It’s a weird feeling for me to not be blogging regularly, either here or on my family blog or even just writing in a journal.

Lately, I haven’t been doing any of those things. I haven’t been writing anything down anywhere. And for my brain, that means I’m not going to remember a lot of it.

I’m not going to remember the feelings I felt and the things that impacted me in those little moments.

I want to be better. I’m trying to be better. But between school, 2 jobs, and 2 kids, I’ve been struggling to find time for myself, to do the things I love to do.

And maybe beyond that, sometimes it’s just painful to write when I feel so lost right now. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that I’m lost.

Because if I don’t write and I don’t think about it, I can just continue to live my life without those interior worries and fears consuming me.

I’ve been super anxious about the black lives vs police lives vs ALL lives arguments that I’m seeing all over social media.

I truly believe that God gave me a gift to understand heartache in many different forms and as I read the arguments being made for all of the different sides, my heart literally hurts from the pain that so many people are feeling.

So many people are hurting---not just one group vs another group.

And the problem is that when we argue against each other, we are minimizing each other’s pain.

When we’re stressed out, we tend to personalize other’s behavior. “They did this to us.” 

I've been on both sides of that.

I've been blamed for things I did not do.

And I have blamed others for things they did not do.

It's an ugly process and one that is hard to forgive.
Because if you KNOW me, you wouldn't BLAME me---right?

Wrong.

I think when we know each other, we know more flaws. And I think that's why it is so painful to be betrayed by someone we are close to. Because they know things about us that can really hurt.

I'm a mess of anxiety today. But I'm trying not to let that close me off from my relationships. 

Sometimes Ed Wins

I broke down yesterday.

It was one of those moments were, on the inside, I had completely lost my shit, but on the outside, I was acting totally fine.

I was fighting within myself---eating disorders are good, no they're bad, no they're good, no, no, no, no, no---*brain explodes*.

And I'm pissed. Because I have so many reasons to be happy. In fact, there are so many reasons why I AM happy.
But on the inside, when I allow my thoughts to turn to body image, I lose control. I cannot handle it. I fail at every recovery measure I've tried. I hate my body. I get angry at it for not being perfect.

Recovery tells me that my body has birthed two children, that it teaches dance and can still do incredible things.
Ed tells me none of those things are good enough, that I'd be worth something if I'd just stop eating.

Stop. Eating.

I tell myself this daily. And then when I do eat, I hate myself for making such a bad life decision.

Because even though my life is so beautiful, it'd be even better if I was beautiful. My body doesn't match the life I'm living. It isn't beautiful.

I want to be beautiful.

And the only reason I'm still fighting is because I've heard stories of the damage and the heartache. In fact, I've been those stories. I've been ruined before. But if it weren't for journals, I wouldn't remember those broken stories because right now, when I look back, all I remember is feeling so strong and accomplished and worthy.

And I want to feel those things all of the time.

A part of me still feels like fighting is the right choice. And the other part of me feels like fighting isn't worth it.

So badly, I wish this wasn't my life. You have no idea how much I wish this wasn't my life.

To feel happy with your life while fighting or not fighting inner demons, that just doesn't seem fair.

I want to feel happy without hearing so many hurtful things being said about me inside of my brain.That girl in there, she is mean. She is cruel. She has extreme standards. Not for everyone, just for herself.

Sometimes I don't get how I can be her, how I can be so concerned with loving and accepting others without being that way with myself.

Sometimes I feel absolutely crazy.

Absolutely crazy.

A Life I Love

A few days ago, my coworker came into my office and was telling me about how she met a childhood friend of mine whom I hadn't seen in years. This friend was asking about me and whether I was still active in the church and how my life was going after divorce and my coworker said, "Well, you know, she's just had a really hard life."

As she was relaying this conversation back to me, her last comment took me by surprise. A part of me was thinking, "Yes, I have! This shit has been hard and traumatic!" But there was a different part of me, the more healed part of me that was thinking, "Everyone has hard stuff. Everyone. My life isn't based on only the hard stuff. There is a whole slew of beautiful roads traveled and beautiful roads in my future."

And that's where I'm at today. 

I'm not fully recovered. I don't know if I'll ever make that concrete statement. But so much of me is doing so much better.

So much better. 

I was out with friends last night having dinner and shopping with my tribe of warriors whom I love and they kept joking about how I had also made plans later in the evening with another set of friends. And how tonight I have more plans with more friends.
And as I was thinking about this fact this morning, I felt an immense amount of love from my Heavenly Father because friendships have not always been my forte. I was bullied a lot as a child by people whom I felt should've loved and accepted me. It was extremely painful and I've held onto trauma from those days for a long time and wondered if I'd ever be able to have real friendships.

And I do. 

I absolutely do. 

My life right now---this is the life I could live forever and never regret it. I mean, I'd like a husband and possibly more children but I don't need that for happiness.
In fact, I really don't need anything for happiness. Just my attitude.

That's been a huge learning curve throughout this process. 

I used to get so angry and ask God why I was feeling so much resentment and sadness when I wanted to bounce back to my happy self. It took me a long time to remember that happiness is something I make, not something I'm given.

Being happy doesn't mean you never get sad or hurt. To me, living a happy life means basking in the joyous times and learning from the darker times.

In my opinion, that is the only way for us to grow. 

I love my life right now. I remember as I was going through my divorce, I was in the biggest hurry to date again and get remarried because I was certain I wouldn't heal or find happiness until I had a man by my side.
But the truth is, I love my life because I'm focusing on loving myself and the people whom God has placed in my life.

I'm not there with my eating disorder---that still gets to me a lot of the time and I don't love my body. But I love who I am, the kind of person that I am.

This girl deserves so much. 

So much. 

And I am so grateful for life these days. I'm so grateful that I've continued on through some pretty horrific events. I'm grateful that I've stood when a lot of people expected me to fall. And I'm grateful for the people who have been there to catch me time and time again so that when I do fall, I don't hit the ground as hard.

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.