Loaded Words: Forgiveness

Recently, I was asked the question, "What does forgiveness mean to you?"
So, I'm writing about it.
Bad news: I'm a little bit all over the place in my writing.
Good news: I like what I wrote, so I'm leaving all of it...

There was a time, I would hear the words, "Forgive them," and I would hear, "Take their abuse. Let them hurt you." So I'd do that... Only the peace I was hoping for, never came. Instead I only felt used and abused and crazy.

I chose to forget the word "forgive", because it had too much extra baggage associated with it. And then, in January, a friend of mine posted this on facebook.

"Lately I hear of so many people ignoring or being rude to their own family members or close friends because of choices that person has made. It's so sad to me that in our society, people are so selfish and unforgiving and judgmental. They hold grudges and don't talk to siblings, parents, cousins, friends, etc. because they are sad, mad, angry, or whatever toward that person. For some reason, they feel like they are entitled to hold a grudge because they are choosing to do so. I wish people would learn to take the advice "Be QUICK to forgive" seriously."

I wrote this in my journal that night:

"For me, two things happened at once.
1. I love it. I agree wholeheartedly. YES. Stop holding grudges. Stop letting the pain of unmet expectations stop you from having the relationships you want. Love people as they are, and not just when they do what you want. It's not love if you only love them when they fit your expectations. That's just manipulation. I hope she reads what she wrote... I hope she gets it...


2. I hate it. "Be quick to forgive" was used over and over and over to get me to go back to very harmful situations. He raped me. He beat me. He assaulted me. He called me names. He said things that made me go crazy. He tried to manipulate me. He pushed every boundary until I thought I would rather die than to have to be around him. But none of that mattered, because it was MY job to forgive. My job to love him and give him another chance... My job to accept the apologies over and over and over, even when he kept on hurting me...


In my world, "Why can't you just forgive?" meant, "You have no right to choose what you want.You have to spend time with him, you have to give him what he wants, you have to... That is what God wants you to do."


A mere mention of the word forgiveness, and I felt incredible guilt, because I was angry and hurt when he hurt me. I'd start beating myself up in my head. And in the past, I'd vow to be better at taking the crap. To not care if he hurt me, but instead to be nicer. Kinder. Quieter.

Forgiveness meant to forget myself. 


I recognize that she was not talking to victims of abuse. I recognize that most people at church would never tell a person to stay in an abusive relationship. (I say most, because I know of a few bishops and members who WOULD and they DID.)  I recognize that who she was talking to might just benefit from some awareness that parents getting divorced or someone leaving the church isn't worth losing family over.

I recognize that what I think and feel about the word forgiveness isn't what the word is intended to mean. It's a "Loaded Word". Because of my experiences and the beliefs I formed about myself and those experiences, forgiveness has taken on a meaning that I don't like.

I don't like that when someone talks about forgiveness, I feel anger and pain and guilt. I feel violated. I don't like that THAT is my internal reaction. I don't like that what I hear is, "Forget yourself completely and only think of what THEY want." I would like the word to come to mean something else to me.

I shared my thoughts with BJ, and he gave me this quote:

"Forgiveness is love's toughest work, and love's biggest risk. If you twist it into something it was never meant to be, it can make you a doormat or an insufferable manipulator."

I'm very aware of what forgiveness is NOT meant to be: It's not meant to make me forget myself. It's not meant to make me sacrifice ME, so that other people don't have to make sacrifices. It is not meant to keep me in situations that are harmful, or even keep me in places that I don't want to be in.

Forgiveness is not supposed to be used to manipulate and abuse... What IS forgiveness meant to be?"

I haven't thought about it much since then... Until the question, "What does forgiveness mean to you?"

The only answer I could come up with that really meant something to me was, "Making peace with the stuff that hurts me." It's an individual thing. There are things that really hurt me, but they won't bother someone else. There are things that don't even hit my radar, but are life shattering to someone else.

Examples:
Husband having an affair, not a big deal to me. End the marriage, go our separate ways. Easy.
Bishop telling me it was my fault that he had an affair, and I couldn't end the marriage but instead had to work harder to serve my husband and make him happy, HUGE deal. I'm still working to make peace with that. (I read in a book once that you'll know you've forgiven when you no longer have an emotional reaction when you hear the person's name, or in this case when I am reminded of the situation. I still feel anger and disgust at the bishop for saying that, and anger and disgust at myself for believing him and trying to do what he said. Why didn't I just say, "Fuck you. You're an idiot!" and walk away? Eventually, I'll make peace with that.)

ME being raped... painful, and I worked through it, I dealt with it. I'm at peace with it. A friend being raped... I don't know how to make peace with that. I feel anger at their abusers that I have never felt towards my own. (Which in some ways has been healing. Getting really angry and yelling, swearing, and crying, at what happened to them has somehow helped me make peace and move past my own stuff. In that, I guess I am grateful for the things they went through and their willingness to share their painful journeys with me.)

In the book Forgive for Good, he says, 

"there are really only two steps in the process: grieving and letting go. Grieving, after you have been wronged, means letting yourself feel the anger, hurt, and trauma in all its original pain—but not indefinitely. After about two years, most people have had plenty of time to process, then they're ready to move on."  

It was impossible to forgive or make peace with a situation when I kept saying, "It's okay. It doesn't hurt that much. It's no big deal." I had to acknowledge the depth and severity of the emotional wounds. (Ummm... Are there emotional wounds to knowing that a friend was raped? Are there emotional wounds to learning of a friend's abuse? How do I feel the hurt and trauma of the original pain if the pain wasn't mine to feel? I don't know the answers...)

I'd also add to his thoughts that as long as I allowed myself to continue to be abused by other people, I couldn't even begin to start the grieving process... My therapist repeated to me over and over, "As long as you allow yourself to be abused, you will never heal from past abuse." Sometimes I felt resentment, because I didn't set up boundaries. He (pick a him, any him) violated me, and my resentment came because I let him. Once I started standing up for myself and taking care of myself, the anger and resentment just fell away. I wasn't afraid anymore. Once I knew I would not sacrifice myself or my body just to make someone else happy, I experienced a lot of healing.

My friend explained forgiveness this way:

"I totally believe in forgiveness... the kind that says, "I don't give a fuck what you do, I'm going to be happy." I don't believe in the kind that says, "I don't give a fuck what you do, I'm going to let you be in my life and fuck me over..." There's a big difference between the two."

I believe I can forgive without allowing someone back into my life. I have very few hard feelings for Larry, but I don't ever want to see him again. Seeing him, and allowing him in my life would take a lot more work... For me AND for him. Luckily, he seems perfectly content to never talk again.

And maybe the quote that seems to fit my definition the best is this:

"Forgiveness is letting go of the hope that the past can be changed."

Forgiveness means:
I no longer wish that I had never been raped, or that I had never gotten divorced, or that my parents had been different, or.... I no longer wish that I could change the past for my friends. I no longer wish that I had learned all of this stuff when I was nineteen, so somehow I could have prevented all of the pain. I no longer wish that I could have done it differently.
It means I'm at peace with my past and with my present.

Would you please stop smiling, so I can know what narcotics to prescribe

I have another infection that has gone into my kidney.
If I had gone to the doctor at the first sign of symptoms, I might have prevented it from getting this bad. There are a few reasons why I didn't go.

I hate doctors... Well... I don't hate doctors, I hate going to the doctor's office. I don't like people touching me, and doctors always want to touch me.

I hate spending money...

The biggest reason I didn't go: I was doubting myself.


I wasn't sure if what I was experiencing was pain from a urinary tract infection, or if it was body memory pain. It's normal for me to feel pain and discomfort "down there" all the time. The best way to describe it is it the physical memory of rape. I feel the same pain that I did then. There was a time when it felt EXACTLY like rape: I felt like I was being ripped apart. It was excruciating. Now, it's not like that. It has dulled considerably, but it's still always there. (The most common search term that leads people to my blog is body memories. People want to know how to make the pain stop. What causes the pain? Is it real, or imagined? etc. I wish that coming to my blog could answer those questions, but I don't know the answers. As soon as I figure out how to stop it, I'll let you all know. I do know that it is getting better. It's like the volume is being turned down. A little tiny bit everyday.)

I write about this, because when I was talking to a couple of friends who have also been through sexual abuse and dealt with body memory pain, and I told them about how I didn't feel the symptoms or at least I couldn't tell the difference... Joy said she couldn't tell the difference, and she waited until she was flat out with a serious infection. Tef just nodded knowingly, and I knew she completely understood what I was saying. It felt nice to know I wasn't alone. I HATE that they have dealt with the pain and the confusion, and I appreciate knowing I am not the only one.

My emotions were all over the place: Feeling broken and damaged. Feeling ashamed that I still can't tell the difference between somatic pain and infection pain. Feeling confused. Trying to figure out what normal is. Beating myself up for being weak (because I got sick) or lazy (because I don't feel like moving off my couch). Once the infection reached my kidney, I had no doubt what was causing my pain, and I went to the doctor as soon as I could.

The doctor was amazing. At one point she told me, "Would you please stop smiling, so I can know what narcotics to prescribe. With the infection you have, you shouldn't be smiling." At which point, I broke into tears. She wrote me a prescription for something to take care of nauseousness, and something for the pain, and then told me to rest way more than I think is necessary. She said exactly what I needed to hear.

I'm on antibiotics. I'm taking cranberry supplements. Avoiding the stuff she said to avoid.
Eventually, I'll learn how to take care of this body I live in.

Saddled: Defining Recovery

I just finished the book Saddled by Susan Richards.
I LOVED the first book she wrote (Chosen by a Horse), and the second (Chosen Forever). This one was touching and beautiful, and harder to read.

She talks about her abusive relationship with her (now ex) husband. She talks about her alcoholism and trying to free herself from her addictions. She talks about wanting to die and feeling helpless and hopeless and not knowing why. I think my favorite part was her description of AA.

"I didn't know that becoming sober meant really changing. Not drinking was the least of it. It was the rest of me that was the problem, the part that wanted to stay numb. The men and women in that room (AA) didn't sound numb anymore. They were angry and scared and depressed. They were also hopeful and funny and grateful. They were all over the place. The word that came to mind was whole. After years of shutting down all or parts of themselves with alcohol, they were finally whole human beings.

I sat in a corner with my arms crossed and my mouth shut and listened to what whole human beings sounded like. Evidently being human was a messy business. Not a single person said Everything's fine - my stock response since I was a child to any question about my state of mind. It had never been true, but that didn't keep from repeating it for the next twenty years. I thought that's what you were supposed to say. I thought that's what you were supposed to feel. Anything else meant you were a complainer or worse - a bad person, a wrong person, and wrong was just a code word for crazy. I didn't want to be crazy, because I was already on shaky ground in the wantable department. So the sweet smiley girl became the sweet smiley woman who drank liquor to help keep the lid on anything that didn't reflect how fine she felt one hundred percent of the time. Never mind the on-and-off suicide fantasies going back to fourth grade. Doesn't everybody have those? I was fine."

I think I could have written those two paragraphs myself, just substitute alcohol and liquor with eating disorder and eating disorder behaviors.

When I went to treatment the first time, I defined recovery as "eating my dinner".
I also think I defined it as being happy all the time: No matter what was happening around me, I was supposed to be happy... Do what I was supposed to do, no matter how I felt. It is no wonder I got depressed and tired and gave up trying to recover. I was doing the opposite of recovering... I was still trying to find a way to make the "bad" parts of myself go away. To-do lists, service, church callings, work, were all ways to 'shut down all or parts of myself', and it was exhausting and miserable.

When I went the second time eleven years later, I defined recovery as "loving myself more than I hate myself". It SOUNDED better but, I think there was still some belief  that I would change myself so much that I would love myself.

In May 2010. BJ and I were walking and talking about the afterlife and being gay. (I don't remember why we were talking about it... We just were.) I realized that if I were gay, I wouldn't want that very important part of myself different in the eternities. How insulting! There's nothing wrong with them: They are perfect just the way they are. And then... I started to cry, and I said, "There's nothing wrong with ME. I am perfect just the way I am." And then he started to cry, and gave me a big hug, and my life stopped being so painful after that. I stopped trying to change me, and started to accept me.

My new definition of recovery (with the help of Susan Richards' book) is:
It's becoming whole. Accepting all the parts of myself. Loving myself just as I am.

"Unconditional love is not to love you despite the way you are. 

Unconditional love is to love every aspect of you and to send love into every aspect of who you are."

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.

...but my wife would never let me.

I went to a fly-fishing banquet tonight. I sat at a table of men (except BJ) I had never met until last night. There was an auction. At some point during the night, I heard every single one  of them (except BJ) say, "I would LOVE to buy that, but my wife would never let me..."

One was a painting... His wife would never let him hang it in the house that they share. He thought about putting it in his office, because at least he had some place that was his...

It made me sad.
Sad for the men that can't buy or have a painting that they like, because their wife doesn't. Sad for the women that don't even know what their husbands like, because their own likes are so important. Sad, because the way the men talked it was like they were getting a break from prison by being at this banquet without their wives there... Which sucks for ALL of them.

I have no more thoughts on the subject. Just felt sad, and felt like writing about it.

On a different note...
I won a hat and a sweatshirt. Not as cool as the guided trip, but cool enough.

No one has more authority in my brain than I do

Something amazing happened this weekend... or I guess... something amazing has been happening for a long time, and I got to SEE it this weekend.

I mentioned in my last post that I forgot about LDS general conference. That in itself is amazing. However, there's more.

They tell you to listen to conference and think about yourself. Apply it all to YOU. I used to do that. I didn't listen and think about what someone else needed to hear... or if I did, I beat myself up big.

"Jen, how dare you think that someone ELSE needs to hear this... that someone ELSE needs to change?? Just the fact that you THOUGHT that says that you are not a good human being. YOU need to change! Conference is for YOU. Change YOU!"

So, I'd try to apply every single word to ME. Which meant, if they said "give more to the poor" it didn't matter if I gave everything I could give, I needed to give more. If they said, "be less selfish and more forgiving," I looked for ways to be less selfish and more giving.

I tried so hard to do everything they said to do, and then felt horrible that I couldn't be and do everything.

I remember conference three years ago... My friend Amanda heard that it was going on, and called me from across the country. She was concerned. She was not the first to tell me that the speakers (both at conference and at church) aren't talking to ME, but she said it in a way that made sense to me. "Most of the people in the world need to hear that they could give more, serve more, and think of themselves less, but that is not YOU. Most of the people need a good reminder every six months to think about someone else, because they only do it once every six months. You spend most of your time thinking about everyone else."

She went on to compare general conference to a presentation she was giving on eating disorders to RA's at the college: Knowing that she was talking to people who liked to help others, and were college students, she figured there would be about five people in the audience with disordered eating. She was worried about giving certain suggestions or saying certain things, because she didn't want to say something that would hurt those five. She came to the conclusion that the sixty-five needed to hear what she had to say, and she had to hope that the five would be okay. Her analogy made sense. The leaders talked to the majority... The healthy thing to do would be to recognize that what they are saying is harmful to me, and stay away.

For the past three years, I've known that their words didn't apply to me... I've known that I am self-sacrificing to a fault... I've understood that I would sacrifice myself, my wants, my happiness, my life to make others happy... And that wasn't good... but still, every time I heard someone talk about forgiveness and selfishness and selflessness and service, I went crazy inside my head.

I didn't listen to conference, and it's quite possible that had I listened, it would have made me just as crazy as it always has... but when I heard what Uchdorf talked about, and what he said about forgiveness and holding grudges and loving, it didn't make me crazy.

It made me think, "Am I holding grudges? Are there changes I want to make? Are there people I am not forgiving that it would benefit me to do so?" I thought about it. I decided that there were a few places I'd like to make changes. Small adjustments that will make my life more full. I also thought about BJ's kids and BJ's ex, and I wondered what they would get out of it... Would they think about the way they are treating him? Would they think that HE needed to change? Would any of it cross their minds? I wondered how it would effect others who were super self-sacrificing... would they keep trying to sacrifice themselves in order to make other people feel good... I wondered about some of the abusive people who were listening... Would they use this talk to invalidate and hurt more people?

For the first time, I didn't let some stranger tell me what I should be thinking, feeling, doing. For the first time, I didn't give him authority in my brain. It didn't go in and take over so fast that I was left helpless... I thought about it, made a choice about what was important to ME. I got to choose. It feels amazing... I also got to wonder about the rest of the world without beating myself up. Words affect the people who listen and believe, and it's okay to wonder how the words will affect others.

Sunday night, I went to dinner at my parents and I was happy. Connected to myself and to them. On general conference Sunday. Today I feel peaceful and... happy. On the Monday after conference weekend. This is BIG. And awesome.

(And just to clarify, that doesn't mean I'm going back... It just means it doesn't all trigger the hell out of me. I'm pretty sure my brother said it best when he invented a new drinking game. He doesn't drink, but he decided a good game would be, "Everyone takes a shot whenever they say something that would make Jen cranky." EVERYONE would get pretty drunk off that.)

A little bit closer to where I want to be

LDS General Conference weekend. It has made me crazy ever six months for several years. Maybe my whole life, since I don't remember my whole life, it's hard to say.

This weekend came, and I forgot about it. I didn't know it was coming. They ended rehearsal early (so those that wanted to, could get home to watch), and that was the first I'd paid attention to it.

Last year, I went camping at Great Basin National Park... It was cold and snowy, but at least there was no TV available. Six months ago, I went to visit my mom, "Don't worry. We'll turn it off while you're here." (yes. she said that. She wanted me to come visit. She's awesome.) And then Sunday, I sat at home feeling sorry for myself.

Today, I'm feeling good. I didn't think about it. I don't feel crazy. I'm sure I'll hear if anything really cool or really outlandish is said. It's finally getting to where I have changed myself enough that I don't care. It feels really good.

"The more you hold to something you've already lost the more you fear losing it."

I've been busy. So much stuff. I wanted to come back and write more on my last post, but life moved on, and I have nothing else to say about it... So, here's just a quick update:


Sportsman's Expo: I met Molly, an award winning fly fisher(wo)man. She invited me to a workshop where I met other women who loved fly fishing. She taught me how to cast better. That was awesome. Mostly it just felt so healing to meet other women that like the stuff I like. I felt less alone in the world.

I also won a guided fly-fishing trip to a private resort a few hours away from me. I've never won anything before, and I'm excited to go on a guided trip. MY guide. Someone who has the job to teach me and help me enjoy the trip. It feels overwhelming. Cool. And overwhelming.

$150,000 Steinway: I played it. I might need one. Justin promised he'd buy me one if he ever became a millionaire. I'm looking forward to that.

A wedding: I went to my cousin's wedding reception, and I didn't even scream or pull my own hair out. I think I'm making progress... I still hate weddings though. A lot. Didn't realize until just now that ever since going to the wedding, I've had a resurgence of body memory pain and nightmares... at least I know WHY it's been more intense the past few days, which makes me feel a little better that it will pass.

Next to Normal: Justin and I went to a performance of the musical Next to Normal. Ummm... Intense. It's all about a woman with a mental illness, and her and her family trying to cope and make sense of their world, and create a life that is "next to normal".

I wanted to find a good video to post, but I couldn't decide on a favorite song so, just check out the whole thing... Never mind. I changed my mind. Check it all out, but start with this song:

(I loved this one, because she described exactly how I felt... and then the husband was trying to help, and he didn't even know that he was making it worse... and then the "son" shows up, and he holds the keys to healing her. He is her own visions, but without facing him, she will never get better. And incidentally, neither will her husband.)

And then maybe this one:

(I liked this one because that's what a broken brain feels like. A vision that shows up that both hurts and heals. "If you try to deny me, I'll never die. I'm alive." That's what happens if you don't face your demons... they get bigger and louder and they develop a life of their own.

I went through a lot of emotions. They did a good job portraying intense emotions, loneliness, craziness, codependency, pain, and grief. I felt angry at the husband. I felt angry at her therapist. I just wanted to yell at them, "Don't you understand, you're trying to help, but you're making it worse!" I felt sadness for the daughter and the husband. I laughed at the craziness of trying to find medications and other treatments to make emotions and painful memories disappear. I felt helpless for everyone involved, because no one knows what to do. I felt hopeful for the characters in the play, and for the whole world. Having musicals like this one, showing the pain and taking away the secrecy that shrouds mental illness is the only way to "cure" the illness. EVERYONE is affected by our society's inability to cope with grief and pain.

My favorite line was:

"The more you hold to something you've already lost the more you fear losing it."

I've been thinking on this line ever since:

The more you hold on to something you've already lost, the more you fear losing it, so you hold on even tighter. The fear and the holding on is crippling... but you don't see that it is the fear that is crippling you... And then, one day, you finally realize, you're only holding on to an illusion, so you let go, and you feel free.

I've heard people say, "If you love someone, let them go," but really that's just an illusion. The truth is: loving someone doesn't make them belong to you. And if they were never yours, how can you let them go?

Heavenly Codependency

There's been a blog post waiting to happen for a long time. Dane at Agitating Faithfully asked for submissions two years ago. I told him I would love to write something. I haven't yet. I don't know if he is even still looking. Today I was reading a post at Surely You're Not Serious, and now I'm writing. Warning, it's not a happy post. It's not positive about the church. And I need to share this.



In 2007, every couple of weeks, I'd get a call asking me to come in to talk to the bishop. He'd ask how I was doing, and for the first six months or so, I wouldn't answer him... The first time I opened up to him, I shared something about how I felt worth less because I was a girl... He asked me to write him an email to tell him why I thought that.

"Hi. So, here goes. I don't know what I'm going to write... I can't remember a time when I didn't feel like I was worth less because I was a female. Its hard to say where that came from. I can't imagine not feeling this way."

I then went on to list my history. How I felt about watching my parents together. How I felt when I started dating. About the EQ President in the back of the car... I couldn't tell him no, because I didn't have the right. Then about Larry. It amazes me how aware I was without being aware at all...

"My next boyfriend eventually became my first husband. We were married in the temple, but he never went back to the temple after we were married. Our wedding night was the worst night of my life, and the rest of the marriage wasn't much better. I was the wife, and I didn't have much choice when he wanted sex. I could not stop him, although I tried many times.

I wanted to do a lot of great things with my life. I was in school, working two jobs, and I was also doing public speaking. Larry informed me he was having an affair, and the bishop said it was my fault. A good wife would be home making her husband happy. I couldn't quit work, because someone had to make money, but I did pull back and quit a lot of the other things that I loved. The bishop congratulated me on being a good woman, and said I should be willing to do what Larry asked. He was the leader of the home, and I should let him lead and never question him."

I wrote about how relieved I was and how I finally felt happy after Larry left... but I was supposed to get married again... So I did.

I wrote about how I felt like I was wrong if my thoughts didn't match my husband's. I wrote about how I wanted to be a good woman, but I also hated the way that felt. I wrote about how hard I tried to be good and righteous, but the harder I tried, the darker I felt inside. I wrote about what it felt like to ask for priesthood blessings, but be told I wasn't worthy... That the healing power was there, but I had to ask a man for that power. And that man decided when or if he would share. I wrote about the temple and how although I made the commitment to "hearken to my husband", sometimes I just couldn't make myself do that. I wrote about being called to be a Sunday School teacher by his first counselor.

"I couldn't take on one more thing, but I had no choice. The (counselor in the bishopric) refused to accept my, "thank you, but no," because the calling came from God. It didn't matter what I wanted, what I desperately needed, or what I thought. A man I barely knew got more say in my life than I did."

I got released the next week, but even that... I had to write a really long and painful email to a man I barely knew, and HE still got to decide that it was okay if I didn't want to teach Sunday School.

I felt desperate. I wanted so badly to be a healthy human being. I met with the bishop and just kept asking questions. He helped me start therapy.

I KNEW that the church would have the answers to my questions. I searched and searched and searched. There was nothing. NOTHING that answered my questions. Pretty much everything I found just created more questions. More feelings of worthlessness. More confusion.

In therapy, we were talking about rights... so I searched "women's rights" on lds.org.
I found information on the Equal Rights Amendment.  They fought AGAINST equal rights for women. They said that women being treated as  equals in this country would destroy families: it would be the downfall of society. How could men of God say that? How could God let them stand up in conference and fight against what was good for me? How could what was good for women be bad for families? Where was God in all this??

One night I read an article in the Ensign. This quote threw me into one of the deepest funks I've ever had,

"When it comes to sexuality, some wives become very concerned about their “rights,” often speaking of their “right” to say no and yes. But marriage is also a relationship of responsibility and opportunity. In marriage, both partners have the opportunity to give. I believe few wives sense the degree of frustration and alienation husbands feel when a wife ignores his needs. I believe a wise and loving Heavenly Father has given a wife the ability to achieve oneness with her husband. The key is unselfishness."

I lived with a husband who raped me every night, although at the time I couldn't use that word. When I tried to use that word (rape) with my Stake President, and the Stake Relief Society President, they gave the same response. "A man can't rape his wife. They're MARRIED. She was his, and it was her responsibility to give him what he wanted when he wanted it." I knew why they thought what they thought... They read it in the Ensign.

Boyd K. Packer had the worst to say. He quoted a letter from a woman,

"I'm upset that I was always advised to go back and try harder only to get abused more. I need some comfort, I need solace, need hope, need to know Heavenly Father sees all that I have endured. What hope do I have for a chance to live with Heavenly Father? If temple marriage is the key to the celestial [kingdom], where am I? Outside gnashing my teeth for eternity? Help me." 

When I read her words, I felt some relief. There was another woman asking the same questions. Feeling the same pain. Making the same desperate pleas that I felt. And she had a listening ear. He would answer her questions and I would get my answers.

"The woman pleading for help needs to see the eternal nature of things and to know that her trials -- however hard to bear -- in the eternal scheme of things may be compared to a very, very bad experience in the second semester of the first grade. She will find no enduring peace in the feminist movement. There she will have no hope. If she knows the plan of redemption, she can be filled with hope."

It wasn't the answer I was praying for... but I guess I learned how to feel anger, and I learned that I could not look to the church for the help I needed. Packer was WRONG. and to tell a woman to go back to abuse, because no matter how much it hurts it's just a childish pain... that man has no idea what he is talking about... or if he does, then he is just plain evil. I HOPE he is just ignorant, or hasn't thought about the things he says, and that is why he says such devastatingly harmful things.

The feminist movement is nothing but women asking for rights... women asking to be treated as equals... women asking to stop being abused... If the church's only answer for abuse is to endure, then the ONLY hope for everyone will be found somewhere else...

I'm going to stop now... I thought about researching... going back and reading all of the things I read back then, but it is STILL so maddening, I can't do it. I don't want that stuff taking space in my life anymore. So... feel free to go to lds.org and research the terms I researched back then. "women's rights", "gender roles", "saying no", "healthy relationships", "abuse", "young women lessons", and a bunch more that I can't remember.

Back to my story.
Time passed. I'd dealt with a lot of stuff in therapy, and on my own. I'd faced PTSD flashbacks and nightmares and months without sleep. I couldn't stand being in my home, because I had a husband there. Husband represented abuse. I couldn't relax with him near. I was miserable trying to force myself to stay with him. I stayed with BJ and looked for my own apartment... Bishop C didn't want me to get comfortable away from my husband, because it was more important that I stay married. He was worried if I felt safe and comfortable without a husband, I would get a divorce... Bishop C thought I should only move into an apartment that wouldn't be comfortable. BJ talked to him. I talked to him. BJ pleaded with him. I called him on the phone while wandering the streets and sobbing while curled up underneath a trailer. Finally, he gave his okay that I live in an apartment where I felt safe. He actually volunteered to have the church help pay my rent for a few months. I lived in my own place for the next year before I finally decided I needed a divorce. It was the only way I was going to recover. I couldn't go back to being a wife, because wife symbolized something I never wanted to be again.

Everyone was okay with my divorce... they let me say that I didn't want to EVER be a wife again... until the divorce was finalized. In therapy one day, my therapist was talking about future relationships, possibly marriage... I told him I didn't believe in marriage. He told me that was because I hadn't known a healthy marriage.

In exasperation I cried, "ALL marriages are codependent, and I refuse to be in a codependent relationship... Can you show me ONE marriage that is not codependent?"

"Heavenly Father and Heavenly Mother."

Me: Really? You have to go all the way to the top?
And really? You want Heavenly Mother to be my example of how I should live my life? Her children don't even know she exists. They aren't allowed to even know her name, or to speak to her. And some have been cut off from the church for speaking too much of her.

Him: Its for her protection.

Me: If I said I needed that kind of protection from a man, you'd freak out... You'd tell me how strong I am, and how I can take care of myself, and... so WHY does a Goddess need that kind of protection?

Him: Maybe she doesn't need or want to be mentioned.

Me: How is THAT healthy? I'm pretty sure you pushed me to be different than that. In fact when I tried to suggest that I didn't need or want people to know me... you told me I needed to find a new therapist, because you wouldn't help me to be that "indiscriminately self-sacrificing".

Him: Yes. Well. Umm. Maybe you just need to pray about that...

Me: Maybe I do, or maybe... You're wrong. And the "proper" example of marriage IS a very codependent one. Maybe I have been right all along about what women are supposed to be, or at least what it says in the scriptures about how a woman should be...

And then I went off.

And what kind of a mother doesn't want to be mentioned to her children? What kind of a mother is okay sitting back and watching Dad do everything? What kind of a mother watches her daughters suffer and question so much, but is okay with Dad being the only one they can talk to? What kind of a mother sits back while Dad writes scriptures about powerful men, but nothing about powerful women? What kind of a mother allows her daughters to go through this world without her? What kind of a mother is okay with the idea that the only purpose for her daughters' lives is to have children? What kind of a mother or a father would EVER perpetuate so much of these crazy gender roles and unhealthy relationships? I don't believe in that kind of a God or Goddess. I can't. I don't know what I do believe anymore, but I know I think this is a bunch of shit.

I started referencing all of the articles I'd read. I started showing him all of the things I'd learned about women and rights from the church. I showed him what the church said about abuse. The things they say to victims of spousal abuse... nothing... except "repent and forgive". I realized how DEEP these issues go. To my very core... I had written an email four years earlier talking about how I felt worth less because I was born a girl, but I couldn't put my finger on WHY... It's what I was taught... And I could finally see things clearly... I could see ME clearly....

I have to stop writing again. There's just SO MUCH that I could write about. All of the things that bishops and stake presidents and teachers and leaders and books and lessons said... I feel overwhelmed with the sadness and the anger. I can't put it all in words. I could write pages and pages and still... people would dismiss my experiences and the things I've felt... BJ says I think about things more than most. I try to live what I hear more than most. I believe what people say more than most. I don't know if that's true... I just know that I tried to live what I learned, and what I learned broke me.

I may come back and try to edit this post at a later date... add more to it... until then, your thoughts are always appreciated.

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.

What's your horse's name?

The question wasn't meant to be a deep one... What's his name?
His name is Sunny. Full name: Sun's Golden Reay.

Wow. I've never even thought about his name...

He came with that name, and he came in one of the darkest moments of my life. Taught me how to ask for what I need. Taught me it was okay to trust. Taught me it was okay to feel fear and sometimes to run away from the fear. Taught me to just BE. I reconnected with the lower half of my body while riding him. And when the pain was so great, I thought I would die, he seemed to just absorb it.

Sun's Golden Reay is the perfect name for him.

Dragonfly

Sensory Overload posted about dragonflies and what they symbolize. (okay, that's not really what she was posting about. She posted about change and life and mentioned the symbolism of dragonflies.)

I like the symbolism, and it reminded me of this picture. So, I'm sharing it.

It was taken almost three years ago. I was at church. Something that was said really upset me, and if I remember right, I literally RAN outside. I stood there, crying... Why couldn't I be happy in church? What was wrong with me? Why couldn't I just sit there like everyone else? Why did the silly and messed up things people said affect me? Why couldn't I just agree with them? Why didn't I get the life where cliches about happiness and trials made sense? Why did I get the life where I knew that it didn't work out quite as nicely as the "soundbites" I heard at church? Why the hell was THIS my life? And what was I supposed to do about it?

And then this beautiful dragonfly landed on me.

A lot has changed since that day. Was it symbolic?

Horse Stories

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And he did it.

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

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


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

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

I won!

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

Well... I won!

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

And that makes me happy.


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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




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

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

Four years ago today

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

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

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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



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

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

Everyone's talking about love - guess I will too

A friend of mine posted this quote on her facebook wall, and I had a very strong reaction to it.

"I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love."
~Mother Theresa

Love until it hurts? How long do I let him hurt me before I don't care if I live or die, and is THAT love? I guess at that point, I don't care if I die, so I'd jump in front of a bus to save someone else... but I don't think that's a very healthy place... I've been there, and it wasn't a place I'd like to revisit...

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

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

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

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


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




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

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


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


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

The Warrior in Me (Lori Crandall)

No words. Just. WOW! to this song.



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

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

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

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

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

CHORUS

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

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

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

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

Copyright Lori Crandall/2005

This Josh Powell stuff is upsetting to me...

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


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


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

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

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


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

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

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

Redefining selfishness (again)

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

I kept reading... mostly because the book was a gift, and I wanted to be able to say nice things about it.
About half way through, she finally said something that warmed me up to her a bit:

"I realized I was putting my panties on for me, and I was expecting everyone else to put their panties on for me too."

Now we're getting somewhere.

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

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

Selfish is expecting others to live their life for me.

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

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

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

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

2011 Brodie Awards

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

I'm actually in three categories.

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

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

Cabin Fever!

I'm sick. The antibiotics I'm on knocked me out more than the sickness... so, I've spent the last two days barely moving from my couch. This is how I feel about it:




Many years ago. Still a kid. Zack (little bro - I'm guessing like nine-ish at the time) decided he could NOT go to school that day. His diagnosis: cabin fever, and it was darn right ludicrous to think that a kid could go to school with cabin fever. My mom conceded, and all five of us stayed home.

We spent a good portion of the day memorizing this song. It was awesome, and STILL one of my favorite memories.

I've been made aware I have a kidney/I think funny

I got to visit with a very nice doctor today.
It turns out I have a kidney infection. I pretty much knew that before I met with the nice man. Two weeks ago, I couldn't have told you where exactly the kidney is located. I sure could now.

Sitting in the doctor's office, I felt anxious.
I was aware of one source: They expect me to lay down on my back and let Dr. Dude touch me. That causes some panic.

I was not aware of the rest of it until he started asking me questions.



Pain here? Yes.
Pain there? Yes.
Nausea? Yes.
Fever? Yes.
Energy level? I just want to sit on the couch and not move.
Have you done that? No.
You've had these symptoms for a week? Yes. Yes I have. 

What was going through my head as he was asking?
"I've already peed in the cup. He KNOWS there's nothing wrong with me. He thinks I'm being dramatic, I'm weak, I can't handle a little bit of normal pain. He's wondering why I even came here..."

And then he told me I have a kidney infection. The urine sample let him know I had an infection. It turns out he asked the other questions NOT because he thought I was weak, but because he wanted to know how bad the infection was. He wanted to know how much antibiotics I would need to get rid of it.

Oh. I think funny.

I was afraid of being a hypochondriac. I was afraid I was being weak - that I could have just taken care of this myself. This isn't the first time I've had to say to myself (or others have had to say to me):

"You're so afraid of being THAT extreme that you are the other extreme." 

You'd think I'd be used to this kind of realization, but I'm not. It still catches me off guard and strikes me as funny... One day. One day, I'll find the middle and I'll be comfortable there.

***Unrelated except for that it happened at the doctor's office:
They put me on the scale today. First time I've been on a scale in several years. Interesting to note, my weight hasn't changed. It is still right where it was when the dietitian gave me the thumbs up. There is a remnant of the voice that says, "That's not the right number!" (There was a time when it wouldn't have mattered WHAT the number was, it would have been too big and too small all at the same time.) That voice is quieter today. Much quieter, and far less persistent than it used to be. Mostly, I don't even care. It really has become just another number that doesn't mean anything to me. Which is awesome.

Happy Winter!

I felt like sharing pictures of my house, so I am:

This was a few days ago. It was foggy, and the fog froze on everything. EVERYTHING was completely coated.

It's kind of magical.

My favorite.

Cool. Huh?

This all slid off in the afternoon, so I only got to see this coolness for a few hours. (Incidentally, the neighbors barn and yard look like a painting. I live in a beautiful place!)

"Jen, where's the grain??? The hay is fine, but we want GRAIN."
I was out. I forgot to buy more. They hung out waiting for a while...

Oh, and aren't Sunny's spots cool?? He only has those in the winter. (Sunny's the palomino. Bo, the paint, has those spots year round. :) )

I read a book, and I loved it: Dancing with Crazy

I just finished the book Dancing with Crazy.

Emily opens the book standing in front of a mirror in the temple. She looks at her own reflections and asks the questions, "How and when had I so willingly and completely abdicated the throne of my own life? And much more importantly why? When had I vanished into thin air?"

The rest of the book explains the life events, teachings, ideas, thoughts, etc, that got her to that decision... and then continues her story from there.

She reminded me of my friend Teffy. You could put the two of them in a room together, and they'd tell tragic, traumatic and horribly sad stories, and they'd have you rolling on the floor laughing until you pee. I don't know how they do it.

Big moments in the book for me:
Her panic and fear of all the people who were going to be burned in the last day. She was TERRIFIED that her friends would suffer.
I had panic attacks and fear of the second coming from the earliest I can remember. I was afraid to watch people suffer - I hoped I would be dead before Christ came, because maybe I wouldn't see all the suffering. The idea of being lifted up on a cloud while the "wicked" burned made me sick. I thought it would be far better to be burned than to sit and watch.

Her fear of evil spirits.
I was convinced my evil spirits had been my best friends. I knew them. I loved them, and now I couldn't decide if I was supposed to save them or run from them... I was so afraid of doing or thinking anything even slightly "wrong", because I was terrified of the devil and his minions. I felt them all around me. All the time. There was actually a ward fast once to help cast out the evil spirits within me. The fast didn't work, but finally just letting go of the fear and the guilt that had driven me my whole life - that got rid of all of them. None of them have bothered me for a couple of years.

The way she thought about herself, her body, and sex... And how she came to know WHY she felt that way... and the healing that she had to go through.
At this point in the book, I turned to BJ. I thanked him for just being with me while I curled up on the floor. In INTENSE pain. For hours and hours a day for months and months. NO sleep. No relief. I could have done it alone, and I think I would have...AND It was sure nice having someone there.

Her eating disorder.
She never uses the words, "eating disorder", but I have spent many months in treatment for starving myself for the very same reasons she starved herself. She wanted to die, but she wasn't allowed to kill herself, but maybe... If she just stopped eating, "God would be so kind as to take me home."

Her depression. And the way she pushed through it, so that most of the time, nobody really even know how desperately she longed for death.

Her feelings about the priesthood and blessings...
WHAT A RELIEF that I wasn't the only one that was a blessing junky, and for the same reasons. I can't know if my thoughts are from God or Satan, but if I get a blessing, they are speaking for God... I can trust these mens' voices over my own. Except when I know what they are saying just isn't right... How do I reconcile that? And then one day realizing that I don't NEED a man to put his hands on my head to tell me what to do. I KNOW what I need, who I am, and what step to take next. I don't believe in priesthood blessings anymore, and that is a HUGE relief. (Except that I do believe there is power in belief and power in touch, and combine the two there IS a power.)

Her reasons for getting married. Her reasons for dating. Her reasons for every decision:
I spent my whole life trying to get people to love me, because I didn't love me, and I needed to feel loved. Neither one of us was strong enough to protect ourselves from some pretty awful predators, so we were hurt over and over and over... until... one day... we each just figured it out.

I loved so much about this book. My favorite line was at the end of the book.

"You are a part of me and I am a part of you. There is no distinction between us. You already live in my heart and there is nothing you can ever do to change that. You can never be separate from me. Ever. It's impossible, And by the way, if you still insist on knowing who your eternal companion is, well guess what? 
It's you."