F**kin Perfect!

(I purposely didn't use Pink's video. Between the sex and the self-harm, it triggered the hell out of me... Its amazing... I just needed a milder form today.)

The lyrics:
Made a wrong turn, once or twice
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Bad decisions, that's alright
Welcome to my silly life
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss 'No way, it's all good', it didn't slow me down
Mistaken, always second guessing, underestimated
Look, I'm still around

Pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less than f*ckin' perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing
You're f*ckin' perfect to me!

You're so mean, when you talk about yourself, you were wrong
Change the voices in your head, make them like you instead
So complicated, look happy, you'll make it!
Filled with so much hatred...such a tired game
It's enough! I've done all I can think of
Chased down all my demons, I've seen you do the same

Oh, pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less than f*ckin' perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing
You're f*ckin' perfect to me

The whole world's scared so I swallow the fear
The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer
So cool in line, and we try try try, but we try too hard and it's a waste of my time
Done looking for the critics, cause they're everywhere
They dont like my jeans, they don't get my hair
Exchange ourselves, and we do it all the time
Why do we do that? Why do I do that?

Why do I do that..?

Yeah, oh, oh baby, pretty baby..!
Pretty pretty please, don't you ever ever feel
Like you're less than f*ckin' perfect
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel
Like you're nothing, you're fucking perfect to me
You're perfect, you're perfect!
Pretty pretty please, if you ever ever feel like you're nothing
You're fuckin' perfect to me...

...walking around with my skin peeled off.

A friend once told me that trauma work was like "walking around in the sun with your skin peeled off". I thought the analogy was PERFECT. Its painful, and I feel vulnerable, and painful, and other people don't know quite how to handle me, and...

I'd forgotten just what it feels like. For more than two years, I felt it everyday, all day, all the time, never a break. But with life being calmer the last six months, I was beginning to forget.

I've had a rough couple of days. I shared things about myself that were hard to share. Although the feedback I have gotten has been 100% positive, I have still felt icky.

I realized this afternoon, when all I wanted to do was hide in my room, I've now bared myself. Everyone has been very kind, better than I could have expected, but it hurts to peel off your skin...

I'm feeling very vulnerable and raw. I'm not planning on disappearing, and I need some time to nurse the raw wounds. I'm taking extra special care of myself. I've spent most of the day curled up in a blanket in the backyard with Sunny. (Thank goodness its above freezing!) I don't know how long I'll need, and I will take just the right amount for me.

Just More

I shared my last entry (How I destroyed a marriage) with an online group as well as here. I had thought about sharing the story, but kept stopping myself. "If they know, they'll hate me."

Finally, I realized that wasn't who I wanted to be. If they're going to hate me for the choices that I make... I'd rather be honest and hated then pretend and ASSUME they'll hate me.

The responses were amazing! Most were super kind and very protective of me. One, just made my day:

"For those who are concerned about Jen's welfare, I think you're awesome. Many of you have never met her, and you're still this concerned for her.

But I wanted to give you some insider info, as one who has met Jen IRL. When I saw her the first time at a CALM meeting (back in October) she looked so brittle, timid and scared... I thought she would shatter if I looked at her funny.

I have a hard time reconciling that image with how she is now. More confident. More centered. More... just more. I think now that I'd be more scared she'd feed me my own teeth if I looked at her funny. She's able to express anger at the church, and at the people who harmed her in a way she couldn't before. Before, I didn't get the impression that expressing that anger was easy, or possible in some cases.

And she's gonna keep getting better."

I have felt that I am becoming more. More calm, more confident, more centered, just more. And it helped to have someone who has only known for a few months to repeat that.

I used to be so afraid of who I was. I was afraid of who I was going to become when I was really me. I realized today, I'm not afraid anymore. I'm not afraid of me or who I am... I don't fully know who that will be yet, and I'm not afraid.

the end of a marriage or two

In June 2007, I was in pretty bad shape. Eating disorder, suicidal, self-harm, crazy, crazy, crazy... I kept trying to do the right things by going to church. I HATED it there. I'd been taught if I felt lonely at church to make friends, so I did. Every week, I talked to five new people plus made an effort to talk to the ones I wanted to get to know from the week before. DH and I had get-togethers at our home at least once a week and sometimes more often.

I'd also heard that if you're feeling depressed, you need to serve more. I did. I asked for another calling. I worked as a service missionary. I sent little notes to people. I went to the temple every week. (Plus working two jobs and trying to get my husband's business up and making money.) I was TRYING, and it wasn't working.

My husband was physically and emotionally abusive. Again, I thought it was a problem with me. I had talked to the bishop in our previous ward and told him about an incident where DH threw me into the wall. He gave me a book on communication in marriage. I felt like what he was saying was that if I just communicated better, then DH wouldn't have to hit me.

Bishop J seemed to take notice of me. He was very kind. He often asked me how I was doing. One night, after a violent fight with DH, I ran out of the house. I sat in the church parking lot, and called Bishop J's home. I think I hung up right after he answered... I SHOULDN'T talk about these things. But that phone call made him take more notice.

In August, we went to a ward campout. I, being obsessed with food and exercise, decided to walk up the mountain. Bishop J (BJ, cause I'm tired of writing it out) repeatedly asked DH why I would do that. It just didn't sit right with him, but he couldn't explain it.

He called me in to his office. I was afraid of him, so I brought DH with me. Every question BJ asked me, DH answered. I (apparently) sat there with my head down, pinching my own arms until I left marks, and he was VERY concerned. He finally got me to trust him enough to sit with him alone.

He asked a lot of questions that I didn't answer. I was TERRIFIED. He gave me his cell phone number and told me to call him anytime. One day, I took him up on the offer. I picked up the phone and asked him what he knew about eating disorders. Nothing. I told him that I had HAD an eating disorder when I was younger, thought I was recovered, but over the past few months have been really struggling. I told him that starving myself was an addiction, even if it didn't make sense.

He helped me find a therapist and a dietitian. Eventually, I told him about the physical abuse. I told him that my ex-husband had forced me to have sex. (BJ's the first one that ever used the word rape.) I told him about the EQ President that had assaulted me, but I couldn't remember what happened. I told him about the way my dad had treated his kids, and how I always believed I was worth less just because I was a girl. He is the first person I EVER opened up to...

BJ helped me get into treatment for the eating disorder. He helped arrange for the church to pay for my entire 90 day stay at one of the top places in the country. He came to visit me every week while I was there.

He also talked to me. He shared that he had been abused as a boy. I was the first person he ever shared the details of his molestation. I watched and wondered about why his wife NEVER came to church with him. (It was a student ward.) When she came to activities, I didn't like the way she treated people. It wasn't BAD, but I was very uncomfortable. (At the time, I interpreted that to mean there was something wrong with me. Bishop's wife = good. Jen = bad. Uncomfortable with bishop's wife = Jen's bad.) I asked him questions.He shared his frustration and loneliness. I listened.

After I got out of CFC, he started taking me horseback riding. He knew it went against what the Brethren said to do, and he both wanted to help me and wanted to spend time with me. (His words, not mine.) I LOVED riding. I LOVE horses. They brought healing in amazing ways. I enjoyed spending time with him. I felt loved in a way I had never known before.

DH was jealous, but also grateful. He didn't know how to deal with me. After I came back from CFC, panic attacks, nightmares, night terrors, flashbacks were WORSE. My eating was better, which made all of the pain I was trying to avoid very STRONG. DH would get really angry with me, yell and scream and say horrible things. (He stopped the physical violence when I went in to CFC in Feb 2008.) After he would yell, and I would leave, DH would call BJ and tell him what he'd done.

BJ would call me, and we'd talk. A few times, he would come and pick me up and we'd go to his house. He would repeatedly tell me that what DH was saying was abuse, and I didn't have to take that. In BJ's home, I heard his wife talk to him and say almost word for word the same bullshit DH had said to me just hours earlier. I was confused and angry.

The feeling that kept ruling me was, "Stop loving me! I can't keep going back and forth between the two worlds! Its making me crazy!!!" When I shared that feeling with him, he started to cry, and said, "I understand that feeling." I thought if I just got rid of HIM and that feeling of love, I could LIKE my marriage. But at the same time, once I knew that love, I couldn't go back... I couldn't pretend like I enjoyed the relationships I had known before.

In January 2009, he was released as bishop. I figured that would mean I wouldn't see him so much any more. My new bishop actually counseled me against that. He told me to keep in contact, because I still needed that friendship. BJ asked me to come work for him. I was unaware that the student stake Stake President told him not to have any contact with anyone from the ward.

BJ opened up to me more about the problems in his marriage. He shared with me that he planned on leaving her as soon as his kids were grown, which was very soon. I suggested therapy and marriage counseling. He went, and she refused.

My therapy was growing more intense, I was writing letters to former abusers. I was still dealing with nightmares and night terrors EVERY night. I was diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder (think Multiple Personalities, but its not really like what you see on TV. Its more like a broken mirror. The fragments are all still basically the same, but they're not connected. Different emotions and memories took over as personalities. Jenni, the seven-year-old girl, talked about what it was like to go to her baptism interview. I couldn't remember those things, but she did.) My therapist decided I was not safe in the home with DH. He talked to my new bishop and BJ. I went and stayed in the BJ's home.

I thought it would be for a few nights. A week tops. While I pulled myself together. I got crazier. BJ was scared for my life. I believe I would have found some way to work it out, but BJ wasn't willing to let me. He became very unhealthy in his quest to keep me alive and to prove to me (and apparently to his wife) that I COULD and WOULD get better.

I continued to watch the way she treated him. And the way he treated himself. I BEGGED him to take care of himself, love himself, stop being a slave to what everyone else wanted. I thought she would love him enough to change. I thought if he stood up for himself, she would apologize and be different. She got more angry and more controlling (in my opinion). I thought maybe it was my fault...

I learned how to face my flashbacks. I learned how to make myself feel safe. I learned how to confront old memories and old beliefs and change them in my own mind. I made amazing progress. I am REALLY grateful I had someone who cared about me as much as he did. He sat with me at nights. He held my hand while my body went through being raped over and over and over again. I knew I was a great burden on him, and I often thought about taking my own life just so he wouldn't be burdened.

In April, I started looking for apartments. I couldn't go back to DH's home, because being around him made me worse. I also felt like I was safe enough that I would be okay in an apartment of my own. Bishop C (my new bishop) said he'd help pay the second rent for a few months.

Bishop C's attitude was that he was going to find a real slummer, so that I would have a reason to go back to DH. He didn't want to break up my marriage. I was very picky about where I was going to go. I HAD to feel safe. It couldn't be in a place where the guy upstairs creeped me out. Our differing opinions made it harder to find a place, but he found one at the end of May.

I "moved in" June 1st. (By moving in, I mean I slept there, but I refused to take anything but a change of clothes with me. I didn't want to get too comfortable, because I needed to go back to my husband.)

BJ told me he needed space from me. At first, I was confused. And angry. I didn't understand why he would tell me he couldn't talk to me NOW. I was getting better. He explained that he felt personally responsible for whether I lived or died, and he didn't want that responsibility anymore. He needed time to figure himself out. I realized that I wanted him to stand up for himself, and if that meant standing up to me, I was happy! It actually felt good to me to SEE someone do what they needed even if they were scared, or thought it was wrong, or felt bad, or guilty, or... Over the next month, I didn't talk to him or see him... Although I continued running his business while he was at his daughter's wedding and Scout camp.

In July, he invited me to go horseback riding. We talked about healthy relationships. I told him that if I was going to live or die based on what HE did, do us both the favor and let me die. I didn't want to live like that, and I didn't want him to live like that.

He bought the books, Codependent No More, and Too Nice for Your Own Good, and No More Mister Nice Guy. He continued going to therapy. She hated the books he was reading. I think she felt threatened by them. The two of us spent a lot of time talking about and defining healthy relationships, discussing the things he was reading.

I kept going to therapy. Working my ass off. BJ was still a huge support, but our relationship changed. We became good, close friends. Intimate, but not physically. We could talk about anything and everything. We had AWESOME discussions about everything. The most valuable to me were about the church. All of the doubts and questions he had, he shared with me. All of my pain surrounding the church, I could talk about. We got really angry together! Sometimes we'd disagree, but I was never afraid of him. He loved that I was willing to talk about everything.

In November, he told his wife that he was going to leave if she didn't go to therapy with him. She didn't go. She used a lot of excuses, and he has said maybe he could have begged more, but for whatever reason, it never happened.

In January 2010, my therapist (He's LDS.) started wondering and worrying about if BJ and I were growing close enough that we might have an affair. His exact words were, "You know how these things can happen." I cried. I DIDN'T know how normal people have normal sex because they WANT it. I had NEVER known that.

I had been raped. I had laid there while my DH got the job done. I had dated DH for two years and we'd never "slipped up" once. I felt no attraction to BJ, and in fact the idea freaked me out. I had always felt safe with him, but... if THAT could happen. I lost my shit for a while.

And then my therapist, said, "I just don't think you could handle a church disciplinary council at this point in your life." I didn't want to have sex, but I realized, I wanted OUT of the church. At that point, I seriously considered having my name removed from the records. If I wanted OUT so bad, that was the way to be honest with myself.

Around this same time, his wife asked him if he was still worthy to have a temple recommend. He said, "Yes. But I wish I had had an affair, then you would let me go." At that point, she told him she could forgive him for having an affair, but NEVER for leaving the church.

Within a few weeks, he'd moved out. A month later, he quit going to church.

I came to a place where I realized that I didn't want to be married. I didn't want to be in the church. Maybe because he had been violent, and although he had changed that, I couldn't get past it. Maybe because I couldn't IMAGINE becoming comfortable with sex. Maybe because I didn't want children, and he REALLY did. Maybe because I had never been single, and I wanted time to explore who I was. Maybe because of lots of things... I decided to get divorced.

By finally making that decision, DH and I actually became friends. We like each other now. We talk more openly than we ever have, and... we just can't be married.

After BJ moved out, THEN his wife decided she'd go to counseling. By that time, he was done. He had no interest in ever going back. However, he saw the power in trying to heal. He tried to talk to her about her emotional abuse. He tried to talk to her about how he felt like he had to do everything for everyone. He tried to talk to her about how he felt like a slave. He tried to talk to her about his doubts and questions concerning the church.

She went to the bishop. They actually went and met with him together. The bishop listened to BJ talk about emotional abuse, and the feelings he had about wanting to leave the marriage for twenty-something years. The bishop told BJ, he had sinned. He told him that if he just repented and returned to fully serving like he knew he should, then their marriage would be saved. And then the bishop turned to her, and told her that her marriage was in danger unless BJ stopped spending time with me.

BJ was both hurt and angry. What he heard was that it was fine that he was being abused, and he didn't want to give up our friendship. She had justification. She REALLY started blaming me. He was fine until he met me. He loved the church, until he met me. He's codependent and I'm controlling. He's abusive (by not doing EVERYTHING she asks... the word No is abusive to her. But its okay for her to say...) Sorry... I don't like the way she treats him.

He's continued to read about abusive relationships. She's followed the book very nicely. It's almost like she read how to be a really good abuser.

In November, he decided to move himself and his business to Nephi. To get away from her. (She was driving by his house several times a day. She would drop by unannounced. He felt like he HAD to get away from her, and the environment.) He also felt very sad at all that he was giving up to be true to himself... His therapist told him people would respect him if he was honest about his beliefs about the church. His kids and his other friends have not shown much respect. He wanted to get away from the constant reminder of what he could have if he just went back to lying about his feelings about the church, and could just "take" all of the abuse.

I work for him. We are close friends. I live in his basement. I pay rent out of the paycheck he writes me.

She's recently decided that I am faking my divorce, faking everything, so that I can get to him... I'm not sure what the benefit to me is to do that, but she believes it. She talked to her Stake President, and he discovered how much money the church has given me. He says he didn't do it as a Stake President, so it would be okay to share, and I am SO in the wrong, and she has a right to know...

I don't think he has a right to tell her anything... And I also think there are things she needs to know. BJ has tried to talk to her. I have offered to talk to her... back when I believed that she could and would change, I wanted to help. I have no desire to talk to her now, except sometimes I want to say, "Please. Stop being so abusive and manipulative. You keep emailing, texting, and opening your mouth to others, and you keep PROVING to me that you are a bitch. So, just shut the fuck up." I don't think that would be very helpful OR very effective, so... I probably won't try to talk to her any time soon.

My marriage is over. His marriage is over. And I have no regrets...
If I had done things differently, or made different choices, would he still be there? Maybe. Are there two sides to every story? Yes. And I only know what I know. I didn't want to hurt anyone. I still don't. I might regret the consequences, but I don't regret my motivation.

If that makes me evil, I guess I've decided I'd rather be evil.
(And I don't really believe that I am evil...)

I didn't deserve it

Johnny's been on my mind a lot this past week.
I was eighteen. Just out of eating disorder treatment (the first time), trying to figure out who I was. And hurting, but I didn't understand that back then.

He was the Elder's Quorum President and my home teacher. He was the kind of guy I thought my parents would like me to date. Although I knew I was in no place to get married, I also knew that was the next step. The only way for a girl to progress...

I wasn't really interested in him, but I wanted to progress. He was nice. He brought scriptures over all the time. He was desperately trying to reactivate me. Teaching me lessons. Discussing the gospel. We also went on several dates.

That night, I was wearing a t-shirt and overalls. We were sitting in the car. He reached his arm around my lower back and put his hand under the overalls and touched my stomach. I was gone.

If you've never dissociated, this will sound so strange. I have no memory of what happened next, but still... I have nightmares of what happened. I CAN'T tell you for sure. Which makes me feel crazy. I could talk about it back then.

I told the bishop. I felt horribly guilty for him touching me and for all that happened. He listened enough to tell me that I had done nothing wrong. There was no sin on my part. I remember him also talking about forgiveness and love.

I told my friend Shawn some things. He told me to love him and forgive him. He told me about all of the nice things that Johnny did for their Elder's Quorum.

My roommates were frustrated with me that I wouldn't listen to the home teacher anymore.

My (non-member) friend, Matt, asked where Johnny lived, so he could kill him.

Matt's response scared me, but as I think back on it, it felt REALLY good to have someone validate my hurt and my anger. If the bishop knew enough to know I did nothing wrong, why didn't he suggest I call the police?? Why didn't he suggest counseling? Why didn't he DO anything with Johnny?? He was also Johnny's bishop... Why didn't he at least release him??

I have often talked about Johnny as the catalyst to get me back to church. I directly blamed MYSELF for what happened. If I had been a "good" girl, that never would have happened. I became BEYOND obsessed with being good. Church. Service. Callings. Read the scriptures. Do what everyone told me to do, so I wouldn't deserve to be hurt.

I don't know how to say this strongly enough... I BELIEVED I DESERVED WHAT HE DID, BECAUSE I WASN'T GOING TO CHURCH. I deserved what he did, because I wasn't good. I had an eating disorder. I was bad (although I haven't really come up with WHY I was bad, I just knew I was bad).

That belief has motivated me for a long time.
It motivated me after Larry left too.

Its different now. I don't believe that anymore.
I don't want anyone to believe anything like that.

It doesn't matter who you are, what you've done, what you haven't done, what you think, what you feel, what you want or don't want, you don't deserve to be hurt.
You are beautiful.

Horribly painful, life-altering, and still perfect.

I've spent a lot of time thinking, and discussing, and intellectualizing things. I wrote about it in my last post... I feel like I got out of touch with a very crucial part of myself.

Tonight, I came across Duck's blog entry, "Does God...?" and read her thoughts about God after her abuse.

She echoed my feelings.

"Except that God gave me the VERY things I needed to survive what THEY did to me. He sent gifts to me that helped me survive what happened to me and to others. In His mercy, He helped me survive."

I have been amazed at the Love I have felt even when I couldn't find love around me. It is miraculous how I have sorted out different memories and flashbacks. The understanding I have found.

When I started therapy with Paul, he told me it was his job to tell me what to do. I told him I didn't need that... I had a relationship with God... I needed Paul's help to do what I knew I needed to. Paul asked why he had never felt things like I did. I came to the conclusion that Paul didn't need the spiritual connection that I needed. I wouldn't have survived any other way.

BJ has said he has never seen such perfect and miraculous answers to prayers as he has with me. (He also said he had never seen anyone in as much pain...)

As I read Duck's writing... I thought back to that really strong, spiritual, slightly crazy sounding person. I miss her. It was easy for me to accept that God was there and working it all out in my own life... I mean, I I could SEE His hand everywhere around me. Although my life is anything but perfect, still... I could see His hand perfectly. I understood that even if I didn't survive, I was His.

I started working through my own pain, and started listening to others' painful stories. As I really listened, I couldn't SEE God like I could in my own life... and I didn't know how to make sense of it anymore. I got angry. I AM angry.

Where was He? Why didn't he protect my friend? When she was only six and needed a mom, why didn't He send her someone who could actually love her rather than someone to hurt her? WHY? If He could send me a friend like BJ, why didn't he send someone like that to her? And why did it take so long for ME to find the help? And where was He for all of my other friends? And...? So many questions that I didn't have answers for... and I HATE the common rhetoric of, "We don't know, and will never know in this life. We just have to accept it on faith."

Somehow, I still believe God's hand is in everything around me. Did He personally go through the nightmares, the night terrors, facing the flashbacks? No.
Did He guide me on my journey? Did He show me how to help myself? Did He give me strength when I had none left? Did He send friends and angels and miracles at the very moment that I needed THAT? YES! YES! YES! YES!

To use Duck's words(because they are awesome and perfect!)

"I am ONLY here today BECAUSE of God. How could I NOT have faith in THAT?"

I can't explain it all. I don't know why I have been so blessed. Its not because I am good, and its not because I am not good. Its not because I am stronger or better or... I can assume that God is taking care of my friends too. Actually, I HAVE seen Him guide that six-year-old. In ways that don't always make sense to the rest of us, I have seen her find strength when she shouldn't have been able to go on. I have seen her make choices that bring her exactly what she needs. I have seen it all working perfectly. And I assume whatever comes next for her will be the same perfect. Horribly painful, life-altering, ass-kicking, AWFUL, not fair, shitty (and these words don't even BEGIN to describe it) and still perfect.

I am what I am

I love this song! How have I gone my whole life and didn't even know it existed:

"I don't need praise - I don't need pity.

I beat my own drum - some think it's noise.

I think it's pretty!"

Thinking vs. Feeling

I had an epiphany last night. I'm going to try to put it in words... But, I don't know if I will be able to do it any justice. Here goes:

There are two parts of me: The Thinker and the Feeler.

An example:
The Thinker thinks, "I should call Amanda," but then it also thinks "I should call Lauren, and Steph, and Mellen, and Dann too. And I should get some work done. And I should..." Until I can't even remember that I was going to call Amanda.

The Feeler just calls Amanda.
The Feeler doesn't have to think about things, because I just do them. I don't need to explain anything to anyone - not even myself.

The Thinker is where a lot of my "negative" emotions come from. I think about things, and then get bogged down in shame and guilt and fear. The Thinker has a long list of "shoulds".

The Feeler never feels guilt or shame. The Feeler feels fear, and then moves away from what I am afraid of. In a helpful, productive sort of way. (For instance, I don't like the way that guy is looking at me, so I am not going to walk closer to him. I am definitely not going to put myself in a situation alone with him.) The Feeler feels anger, sees it for what it is: a sign that something needs to change, and I make changes.

The Feeler makes very good decisions.
The Thinker can't make a decision. I get so caught up in thinking about what everyone else is going to think, or what I should do, or what is right, or best, or... I get paralyzed in my own thoughts.
The Feeler just does what is best. Its AMAZING how easily life moves when I am in that place.

The Thinker thinks through every possible consequence of every possible thing I could say, and then usually doesn't say anything because its ALL bad.
The Feeler says things that I didn't even know I knew. I learn a lot from myself when I am in this place. I am very wise. The Feeler is very honest, but isn't disrespectful or hurtful. The Feeler doesn't offer advice... just shares. Seriously. Sometimes feel amazed at the things that come out of my own mouth.

The Thinker has huge expectations of what I should have. What I should do. The goals I have to achieve.
The Feeler doesn't. The Feeler is very present in this moment, and loves this moment. And understands that great things ARE happening without trying to make anything happen.

The Thinker hears thing and BELIEVES them. No matter who says it or where it comes from, the Thinker knows its true. And tries to live by whatever it was that was said.

The Feeler hears things, wonders about them, and chooses what works best for me. And if new information contradicts the old, the Feeler doesn't need to justify either one. It can ALL be true, and I'll just do my best to live true.

I've been caught up in Thinking. I much prefer to be Feeling.

Eating Disorder Update

BJ recently pointed out that I haven't written or even talked about eating disorder stuff much lately. If at all. He asked how I thought I was doing. His direct question was, "Do you think you are completely recovered?"

The answer to that is... maybe.

Its been almost three years since I went for inpatient treatment at CFC. When I went, I believed I could conquer the eating stuff on my own... I had done that before. (For eleven years, I white-knuckled recovery. Forcing myself to eat, because that's what I was supposed to do. There is a part of eating disorder recovery that has to be just white knuckle. You DO what you have to do, because if you don't, you die.)

I didn't believe I could really recover without help: SERIOUS help. I had NO IDEA!! When I went, I wasn't sure exactly what I wanted or what was ahead. That came to me later.

I remember one group in particular. The question was something like, "How will you know when you are recovered?" or, "What does recovery look like to you?"

Several people answered that they'd be able to eat a certain food without worrying. Someone talked about the scale. When it was my turn to talk, I heard myself say, "I'll know I'm recovered when I like myself more than I hate myself."

Eating disorders aren't about the food.

That said, I still have thoughts like, "Oh geez, I can't believe I ate pizza and brownies and ice cream and chips and guacamole and enchiladas and movie popcorn and... that's not even half of what I've eaten today. What would people think if they knew what a pig I am?" Those thoughts are fleeting, because immediately I hear, "What would they think? If they know ME, they'd be happy for me. I'm happy for me." (Just in case anyone was wondering, that was yesterday... And that IS a portion of what I ate yesterday.)

My eating disorder was all about hating myself.

Today, I can honestly say that I love myself more than I hate myself. A lot more. I rarely feel hatred towards me anymore. I like me. For reals. I'm not just saying that because I know that's how I'm supposed to feel.

I figure eating disorder thoughts and urges will come back. I figure, they will always act as an early warning system that there's something not quite right. I figure, I'm lucky to have a way to know when I need to change something in my life.

So, am I completely recovered? I'm not sure it even matters anymore.

Let it go

One of the things that people say about anger is to "Let it go."
You have to let the anger go and forgive. Its good advice, but most people don't actually MEAN "let it go". Most people mean, "Repress it, shove it away and don't talk about it."

"Let it go" means I won't be able to control it. "Let it go" means that I let whatever is going to happen, happen. "Let it go" means I stop hanging on to it and actually "let it go".

If I am holding on to a wild tiger. I don't want to let go, because it might hurt me. I'm scared to death. However, once I let it go, it leaves. The tiger doesn't want to hang around - it wants to go home. I could put it in a cage, but then I have to take care that it stays in its cage... If I let it go, I take the chance that it might hurt me...

That's what anger is like. I could put it in a cage, but then I have to work hard to keep it in its cage. It doesn't like its cage. It wants to be free. It doesn't even want to hang around me... So, I let it go.

It lashes out for a moment, until it realizes its free, and it goes away.

So, don't tell me to let it go, unless you actually mean let it go.
And, don't tell me to repress it, because I won't listen anyway...

I ride!

Endurance Granny posted this on her blog. And I loved it, so I'm re-sharing it.

I ride and I become grounded and essential as the bedrock below.
The sun warms my face and the sweet air fills my soul.
I ride and tears waste into tranquility and I am in the moment.
The horse below and the trail ahead become my reality.
I ride and it is the trail that drives me onward.
The smell of sweat and leather is a physical need to fill.
I ride and the time spent with this beautiful creature is all I need.
The view between her ears is a gift of the season and elements.
I ride because of dreams unlived and dreams to come.
He is the magic that will propel me. ~ E.G.

...and this is why I shouldn't be married...

This article was posted by a friend on facebook. I want to share it, because I think she's right on. I want to share it, because as a woman who "needed" men, and was used by those men, I want something different for everyone else.

Single, Female, Mormon, Alone

The time is drawing closer to finalizing the divorce. (I don't know when it will happen... just waiting for the word from the judge.) As it grows closer, I find myself having many, MANY emotions. Sadness. Anxiety. Anger. Sadness again. I might write about those later, but for now, I am going to write about what is most frustrating and frightening.

Although I have not lived as a married woman for almost three years, still I've been married. Marriage was the goal. I'm just a woman. I NEED a man. Priesthood. Provider. Someone to call my name when I die, so I won't be left behind. Eternal Salvation. Highest degree of glory. I am nothing as a single woman.

There is the argument that a woman that doesn't have the chance to marry in this life will have a chance in the next life. But I had the chance, and I threw it away. What will happen to me now?

Marriage is the goal.
That means that when the divorce is finalized, I have to DO something about that. I should date. I should try to find someone to take me back to the temple. (Which, by the way, I DON'T want to do!!) Find someone to complete me.

Maybe I should declare myself a lesbian. Maybe that would be better. Then everyone would be okay with the idea that I would never marry. Hell. Its the recommendation from the prophets. Yet...even then, its been so ingrained in me that I am supposed to have a family, I would feel pressure to find a lesbian partner. And I don't want to do that either.

Dann's excited to get to move on with his life. And I recognize that is what is most fair to him. To ME, I am scared to death.

Who am I if I am not Dann's wife? Who am I if I am not SOMEONE's wife?

I think I'll face these fears, and try just being Jen for a while.

Why Do I Like Horses?

Why do I like horses? I think I must be mad.
My mother wasn't horsey - And neither was my dad.
But the madness hit me early - and it hit me like a curse.
And I've never gotten better. In fact I've gotten worse.
I hardly read a paper - but I know who's sold their horse.
And I wouldn't watch the news - Unless Mr. Ed was on, of course.
One eye's always on the heavens - but my washing waves in vain
As I rush to get the horses in - in case it's gonna rain.
I spend up every cent I've got - on horsey stuff for sure
I buy saddles, bridles, fancy boots - and then I buy some more.
I can't sew on a button - I don't even try
But I can back a truck and trailer - in the twinkling of an eye.
It's jeans and boots that I live in night and day
And that smell of sweaty horses just doesn't wash away.
I ache from long forgotten falls. My knees have got no skin.
My toes have gone a funny shape - from being stomped on again and again.
But late at night, when all is still - and I've gone to give them hay,
I touch their velvet softness and my worries float away.
They give a gentle nicker and they nuzzle through my hair
And I know it's where my heart is - more here than anywhere.
~ Author Unknown

Tron and Perfectionism

I don't enjoy movies much, and theaters are particularly difficult. That said, I now live in the middle of nowhere, yet there is a theater. (A nice one!) Stadium seating. Popcorn. And only three of us in the theater. Suddenly movies in the theater are less intimidating. If I freak out, everyone there knows me and knows that I freak out. Which strangely enough makes it so I freak out less...

Tonight, I went to see the movie Tron: Legacy. I figured it would be a little strange, lots of cool lights, and a happy ending. (I only see movies with happy endings. Life has enough crap in it, movies should resolve nicely at the end.) I found myself sobbing at the end... not because it was sad, but because I identified with it.

*Spoiler Alert*
The Grid, the digital world, was supposed to be a perfect world. That was the whole mission. Daddy Flynn created this world. Then he created Clu, and gave him the job of creating the perfect world. This all went wrong. Daddy Flynn got trapped in his digital world. Son Flynn goes in to save him.

They are all about to escape and Clu says, "I did what you asked me to do. I created a perfect world!" Daddy Flynn's reply is what got me.
"Perfection is unknowable and right in front of us. I didn't know when I created you. How could you have known?"

I cried. All my life I have been searching for perfection. Taught that THAT was the goal. One day, if I worked hard enough God would make me perfect. In the next life, everyone would be perfect. I didn't know what that meant, but in my mind, we would all become the drones we pretend to be. We wouldn't have to pretend anymore. But thinking about that caused me dis-ease. What did perfection really mean? Would my friends with black skin suddenly become white? Would they suddenly have smooth hair and a nose that looked more like mine? Or would I suddenly have a nose more like theirs? Would I suddenly enjoy church and living the way I was trying so hard to live? Would gay friends suddenly not be gay anymore? Would there suddenly be no anger and no emotions? Would all of my wants and desires just suddenly go away?

The answer to all of those questions is, "No." We are all already perfect.One of my favorite authors is Miguel Ruiz. He supposed that the biggest lie is the lie of our imperfection. When Eve took a bite of the fruit of the tree of knowledge, the biggest lie took hold of her. The lie that there is good and bad. The lie that we aren't enough just as we are. Some of my biggest questions about the church have come from the story of Adam and Eve. It didn't make sense to me, but the way Miguel Ruiz explained it did make sense.

Because of that lie, we go searching for perfection, but we never find it. In our pursuit, we miss that it is already here. Eating disorders are (partially) about the quest for the perfect body, and the cure for that part of eating disorders is to realize that my body is perfect, because its MY body. Not because it looks a certain way. Not because I can push it to do things. Not because of anything except that its mine. And its perfect. If I need to sleep or eat or sit down, still perfect. If I can't fast, or stop myself from feeling pain, or push it to run a marathon, still perfect. If I sit in a wheelchair, still perfect.

The cure for perfectionism is to see that perfection is right in front of us. We don't have to go looking anywhere, because we've already found it.

Happy New Year

The other day, The Reader posted a blog entry about New Years Resolutions. Last year, I re-posted Beautiful You's blogs on New Years Dieting (Part 1, Part 2, Part 3)Part 3 was my favorite. She talked about balance. Finding balance in ALL areas of our lives.

In the past, I was one of those that made HUGE lists of resolutions, and I actually stuck to a lot of them, but still felt miserable. (Something about how no accomplishment was ever enough to make me feel good about myself.)

Around January - February of this year, there were two things that seemed really important for me to do:
1. I was going to stop forcing myself to do anything that I didn't want to do. This wasn't easy. We live in a world where we are SUPPOSED to put our wants and needs aside and do what everyone else wants. I was raised in a church that almost had me believing that wanting anything was wrong. And if I just did what I wanted, I was absolutely positive the sun would explode and everyone would die. I was so afraid that if I only did what I wanted, I would be a really horrible, selfish, mean, awful person. That lead me to the second thought:

2. I wasn't going to let fear and guilt run my life. I had no idea what that would look like, but I was absolutely sure I wanted to change my life. If doing what I wanted meant the sun would explode, I decided that would have to be okay. I was not going to be afraid anymore. I wasn't going to let the guilt rule me. And whatever happened, would happen.

And now, here I am. Some might say that was a bad choice. If I was still letting fear and guilt rule me, and if I was forcing myself to do things I didn't want to do, I'd be at church every week. I would still be married to Dann. I would have been to every family party and get together. I would have done a lot more service this year. I would have worked a lot more hours than I did. I wouldn't live where I live. I wouldn't have spent the time to get to know me.

I wouldn't love who I am. I would still be thinking about how to kill myself without hurting anyone. I would still be distant and miserable, but not know why. I would be even more distant from my family. I would not have had the conversations with any of my siblings or parents that I have had. I would not have come to terms with my body. I'd still be broken in a million different pieces, but pretending like I was whole. I would feel trapped. I would still be letting fear and guilt rule me. How can that be a bad choice?

As I think about the coming year, I plan to relax and enjoy my life.
Thus far it has been one helluva ride, and I can't wait to see where it goes next.

Giving in to the pain

Since moving, I am a lot calmer. I have a lot less anxiety. Less flashbacks. Less nightmares. The one thing that I cannot seem to get rid of, is the body memories. The physical pain with no physical explanation. I hurt. Its hard when I know there is no reason to hurt, and it still HURTS.

With flashbacks, I have learned how to go into them, stay present enough to "watch" them. (Like I'm watching a movie. Paying attention to what happens, how I feel, what thoughts and emotions stick out to me.) I get a blanket and a pillow, curl up on the floor, and go through it. There was a time when they were so intense, I would get "stuck" in them. For hours, my body would shake as if I was going through a seizure. I would be lost in the past. Reliving horrible scenes over and over, and I couldn't bring myself back to the present. That's not the case anymore.

So, last night as I was getting ready for bed, I realized that body memories are just a form of flashbacks. The key is "giving in" to them just like I have given in to the flashbacks. Its just so easy for me to push them away. Its just PAIN, and I can work through, push through, and ignore physical pain pretty easily. Since I want to get better, its time to stop ignoring it.

So I got my blanket and my pillow and curled up in front of the fireplace. I took a deep breath, and felt the pain. Immediately, the only thought in my mind was, "I held my own legs out of his way."

Some backstory:
With Larry, if I fought him or said no, he fought back, and I lost. The bishop told me a good wife keeps her husband happy. (To his credit, I didn't tell him what was happening to me. I didn't know that what Larry was doing was wrong. How could I explain it to someone else?) Larry had talked to him about his "sins", and the bishop called me in to talk to just me. It was a great conversation...

So, I stopped fighting.Out of what I thought was love, or duty, or trying to be a "good" wife... I adapted a position that brought the least amount of pain to me, and still let him do what he "needed" to do.

As I laid in front of the fireplace last night,
I felt the pain of that complete and total betrayal of myself.
I felt the pain of realizing there was no love in that experience whatsoever. Not him for me. Not me for him. And not the bishop who told me what I needed to do. Zero love.
I felt the pain of understanding that my experience was nothing like what most people experience.
Mostly, I felt the pain of betraying myself. I helped him rape me. That hurts.

I cried. For about forty-five minutes. I apologized to myself for letting him hurt me. I apologized to me for helping him hurt me. I held myself in my own arms. And then I felt that piece go away. My body relaxed. The body memory pain was gone, and I went to bed and slept soundly.

I share these things now, because three years ago when I started all of this, I was too ashamed to share with ANYONE. I didn't have the words to describe the nightmare that was my life. For nearly two years, I went through flashbacks like this one, all on my own (except for when BJ was around), and I sorted it out. It was hell. I wasn't sure I would survive. I did.

This is the kind of work I had to do to become who I am today. I had to see the truth that I couldn't see ten years ago while it was happening. I'm still working. HARD. I just don't have to do it as much or as often as I used to. I can write about one singular experience now... Last year, there were too many happening all at once and all the time, and I couldn't pick out one thing to write about.

I hope I didn't trigger anyone. If I did, talk to someone about it? I'm willing to talk any time.

Shame

Jeff asked me to explain why the lesson on spirituality was so upsetting to me. We talked for a long time, and I really enjoyed the conversation. I also wanted to write down my thoughts. And ask any one who reads this their thoughts.

The questions that started the lesson:
Can you make your body do this or that or not do this or...?
These questions are fine if you can answer the "right" answer to all of them.
Yes. I can make my body walk. Good. Then YOU are good.
Yes. I can make my body fast. Good. Then YOU are good.
Yes. I can make my body get up early. Good. Then YOU are good.
Yes. I can make my body respond properly (according to the church's definition). Good. Then YOU are good.

And what if I can't? Then what?
Am I less of a person? Is my spirit not as strong as someone who can?
I have done everything I could possibly think of to do to show that my spirit was (is?) stronger than my body. Or to show that my mind is stronger than my body. Ignore pain. Ignore emotions. Ignore tiredness. Hunger. Needs. Wants. And somehow all of those things showed that I was good.

What about when I couldn't walk? (I mean really I COULD walk. I totally pushed through, but then I passed out in the bathroom, and Duani yelled at me, and I had to learn to STOP trying to will my body to do things it shouldn't do.)

And, I CAN'T fast. I fall over. Besides the fact that my mind goes beyond screwy. Then I hear lessons like this one and feel ashamed. So much shame. That I am not good enough. I need to try harder. BE better.

I DO feel anger. I can't make it just go away. But I will try my damndest. And feel ashamed for every time that I feel anger. How is that good for me? How is that good for anyone?

The lesson finishes with a story about riding horses. Something I am very passionate about. The final quote from the story was,

"Son, don’t ever let the horse do something you know he shouldn’t. Never let him have his way unless it is what you want him to do. If he ever thinks he’s in charge, you’re a goner.’ I found that I had all the equipment I needed to work with that horse: bridle, harness, straps, and saddle. All these helped, but nothing worked if I didn’t insist on obedience. I had to be in charge, and the horse needed to learn that. As I worked with him, he learned what was expected and what was and was not allowed. We became good friends, but both he and I knew who was in charge.”

When I ride, I don't "insist on obedience". I just couldn't do that. Sunny and I have spent enough time together that he trusts me. He listens when I ask him to do things most of the time. I also trust him. When he refuses to do what I ask, I pay attention. There are things that I can see (and plan for) that he cannot. (Horses lack the ability to plan ahead.) There are things he can see and understand that I can't. (Horses have an amazing sense of direction and intuition - as in tune as I could possibly get, he'll be better.)

The relationship I have with Sunny is amazing. He has helped me change my life, but if I never trusted him to lead me, I would not be where I am today. To my way of thinking, our bodies and spirits are intertwined. We have to trust both, and by learning to "control" the body with shame, we lose a most precious gift.

Its been pointed out to me that most twelve year old boys are listening too much to their bodies, and not enough to anything else. Possibly. But my take is, the overly selfish, involved with their bodies way of thinking is completely appropriate developmentally. A twelve year old boy is SUPPOSED to be paying attention to himself.

And then I think about Parker. He's now fourteen, although still struggles to allow himself to eat, or rest, or stop serving for longer than a few seconds. If someone doesn't show him how to STOP, he won't survive. I was blessed to get to go to CFC, but what will he do? He's STILL being taught to give, serve, love others more than himself, and I know better than most, he may not survive those teachings.

If we really listen to our bodies, our spirits, our hearts, our intuition, or whatever we want to call it, we are powerful beings. I don't believe the idea that controlling our bodies (or our emotions) comes from God. Working with, trusting, directing, all seem to be appropriate...

I can't think of a time that shame ever works for our good... but I've been wrong before. What do you think?

"Blast this Christmas music. It's joyful AND triumphant."

Christmas is hard for me. I know its supposed to be a time full of happiness and joy and good things. It just isn't for me. I'm stressed. Anxiety through the roof, and I can't even really tell you what I'm anxious about. This past week I have felt urges that I haven't felt since... well... probably since last Christmas...

I have wanted to just take whatever I had to take to make me go away mentally. Then I can be wherever anyone wants me to be physically, but I don't actually have to be there. (I have prescription anti-anxiety meds. They make me a little TOO out of it. I was told to stop taking them, so I did. But... I have never thrown them away just in case I might "need" them one day. I find comfort in knowing that I have a way out. I'm not going to throw them away, even now, because even though I will never take them, I still feel comforted knowing I could. Or something.)

Anyways, BJ told me to go back and read what I wrote after Thanksgiving. He pointed out that I was stressed and scared then, but it turned out okay. Better than okay. He's smart. It helped some, but this also FEELS different. Today just feels icky. Here is me trying to sort this one out.

Being in my parents' home is still hard. Often, I revert back to some former form of myself. Christmas has so many "traditions" and all traditions feel like to me are old memories of things I don't want to remember. And some good things that I do want to remember... But. Oh. Even the good things bring pain right now. Dann has always worked so hard to make Christmas special and fun and good. Even when we didn't have money, or things were really bad between us, he made Christmas awesome! Remembering all of our Christmases together is sad, because I don't have him in my life like I used to. We're still friends, and... still, its just not the same.

I really struggle to let other people buy things for me. I have often NEEDED Christmas. I refused to buy anything for myself, so things got worn out, and Christmas was about my needs.

I was always told that I shouldn't want anything. And with Christmas, it just gets stronger. I shouldn't want presents, but I shouldn't buy anything for myself, so I really need some things, but I shouldn't, because I can do without, and there are others that don't have anything. I should give my presents to them. But my family likes to give to me, so I have to accept whatever they give graciously, but I don't want it, because I shouldn't want presents. What a horrible cycle I've gotten myself into!!!!!

Add that to, the belief that I can never give enough. No matter how much money I spend, or how much time I put into presents, or how much I think about the perfectly right gift, I will still feel bad for not doing more.

ITS NO WONDER I HATE CHRISTMAS!

This year, I am going to do it differently.

I have done better at taking care of my own needs and wants, so there is nothing I need.
I like presents. I will admit that to others and to myself. I like getting things. I like seeing what others have picked out for me, and I like just opening gifts. Even tearing the paper, I love it.
I like watching others open presents. If its not the perfect gift, oh well. If its a horrible gift, I hope they enjoy exchanging it. And I hope we can laugh about how horrible it was.
I will smile at the memories that were happy. Cry for the changes that are sad. Create new memories.
I will participate in the traditions I want to participate in, and I won't participate in the parts I don't like.
And if at any moment, it all gets too much for me, I have a home to come to. I have a place where I feel safe and comfortable.
If I decide to spend Christmas alone, I'll be in great company.
This year, I'll think I'll just try living.

Just writing all this down, I feel better. Lighter.
Who knows, maybe I'll even like Christmas this year.

On Vulnerability and Shame

My tears should have been "No" enough for you.

Sometimes I beat myself up for not saying "No" strong enough.
Other times I beat myself up for saying "No" at all (to Larry).

If someone is going to be that close to me, and NOT know that I don't want them there, then there's something seriously wrong with THEM.

My tears. My panic. My shaking. It should have been enough.
If they had wanted to know, they would have known.



NO!
They DID know? And they shouldn't have done it.

I hate labels, but how else do I explain it?

I've been spending a lot of time on MoHo blogs (Mormon Homosexuals). That is where I feel most at home. I identify with them more than any other blogs, but its not because of my sexuality per se. Here is my effort to define myself.

As a girl, I had no interest in boys. My friends all had crushes and boys they thought were cute. I didn't. Just not interested. As a teenager, I was terrified of boys. I knew I was supposed to be dating, after all I was sixteen and that's what sixteen year old girls do, but I had no interest. I had the opposite of interest, I wanted to run the other way.

I went to college, and there were lots of boys interested in me. I knew the next step in my life was to get married. I did that. He didn't treat me very well. I had no idea that there was anything better...

We divorced. I went on several dates and had a lot of guy friends, until I met Dann. We got serious really fast, and then dated for a long time before we got married.

For two years, we went camping, and slept in the same tent just the two of us. We went on vacations and stayed in the same hotel, and sometimes slept in the same bed. I stayed at his house overnight on more than one occasion. And we never had any "morality problems". Really. The worst thing we ever did while dating was he kissed me while I was laying down. I freaked out. I went to the bishop and confessed my sins. He told me to be careful. I didn't want to do anything I would regret.

Because I was raised a good Mormon girl, I honestly believed that the fact that Dann and I were never tempted by sex to be a good thing. Funny how I thought it would change once we got married. It didn't. I tried. For his sake, I tried.

He really wanted kids, and I thought I wanted them too. I was willing to lay there while he planted his seed, but once I actually got pregnant, I realized I did NOT want that. I still wanted to be willing and I still wanted to try for him, but I wasn't and I didn't.

Fast forward a few years. Dann still wanted sex and babies. I was still trying to figure out how to want that too. I'd talk about how I needed to learn to like it, or just force myself to do it anyways. I knew deep down it would never be anything but a chore for me. I tried, but really... I couldn't make myself like sex any more than I can make myself like liver and onions.(Who eats that anyways?)


Dann and I are divorcing. Sex and babies were really what finally pushed us over the edge. He wanted it. He kept expecting me to change. I kept expecting me to change. Only, I didn't know how to change that.

Am I lesbian? I don't know. I can't really picture being with a woman any more than I can picture being with a man. The idea of sex just makes me nauseous. I have no desire to marry, or create children.

So, if I'm not straight, and I'm not gay, what am I?
Asexual.
I've never met anyone else like me. The closest I have come is people in the MoHo world.

When I read MoHo blogs, I can understand their pain of not fitting in. I can relate to the pain of trying to change something that seems impossible to change. I have prayed and prayed to "not be so selfish", only to continue to just be me. I feel like my parents can relate to the struggle of having a gay child. I will never have the life my parents wanted for me.


Right now, I feel at peace with myself and my sexuality (or lack of it?). I want intimacy in my life, but I don't need physical intimacy. I want friends. I don't want to be tied to one person. I don't want anyone to ever own my body but me. Could all this change as I continue to heal? Yes, but I'm not counting on it. I have freed Dann to find someone who will give him what he wants, which has freed both of us up to be friends. Without the pressures of trying to be his wife, I really like him.


I was raised to believe that sex was bad until it was good. I was raised to believe that my spirit was female, and that I was destined to be a wife and mother for all eternity. When I didn't fit into that world, it was just one more thing that was wrong with me. But the truth is, there is nothing wrong with me.


I am a beautiful, strong, compassionate woman, and I don't need to change a thing.

I wish...

I was reading in the book Above the Clouds. Her story has a lot of parallels to my own, but there was one that I wasn't expecting.

She talked about going to school to become a massage therapist. She wanted to heal the world with non-sexual touch. I hadn't thought about it in a long time, but when I was nineteen, I wanted to do the same thing. I saw friends at CFC (the first time - back in 1997). They had been hurt by touch. Horribly abused, and I saw the need for some positive touch in their lives. I wanted to become a massage therapist for that reason. I planned on using my massage therapy to work me through school and get a degree in psychology as well. I knew I couldn't practice both together, but I wanted to learn how to heal people in every way I could.

I was engaged to Larry. He didn't want any wife of his becoming a massage therapist. He didn't want people touching me. He didn't want me touching other people. He hated everything about it. So I didn't do it.

As I read about Angie, I cried. I felt both sad and angry.
This was just one more instance of when I gave up what I wanted and what I thought was best to make someone else happy. I thought I could do some good, but then gave it up with the belief that I could do more good as his wife. It was a choice I made, based on the knowledge I had at the time.

If I think about it, I am still terrified of touch. Would I have survived going to massage therapy school? Would it have triggered me so much I couldn't have handled it? I still have not gone to get a massage. Its been a therapy assignment for almost three years... There is no way I could have done both school and go through the hell I was going through with Larry. It just wouldn't have worked. The way I dealt with my life was to completely disconnect from my body and soul.


I wish I would have known my true gifts and my true strength.
I wish I would have known who I was.
I wish I could have stood up for myself and what I wanted.


And I'm grateful I know and understand more now.

Trusting my Divine Intuition

In January 2008, there was a lot going on in my life. Eating disorder had become intense. Therapy seemed to be making things worse between Dann and I. I felt very alone. I felt crazy. I was working at BYU. Thursday mornings we shut down the office as required and listened to the devotional. To be honest, I rarely listened. I usually turned it on my computer, and then worked through it. On this day, my computer wouldn't work. My co-worker, Todd, was concerned that I wouldn't get to hear Elder Eyring and forced me to come sit in his office.

I grabbed my journal and sat down. Eyring talked about trials and the power of deliverance. I don't remember any other part of what he said, but one line caught me so strongly it was as if the ground had fallen out from underneath me. I was falling. Fast. I couldn't breath. I couldn't see. The desks around me seemed to vanish. And at the same time, the weight that had been pressing down on me for as long as I could remember seemed to shift. Not lift. Not go away, just moved a little.


The direct quote was, "He knows you perfectly. He knows your heart. He can know which of the many things you can do that will be best for you as you invite the Holy Ghost to comfort and bless you. He will know where it is best for you to start. Sometimes it will be to pray. It might be to go to comfort someone else.
There are many ways that the Savior can succor those who grieve, each fitted to them. But you can be sure that He can and that He will do it in the way that is best for those who grieve and for those around
them."

All I heard was, "YOU know the way. YOU know what you need to do to heal. DO it. Stop fighting, and do what needs to be done."

The rest of that day I heard that same thing OVER and OVER and OVER. And from that moment, I just decided to trust me. If I was hurting, and the thought came to call someone, I called that person. And then I paid attention to the things I said and the things they said, and from then on, every phone call had significance. If the thought came to me to go somewhere, or do something, or say something, I just did. Some of it looked pretty damn crazy. I felt like I was losing my mind. And now, as I look back, I can trace the beginning of my healing to THAT moment.

Tonight, I was reading in Kiley's blog, and she talked about something similar.

"I no longer really search for answers outside of myself.  My sister’s affirmation, “I am enough” translated to “I have my own answers” for me today."

There have been many times when I doubted me, and that is when I get in trouble. When I listen to ME, I get where I want to go, and I do it pretty fast. When I worry what others will think, I get lost, and I suffer. (Not in the "I'm being punished" sort of suffering, more in the Buddhist "lost in illusions" sort of suffering.)

I went a month with no nightmares. Anonymous sent me a letter, and suddenly, I am trying to make Anonymous happy. I am trying to fix the problems that Anonymous thinks I have. Simultaneously, my nightmares are back.


I'm reminded of a quote from the book, The Princess Who Believed in Fairy Tales:

"You're lost. One often gets lost when they use someone else's map."

(Sidenote: This book is an excellent allegory on codependent relationships. I found it very helpful, although difficult to read at times. There was actually a time where I threw the book across the room. I hated that it was telling the story of my life, because I didn't want THAT to be my life.)

This is MY journey. Since that day in January, almost three years ago, it has been a spectacular journey. All because I finally began to accept the divine intuition that has always been there, and will always be there. My journey hasn't been mine alone. My spectacular journey intersected with some other spectacular journeys. It has been and continues to be amazing.

Thanks for the reminder Kiley, I needed that.

Guilt is Not the Spirit

I got an anonymous message last week. Ever since then, I've been hurting. Stuck in a place that I never, EVER want to go back to. And that's exactly what this message told me to do. Go back. It used the words temple, and sacred, and should. I got the message Sunday. Every night since, nightmares. All night. Night terrors where I couldn't wake up. And when I finally did wake up, drenched in a cold sweat. I'm talking soaked me, soaked pajamas, soaked sheets and pillows. (I know. Gross!) Tonight I woke up crying and shaking and moaning, "I'm not going back. I don't want to go back. Please... PLEASE, don't make me go back."

Funny thing is, so many people at church would try to use my nightmares as a reason to do what they want me to do. Its the Spirit talking to me. The guilt I feel IS the spirit. Bullshit. But they still say it. And I've believed it. There is a tiny voice inside me screaming, "I KNOW you've believed this before, but please don't believe it now. Please don't take us back to that time when you didn't stand up for yourself. When you let yourself be led by fear and guilt. Please don't ever do that to us again!"

How do I convince that little voice that I won't go back? I will still take care of me. I don't care what some asshole says, I won't sacrifice myself like that EVER again.

When Dann was working on changing himself, I recognized it would take a while for me to trust him again. Just because he hadn't hurt me TODAY, didn't mean that I felt safe with him. I guess I just don't trust me yet.

Not sure how to convince myself that I can be trusted, but I'll start with this:
Guilt is an emotion. Just like every other emotion. Emotions serve a purpose, and it does me good to pay attention to them. Then I get to choose what I do with each emotion. Whether I act on them or not. Just because I feel angry does not mean I need to lash out or hurt someone. Just because I feel guilty does not mean I shouldn't do what I feel guilty about. It is perfectly okay for me to do what I want to do. It is perfectly okay for me to not do what everyone else tells me I should do.

I refuse to let my life be run by fear or guilt. I DO feel guilty and afraid right now. That doesn't mean I am going to do anything with those emotions. I am more important than any feeling of guilt. I will protect and take care of myself.

Not my Ducky

Last night, I randomly decided to go to a Christmas party. It was a group of friends I was never really close to and I haven't seen in years. I've kept in touch (sorta) through facebook and email, but...anyways, I'm talking with the two out of three people I actually knew there, and a dude came in and announced someone left their lights on. "Bummer for them," I thought, and kept on chatting away. A little while later, they said, "It's a Lexus. Tan. License plate dah-de-dah-dah." And all I thought was, "Not me. No Lexus for me..."

Back story: I'm driving Dann's car while he is in Cali. Its a Lexus. The lights turn on and off automatically. Except that if you don't push the little "Lock" button on the remote, they don't turn off. They stay on. Until the battery is dead. I never lock my doors. I drive a car that is held together by duct tape... seriously... why would I bother locking the doors? That might stop someone from stealing it. And if someone wants to take my duct tape car (Lovingly nicknamed Ducky by my brother.) I don't want to stop them. It barely even crossed my mind to push that little button.

I left the party early. As I walked out, down the hill a little to where I parked my car, I saw the very dim lights of a Lexus. Right. Where. My. Car... Dannngit!

Now, I'm going to have to walk back into that party and tell people that I was that dumb. Only, I didn't want to. I had the thought that I would just curl up in the trunk and stay the night. Apparently, I have a lot more common sense than I used to have, because I didn't do it. I called my mom instead. I hoped she'd laugh at me enough to give me the courage to walk back in. Instead, she told me they weren't too far away, and they'd come jump me. My heroes!


The combination of new-fangled cars confused us for a second, but Mel is a genius, so no one got electrocuted.  And the best part? They came fast enough that no one from the party knew I left my lights on, forgot what car I drove, and completely killed the battery. Phew. All those people that don't know me will still think I'm smrt... if they ever think about me at all...

So much to live for!

There are a lot of things I want to write about. I'm not sure why I haven't... maybe because my life is busy and full of things I like doing. I was great at blogging and journaling when life sucked. It was my escape. It was the way I coped. One of the only ways I could deal. (I guess it also helped that I never slept...)

Its different now. I am still thinking and processing and working through things all the time, but I don't feel eager to sit down and write. I'd rather be living. Working with Sunny. Or just watching him, without the computer to distract me from the joy I feel when he runs. Playing the violin or the piano. Working. Talking with friends. Eating. Cooking. Watching TV. (I do that now. Dog Whisperer is my current favorite. I also like Phineas and Ferb as well as Mythbusters.) Reading (books and blogs). Sitting in the sun. Watching the snow fall.

At CFC, I was given the assignment to just relax. I wasn't allowed to do any assignments. No binder. Or notebook. Just sit and talk to people without anything in my hands. It was HARD for me. Partially because I felt anxious to get the work done. I wanted to heal, and if it took doing assignments 24/7, that's what I would do. And, the word "relax" was incredibly triggering, so how could I do it after someone told me to do it? I also felt so much anxiety if I wasn't DOING something productive.

Lately, I am very much alive, and have no need to be DOING something productive just so I can pretend to be alive. Its hard to describe. Now, most of my trials or struggles are like normal people trials. Like, car troubles. My car has issues. The engine is going out. That's a pain. The thing about my car is: it has had troubles for years. It is seventeen years old, and I haven't taken good care of it. Its just that... now, since that is the one of the only troubles I have in my life... I care about my car.

I don't know quite how to describe my life now... other than... normal.

Don't get me wrong. I still have nightmares occasionally. Flashbacks sometimes. Nasty emails from cowardly people. Doubts. Fears. Questions. Screwy thinking. But... it used to be that those things were the constant, and the moments of peace were the rarity.

As I was reading in a blog tonight, (I can't remember which one. I'm really sorry. I read and commented on a lot.) I read about how the author now fears death. She wants to believe in God, because she wants to believe that there is an afterlife.

I have never been afraid of death. I have hoped for it for most of my life. In the past six months, I have started to really enjoy living. It makes sense to me that as I start to love life, death would become the enemy. Its NOT the enemy yet, but I can see that happening... There is much to live for: horses to work with, rides to go on, mountains to climb, friends to talk to, goals to accomplish, places to see and explore, things to think about and wonder about, music to listen to, and write, and play.

Angela's word

A friend posted this on facebook, and I thought it was beautiful. And describes my journey perfectly.

When Angela was very young
Age two or three or so,
Her mother and her father
Taught her never to say NO.
They taught her that she must agree
With everything they said,
And if she didn’t, she was spanked
And sent upstairs to bed.

So Angela grew up to be
A most agreeable child;
She was never angry
And she was never wild;
She always shared, she always cared,
She never picked a fight,
And no matter what her parents said,
She thought that they were right.

Angela the Angel did very well in school
And, as you might imagine, she followed every rule;
Her teachers said she was so well-bred,
So quiet and so good,
But how Angela felt inside, they never understood.

Angela had lots of friends
Who liked her for her smile;
They knew she was the kind of gal
Who’d go the extra mile;
And even when she had a cold
And really needed rest,
When someone asked her if she’d help
She always answered Yes.
When Angela was thirty-three, she was a lawyer’s wife.
She had a home and family, and a nice suburban life.
She had a little girl of four,
And a little boy of nine,
And if someone asked her how she felt
She always answered, “Fine.”

But one cold night near Christmastime
When her family was in bed,
She lay awake as awful thoughts went spinning through
her head;
She didn’t know why, and she didn’t know how,
But she wanted her life to end;
So she begged Whoever put her here
To take her back again.

And then she hear, from deep inside,
A voice that was soft and low;
It only said a single word
And the word it said was … NO.

From that moment on, Angela knew
Exactly what she had to do.
Her life depended on that word,
So this is what her loved ones heard:

NO, I just don’t want to;
NO, I don’t agree;
NO, I don't believe that;
NO, that’s wrong for me;
NO, I wanted something else;
NO, that hurt a lot!
NO, I’m tired, and NO I’m busy,
And NO, I’d rather not!

Well, her family found it shocking,
Her friends reacted with surprise;
But Angela was different, you could see it in her eyes;
For they’ve held no meek submission
Since that night three years ago
When Angela the Angel
Got permission to say NO.

Today Angela’s a person first, then a mother and a wife.
She knows where she begins and ends,
She has a separate life.
She has talents and ambitions,
She has feelings, needs and goals.
She has money in the bank and
An opinion at the polls.

And to her boy and girl she says,
“It’s nice when we agree;
But if you can’t say NO, you’ll never grow
To all you’re meant to be.
Because I know I’m sometimes wrong
And because I love you so,
You’ll always be my angels
Even when you tell me NO.” 

Barbara K. Bassett

Surviving Turkey Day

Lets talk about Thanksgiving. Its a really goofy holiday. Its the day where the whole nation adopts some seriously disordered eating. And they all do it together!

My morning started with serious over-exercising urges. (I figure if everyone else gets to adopt an eating disorder of their choosing, then why can't I have the one of my choosing?) I didn't follow through with the urges. I sat on the floor and cried instead.

Seriously, everyone restricts food intake all morning to prepare for a massive binge in the afternoon/evening. Everyone makes themselves uncomfortable, and then eats some more. And if the strange eating isn't stressful enough, lets do it with a lot of people that call themselves family, but I only see once or twice a year. Some of them are very mean. Some of them are just ignorant asses.

And I'm supposed to WANT to participate in all of this madness??

Whilst crying on the floor, I got a call from a dear friend. "Are you taking care of yourself? I know this day is hard on you, and you still need to take care of you."

I became a yelling, crying mess. What came out of my mouth was something like, "What the fuck is wrong with me that I don't want to spend time with my family? Why can't I just be normal and love them and love this day?"

The reply came, "What's wrong with YOU? There's nothing wrong with you. Of all the people you have talked about in your family, YOU are the one I want to be friends with. It is normal to not like being with people who aren't nice to you."

And then I realized something profound. It IS normal to not like being with people who are mean. But I don't allow (or haven't allowed) myself that freedom. I have a cousin who is really mean. She's on medication to try to curb her moodiness, but she is just... MEAN, and bossy, and controlling, and nosy, and... Last year, she pinched me hard enough to leave a bruise and asked why I was so skinny. (I didn't pinch her back and ask her why she was so fat. I didn't think that would be appropriate, but I thought it.)

I walk into these family events (and probably everywhere else too) and look for the people that no one else wants to talk to, and I talk to them. The cousin I mentioned above, I have spent a lot of time talking to. I make the rounds and MAKE SURE to talk to the people that I have a hard time with. What the...?

This year, I just talked to the people I wanted to talk to. I spent time with my own siblings. Justin and I made a gingerbread house together, and I had a blast! I talked to my cousin Stefani, and her daughters. I talked to my Grandma. I talked to my cousin Kenadee. I picked who I spent my time with. And guess what? I had a great time!

It turns out that although there are some people in my family that are really obnoxious, they are actually the minority. They are a loud minority, but still a minority. I used to think it was my job to make the lonely people not feel lonely. But that was seriously flawed thinking.

1. Just because I don't like a person doesn't mean that everyone else feels the same.
2. And if everyone DOES feel the same, there's a reason. Its not doing me (or anyone else) a service to spend time with abusive people. That's not love, and I don't wanna do it anymore.
3. There's a good chance that those people that I don't like, probably don't like me. (At least if I am honest about who I am. I used to lie and pretend to be someone I wasn't, so that the mean people would like me.)

At the end of the day, it turns out that by ME changing, everything around me has changed. That's something to be grateful for!

(oh, and side note, I also made the decision that if I wasn't enjoying myself and I wanted to leave, I would. I don't have to stay anywhere that I don't wanna be!)

Prayers for Bobby

I saw the move, Prayers for Bobby, and was so impressed by Mary Griffith's journey, I started reading the book that night.

The book is a compilation of journal entries from Bobby, a gay young man who committed suicide at age 20, and his mother's thoughts. She was a fundamentalist Christian who called her gay son to repentance daily. He wrote daily of his hatred for himself and who he was. He vacillated between pleading with God to change him and cursing God for leaving him alone. He stopped writing in his journal a week before he jumped off a freeway overpass. No one knows exactly what caused him to jump that day.

His mother, Mary, has become an activist for gay and lesbian youth, and her only mission is to tell children "Don't give up on love." I loved reading her journey to find herself.

She was a traditional 1950's wife and mother. Bobby's death turned her into an assertive, strong, activist. In the end of the book, she said, "I'm no longer afraid."

I cried through most of the book. I felt Bobby's self-hatred and sadness. I felt Mary's confusion, anger, and helplessness. Her journey introduced her to many suicidal youth, and each of their stories brought me great sadness.

I also felt anger at myself. I (like Mary) thought I was doing the right thing by pushing "traditional family values" on those around me. Reading this, I want to get more involved and help change attitudes of those around me.

King of Anything

The Stranger

So, reading this... I had an incredibly HUGE emotional reaction. The kind that I get when something big is changing in my mind...

The nightmare started when I was five. The "Stranger" would come in my home. He'd hurt my family if I didn't do what he wanted. I could protect some of them, but never all of them. Its been a lot of years, and I still have nightmares. (Although in the last 8-9 months, they have decreased tremendously. Round about the time that I decided I wasn't going to let fear or guilt run my life anymore. And I quit trying to go to church. And live the way they wanted me to live. And I started being more honest about who I am.)

In therapy, we have talked about what traumatic event might cause these nightmares. (I have a lot of them, but none that I could trace back that far...) Paul even talked about casting out evil spirits. We had so many sessions to talk about evil spirits. Possession. Oh. No.

At five, is when I started to understand how evil and selfish I was. That's when I started to try to change everything about me. When I was no longer good enough as just me.

In the book, The Voice of Knowledge, he talks about that very thing. When we learn words, people start to teach us that we aren't good enough. He shares the story of Adam and Eve, and says that eating the fruit of the tree of knowledge introduced us to the biggest lie there is: The lie of good and evil. The lie that WE become good or evil based on what we do. say. or think.

The Stranger has tormented me for so long.
And all I had to do to be free of him, was to listen to me.

I'm still really, REALLY emotional. Feeling a little crazy... but I'm used to that. I have been through this enough to know that once THIS feeling passes, everything will be different.

Stories of Love

BJ asked me a question today, "If someone is abusive, so I leave, who's fault is it?" I didn't really have an answer for him. Abuse isn't okay, but... who's fault? I don't know. No one's fault. You left because you didn't want to be treated the way you were treated. That is what you needed to do for you... About ten minutes later, I picked up the book, The Voice of Knowledge. It totally just answered his question.  I was going to paraphrase, but it was just so perfect... My thoughts are in italics. The rest is directly quoted from the book.

Humans are made for love. Before knowledge, it was easy to open our heart and to love, and we just walked away from whatever was not love. But with the voice of knowledge in our head, we walk away from love, and we go for what is not love.

(Funny... suddenly, in my head, I hear Larry telling me how much he loved me. I would never find anyone who loved me as much as he did. So I stayed. I was drawn to what was not love and couldn't even fathom what was love.)

We always have a choice, and if we love ourselves, we choose love. We do not allow ourselves to be hurt by accepting other people's opinions or abuse. If other people abuse us, they are abusing us because we stay there, because we allow that to happen. And if we stay, it's because we believe that we deserve the abuse, and we are using them for self-punishment. If we don't have awareness, we blame, when the solution is not to blame. The solution is to step aside and not be there.

(It sounds so simple. Just step aside and not be there... And this is the answer to his question. The solution isn't to blame. Blame doesn't matter. The solution is to step aside and not be there. It is the ONLY solution.)

How can you believe someone who says, "I love you," and then treats you with disrespect and emotional violence? How can someone say, "I love you," when that person wants to control your life, to tell you what you have to do, what you have to believe? How can someone claim to love you, and then give you emotional garbage, jealousy, and envy?

(I'm thinking about Ginger as I read this. I'm thinking about all of the things she has said to BJ that make me crazy. They make me crazy, because what she says is lies. Not that SHE is lying, but she is saying lies. They are lies I have believed for so long. They are lies about what love is. What is ok to do in the name of love. I have believed the lies, but now I know they are lies, and I don't want to believe them anymore.)

How can we tell someone, "I love you," and then send all our opinions against the person we love and try to make that person suffer? I have to tell you what is wrong with you because "I love you." I have to judge you, find you guilty, and punish you because "I love you." I have to make you wrong all the time, and make you feel like you are good for nothing because "I love you." And because you love me, you have to put up with my anger, with my jealousy, with all my stupidity.

(Being respectful and kind to friends, because I love them, is different than doing everything they want me to do, because I want them to love me. The first is love. The second is manipulation, control, and abuse.)

Do you think this is love? This is not love. This is nothing but selfishness, and we call it love. And we say "love hurts," but we are hurting ourselves with our own lies. All of the struggle in romantic relationships is just nonsense. It is not love, and that is why people are starving for love.

When you are needy, this is what you share in a relationships. But when you are open to love, you receive love and if its not love, you don't have to be there. You are open to receiving love, but you are not open to receiving abuse. You are not open to being blamed; you are not open to receiving anybody's poison because your mind is no longer fertile ground for that. When you love and respect yourself, there is no way that you ever allow anybody to disrespect you or dishonor you.

I love this. It makes so much sense and feels so true. And the words barely begin to explain what is real. (Which is something the author says over and over. We just don't have the words to express the truth of our experiences.) 

We look for love in other people when they don't love themselves. Of course we won't find love there; we only find selfishness and a war of control.

You don't have to search for love. Love is here because God is here; the force of life is everywhere. We humans create the story of separation, and we search for what believe we don't have. We search for perfection, for love, for truth, for justice, and we search and search when everything is inside of us. Everything is here; we just need to open our spiritual eyes to see it.

There is nothing you need to do to improve what you really are.

(This goes back to the feeling I had a few weeks ago. There is nothing wrong with me. I don't have to search for perfection, because I am already perfect. I don't have to search for love, it is already here. In me. One of the biggest lies I have believed is the lie of my own imperfection.)