It wasn't all in my head! #endometriosis #adenomyosis

It's done. Yesterday I had my uterus, cervix, Fallopian tubes, and left ovary removed. This morning I am laying in a hospital bed waiting for the nurse to let me get up and move around. Then I will be waiting for the doctor to give me the okay to go home.

I haven't talked to the doctor yet - my surgery was schedule to be an hour and a half. It took him three hours. I had endometriosis.

My uterus, colon, left Fallopian tube, and left ovary were all covered in endometriosis adhesions and twisted and fused together. As the doctor was telling Todd all that I had cut out, Todd's main thought was, "No wonder she was in so much pain."

I went to several doctors who all told me my pain was psychosomatic. I really thought it was in my head, and I was worried I'd get into surgery and the doctor would find nothing wrong with me.

What a relief to know there was disease, and the surgeon cut it out, so hopefully once I recover from the pain of surgery, there will be no more pain.

The pain has changed a little with surgery, but it's no worse than what I was living with almost everyday. (There's an incision in my belly button, and that hurts. The other three incisions don't hurt at all.)

The other cool thing about this experience: I was able to talk about PTSD and anxiety, AND I was able to ask for help. As I was coming out of anesthesia, I was in pain and felt panicked. I was able to tell the nurse, "I have PTSD from being raped, and I'm having a hard time right now. Can you talk to me to help me stay here in the present. My brain thinks I'm being raped again."

She brought me a pillow to hug and then talked to me. She asked me about where I live and what I do for a living and told me stories about herself. It didn't take too long for me to get grounded and be okay enough.

I'm really excited to see evidence of how much better I am than I was just a year ago.

Loaded Words: Gratitude

"What are you grateful for?"

It seems like an innocent and helpful question. Nobody means harm when they ask it - however the question fills me with sadness and maybe a little anger. 

At the very worst time in my life, a time that was so dark and so painful, I am impressed with myself for living through it, I got asked that question a lot. 

I always came up with something: some "tender mercy" that made other people feel better about me or my life. 

The reality for me was, it felt like I was digging through three tons of crap to find a couple of M&M's The digging was awful. It stunk. It was hard work. I had to look so hard for the stupid little tiny pieces of chocolate, but once I'd found the M&M's, was I supposed to eat them? I didn't want them. They didn't make ME feel any better, but people around me sometimes seemed to pretend like these crap-covered chocolate pieces were a ten course meal. I was so blessed and so lucky to find them. 

My life was too painful, and I lacked the ability or the awareness to really express it at the time, but it felt awful. I felt like I was being masked over, asked to hide or disappear. Instead of feeling loved or supported, I felt very very alone. 

Todd and I have been talking about ways to bring mindfulness to our meals. He had the idea to list things we are grateful for before we eat. It sounded like a good idea, and I was all for it. And then he asked me what I was grateful for as we sat down to eat dinner, and I just cried. 

It felt like he was asking me to pretend and hide: to disappear and only show him what was acceptable and not what IS. 

In my tears, I could easily recognize my feelings are not based in the present. I have much to be grateful for, and I am very grateful for a lot. Sometimes, I still just need to cry for what was. 

As a survivor of abuse and PTSD, eating disorder, major depression and anxiety, that question did not offer me relief or hope. It offered the people around me relief and hope. It gave them a chance to escape my reality by forcing me to comfort them. I know they meant well, but it really hurt. 

It would have meant so much more for people to ask me about what I wanted to tell them, because most of the time I would have chosen to say sugar-coated sweet "positive" things to protect them. It meant a ton to me when people let me share my pain with them without expecting me to sugar coat it with gratitude s and "tender mercies".

My plea for #LDSConf listeners. Support those that are suffering.

I know that general conference weekend is a wonderful time for many. I have no wish to demean or lessen the experience for those that look forward to and love general conference. And I also know how my own depression, perfectionism, and suicidal thoughts increased every October and April.

I had more than one bishop tell me it was partially because I listened too closely and tried too hard to do everything that every speaker told me to do. The last conference I listened to I remember two things. 

1. God just wants us to be happy. The speakers just want us to be happy. They are doing the best they can with the knowledge they have, but they don't actually know what I need. I do. Those closest to me might have an idea too. But mostly, I do. 

2. My friend Amanda told me about an experience she had. She was speaking to college women about eating disorders. She knew some things she would say could hurt 5-10% of the people sitting in the room - those that are prone to eating disorders would be triggered, but it was important to her that the other 90% hear what she had to say. It seems to be similar for conference talks as well.

With her help, the help of my parents, siblings and closest friends, I came to the conclusion that most of what was said wasn't helpful or healthy for me.

I was very lucky to be surrounded by loving and supportive people. They probably saved my life, and they definitely helped me make my life more worth living.

I started this by saying I didn't want to demean or lessen the experience of those that love conference. I also ask you to be aware of those that have been hurt or demeaned by the words spoken this weekend. Share the goodness, please, and also support those that are suffering.

Far Between: Me!

I can't remember when exactly I did the interview with Kendall at Far Between. More than a year ago... It felt cathartic to tell my story, and to see how people responded in the moment to my heartbreaks and sadness and to the hope and peace I'd found.

Today, they have the edited interview up to view.
Here it is:



You can also visit their page here: http://farbetweenmovie.com/jennifer/

Fishing with the guys. Part I. To feel included

I just got back from a week long camping/fishing excursion with BJ, Brad, and Ben. I wrote about my desire to go, and the excitement of going last month.

I was going to tell you all about the fishing and the grand adventure, but I'm going to start with the therapeutic part of the trip.

Our first night, we set up camp and then went fishing. We were on the river until 9, then Brad made dinner, and we (eventually) went to bed. We'd arranged the cots so that BJ was next to me and between me and Ben and Brad. I was in the corner, because that's where I felt safest.

Everyone else went to sleep. I did not. I heard them breathing deeply, snoring slightly. I heard them all get up to pee. I listened to the frogs. I listened to the other critters scampering around the campsite. About the time the frogs stopped and the birds started, I fell asleep. About an hour after that, the sun came up. I stayed and tried to sleep a bit longer, but it didn't work out as well as I would have liked...

We spent all day fishing, and the next night tried sleeping again with no luck.
(I wasn't sleeping, because every time one of them moved or breathed, my entire body would tense up. Every time I started to fall asleep, my brain would say, "WE'RE NOT SAFE! WAKE UP!" and I would be wide awake again.)

We got up and spent the morning fishing, but the sun was intense, and I was tired. I tried to rest, but the hyper-vigilance that kept me up at night wouldn't let me rest during the day either.

Something else started going screwy with my brain too. I was sure they didn't want me there. I was taking all the good fishing spots, and I was in the way. I'm aware that lack of sleep makes me emotionally vulnerable, but it is REALLY hard to enjoy fishing when you believe you don't deserve to be on the water, taking up space, and nobody wants you. I was doing everything I could to fight the crazy thoughts, but I was losing.

In the tentative plans for the trip, we had talked about going to a play in town that evening, and maybe staying in a hotel that night. None of us were super excited about going to the play. (There were fish down there, and no one had caught enough yet!) BJ suggested we still break camp and go into town to get a hotel room.  His reason being that he wanted me to get sleep before the next day of adventures.


I was uncomfortable. I had made grand plans to take care of myself, but when it came right down to it... I didn't want to inconvenience anyone. I didn't want to talk about me. I didn't want them to do things for me or to help me.

We sat and talked for forty-five minutes. There was only one room available at the only hotel in town. While I think being in a bed would have helped - being in a bed in a room with two men seemed to be causing as much anxiety as being in the tent.  Ben and Brad were trying to be helpful to me, but I wasn't expressing myself well... I told them that I wasn't comfortable with all of the sounds, and although I knew I was safe, I was having a hard time feeling safe around them because they were men, but I didn't want them to feel bad...


Finally, BJ just said, "Jen was violently raped in her sleep. She has a hard time feeling safe when she's starting to fall asleep because it takes her right back to what happened back then."

Instantly... they said, "You guys will go into town and sleep in the hotel. We'll stay here and camp. We'll come pick you up in the morning. No big deal."

I cried. Brad gave me a hug and apologized for not being more sensitive. I tried to explain to him that wasn't what I was feeling. They were all great, but I didn't want to even be worrying about it. I felt like a failure that I wasn't sticking it out. I wasn't strong enough, and I couldn't handle camping. I also felt sad, because I was enjoying being there... and it sucks that something that happened fifteen years ago is still fucking with my life.

We got back to fishing. I finally caught one fish. Brad thanked me for taking care of myself. Ben said he was sorry that I had ever been through such fucky shit. (And I got to use my favorite joke, "Or just really shitty fucking.") He laughed, and then said he felt bad for laughing. We ate dinner after dark, and cleaned up what we could before we left Brad to do the dishes and Ben drove us into town.

I took a shower, and I slept.

They came and picked us up and we went fishing. Nobody treated me with kid gloves. They didn't treat me any different at all. I still felt like I belonged, and I was part of the group. I REALLY appreciated that Ben was already planning next year's adventure, and maybe the year after that. 

As we said goodbye, Ben gave me a hug and told me he was really glad I had come... and that he was looking forward to our next grand adventure. Brad said he was really glad I was there, and we'd get together again soon.

I cried again. I had honestly thought they wouldn't want me to come back, because it was such a burden to have to deal with me and all my problems.

The four of us on the Yakima River.

It was really nice to spend time with guys that were just nice, normal guys. And to feel included, even though I'm a girl. Even though I have issues. Even though I was once raped, and I still have to deal with side effects of that. Words just can't quite describe how loved I feel, and how much safer the world feels today.

One hundred fish in one day can make you forget (in a good way!)

BJ and I went camping. It was awesome.
I knew before we went that we were going to be there on the anniversary of my wedding to Larry. I also knew that in the past that has been a hard day for me... Just full of bad memories that make me want to curl up in a ball in my closet and disappear for a day (or more)... I hoped that camping and fishing in one of my favorite places would make it easier, but I didn't know.

The trip was AWESOME.
So relaxed. So chill. So much fun. And I completely forgot what day it was, and that THAT day is usually hard for me. Of course, the fishing was non-stop. I lost count of how many fish I caught, but BJ and I figured we each caught at least 100 fish that day.

Home sweet home - at least for the weekend.

The view from our tent.

I don't know what this is... but it's kinda cool, right?

There are so many little springs that feed the lake. That's a tree root that is catching the water.

Setting sun

SO MANY BUGS! But I couldn't really see them until I used the flash. I quit fishing when I couldn't see my fly on the water anymore, but that didn't stop BJ.

I was super excited to catch an albino trout.

Then BJ caught one, and he was super excited about his. (They are just weird looking!)

Then I caught another one, and wanted my picture taken with him.

Not sure what this face is about... but here you go.

I am "Catch and Release" only. This guy just got released a few seconds earlier than I was planning.

Using my new camera to take pictures of the moon... It didn't work so good at first.

That's the moonlight! I felt super loved having BJ sit with me while I tried to figure out how to capture the best picture. I also felt super loved that he gave me the camera just for moments like this one. He has given me the assignment to take pictures that will be custom framed and then used to decorate our house. These aren't quite there... yet...

This one would be awesome, but when viewed at it's full size, you can see it isn't quite in focus... I'm getting better though!

 And next week? I'm going to Alaska! BJ, my parents, two of my brothers and their wives, and me... Getting on a boat and cruising through Alaska. BJ and I are going fly fishing for trout and Dolly Vardon. We're all going to go to "musher's camp" to play with the sled dogs. We're going to Alaska!

I am wearing purple today.

It's National Eating Disorder Awareness Week. Combine that with the awareness that it has been five years and a few days since I walked back into CFC, I'm feeling very nostalgic.

Nostalgic makes me not think so clearly... just broken/half thoughts, pictures, and emotions running through my brain.

Through my stay at CFC, I met some of the most AMAZING, brilliant, compassionate, clever, funny, beautiful, fierce, strong, AMAZING women on this planet. Collectively they have been through more shit than any one can imagine. And while they were going through their own shit, they worked hard to help me. Those women saved my life... and then were with me while I created an even better life.

It is wonderful and shocking to me that I don't know a single person who has died from an eating disorder. (At least that I'm aware of.) I know of people... friends of friends that I never had any contact with... but everyone from both of my stays are still alive and kicking and fighting to make this world a better place.

In honor of all of them. Their fight. Their struggle. Their false beliefs. The things that make them all so much alike, and the things that make them all so very unique.

To my beautiful sisters, I love you. I'm proud of you. I feel so lucky to know you, and to have you in my life.

Living IS the point.

I got this in an email from a friend. He's been depressed lately, and he's trying to figure out why (and how to get over it.)

"I think the root of the whole problem is that I don't have a good answer to the question, "What's the point?" It seems to me that we're born, and then we live and then we die. It seems so unfair. Makes me want to cry.

So, I'm wondering if you've answered that question. If so, what's your answer? More importantly, what has been your process to answer that question? I know my answer will be different than yours, so while I'm interested in your answer, I'm much, much more interested in your process (assuming you've taken the time to answer that question since leaving the church)."

What's the point?

My only thought: LIVING is the point. We're born. We LIVE.

And the process I followed to get that answer?
I really didn't have to answer the question AFTER I left the church, because leaving was just part of the process.

As a member of the church, I was told what the point and purpose to my life should be. I was told "the plan", and I was told that plan was the ONLY plan that would bring happiness in this life and the next. I was told I was lucky to know "the plan", because most people on the planet don't know.

I didn't feel lucky... I felt like a square peg trying to force myself into a round hole. I felt depressed and anxious and miserable. So many things that I'd been taught just didn't make sense to me. The reality I saw didn't fit the ideals that I'd heard. I spent my life doing a list of things TRYING to make my life happy, but the list just made me more and more miserable.

Much of "the plan" left me feeling miserable and hopeless in this life, but there was always the idea that if I just "endured", then at least the next life wouldn't be so bad. For a while, I dreamed of dying, because at least death would mean "going home" to a place where I felt safe and loved and happy.

One of the most important moments in my life was when I realized that if I was miserable trying to be in the church today, what would make me think I would be happy living this plan for all eternity? Everything I'd been taught about the Celestial Kingdom just made me believe it would be MORE of the temple. MORE church. MORE of the worst kinds of members. (I actually said, "If that's who is going to be in heaven, send me to HELL!") More of the things that made this life feel barely bearable.

The day I realized that death wouldn't bring me to the happiness I wanted, I started taking responsibility for finding happiness today. I stopped dreaming of death, because I wanted to find a way to live.

One of my therapy assignments was to list my passions and values. (They asked for the top three... but since it's my blog, I don't have to follow their rules.)
Exploring. Learning new things. Discovering new places.
Love. Loving myself. Loving others. Loving the world around me. Loving what I do. Finding things, people, places that I love.
Nature/Spirituality. Being in the places that I feel most at peace (mountains). Finding the connection that I have to the world I live in. Following the deepest part of myself.
Leadership and Integrity. Being ME. Showing others that it is okay to be themselves through my willingness to be me. Facing my fears, so others will know they can too. Being open and honest, so others won't feel as alone, and so I won't feel so alone.
Change. Making the world a better place. Using my voice and my talents to improve the world. NOT for some grand reward in the next life, but just because I CAN.


So, what's the point?

Talk to friends. Watch TV. Play the violin. Ride a horse. Eat salmon tacos. Count the blades of grass. Watch the clouds in the sky. Go fishing. Drive. Write a book. Read a book. Play a game. Kiss someone you love. Watch a child grow. Decorate your house. Buy new furniture. Watch an ant carry a crumb. Work. Make a living. Find a way to contribute to the world around you. Smile. Cry. Laugh. Hate. Love. Think. Play the piano. Sing. Dance. Go scuba diving. Feel the rain on your cheeks. Splash in the puddles. Go rock climbing. Sit on the porch. Take a nap in the hammock. Watch a lightening storm. Go for a walk. Play with a goat. Train a dog. Pet a cat. Grow out your hair. Cut it short. Go to school. Family. Talk to someone older than you. Talk to someone younger than you. Watch a child learn. Listen to music. Paint a picture. Create a sculpture. Go on a cruise. Write letters. Invent something that has never been invented. Sleep. Memorize a poem. Share ideas. Catch a snake. Try new foods. Watch the snow fall. Study each flake. Smell the clean clothes when you take them out of the dryer. Smell the sweat when you work hard. Feed the horses. Fix the fences. Get hurt. Heal. Sit by the fireplace. Take pictures. Listen to the birds. Watch ice form and melt. Play chess. Write a program. Plant a garden. Learn to play the guitar. Think about learning to play the guitar, but never take the dang thing out of it's case. Disagree. Hug. Feel. Just BE.

See what you can see. Learn what you can learn. Live as much as you can live.
And one day, die... and then find out whatever it is that comes next.

My magnificently Boring Life

I was talking to a friend a couple weeks ago... She asked me how I was doing... what was new... all the usual questions.

She and I have both been through HELL. Abuse. (and a lot of it). PTSD. Depression. Craziness. And we both felt like we would never be 'normal'.

When she asked me all the usual questions, I laughed/cried and said, "I'm so normal and boring. It's awesome!"

And then WE laughed/cried as I told her about my very boring (and wonderful) life:

I woke up and ate breakfast with BJ. We talked about horses. We want to train them to drag a tree behind them, so we can cut down our own Christmas tree this year and have the horses drag it out. I don't know how to train my horse to drag a tree behind him. We tried to come up with a plan that would be helpful AND not result in injury of us or the horses.

I showered and got ready for the day. He went to work.
I work from home, so it's pretty easy going. I have two co-workers that come in for a couple hours every week. They came and we worked and chatted.

I fed the horses, and ate my lunch in the pasture with them.
I replied to a few personal emails and played on Facebook, then I went back to work. I shipped 108 pounds of ties that day. That's a lot of orders!

Dann called and we talked. (Like I said before, we're friends.)

BJ came home and we made dinner together. We talked about our day. His work. My work. The conversations he had with Jim at work. (Jim likes to talk about the same things that BJ likes to talk about. They get each other thinking.)

BJ made banana bread, and then we watched TV (Gold Rush. I hope Parker makes it big!) My friend called. BJ tied flies (for fly fishing) while I talked to her, and then we read. Together, but not together... Sitting in the same room reading our own books. I love reading my own book, but still sitting together and sharing what we're reading. Sometimes I only read one paragraph before we spend the next few hours talking about stuff.

Friendship after Divorce

I started this entry a long time ago, but never finished it. I've written and rewritten it and added things and taken away things... just trying to say what I really want to say, but I'm not even sure what I want to say... so... how do I say what I want to if I don't know what it is...

I don't know if it's complete or good.., but I've decided to share it today.

Once upon a time, I spent an awesome weekend camping, fishing, and riding in the mountains. BJ and I had this trip planned for a LONG time. We wanted to pack our gear, ride in to Kidney Lake, spend a few days fishing, and ride out.

(For those who don't know: Once upon a time, Dann and I were married. Now we're not. We are friends. Being friends was important to me, and it was important to him.)


I didn't want to tell Dann about the trip. I was afraid it would make him sad or jealous. I didn't want him to feel angry or freaked out. (I am very aware of ex-spouses that act crazy when they hear things they don't like.) We were all at my parents' house for dinner. I wanted to tell my dad all about the trip - especially since it was his idea. (He went to Kidney Lake and told BJ and I we needed to go.)

So, I talked about it. I ignored the voice in my head telling me that I wasn't allowed to talk about the things that make me happy... But the voice that said I was hurting Dann wouldn't shut up. So... I finally just said, "Does it bother you that I went on this trip? Or that I talk about it?"

"No! Why would it bother me? What kind of friend would I be if I didn't want to hear about the things that make you happy? What kind of a friend would I be if I got jealous when you were doing something you love? I want you to be happy. I want you to do things you love. And I want to hear about it all! Does it make you jealous when I talk about my dates and/or other girls?"

That was a good question. The answer is NO. I feel really happy for him when he's happy. I feel really happy for him when he's doing things he loves. What kind of a friend would tell him that he can't talk about his dates? That's a huge part of his life.

I want us to be friends. Real friends. So, I tell him about the stuff that I care about. I don't protect him from ME, and I don't hide me, and I don't expect him to pretend or hide either. We're FRIENDS.

All of this has gotten me thinking: We are definitely not common, so how are we doing it?
 
I had people tell me it wasn't possible.
"Once you break up with a person, it should just be over." And I agree, if that's what  any ONE of the people want, that is exactly how it should be... but what if both people want a friendship?
 

A relationship only works if both people have a desire to be in the relationship. It would have been completely acceptable if either one of us had said, "I don't want to continue a relationship with you." THAT is different from the way a lot of people think. For instance, Person A wants to be friends, so they try to force Person B to be their friend. That isn't a friendship. I don't know what that is... other than messed up.) If, in the future, one of us needed to change the relationship again, we would. A relationship only works when it works for both people.

I also think we had to let go of our past relationship. It would be impossible to be "present-friends", if either one of us was still stuck in " past-marriage". We have a history, but we let that be history. There is no talk of what might have been, or blame for the marriage ending, or even questions as to why it didn't work out. There is no trying to get back together - there is only our present friendship.


I had to make a lot of changes in myself. It was a big adjustment for people around me... including for Dann. He was used to me being different... more self-sacrificing... he was a huge support in my journey. Instead of trying to get me to go back to being self-sacrificing, he helped me grow the way I needed to grow...

While we were married, Dann did things that really hurt me. He apologized for those things, and he also understood that his apology didn't make everything all better. There was a lot of pain and anger that I had to go through, and he didn't expect me to rush it on his account. He didn't expect me to do anything for him... He didn't even expect me to be his friend unless I wanted to. Really... He had no expectations of me or of our relationship. By not trying to force anything, by letting go of what he thought it should be, it's unfolded naturally into the relationship we have now.


When I talk to him about anything, he doesn't use invalidating statements and comments. (And if he did, I could tell him. We could talk about it without him freaking out.)

He told me to trust myself.

"I trust you. Now, YOU trust you. If you don't want to talk to me, don't want to see me, or don't want anything to do with me: It doesn't matter. Trust yourself. If you fake it because you think that's what you're supposed to do, or because you think that is what I want, you will NEVER recover... But if you learn to trust you in EVERYTHING, healing will happen." (taken from an online chat)

He told me not to answer the phone when he (or anyone) called unless I WANTED to talk to him (or them).  For nine years, I thought it was my responsibility to take care of his needs: to put him ahead of myself. It was hard to change that belief. It has taken me a long time to get to a place where I am okay having needs, wants, and desires...  He understood that, and supported me. I'd like to say this isn't still hard for me. It is. It's been years, and I still have to fight against the feeling that I have to take care of him.

Knowing the way I work, how awful would our relationship be if he wanted me to fix things for him? How awful would it be for me, if he wanted me to continue taking care of him? If he thought that was what I was supposed to do? Or if he blamed me for not doing more to "save" our marriage? I'd have to fight against the false beliefs in my head AND in his head. I don't think I was (or am) strong enough that I could do that. That relationship would be deadly toxic for me.

He respects me when I tell him no.
I'm still working on telling people (and specifically him) "no". I have had to learn to stand up for myself. When I tell him "no" for any reason, he actually thanks me for taking care of myself, instead of pushing to get his way. That, more than anything, makes it possible for me to be around him. To talk to him. To count him as one of my friends. I have been way too much of a people-pleaser to have people in my life who expect me to please them... in any way...

He doesn't act like he knows what I should be doing, or what my path looks like.
Again, he trusts ME to find my own way, and he is a support as I walk my path. He doesn't give me advice or tell me how to live my life. 

He celebrates when I am happy. 
When I moved, and I was SO excited, he was excited for me. He helped me move - into the house I live in with BJ. Dann is grateful that I found BJ, because I am grateful. He wants to hear about our camping trips, our horseback rides, our fishing trips. He also gets angry when he feels BJ or I aren't being treated right.

"When you love someone, you are happy when they are happy. If you feel sad or hurt when another person is happy, that isn't love, that's selfishness." (taken from a text.)

Can you imagine how healing it is to have him say that to me? Can you imagine how wonderful it is to have a friend that really does care about MY happiness?


I feel lucky. I know how beautifully odd it is. It is rather perfect that we've both come to this place. It's rather perfect that we both wanted a friendship, and we defined friendship in the same way. Our separation and our journey was not short and was not easy, but considering what so many people go through, we're very lucky.

I'm prejudiced against Mormons.

JeannieLeigh nominated me for a blog award. 
I promise I'll do all that I am supposed to do because she nominated me. (Answer the questions about me, nominate others, etc.)

But first, there's other stuff that I want to write about:



It surprises me when active members of the church get to know me, and they are okay with me. It surprises me when they tell me they appreciate what I write. It surprises me that people have been so kind and respectful to me.

I have written a ton about how awesome my family has been... because they respect me and love me.

It really IS awesome that my family loves ME... and at the same time... when did it become awesome to have a family that was loving and respectful and nonjudgmental?

The thing I recently realized about myself?
I'm prejudiced against Mormons. You know how I know that?
I say things like, "They are still members, but they are really good to me."
"They love the church, and yet somehow they still love me."

How could I have not seen the way I think before?
I get REALLY cranky when people say racist statements, like:
"He's black, but he's a really good man."
(As if to say a good man and a black man aren't usually the same man. BULLSHIT!)




So, when did it become okay to hold members of the LDS church to a lower standard than I would hold the rest of the world?

Maybe my prejudice comes from the way I was as a member...
I cut off friends who went inactive or who left the church. I never told them why - I just stopped talking to them.
I was self-righteous...
I was self-sacrificing AND I had an expectation that good people women would be too. (Men didn't have to be.)

I pushed people to be obedient.
I told them what to do, how to think, what to feel.
If they got any answer that was different from the church, I dismissed them and their answer.


Just four years ago, I sat with my sister and told her she was taking the wrong path. I am SO GLAD she didn't take that shit from me. She told me I was caught up in my life and my problems, and I wasn't seeing HER. She was right. I apologized to her immediately, and have made every effort to see HER. I hope I am a better sister now.

I wanted to be GOOD. I wanted to be a good, righteous, person who was worthy of being loved... and that desire drove me to be a bitch. (Other days it drove me to be a doormat. I was a very confused soul.) Leaving the church helped me to let go of all of that.

I feel amazed, because I don't know if I could have done what my family or people like Jeannie have done.

My prejudice also comes from observing others:
It is amazing to me that my family isn't judgmental, because I see how other families are.
It is amazing to me that my family doesn't try to get me to go back to church, because so few families are respectful enough to do that.
It is amazing to me that my family comes to visit me when I have heard of others that won't visit family as long as they are"living in sin". (i.e. I live in the house with a man I am not married to.)
I think it's awesome that my parents, siblings, aunts, grandparents, and a cousin all SAY and MEAN, "I love you and I want you to be happy," and they trust ME to find my own happiness. They have no prescribed "plan of happiness" that I have to do, or they won't believe I am happy. They listen to ME.
They don't tell me I am following Satan, I need to repent, or any other of the crazy things I have heard people tell their "apostate" loved ones.

I am SO grateful. My family treats me the way I wish ALL families would treat each other.
I also wish I didn't think it was so amazing and awesome that they are the way they are.

It's just... I'm not sure how to change my fear of Mormons.
That's what my prejudice is:
Fear that people will first: judge me, and then: use their judgment to hurt me.

My prejudice keeps me alert and wary, and it's easier to not take it personally if they do something that hurts. As much as I hate to say this, maybe I'm not ready to let go of that.

Right now, I feel amazed by very simple acts of kindness, and can shrug off huge acts of abuse. Maybe that's not a bad place to be in... at least for a little while...

It's my life, and DAMMIT, if I'm going to live, I'm going to LIVE!

It's suicide prevention week.
I spent most of my life (29 out of my 33 years) feeling suicidal. "Suicidal Ideation" is what the professionals called it. Suicide sounded like a good idea. I dreamed of my death every single day. I prayed for it every single night. I hoped it would come, and on many days I planned for it. I attempted it once. I lived through it - in part because I immediately started throwing up. Apparently, although I didn't want to live, and didn't believe I deserved to live, my body decided something else. I also tried starving myself, and an addiction to exercise... somehow I survived those too. I'm pretty darn lucky.

I've sat here trying to think of what I would want someone like me to know. The only thing I can think of to say is, "LIVE!"

I wanted to die, because mostly, I felt like I was already dead. I was still breathing, but I wasn't living. I was doing what I thought other people wanted me to do. I was being who I thought other people wanted me to be. Looking back, I can say I barely even existed. That is no way to live... and something deep down inside of me knew it. That is the part of me that kept telling me to either LIVE or DIE. (I'm not a black and white thinker... at all.)

A while ago, I was talking to a friend. He was suicidal. He thought his death would end the craziness he felt, and he figured if he died, he wouldn't have to live with disappointing others. Since I had felt that so strongly myself, I had words that were helpful.

"You go through life trying to make everyone else happy. And then one day, you say, 'I can't live like this anymore!' What do you do? Do you end your life? Or is there another option? For me, at one point I just decided, it's my life, and if I'm going to live, DAMMIT I'm going to LIVE! It's my life, and I can't live it for anyone else anymore."

It sounds strange now... I thought I was selfish. I thought I was SUPPOSED to live my life for everyone else... In fact, that is one of the things that kept me alive for so long. I wasn't willing to put my sister through the hell of my death. I'm glad I had that bond with her, because it kept me alive long enough to find myself.  There came a point where even living for her wasn't enough to keep me breathing. There came a moment when I had to love myself enough to live for me.

I understand feeling sad. I understand feeling overwhelmed. I understand wanting out and away from all the hell. I also know what it feels like to find ME. I know how good life can be.

So, my advice is simple. Find a way to survive today, because tomorrow (or sometime in the future) will be worth living for. My life is nothing like I thought it "should" be, and everything that I want it to be.

Processing an apology

About two years ago, maybe a little longer, I got a message on facebook. It was from a person I didn't know, with no profile picture and no friends. The name on the account was Brielle... The message was incredibly nasty and mean. She referenced BJ and circumstances surrounding his life. BJ figured out who sent it, and sent her a text that night. His text just said, "Brielle is a very meanspirited person. She is also misinformed. Next time get more to the story before you go off on someone like that."

He didn't hear back for a year or more. She eventually sent him a text and apologized. She told him where she got her information and that she didn't mean to cause harm. BJ and I both thought, "that was that".

Yesterday, I got another message. This one from her real account. It was short and simple. She said she apologized to (BJ), but the real person she needed to apologize to was me. She said she thought about it often and wished she had never done that.

I felt happy.
I've watched BJ be isolated from friends and family because of the stories that some people have told, and I feel sad for him. She'd already apologized to him though, which mattered to me a lot more than apologizing to me. Watching people hurt him has hurt me, so I very much appreciate the apology for that reason.

I felt angry.
Talking to friends, they helped me figure out that her apology reminded me of the hurt she'd caused. Her apology reminded me of all the messages and phone calls I got around that same time. Former members of my ward, people I didn't know and had never talked to, and they all knew what I needed to do. Hate-filled messages based on HUGE misinformation.

I felt confused.

I was chatting online with my friend David about it. What he said was so perfect, I'm just going to quote him.

"When a message that hateful is received, even if you know it’s not justified, you have to gird up, form a defense, position your view of yourself in such a way as to be able to look over your shoulder and discount it. It requires diligence, effort. When people take back their harsh words, you’re left with a gap between the defense you formed and the tentative embrace being offered. And because the fear initially felt in the face of such hatred was genuine, there’s almost nothing to do but fill that gap with diffidence, wariness."

For years, I have been braced against the hateful messages that have come my way. With this one person's apology, I didn't have anything to brace against. I felt disoriented. I also didn't know what to do. I have never met this woman. Other than things BJ has told me, I know nothing about her. An apology makes me feel like I owe her something...

So, what now?


***Update***
Since then, I sat down and talked to her for a long time. She apologized again. She also said it was good to see BJ doing things he loved, and she was glad he had someone to share the things he loves with. She turns out to be the kind of person I love talking to: no filter, she talks about whatever pops into her head, she is comfortable in her own skin, funny. She also happens to love the outdoors, camping, and mountains.

I may never talk to her again... It's just nice to know how things can go. Just because someone is judgmental, or mean, doesn't mean they will stay that way... I didn't worry about her in the two years between emails. I didn't think about what she said much. I just moved on, and when she was ready, and she felt like saying something, she did.

Sometimes I feel whiny...

For the past six months, a coworker has not been doing her job. She no longer works for the company. (I originally used the word "fired". That wasn't completely accurate. I said it because this paragraph isn't really the point of this entry at all. I just wanted to give enough of the back story, so that the rest of this entry made sense. I fixed it to be more accurate, and I apologize for my original inaccuracy.) For the past two weeks, I have spent a lot of time cleaning up. Literally. There was more than $5000 worth of invoices that had to be voided out, merchandise put away, and corrected in the inventory.

A few days ago, when I was dealing with the biggest part of the mess, I posted on facebook, "Who wants to listen to me complain? I'm feeling whiny."

I chose my words carefully, because I was just feeling whiny. It's not like I was dealing with a REAL problem... I knew that, but sometimes... it makes the job easier if I can whine for a minute.

The response on facebook blew me away. I wasn't expecting the love and concern that I got.
I tried to explain to my friends that I was just feeling sorry for myself, being whiny, and that I was fine... I tried to explain to them that it was just a feeling of, "I don't wanna," but they just wanted to be there for me. (My Grandma called my dad the next day just to make sure I was okay.)

I felt guilty that I somehow made them believe I wasn't okay. But, what surprised me the most was how loved I felt. 

Most of the people on facebook have no idea the things I've been through. They have no idea the hiding I've done or the secrets I've kept. They don't know about all of the times I stayed quiet when I really needed to scream and swear and complain and (what I would have called) whine.

I still am pretty guarded about asking for help, or sharing "too much". 

And then, one night, in a moment of, "I don't wanna," I reached out, and many people reached back.
I don't know what to say about that, other than, "Weird. And cool. Very cool."

My theme song: (Ode to Joy: Flash Mob)

A few days ago, a friend asked me the question, "What's your theme song? What song do you want to play whenever you enter the room?"

My answer: "The theme from Beethoven's 9th symphony. (Ode to Joy) and depending on the moment, it would be played on the solo violin, or the whole orchestra, and maybe sometimes on a kazoo..."

I didn't consider a flash mob style orchestra... but I might have to add this to my list.


How can you not be happy when you listen to this music?
It makes my whole body, soul, spirit, ALL of me SING!

I'm not just talking about the trees

I just got back from an amazing trip to Yellowstone National Park. (I'll probably upload a bunch of pictures and write about it later...)

While there, I hiked along the rim of the Yellowstone Grand Canyon. Everything was beautiful, breathtaking, and amazing.

This tree caught my eye:

Here's a closeup of the roots:

There is no reason why that tree should still be standing, let alone growing. But it is.

Looking at this tree, I felt inspired.
Even when there was no ground left beneath it; even when it could have let go and gone tumbling down the hill; even when there were other trees dying around it. Somehow, it found a way to hang on, and even grow.

Just a couple of years ago, I needed evidence that I could survive the hell I was in. I paid attention to the trees growing out of solid rock, or with no ground beneath them, or twisted to find some sunlight, or any number of things that should kill a tree, and I'd feel hopeful. I knew I could survive.

I don't need evidence like that anymore. I have no doubt that I will not only survive, but I will thrive. Life will be good - I already know that, because it IS good.

I still love the tremendous beauty of the survivors. The ones that are still here. The ones that have faced things that no one should ever have to face. The ones who grew around it. The ones that found a way to not only survive, but thrive and grow. I admire their twists, their exposed roots, their knots, and bumps, and all of the beautifully unique results of surviving something that no one should survive.

To the survivors: you are beautiful. you are strong. you are amazing. Thank you for the beauty you bring to this world. You inspire me.

If I ever get lost in the mountains, I want a horse with me.

Yesterday, I went on an awesome trail ride. I'd never been riding around Mirror Lake (Uintah Mountains) before. It was beautiful.

The stream that I went fishing in.

Sunny was amazing. He was so willing. The trail was rugged: a lot of deadfall, rocks, steep climbs, etc. We encountered several obstacles that were impossible to go over. Off the trail, there were even more obstacles, so we had to work together to get anywhere. It was just cool. He'd see the tree over the trail, stop, put his ears back (to listen to me), and wait. I looked around for the most clear path, and then I'd ask that he go that way. Most of the time, I had the best view and found the way through, but there were a couple of times that he let me know he could see a better way. The way we worked together was awesome.

I stopped to do some fishing in the stream and realized it could be very easy to get lost there.Ten feet away from the trail, and I couldn't see it. (I could see Sunny standing there, waiting for me to come back.) There were several times, I felt like if I didn't have the trail, I wouldn't know which way was which. It amazed me that Sunny always knew which way would take us back to the trailer.

When the trail started to loop around, I knew the INSTANT that the shortest path back to the trailer was to go forward. He picked up the pace quite a bit. He'd never been on this trail, but he knew.

I've seen horses get lost, because they know which way they want to go, but can't find their way around obstacles (canyons, rivers, fences). Combine his amazing sense of direction and his willingness with my ability to plan ahead and reason, and I think we make a great pair.

"It's okay for you to sit on the couch too."

I have struggled with trying to take care of, please, or sacrifice for EVERYONE for much of my life. The main focus of therapy was for me to figure out what I want, and to do that. To stop being "indiscriminately self-sacrificing." It hasn't been easy.
At the beginning of my therapy journey, I had a conversation with a friend. She was telling me about her sister's therapy.

She said, "I know my sister is probably a lot happier now... she doesn't feel like she has to do everything everyone asks of her... but I just miss the way she used to be. She did whatever I asked her to do whenever I asked her. I know she's probably healthier now, but I miss the sister that didn't care about herself."

Her words didn't anger me, like they do now, they scared me. I was afraid to start this process of finding what I want. I was so afraid that people would hate me if I stopped being the super self-sacrificing, people pleasing, caretaker that I have tried to be. I was afraid that my sister might say the same thing that my friend said. I'm glad I didn't run away from my fears, and I kept fighting for ME, because a beautiful thing has happened in the past year or so. Because I have expressed and shared my struggles with my family and friends, the way they speak to me has changed dramatically.

They used to applaud me for smiling all the time. For my kindness. For my willingness to serve and sacrifice. They thanked me for doing things that helped others, but hurt me. (They didn't know I was hurting. I never told them.)

It's not that way anymore. I have heard all of these things in the past couple of weeks:

"What do YOU want?"

"I don't want you sacrificing what you want to make me happy, what kind of a friend would want that?"

"Please just take care of you. Stop trying to take care of me or anyone else."

"You're calling because you want to be sure that although you know you need to take care of you, you also feel like you have to make sure that doing so would not adversely affect me or anyone else. Is that really the way you want to live your life?"

"Don't try to make ME happy, that just makes me confused and frustrated."

"You don't have to do that, I just wanted to know if you wanted to."

(after calling my name, and I ran up the stairs) "You don't have to come running just because I call. I just wanted to know where you were."

"It's okay for you to sit on the couch too."

"I love you. I want you to be happy. That's what love is."

They applaud me when I tell them that I want something. (Or laugh at me, which is equally wonderful. My mom recently called me her "perfectly normal goofball daughter", because it turns out I'm totally human, and that's perfectly normal... I just thought I wasn't, which is what makes me a goofball.)
They thank me for telling them 'no', because they want me to be honest.
They don't push me to do anything, and respect my boundaries, even when I struggle to define what those are.

I have almost no one in my life that would expect me to sacrifice myself to make them happy. In fact, sacrificing myself (if they know about it) makes them UNhappy. 


I still care deeply about others. I still struggle to not take care of others, which is apparent, because people are saying the above things to me often. There will come a day when I am adept enough at not trying to anticipate everybody's needs and wants, that I won't need people to say stuff like this to me.

Until then, I'm very grateful for the people who are helping me to find my way.

(Although, actually, maybe I don't want to change that about me completely. Maybe it's just wonderful to have those who love me who are aware of ME, and will help me to take care of me.)

I know I'm one of the lucky ones.

Reading Single Dad Laughing's blog. I'm reminded again how lucky I am to have the family I have.

I'm SO grateful my family "never once have insisted that I should be doing things differently or that I am wrong in my new beliefs. They don’t cast judgments on me. They don’t place themselves on some pedestal. They don’t leave the room if I talk about my current life or lifestyle. They don’t roll their eyes. They don’t grunt and groan. They don’t “bite their lip” and “put up with me” until I’m gone. They don’t gossip about me. They don’t do any of that.

They don’t need to. They understand that to do any of that would go against what they are working to achieve within their religions. They understand that happiness doesn’t come from such things. And they understand that love will always prevail." (quoting SDL)

I don't have much to add to what he said. Just feeling overwhelmed with gratitude.

I played Lord of the Dance, and it made me happy.

My symphony concert was a couple weeks ago... I wanted to post this that night, but BJ filmed it with his phone, and neither one of us could figure out how to get it from his phone to my Youtube account... At least until yesterday...



I was on a "music high" (if there is such a thing). It was SO SO SO fun to be a part of this.

I just feel happy inside playing and remembering playing. I'm also way excited that I finally got to see the dancers.