as I sit here watching my son play Candyland---pretending he is two different characters on the board---and acting surprised each time he wins, I know I am right where I'm supposed to be.

This is the life I wanted to live. This is the life I dreamed of as a little girl.

I'm living my dream life.

And I thank God for that every single day.

Surrender

Months ago, when I opened up about my faith struggle to a few of my closest friends, I remember one of them telling me to surrender to my feelings---whatever those feelings are. 

Since then, I've tried. I've taken a few steps back from the life I used to live and have realized just how messed up and unhealthy a lot of it was. It was unhealthy to rely on people who needed to figure out their own recovery. 

I've found myself thinking about that a lot---about recovery and what that looks like. I used to think I needed support groups for recovery but I'm realizing that isn't true and that a lot of my support wasn't healthy. 

I used to pick support group friendships over my friends who have been there since the day Peter left or before. I used to think my friends didn't understand me. And sometimes, they don't. But they are loyal and I love knowing that. I love knowing that where they are in their lives is a part of why they are my friends. God placed them where I needed them because He knew what was going to happen. 

He knew all of it. 

He gave me the tools I needed to figure this all out and for right now, I have. 

I find myself feeling anger toward the LDS friends in my life who have claimed certain standards but don't really live them. For me, this started as a young woman when the girls in my church classes bullied me. They were mean and it was traumatizing for me. I hated church and I hated Christianity because it all seemed so fake. 

And I thought adulthood would change that. I thought the pettiness and the gossip would stop or that I'd at least be able to easily pick it out within certain groups of people but it hasn't. In fact, it's been decidedly worse than when I was a kid. 

And yes, I've heard the argument, "The church is perfect but the people aren't" but you need to understand that I am not asking anyone to be perfect, I'm just asking us to show more kindness and love toward one another. 

I'm begging and pleading for us to stop the gossip and the secrecy and the judgements. It's ridiculous and I can't take it anymore. 

I can't take it anymore. 

Maybe being outside the LDS church will be messy but at least people are more genuine. At least when I attend Saturday service, I feel like they want to welcome every single broken and messed up person to come unto Christ. 

They don't make excuses for shit---they talk about it all. 

And I'm so damn tired of the excuses. I'm so tired of living a particular way to be "worthy" to walk into a temple when I know I can speak to God and be close to Him anytime, anywhere. 

I'm already worthy of him. 

And I always will be. 

I've felt a lot of anger lately as I'm trying to come to terms with so much shit I've been fed for so long. I'm so done with feeling like an odd man out. I'll go where I'm accepted. I'll be friends with genuine people, even if that means the number has to dwindle a lot more than it already has. 

I don't need anybody but my God. And I especially don't need people who act genuine but are the opposite of genuine. 

I'm over this. I'm over the mess and the facades and the pain. I'm worthy already. God knows it and I'm learning it. 

So if you don't know it, if you don't believe that I am who I genuinely claim to be, then this might not be a place you want to be. 

Because this place, this once completely safe and secure place, is not a place for hate or mockery or judgement. 

I have enough people who I know have my back. Some of them have held on as I've left the support groups where I met them and some of them have held on as I've left the church where I met them but each one, each genuine person who is still here has proved to me that they aren't going anywhere. 

And that is all I could have ever hoped for. 

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.

It Isn't Easy

It's hard to let things go when the past seems to be nipping at your heels.

Some days, I see divorce as a new beginning and other days, I see it as a messy reality---filled with hard decisions and memories that can never be erased.

I hated Peter last week. I looked in his eyes and I hated him---hated that he called me a bitch with our child listening from the other room, hated that he cannot figure out how to grow up, hated that I am forced to have him in my life.

I get really frustrated with the rollercoaster of telling people we get along pretty well to realizing that maybe that isn't true to thinking maybe it is true again.

It isn't easy.

But then I remind myself that marriage wasn't easy either. Sometimes I think I forget that. I forget how hard it was to feel alone, to have to sneak out of the bed and cry alone on the couch because if he saw me crying, he would get angry at me. I think about how free I am now---free to show my emotions, free to show my children my emotions, free to think for myself and make my own decisions.

Divorce isn't easy but I am becoming more of who I want to be.

And I try so hard to remind myself how worth it that is when I have really hard days.
All of the pain from divorce is worth it because my children and learning and growing in ways I never could've planned or imagined. It is worth it because I am strong enough to find empathy for so many difficult things in my life and others'. It is worth it because I have learned how to be a better friend and person, a more kinder Wendy than I used to be. It is worth it because I now know that I am a warrior and I'm positive that I can handle the things life throws at me.

It isn't easy---but it is worth it.

Forgiveness is Freeing

The beauty of life is that although really hard things happen, we can move on.

We can pick up those broken pieces and fight like hell for what is important to us.

Lately, I've been thinking about forgiveness and how powerful it is---or more-so how freeing it is.

Two years and one month ago, I was in a marriage that I had fought for, living each day and believing that I would be married forever---and then my husband came home and told me he no longer loved me.
Two years ago, I was told by some of my family members that I needed to fight harder to keep my marriage together, even after Peter had left me.
Twenty-two months ago, I was told on two separate occasions that I should "lose weight to show him what he's missing out on".
Sixteen months ago, I found out that my ex-husband had hidden a pornography addiction from me our entire marriage.
A year ago, a family member told me they didn't understand why I felt the need to broadcast my pain all over the internet and that it could ruin my family.
Six months ago, I lost a friendship I thought would last forever.
Three months ago, there was a stream of hateful comments on my blog that stabbed at my character.
A month ago, my Bishop told me that all I needed to do was pray and read my scriptures to find my faith in the LDS church again.
Three weeks ago, I tried to open up to my mom about leaving the church and the first thing out of her mouth was, "Aren't you worried about ruining your children?"

It's been a painful few years---and not all of the pain is listed above.
But the reason I brought that pain up is not to relive it---I've done that enough in the past two years.

The reason I bring those painful memories up is to remind myself that I am a different person, a better person, because of each and every one of those comments and trials. I am stronger and I have forgiven.

This past month, it started to hit me just how much I have moved on. I woke up one day and realized that I hadn't thought about my pain in over a day---and then sometimes it'd go two days or three days or a week.

And the dreams have stopped. That might sound odd but for me, that is an indicator of my healing. For at least a year after Peter left, I had nightmares almost every night about him. Once in a while, I'd have a good dream with him in it but for the most part, my dreams brought out so much of the pain I was feeling and wasn't able to articulate.

I survived the anger phase---I survived so much that I thought I wasn't capable of surviving.
I can look back to six months ago as I sat in my therapist's office and sobbed for the first time in front of her (after seeing her for 2.5 years) and how much pain I was trying to unload. I can look back at that moment and marvel that I am here---that I am not only breathing but smiling and focusing on so much of the good in life.

God has been working miracles within me. I have faith that the journey I am on is exactly where He wants me to be.
I have faith that whatever I decide will only bring my children and I closer to God.

Forgiveness, for me, starts when I am able to see the perspective of the other side and feel empathy for the other person's pain.
I first felt this a week after Peter told me about his pornography addiction. I remember him sobbing on the phone and apologizing over and over again. I wasn't yet able to forgive him in that moment but it was my first glimpse of empathy for him. I realized how scared he had been for years leading up to the day he left.
And God allowed it to happen many more times in the past two years, from realizing my family was trying to grasp the reality of divorce just as much as I was to realizing that the hateful comments I've read about myself came from a place of love and protection for another person in their lives.

We can choose what we want to see. 
We can choose to see the hate and label it as such or we can try and look through it to see the fear or the protection behind the choices people are making.

Today I choose to look beyond and find empathy for everyone around me.

We are all fighting battles. We are all trying to do what we believe is right.

Forgiveness is freeing and I am choosing to be free.