Friday, February 24, 2012

Horse Stories

Story 1:
Sunny (the horse) has recently figured out how to open gates. He unlatches them with his lips and pushes them open. I THOUGHT I'd fixed it by moving the latch thingy to the outside of the gate... The other day, while eating breakfast, I noticed the horses were not in the backyard and the gate was open.

It took five minutes to find him. He was in the neighbors' hay barn.
I have now met some of my human neighbors. I was well acquainted with the cows, goats, and the alpaca, but I didn't want to meet the humans. I was afraid of them. I knew at some point, they were going to ask me if I was LDS, and I wasn't sure how to answer that question... Bill, the neighbor, asked. I said, "no", and he just said, "That's okay. Most people aren't. Are you liking it here?"

Then we talked about good trails that I haven't tried yet. A good place to buy hay, and he told stories about when his calves all escaped their pasture. "You haven't really had animals until they've gotten out and you've had to deal with that."

Story 2:
The snow and cold have made it so I can't really enjoy riding in the mountains. (Although between a good quality duster and the lack of snow, I went out until the beginning of January. Which is AWESOME!)

I've been taking Sunny to the arena to ride him and work with him. I enjoy the arena, but I get really anxious when there are other people around. I feel like I'm going to do something wrong and the people will think I am a loser and shouldn't be riding a horse. (Falling off the horse doesn't scare me. But what people think of me does.) I don't like working with Sunny if there is someone else there... even though I understand that they may or may not know more than me. I also would LOVE for feedback if someone knows more than I do... My anxiety comes from thinking they are thinking something, but not saying it.

Story 3:
I've been working with Sunny on transitions (changing speeds). I barely even have to THINK the word "trot", and Sunny is trotting. The most imperceptible shift in my saddle and he's running. Unfortunately, he's not so good at slowing down or walking. Although I understand the benefits, the work seems tedious to me. I'd much rather just run.

Story 4:
I've only been riding for a little more than three years, and I've never had any sort of formal lesson. I've read books. I've spent a lot of time observing horses and riders, and I've spent A LOT of time in the saddle. Mostly, there's something about horses that just feels intuitive to me.

Today, as we were leaving the arena, I needed to push the button to close the livestock door. At first, I was trying to use all of the "right" signals to get him to step sidewise to get next to it. He was throwing his head (In Sunny language that means, "I don't understand what you are asking me to do!") I stopped, took a deep breath, and instead of trying to impress all of the people around me... I just told him what I wanted. Literally. I said, "I need to get over to that button, can you get me there?"

And he did it.

I don't know if he understood my words; if we communicated telepathically; or if it was just coincidence... I do know that every time I get clear on what I want him to do, he pretty much does it.

Unfortunately, there's a lot of confusion inside me. I WANT to just run. I understand the power of working on transitions and practicing going slower, but I don't want to do it. He gets mixed messages.

I'm trying to impress people... I can't imagine a horse would understand the message, "I want those people to think I'm awesome, so do whatever it takes to make them think that." He throws his head and acts confused.

I love that horse for the things he's taught me about balance and centering myself. I love him for the things he's taught me about communication, intention, and asking for what I want. I love him for all the lessons he's taught me about fear. I love that horse for the way he helps me see me.

Monday, February 20, 2012

I won!

Remember those Brodie Awards? And how I wanted to win, but I didn't want anyone to know I wanted to win?

Well... I won!

My post: To My Family, Thank you for making me so wrong WON!

And that makes me happy.

I'd like to thank my sister, who campaigned on facebook for me. This is just another example of how awesome she is! 

(But I won't pretend there wasn't a day filled with anxiety after she posted the link on her wall... I really did sit here on blogger and refresh the "stats" page. over. and over. and over. and tried to figure out who was coming to visit my blog, because I was worried what people were going to think or say or feel when they read my stuff. Nothing to worry about... Besides the fact that I can handle it when people don't approve of me: I still got all positive and loving responses.)

Sunday, February 19, 2012

What I really meant to say when I said, "Don't judge me"

In a conversation with a friend. What she said was, "I wish he would stop judging me. I feel like he thinks everything I do is bad."

My question, "Why does it matter what he thinks?"

Her answer, "I just miss the way it felt when he thought I was good."

And then it hit me:
For so long, I SAID I didn't want people to judge me, but the truth was I NEEDED them to judge me. I needed them to judge me and find me "good". Although I hated their disapproval, their approval was too important to me to give up "being judged".

I'm not sure when the change happened, but it came to a point when I decided I didn't care what other people thought. I didn't need or even want other people's approval anymore. I just wanted to live my own life. Amazing things started happening. I don't NEED compliments. I don't NEED people to tell me I'm doing a good job. I don't NEED anyone else to tell me I'm good... And the "negative" stuff doesn't stick like it used to either. Life is a lot more peaceful.

All of this made me think of the children's storybook, You are Special by Max Lucado.

"Everytime they got a star, it made them feel SO good, they wanted to do more things to get more stars."
"Some couldn't do those things. They got dots."
"One day he met a Wemmick unlike all the others. She had NO stickers. People tried to give her stars and dots, but they wouldn't stick."
"That's how I want to be!"

"The stickers only stick if you let them. The stickers only stick if they matter to you."

Saturday, February 18, 2012

Four years ago today

In November 2007, I pretty much came to the conclusion that I was done. Done living. Done trying. Done pretending. Done. Done. Done. That translated to an eating disorder: Starving myself and over-exercising was a way to end my life in the most painful and slow way possible. I didn't even deserve a quick and painless death...

I had gone to treatment in 1997, and I saw how the women treated each other: Competing for who could be the "sickest", berating those that ate, being fed via  tube up the nose was a "badge of honor". I didn't want to be in that environment again, but in January 2008, I started to wonder if that was my best choice.

On the one hand, I knew how to eat. I knew what to eat. I just didn't want to. I had done it before: Forced myself to eat because it was what I had to do, because it made other people happy, because there was no other choice... but I didn't want that life anymore. I felt like my choices were either to die, or to somehow find a way to want to live. I wasn't sure if anyone could really help ME... but... I chose to give it a shot.

On February 18, 2008, I checked myself into Center for Change.

Going inpatient to CFC meant turning my WHOLE LIFE over to other people. They tell you when to eat (and what to eat, and what happens if you don't eat everything they tell you to eat), sleep, go to the bathroom, everything. Your whole day is scheduled out to the minute. They tell you what you can talk about, what you can't talk about, what you HAVE to talk about. They ask you to share your deepest, darkest, hardest parts to share, about yourself. There is no such thing as a private life in treatment. (You even get people standing outside the bathroom door with it cracked open.) It sucks. Even if it is totally necessary, it SUCKS!

I knew it was going to be hard work. I knew there was a lot of things I had to face and changes I'd need to make, but at the same time I had no fucking clue. I feel pretty lucky that I had the opportunity to go to a safe place to do the work that had to be done. They took care of the business of keeping me alive, so that I could put everything I had into healing myself. I know how RARE that opportunity is. (Only 1 in 10 people who have eating disorders get to go to treatment. Most are sent home LONG before they have had the chance to face the problems that caused the eating disorder in the first place.)

There are so many powerful experiences I could share. Here are just a few:

The women I met there
I was afraid I'd have another experience like the one in 1997, but I had nothing to be worried about. I went at the exact right moment: With the most intensely beautiful, strong, amazing women on the planet. Fighters with huge loving hearts. The fact that most of them had survived their lives was a miracle to me. Every single one of those women have been through hell, and not just a little bit of hell: HELL!!! Every single person I met there had faced life experiences that "normal" people can't even begin to fathom. Before CFC, I had sat in church, and listening to the women there, I felt jealous at what they called "trials". Sitting with the women at CFC, I felt understood. Finally, not alone.

Petey, the wheelchair
Chronic low blood pressure, combined with random drops in blood pressure, combined with anxiety and dissociation, combined with trying to gain a lot of weight in a short amount of time, combined with blood sugar issues, combined with emotional exhaustion, combined with who knows what else - all those things made me so dizzy, I had a hard time walking. I was a "fall risk", so I had to sit in a wheelchair.
I spent months sitting in that wheelchair. I learned to rest. I learned that I didn't always have to push through and push my body past it's breaking point. I learned to take safe risks, and to avoid unsafe risks. I learned to let others help me..
One of the reasons I hated the chair was how much space it took up, but in that chair, I had my own space. For so long, I'd convinced myself that my mere existence was somehow infringing upon other people's space. I'd tried to make myself as small as possible... Since it was my chair, and no one was going to sit in the thing with me, it was okay to take up the whole wheelchair. I relaxed and began to let myself take space.

The assignment to "Stop doing all the things you do to prove to others that you are loveable"
For me, at that moment those things were: Smiling, talking to other people about their problems (not talking about myself), and following all of the rules.

At first, I wanted to please everyone by doing that assignment perfectly... and then I decided that was silliness, because I would still be doing the same damn thing I'd always done: Trying to get other people to love me by doing what they wanted. For the first time, I started thinking about what I wanted. I WANTED to smile, so I did. I WANTED to break the rule of getting out of that stupid wheelchair and walk to the dining room, so I did. Before that day, it had never even occurred to me that I had choices, that I could want something. It was also the first time I ever said "no" to someone in authority. (I was such a rebel. I wouldn't give her my watch when she asked. She didn't know what to do. I felt bad for saying no, and I felt SO GOOD that I could.) It was an eye-opening day for me.

Beating the hell out of a couch cushion in "Care Bear's" group
In group therapy, a friend was sharing an experience she had had with her husband. He had said things to her that were just... awful... and I remembered Larry saying the same kinds of things to me. I told the group that I was angry, but I didn't know what to do with that feeling... Care Bear (therapist) got a tennis racket and a pile of couch cushions and had me hit them. With every hit, I was supposed to say, "I am angry!" like I meant it. That was not an easy thing for me to do. It took me a long time, and a lot of trying before I could say "I am ANGRY!" (It's funny, looking back now, I can see that I was still very restrained, even when I thought I was "out of control" angry. It was just the start of learning to be present with my own emotions.) It was incredibly intense for me, and for others in the group. They still talk about that day in group when Jen finally let go of the some of the anger.

Ceremonial Group: Standing before a jury of my peers, I had to convince them that I was bad
I had believed my whole life that I was worthless and unlovable and "no-good", but I couldn't tell you WHY I thought that. In a court, there has to be evidence, so the assignment was to lay out my evidence to the women there. I shared the most painful things that had happened to me. I shared the worst things I had ever thought. I KNEW that they would hate me, but they didn't. To this day, only BJ and that group have heard some of those thoughts... Because of the way those select few responded, I'm not afraid of myself anymore. Those women gave me the courage to face the "worst" parts about myself, and let me know it was okay to love me. Pretty much changed my life.

RAD (Rape Aggression Defense) training
I wasn't allowed to do the training, which was okay by me, because just watching OTHER people do it caused panic attacks, dissociation, flashbacks, and generally awful days. As awful as it was, watching my friends go through the training, helped me face my own past. Going through flashbacks and panic is AWFUL, but it was necessary for me to heal. By facing my past, it stopped having the control over me.

I still have the plan to take a RAD class sometime. The final day includes a simulation: Men "attack" you. You use your voice, your body, everything you've learned to get them off and to get away. I'd like to be able to do that. (Still don't think I'm ready for it. I'm shaking just thinking about it.)

DBT (Dialectical Behavior Therapy) "Non-judgmental stance"
I learned that things aren't "good" and "bad". Things just are. There aren't good people and bad people. There aren't good emotions and bad emotions. There isn't a right or a wrong. There isn't a should or a should not. Everything just is. Very powerful lesson that helped me to stop being crazy. (I've sat here trying to think of how to say it, but honestly... I was crazy. Trying to put everything into it's little box of "good" or "bad" or some derivative of that, made me insane.) Life is a lot more gentle, peaceful, and happy. There are still times when I get caught up in judging things (mostly myself or my emotions) as "good" or "bad". Then I remember Espra and getting pillows thrown at me. (I know that last sentence won't make sense to most people. But in group, if you said anything that was a judgment: good, bad, right, wrong, should, shouldn't, etc., you got a pillow thrown at you. It was a good way to make me aware of what I was doing. Now I use phrases like, "I prefer" or "I don't like", because that is more effective.)

The "pinky promise prayer"
This one still brings tears of love and joy to my eyes. I'm not sure how long I'd been at CFC at this point. A couple of weeks, maybe? "Bubbles" was a teenager who was a new patient. Her body was failing her, and the group of us sat and watched helpless as the nurses worked to take care of her. Together, we prayed for her and then made a pinky promise that none of us were going to give up the fight with the eating disorder. Eating disorders claim so many lives, but not ours. That night I wrote in my journal: "CFC. At this moment. With these women. Is EXACTLY where I need to be". We've all kept that promise thus far. 1 in 5 people diagnosed with an eating disorder will die. The fact that I don't know anyone who has died from an eating disorder is astounding to me. I know of people who have died: Friends of friends, but no one I know personally. And no one from that group. They're all still fighting like hell, and I love them for it.

There were many times after I left CFC that I just wanted to throw in the towel, and be done. I didn't want to fight for my life anymore. I was so tired. In those moments, I thought of the women in the group, and there was no way I was breaking that promise. There was no way I was going to give them any excuse to give up their fight. That promise I made to them, and that we made to each other has saved my life more than once.

Sacrament meeting
Since we couldn't leave to go to church, they arranged to have the young men bring the sacrament to us. A small group of women gathered in one of the group rooms. We sang a hymn a'capella. A prayer (and the prayers offered by the women there were the most sincere and beautiful prayers I've ever heard). No talks, but sometimes we'd share thoughts with each other. So much love in that room. If church had felt like that, I probably would have never left.

Your definition of recovery
We were all asked to define what recovery looked like to each of us individually. Mine was, "When I  love myself more than I hate myself."
According to that definition, I am recovered, but I think recovery is just life. I keep learning and growing and changing and living. According to that definition, I'm still working for recovery and always will be.

I know that most people won't understand the rest of this list, but to myself and the few that will:
"Love you to pieces"
J and C dancing to "Beat it"
temper tantrums
ripping up phonebooks, throwing ice, throwing pillows
challenge day
"Let it be okay"
Fedder and Le Freak
music listening
drum circles
arguments about the fireplace or walks
that nasty bean salad
singing and peeing
"hit snap clap hit hit snap clap"
table manners? what table manners
"Goals change lives"
"How is that like your life?"
illegal exercise
the big white van
the race to get out and the race to check back in
scream therapy
"auto" group
the vitals machine
games at the dining room tables
the "f word" wasn't fuck - it was fat
"The voice is no longer hidden in me. I've let go, Now I am free!"
and this:

I'll never hear this song and not think of the dining room, saying goodbye to beautiful women, not knowing where life would take turns out... I like where life has taken me.

And the best part: I REALLY like the girl that I've become.

Tuesday, February 14, 2012

Everyone's talking about love - guess I will too

A friend of mine posted this quote on her facebook wall, and I had a very strong reaction to it.
"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love."
~Mother Theresa
Love until it hurts? How long do I let him hurt me before I don't care if I live or die, and is THAT love? I guess at that point, I don't care if I die, so I'd jump in front of a bus to save someone else... but I don't think that's a very healthy place... I've been there, and it wasn't a place I'd like to revisit...

Love isn't supposed to hurt: If it hurts, it could be called sacrifice, it could be called pain, it could be called abuse, but not love...

Later, I had another friend share the same quote... Her and I have a relationship where I could tell her I had a strong reaction to that quote, and ask her why she liked it and how it helped her... 

She explained sometimes there are processes that hurt. And another friend brought up a situation with her mother's failing health. It hurts to face her mother growing older and losing her independence, and through that process they are learning to love each other in new and different ways... 

I realized, I don't see those things as hurting or painful, at least not in comparison to other pains.
The process of change is hard... I cry. I feel tired. I wouldn't describe it as hurting. At least not compared to the hurt that I felt BEFORE: The anxiety. The blaming myself for other people's anger. The fear. The rape. The being thrown into the wall. The constant feeling that I wasn't good enough and could never be good enough to deserve people to be kind to me. Feeling constantly compelled to do. All of those things HURT... 
changing, growing, learning, finding my own strength, facing fears of rejection by letting people get to know ME, being rejected by some, and feeling the love of MANY, ... that feels amazingly, wonderfully, GOOD in comparison.

Being there with a friend who is going through hard times, stressful times, health problems: That's sad, it isn't easy, it's exhausting sometimes, but I am grateful and I don't describe it as painful. (The most difficult part is realizing that I can't fix it. I can't make it all go away. Being with someone's "hard times" forces me to face my humanness. Being human is sometimes painful for me, but I'd rather be with someone as a human than as the robot I used to be. It feels good to be present, even in "painful" situations.) Mostly, having my friends share their journeys with me has felt validating and empowering. "They're doing it too! I am not alone!"

I also recognize that Mother Theresa is a trigger for me:
She DID sacrifice herself and her life to other people. She wasn't an example of a balanced person. Her out of balance was very valued and valuable, and that doesn't make it any more balanced. Our world NEEDS people like her, because there are so many people that take and take and take: In order to have balance, we need people who will give and give and give... 

For so long, I have felt guilt for not sacrificing everything for everyone else... I still beat myself up for not being as "good" as Mother Theresa... In my "black and white" world, if I am not Mother Theresa, I am selfish. Until I have given everything I have, until I have hurt enough, I have not loved enough.

Loving until it hurts has meant hurting myself. Loving until it hurts has only created pain for me. 
I'm learning to redefine what it means to hurt. For most people, hurting is: sadness, disappointment, unmet expectations, changing, giving a few dollars to someone else, giving a little (but not everything). I feel sadness that I know pain so deeply. I might feel a little bit jealous. I also might feel a little bit silly, because I created many situations that were painful because I thought that is what love should feel like.

Moving forward, I choose love that is joyful, happy, inspirational, fun, full, complete. I choose love that is accepting and without expectations. I choose love without the pain of guilt, fear, or compulsions. I choose love that feels loving towards myself.

Saturday, February 11, 2012

The Warrior in Me (Lori Crandall)

No words. Just. WOW! to this song.

VS 1.
There are days that I remember your eyes, filled with rage as you looked at me. I thought your anger was somehow my fault, and then…I murdered myself. I thought I must have been nothing, but those days are gone, I let go of you and given you back your thorns, and now I finally see, that there’s a Warrior in me!

Everything I am
Everything I know
Everything I see
Everything I’ll be is Inside of Me, Yeah…

Every time I cry
Every time I scream
Every time I love
Every time I sing…Its inside, yeah it’s inside inside of me.

Yeah, you gave me your worst, and I fought with my best, and the Warrior, yeah this Warrior she lives on in me!

VS 2
Yes, you may have broke me. But all you showed me, was just how strong I am the warrior that is me. Yes, you may have cut me, but all that you taught me to see, is that my power to thrive and my will and my drive, and my heart as my guide, will live on eternally. Free to fly, with this Warrior in me!


Now I never thought I could find myself, I could free myself! I always thought I’d be in this pain again and again, locked in myself, chained to these walls, never again to feel any love at all!! But the Warrior, she freed me!

Everything I am
Everything I know
Everything I see
Everything I’ll be is Inside of Me, Yeah…

Every time I cry
Every time I scream
Every time I love
Every time I sing…It’s inside, yeah it’s inside inside of me.

No, I never thought I could find myself, I would free myself, I fought you on this battleground, Now I was lost now I’m found, Yeah, you gave me your worst, and I fought with my best, and the Warrior, yeah this Warrior, she lives on in me! Yes, this warrior…is ME!

Copyright Lori Crandall/2005

Friday, February 10, 2012

This Josh Powell stuff is upsetting to me...

(THIS Josh Powell stuff, for those unaware of who he is)
I know it's probably a good idea for me to stay away from this case, but I've been fascinated by it for years. I just can't stop thinking about it all...

Josh has always seemed to me to be an abusive and controlling person. I've never met the man, so my assessment of him comes from what I've seen on the news, what I've read, and my own experiences.

Abusive people are usually insecure. They are scared of losing anything in life, and channel that fear into trying to control every aspect of their life, including the people in it. They do this through abuse: emotional, physical, sexual, or some combination. When they feel safe and secure, they'll be kind and calm, which can be confusing to their victims. (As long as you do what the abuser wants, they treat you nicely, so it feels as if their treatment of you is a result of the way you act.) Abuse is their response to perceived threats of control being taken away. (To victims: That means they feel threatened when you don't do what they want you to do. That doesn't mean you ARE threatening them, it just means that when they don't have control over you, they feel threatened.) They blame the other person for their fears, but the truth is simply: They feel scared, insecure, and out of control, and they don't know how to deal with those feelings. They compensate for their fears and insecurities by controlling (abusing) the people that they have the easiest control over (generally spouses and/or children).

Observations on Josh:
Susan threatening to leave him would have TERRIFIED him. He would have done everything he could think of to get her to stay. It never would have crossed his mind that maybe she needed to get away from him for her own safety, or that it could be good for her to leave. Abusers see the people in their lives as possessions or extensions of themselves. (If he wanted her to stay, then she needed to stay. In his mind, his thoughts are her thoughts. They are not separate. In an interview two years after her disappearance he said, "She loves me, and I love her, and I don't understand why everyone is trying to alienate her against me."  (The following question is based on the assumption that he was telling the truth and didn't murder her and drop her body in the desert.) Does that sound like a rational statement to make two years after she left him?)

The threat of losing his sons was too much for him to handle. He told people he couldn't live without them, and if HE couldn't have them, no one could. Again, it seems he believed that the best thing for them was what he wanted: He couldn't see that they were separate beings with needs and wants and LIVES of their own.

I've seen some blame porn. I think that's silly.
Blaming porn for violent crimes is like blaming food: Before every murder takes place, the murderer eats. Therefore food causes murders. There might be a correlation, but that doesn't prove causality. There are a LOT of people who look at pornography and they never murder their children. I understand that if a man (or woman) ALREADY thinks of people as possessions, looking at pornography could add to the problem. When you look at the world through colored glasses, it doesn't matter what you look at, you will only see that color. (My experience was a man who read the scriptures and felt justified in treating his wife like a piece of property... I think I would have preferred he looked at porn. It would have been easier to sort out what was real and what was his fuckedupedness.)

Obviously Josh Powell is an extreme case, but that doesn't make less extreme cases any less damaging. Just living in an environment where you are thought of and treated as a possession  is damaging. It hurts. It is confusing. It erodes self-esteem and self-worth.

I worry that some people will look at the case and think, "My abuser hasn't done anything as bad as THAT," and dismiss their experiences. Josh has been made into a sick monster. I've heard people talk about how evil he is, but look at what his mom, his sister, and even his kids thought of him. They loved him and thought he was sweet and kind and would never hurt anyone. I've written about this before: Abusers are NOT monsters. They look and act and ARE normal people... Normal people with fears and insecurities that rule them and cause them to do whatever they can to control every aspect of their life, including the people in it.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

Redefining selfishness (again)

I was reading the book, Who'd You Put Your Panties on for Today? this morning, and feeling frustrated with the author. "This woman is selfish, controlling, and she's driving me crazy!"

I kept reading... mostly because the book was a gift, and I wanted to be able to say nice things about it.
About half way through, she finally said something that warmed me up to her a bit:
"I realized I was putting my panties on for me, and I was expecting everyone else to put their panties on for me too."
Now we're getting somewhere.

In the book up to this point, this woman wanted things perfect. The rug straight. Her children, friends, husband, and family to look and be a certain way. And she thought that by telling them how (and really who) she wanted them to be, she was "putting her panties on for herself". It was a big wakeup call to her when she finally saw things as they are. (She was expecting everyone else to do things her way, and by demanding that she was not taking care of herself like she thought. In reality demanding others to be and do what she wanted was hurting them and herself.)

Redefining selfishness (again):
I used to believe selfish was living my life for myself. That's not true. That's healthy living. Doing EXACTLY what I need and want to do.

Selfish is expecting others to live their life for me.

It is not selfish to take care of myself. It is not selfish to have wants, needs, desires, and to go after them.
It IS selfish to expect others to take care of me. It IS selfish to expect other people to give me my needs, wants, and desires just because I want them. It IS selfish to expect others to sacrifice their wants, needs and desires for mine.

Expressing wants and desires = taking care of myself. Owning my voice.
Expecting others to give me my wants just because I express them = being dependent on another person. Giving them my voice. In this scenario, my voice (sharing my wants, thoughts, desires) is only worth what they give me as a result of my speaking up. If they give me what I want, it was a good thing to ask for what I needed. If they don't, then I shouldn't have asked.

Asking for what I want is NOT about what others do. The part that is important is just saying what I want... it doesn't matter what comes after that.

(By the way, I liked the rest of the book. It was a fun read. Using panties as a way to explain self-care and healthy change. It was like reading her journal - traveling and learning right along with her... I enjoyed that. Plus there's lots of sketches of different types of underwear.)

Thursday, February 2, 2012

2011 Brodie Awards

I've been nominated.
My thoughts on being nominated:
1. That is so cool that someone out there likes what I wrote. (or in one case, likes the title of what I wrote).
2. Oh dear. What will my LDS family think if they knew I was nominated for a Brodie award... Would they be disappointed? Would they be proud?
3. I want to win. But I shouldn't want to win, so I don't want anyone to know I want to win.
4. Jen, stop thinking and go do something fun.

I'm actually in three categories.

Best "Mormon Life Journey" Post (Friends)
Best Post Title (I hate labels, but how else do I explain it?)
Most Interesting Interfaith Interaction (To My Family: Thank you for making me so wrong)
I admit I am very partial to the one about my family. I want everyone to read it. I want every single person who has loved ones leave the church to make it as much of a non-issue as my family has.

For those interested, here's where you can vote: Poll: 2011 Brodies. (And in the words of a friend, "I don't expect a vote if you find that a competing article was more to your liking," but I do like votes, so...)