Being Kind in an Unkind World

It's been a week full of beautiful weather and late nights pondering my purpose on this earth. 

Nights where I lay in bed staring at the dark walls around me and smile at the amount of gratitude I have for this life, my life. 

People are worried about me---which is probably always going to be true because when you love someone, you want the best for them and so you worry sometimes. 

Sometimes I wonder if maybe it's hard to believe, given the circumstances and the trials, that I am truly happy right now. I know that many of you have seen me at my worst but I believe, in a way, that all of those dark moments were helping me to heal. 

Going through a divorce hardened me for a while. I was much less emotional and I had a hard time crying. It was weird because it was a foreign struggle for me. Really? Struggling to cry? It just seemed kind of weird and even a little bit stupid. 

But lately, I've been able to allow myself a little more vulnerability with my emotions and it just feels healthy and freeing. 

I feel a lot more like me. 

And feeling a lot more like me means that my sensitivity for others is overflowing. 

Overflowing!

I know it's a good thing---I like that I am sensitive---but sometimes it is so emotionally exhausting that I vow to never sign on to Facebook again because the posts are too painful and often confusing to read. 

Obviously, this vow is broken each time, usually within minutes, because part of my unwinding at the end of my day includes a little {or a lot} of Facebook reading. 

I remember when Ferguson was all over the news and I didn't quite understand what was happening. I had friends who were standing up for the police and other friends who were standing up for the community members of Ferguson. Each post seemed to contradict the next but each post seemed to have something in common---a pleading for others to UNDERSTAND the pain on their side. 

As I was reading, I wanted to connect all of these opinionated articles and posts and show everyone that they were fighting for the same thing---for love, unity, equality, compassion. 

They wanted their loved ones and people of their same gender/race/religion to be accepted AS IS. 

After Ferguson (and honestly, before Ferguson), it didn't end. It seems that weekly, sometimes daily, there is a story I see posted on Facebook about conflicts that have risen and been pinned to a person's gender/race/religion/sexual orientation. 

And I want to fight with you---with all of you---to protect the people you love so dearly. I want to hear your side and listen intently as you tell your story of why you believe what you do. 

I want to hear about your daughter who is biracial and your fears about her being accepted when it seems that racial profiling is so prevalent in the media. 

I want to hear about how your husband is a police officer and you fear him being killed as he tries to protect our citizens. 

I want to hear about your son who is homosexual and your fears about him being accepted and loved by his peers. 

I want to hear about the abuse you have endured and how you fight for women's rights because your voice was stifled when you were younger. 

Because each one of your stories are real. Each one is fighting for love in it's own way. 

But, you guys, I want so badly to live in a world where we are fighting together. 

I want to live in a world where unity means we love no matter what---we love because we are all human beings and we are all worthy of acceptance and equality. 

I want us all to take a step back---think about the things you are posting online. Think about the people on the other side and try to see it from their perspective. 

I know you're hurting---but so are they. 

As I laid down in my bed last night and my head was spinning from the conflict surrounding some religious decisions that have confused me so much this week, I wanted so badly to connect people, to remind them to look at the situation through the eyes of the other side. 

People have every right to be hurt.

And people have every right to stand up for their religious beliefs. 

Both of these emotions and opinions and actions are valid and real. Each means something so sacred to the person who believes them. Each is intertwined with heaps of love for that person's people and for their beliefs. 

I'm sure there are so many things that I do in my life that people wouldn't agree with or understand. But honestly, this has nothing to do with how I'm living my life---it just has to do with the fact that I am living a life. 

Because no matter what we do, there will be people who see things differently. 

And that is ok. 

In many cases, it is beautiful. 

We can learn so much from people who see things differently than us. 

And for me, that is what this life is all about. 

It is about honoring my own beliefs, as different as they might be from yours. 

It is about loving you regardless and practicing that love and acceptance the same way Christ showed us when He was on this earth. 

It is about learning from you and you learning from me. 

It is about compassion and empathy for others and validating their pain even if we don't understand it---because even if we don't understand it, that doesn't make it any less real. 

Life is so much more than taking sides and fighting against each other. There is so much more we can do with our opinions and beliefs. 

There is so much we can teach when we start with love and compassion. 

I'm ok with living a life that's different than yours. 

I want you to be happy, to be proud of the life you are building. And if you are, I will stand behind you. And if you're not, I will be here to help you change in whatever way you'd like. 

Your feelings are valid---just as mine are---and my hope is that someday we can all fight on the same side.

To love each other more. 

To learn from each other more. 

To help each other more. 

Two Years Later

August 23rd, 2013:
I lived a seemingly normal life as a stay-at-home mother. I had been married for 6.5 years. I was happy.

I had no idea.

No idea.

And although I tell myself I wish I would have had an idea of what was coming, the truth is that I don't.
Because if God had come and told me what I would go through over the next two years, I would've given up. I seriously would've thrown in the towel and said, "I can't handle those hard things. I'm already drowning from this infertility mess and trying to figure out my marriage."

I would've told Him I can't do this hard thing He knew I was going to do.

But because I didn't know, I didn't give up.

On August 24th, 2013, I woke up on a seemingly cheery Saturday and spent the morning with my children. I awaited my husband's arrival from work at lunch time. And when he didn't come home, I knew.

I knew.

And there were no signs other than the Spirit telling me.
I think that's why, although I've wanted to many times over the past two years, I haven't given up on God. I can never discount His presence because He is real. I don't doubt that He is real.

I've broken down about this anniversary twice this weekend, each time with different people. My therapist would say that's a healthy thing---crying in front of people and letting my feelings out---and I think I agree with her. I feel like the vulnerability of sharing this anniversary with others is healing for me. It's not something I do because I am living in the past but because this is a part of me. It always will be. It shapes an essential part of who I am and why I treat others the way that I do.

As I was speaking with my friend, she asked me where I am in the healing process and I realized I could honestly answer that divorce does not run my life. I am healing. I fight my eating disorder. I feel empathy for myself. I feel empathy for my ex-husband.

It isn't perfection. I am not great at being an ex-wife. It's hard work, friends. It really is. But it works out each and every time.

I lost myself as I was going through divorce. I lost faith in myself, love for myself, and I was not nice to myself.
As I was gaining compassion for others, I didn't leave any for myself.

I was breathing but I wasn't living. And there are still days that I don't fully live. There are still hard days where I look at the clock and two hours has gone by and I'm on the couch eating chips and watching television.

I thought I had found my eternity but I hadn't. And although there is nothing I can do about that decision that I did not make, there are still times where it really hurts, where my healing seems back at the beginning.

But I guess the way that I can tell I am healing is that I stand up for myself more now. I fight against the lies in my own head that tell me I'm not good enough. I fight for my children and my friendships and my family. I know the kind of person I want to be and I try my damndest to be her.

I am starting to remember who I was when I was a little girl, long before the world told me who I should be. I am starting to remember how much compassion and love God gave me before I even knew what compassion meant.

And I love her. I love that little girl.

I am her.

This is hard stuff. It has been an extremely emotional weekend because I'm crazy and my mind says, "Two years ago, at this particular time, you were spending time with your husband on a Friday night." "Two years ago, tomorrow, he told you he didn't love you." "Two years ago, you had no idea what was coming and you shattered."

Two years ago, I was left to tell my children why their dad wasn't home yet---and they were angry at me. They were so angry because they didn't understand.

Two years ago, they changed. They had to grow up faster than they should have and it wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair that I had to tell them alone or that they had to split their parenting time. None of it was fair.

But it happened and I am so proud to be the mama of those strong warriors who lifted me up when my world crashed. I am so proud to have seen the ugliest times and the most beautiful times with them these past two years. They have worked hard to heal and they are amazing children.

We stick together. These kids are my buddies and they always will be. My children are the most important thing in the world to me.

Two years sounds like a long time. Sometimes it feels like it's been longer and sometimes it hits me like it was yesterday.

I am proud of where we are as a family. I am proud of who I am.

Although I still struggle and life feels so scary most of the time, I am not giving up. I am not going to let the ugliness of the past two years become me---because there has been beauty too. So. Much. Beauty. So many nights where my kids are snuggled up in my bed and I wonder how God could've given me such amazing children. So many days where my children speak with love and understanding for the heartache of their friends or family members. So many times where Andersen opens my car door or rubs my back "because that is what gentlemens do for their ladies".

They are wise beyond their years and I often stare at them and wonder how they got that way---and then I realize that I am that way.
I am compassionate and loving. I am empathetic. I would find a way to help a struggling friend on the busiest days of my life.
I would.

And it is in these times of realization that I am more fully aware of the love my God has for me because I am His daughter. I am His and He won't ever leave me.

I am lovely not because of the clothes I wear or the make up on my face but for the way that I act and the person that I am on the inside.

These aren't easy things to say. They aren't things I always believe. These are certainly things my eating disorder tells me are lies.
But they are truths.

I am worthy and good and lovely.

And on this day where I painfully remember the trauma that started two years ago, I am reminded that I am a warrior and I have done so many hard things. Among the negativity, love has still won.
Love will always win.

Worthy and Good and a lot bit Crazy

Sometimes I go to therapy.

If you think that's a weird thing to admit, then I think you're weird for thinking that it's a weird thing for me to admit...so...booyah.
As an aspiring therapist, I'm pretty comfortable talking about the fact that sometimes I talk about my life with a therapist---actually not just "a therapist", my therapist.

Anyway, shall I move on with the point? Any day now, Suzanne.

I was working through some crap this week that's been bothering me and I've had a few realizations.
I struggle a lot {alot-alot} believing that I am a good person. Like a genuinely, deep-down, rooted firm within myself good person. I believe this is something I've always struggled with partly because of the way I was raised (Hi, mom and dad---love you both forever and ever) and partly because of the uniquely crazy individual that I am. I tend to look at every decision I make and pinpoint the greed within the motive. And when I make mistakes---oh my goodness, they get blown way out of proportion.

I only know this because a particular lady that I pay to counsel with me told me so.
And she's always right. Because if she was wrong, why would I pay her?

It's hard for me to feel like I'm blowing my mistakes out of proportion when I put so much negative focus on them.

So it's not all black and it's not all white. We are all sorts of grays.

When I make mistakes, I categorize myself in the darkest of the grays. I have a hard time seeing my goodness. All of my other mistakes come into clear focus and everything else just looks like a fuzzy mess.

There are blips in my life where I can remember being an intensely confident woman but this doesn't usually last long periods of time. For the most part, I'm questioning myself and trying to counteract all of my imperfections with smiles, a cheerful attitude, and any little acts of service I can get my hands on.

It's weird---making myself crazy to try and prove to myself that I'm a good person. Lately I've wondered what in the heck the point of this is.
I either need to believe it or not believe it.

So I'm choosing this week to believe it. 

Obviously, this can't mean I've been perfect---I haven't---but it means that when I make mistakes, I brush them off and focus on the good. I focus more on what's inside than on my outward choices.

I know who I am. I know who I'm striving to be. That should count for a great deal of "who is Suzanne" and I don't know why I haven't allowed it to play a bigger role than it has.

But this week, I am. This week, I am being brave. I am not over-thinking my friendships or obsessing over what people think of me. I am not putting myself down or thinking the worst.

This is hard for me. Because I have compulsive thoughts a lot and I often feel like they define who I am.

Because good people can't have bad thoughts.

But that just isn't true.

The lady that I pay told me so...and she's always right.

So while I'm soul-searching and trying to gain confidence on my own, I'm choosing to believe her.

In the meantime, you can shake your head at my redundancy. I know I've talked about all of this before and the truth is, I'll probably talk about it again.

We all have our crap---today this is mine.

Put Your Brave Pants On

I've been thinking about bravery and heroism lately. As I've struggled to crawl out of the hole I fell into, I've had to learn a few things about what bravery really means to me.

I've struggled a lot with the fear of abandonment. I've never had an explanation that makes sense in my mind because this is something I feared long before divorce.

Because of this, I'm often paranoid that the people in my life will leave me.

So for me, making friends is really brave. Even just meeting new people is really brave.

Being authentic and vulnerable is extremely brave.

But every day, I try. I go out into the world, most of the time with a big smile, and I try to make sure I'm making the world brighter. And when I can't make the world brighter, I at least try not to make it any darker.

Bravery is about trying. It is about getting up each day and deciding to do things that aren't always comfortable. It is breaking out of the square box we would normally live in.

Bravery is showing the world it can't break you. It is waking up with a smile when everyone expects you to fall apart. It is trusting your heart and believing in yourself.

Because as much as we want to believe others will pick us up, sometimes the best thing for them is walking away. And I'm not here to determine whether that choice is right or wrong because it's different for everyone.

So you have to learn to save yourself.

Be your own hero. 

Believe in who you are.

This is one of my greatest parenting goals. Teaching bravery to children is an every day, every minute task. Most of the things my kids experience are new to them and often times, they look to me for reassurance. Each day, I try to emphasize the importance of putting our "brave pants" on and trying our best.

This ranges from trying new foods to attending school to giving a talk in primary and sometimes it even means dancing in front of hundreds of people.

My kids do brave things every day. 

Princess struggles with this the most. She isn't as outgoing as Ninja and she often clings to my leg in new situations.

I remember the day she started kindergarten. I remember walking away as she cried and tried to run after me. I remember feeling like the worst mom in the world, even though I knew that brave moment would help shape her into the girl she is today.

That moment taught me a lot about my own life. Because more than once in my life I've watched people walk away and I've cried and wanted to run after them---but in my heart, I knew the best decision would be to stay put and put my faith in myself.

And the first few times, I was lost for a long time and couldn't find my way back. But the more I choose bravery, the stronger I become. The more I fight for myself, the happier I am. The more I trust myself, the healthier my self-confidence becomes.

I think God knew this. I think He needed to push me over the edge so I would find myself. I told Him over and over and OVER that He was giving me too much to handle but the thing is, He didn't. I found my way. In fact, I pushed further ahead than I've ever gone.

I've started reading my scriptures and praying and spending more quality time with my kids. I've started reciting positive affirmations in front of my mirror to remind myself every day that I DO HARD THINGS. 

Whether I wanted to or not, God gave me this particular life because I am supposed to be this particular person. And as the Suzanne that I currently am, I can sit here and tell you that I am just as worthy as anyone else. I am worthy of life and love and happiness.

And happiness doesn't need to include a husband or more children or a million friends or a ton of money---happiness is an inside job. It is something I get to create within myself. It is something I get to share with the people around me.

I am extremely lucky to be Suzanne. Often times, I've wished to be someone else but this person that I am is pretty cool. The empathy and patience and optimism that God blessed me with is something I wouldn't trade for a million dollars.

I am not breakable because I am a daughter of God and I know He will always pull me through---whether that means dragging me by my toes or walking with a hand on my shoulder, He won't ever leave me.

I am brave. You are brave.

Life is brave. 

Days Like Today

 Oh today.

Today felt amazing.

Strong. Happy. Peaceful. Capable. Hilarious.

The only bumps in today consisted of two separate whining sessions from my favorite 6 year old---and both of them ended in giggles and huge belly laughs. In fact, I even saw some tears in her eyes.

It felt like freedom. Freedom from anxiety. Freedom from heartache. Freedom from the millions of worries that often plague my mind.

We woke up on time. Nobody complained about what I made them for breakfast. I got my girly off to school and my son to my sister's house and I headed to school.

School was awesome today. I spoke up about my eating disorder in Sociology. I rocked the hell outta my Geology lab. I understood every single thing in math class.

After school pick-up ran smoothly. I had some extra time to talk to Princess' teacher and I was reassured of her love for my daughter. We stopped at Chik-Fil-A for a snack and I let P do her homework there---and she finished it in less than 10 minutes.

No complaints. No whining. Just family life.

 We dropped P off at dance and came home for some quiet time. Ninja had earned Kindle time and I fell asleep on the couch for a few minutes.

Any time a worry would come into my mind, I was able to shut it down with logic and patience.
You guys, I was patient with myself!

We ate dinner as a family. We read books together. The kid took turns showering and bedtime was a breeze.

And now I'm sitting in bed thinking, "Was today real?". At first, I wasn't sure. I wasn't sure it was possible to have a day that could run this smoothly.

But I decided that today was my gift from God.

He knows me. He loves me.

I am worthy of days like today. 

Warri()r

 I wanted to come here and tell you how stupid life is and how much life sucks. I wanted to complain and be angry.

But throughout the week, God has taken my anger and taught me with it. He has given me peace and hope when I really didn't deserve it from Him. And I feel humbled.
I was angry at God for a life that seems to flourish in trials. I was angry that He would allow so much in just a span of three years.

I've been told that publicly declaring that I can do hard things seems like an invitation to God but I didn't agree. Doing hard things and wanting to do hard things are two different things. Just because I do them doesn't mean I want to do them.

But I started learning this week. I started listening to my heart more instead of letting my anxiety control my thoughts. Something changed in me this week. I thought my insecurities had snapped me in half but what really happened is that I got so damn sick and tired of fear ruining me that I started to trust myself. I started to find confidence. I started to love myself and recognize some of the really amazing things I've done throughout the years. I started to hear truths about myself that I've never been able to believe before.

I started focusing on the most important thing...family. I am fighting. For the first time in a long time, this feels like real fighting.

Like warrior fighting.

Because although I've lived through a lot and have done some really hard things, I think most of the time I've fought for others, most specifically for my kids.

But today, this fight isn't even about them. This fight against Satan is about me. It is a fight I am going to win because Satan knows who I am and that scares him. He hates me. He wants me to fail and be miserable.

In the LDS hymn, We Thank Thee Oh God For A Prophet, it states, "When dark clouds of trouble hang o'er us and threaten our peace to destroy, there is hope smiling brightly before us."

There is hope smiling brightly before us. 

Dark clouds come from Satan. Hope comes from God. 

This week was a turning point in my life. As much as I don't like being refined through trials, I have been given so many opportunities to learn. I have been given so many opportunities to be stronger. In a spiritual body building contest, my strength would take me to the very top.

I don't have much doubt in myself today. And although I can't promise it will always be that way, today I have confidence in my character and my ability to make my life amazing.

I started out the week so angry at God for all of the things in my life but today, I am humbled that He has brought some of the miracles I've been praying for. They just didn't come in the exact way I had requested them. Instead of erasing some of my trials, God gave me a trust in myself that I have never felt before. He gave me the ability to discern truth, to have empathy, to function as a mother, to come closer to my family members and many of my friends.

It is because of my God that I am the warrior that I am. None of this would be possible without Him and today, my anger has been softened. My heart has opened up and I have seen how much I have to offer the world.

On April 1st (ironically), I made a decision that some have been excited about while others haven't quite understood. But it is a decision I felt was right for me.

In fact, I have not felt a single ounce of regret since that night.

Now as I look down at the feet that I plant on the ground each day to fight a new war, whether big or small, I am reminded that I am a warrior. No matter what comes my way, I will continue to fight. I will do it for my kids, for my family, and for my friends.
But most importantly, I will do it for myself. 

I am worth it. As I stare at the eating disorder symbol that represents the "o" on my foot, I am reminded that no matter what I look like or how much I weigh, my God believes in me and I can believe in myself.

As I've tried to listen to General Conference through the fights and mishaps with my wonderful children, I caught a quote from Elder Bednar's talk on fear. He said, "Godly fear dispels mortal fears. It even subdues the haunting concerns that we can never be good enough. In truth, we cannot be good enough relying solely on our own capacity and performance. After all we can do, we are made whole only through the mercy and grace through the Savior’s infinite and atoning sacrifice." 

This spoke to my soul as I've struggled with feeling "good enough" for most of my life. 
I have realized that my measurements of 'enough' have never included the atoning sacrifice that my Savior paid for me. He makes up the difference when I fall short. I will always be enough in His eyes because I am a daughter of my Heavenly Father and He loves me. 

If ever there was advice to give that I hoped people would listen to, it would be that you are already enough. You are already loved by God. You don't have to prove anything to anyone because God knows who you are and He loves you as His child. 

Believe in yourself. Be kind and have courage. Get out of bed and find gratitude in the little things. There is so much power in gratitude. You and I have so much power over how we live our lives. 

Purple Everything

 It was a crazy week.

Every day, my Facebook notifications were 20+. I tried to scroll through all of them but once in a while, I'd miss one and see it later.

Purple.

Purple everywhere.

Purple shoes, purple nails, purple cups, purple hair, purple clothes...people were posting purple and sharing it on Facebook to honor National Eating Disorder Week.

It was beautiful. And scary. And overwhelming.

I'd like to tell you that the week was easy for me, that I didn't have to fight my eating disorder because of the recognizable love and support. But it wasn't easier. In fact, it was harder. I felt unworthy of the love. I felt worried that my story being shared over and over would land me in a place where no one would want to be my friend.

But it isn't true. That was ed talking.

My warrior friend, Tc, started this all. I remember when I first read her story and saw that she was asking people to wear purple for eating disorder awareness and then send her the pictures. I wore purple that Wednesday...silently...because I had yet to meet this friend in person and I was nervous.

I wasn't yet ready to open up about the severity of my struggles.

But I cannot believe what this year has done for me. I cannot believe what Tice has done for me.

Seeing all of the purple this week was powerful. Some of my coworkers wore purple on Wednesday and I had to hold back tears. It really touched my heart to see the support.

 On Wednesday, I decided it was time to put some wild color in my hair again and obviously I chose purple. I love it so much and am so happy I did it.

All week, friends were tagging me in their purple photos. These are just a few of them...

 And every day as I struggled to feel worthy of this love, I was able to keep going as I would stare at these pictures.

Saturday came and I was getting super excited for the National Eating Disorder Awareness walk the next morning. Last minute, I decided to make shirts for everyone we were walking with (15 of us total) so I stayed up late and painted NEDA WALK 2015 on all of them and on the back of each, I wrote "I walk for..." and filled in the blank with a personal message on everyone's shirts. Tc's family did the walk with us and I made each of them a shirt that said, "I walk for my (daughter, sister, aunt, mom, wife, etc)."

 As I walked behind my beautiful children and read the messages on their shirt, I was overwhelmed with gratitude for the beauty of my life. We had talked ahead of time and I had explained a little bit of why we were doing this walk. Both of my children were proud to do it for their mom.

 Princess had a blast pushing the jogging stroller most of the walk.

 Tc and I had different shirts than everyone. Mine said, "I walk because I have worth" and hers said, "I walk because I am a warrior". We did this walk for ourselves. We also did it for others who have or are struggling with an eating disorder.

 Even the baby got NEDA pants. I painted NEDA on the bum and the front knees said NEDA 2015. Everyone loved her pants and she looked adorable.

 Not only did I walk for myself, I walked to teach my children a little about eating disorders and how real and scary they can be. I had the opportunity to have so many talks with them this week on body image and loving ourselves.

 I am so proud of them for taking that journey with me and being so willing to walk for their mom.

 If you didn't know, Princess and I are pretty similar in personality. :)

 Princess and Bella are two of my favorite girls in the whole world. I love both of them so much. Bella is Tc's daughter and it was so fun for these girls to be able to walk with each other.

 They are both brave warriors.

It was an incredible time and as we drove away from the Phoenix zoo, my daughter said, "Mom, can we please do that walk again next year? I loved it." And the answer to that question is yes.

We will do that walk every year we are able because it is personal. I have fought and continue to fight my eating disorder. It might seem like it isn't that big deal. Maybe it seems like I'm doing ok because I'm not a size 0 and my bones aren't sticking out---but eating disorders come in all shapes and sizes. This is real for me and I hope and pray I will be able to teach my kids to honor and love their bodies, no matter the size of their clothing or the blemishes on their skin.

National Eating Disorder Awareness Week 2015

  I am a survivor.

Every day, I am a survivor.

I am a survivor of my eating disorder.

Not every day is easy. In fact, most days are really hard. I have to fight the lies in my head all of the time.

 They tell me I'm not good enough. They tell me not to eat or to purge after I eat. They tell me I will never be loved if I'm not skinnier.

They tell me lies.

 For NEDA week, I will be wearing something purple every single day. This fight is so close to me. A year ago, for the very first time, I opened up about my past struggles and how they've affected my current struggles.
A year ago, I was dying. I was killing myself physically and mentally. Every day was consumed by the numbers on my scale.
But the numbers didn't actually make a difference. If they had gone up, I would continue on with my eating disorder habits. If they had gone down, I would feel proud that I was making progress and I would continue on with my eating disorder habits.

Recovery was something I feared. I didn't want it. Because to me, recovery meant weight gain and weight gain meant worthlessness and worthlessness meant loneliness. There was hardly ever hope during that time.

I put myself through nine months of hell. I take full ownership of all of my decisions. I can remember when I started the divorce paperwork that my decision to stop fighting my eating disorder was conscious. I felt trapped and I believed that control would feel so good.

But that conscious choice turned into an addiction and that control I had felt at first disappeared and in it's place, I found myself bound by something much more powerful than I thought possible.

I was hanging on, telling myself I was invincible to the death my friends were claiming would become my reality. I couldn't possibly die.

And the thing is, I didn't die. {obviously...} Oh how grateful I am to be alive and healthier than I was a year ago.

It was on a late Saturday evening a little less than a year ago that I knew this had to stop. I was staring at the grey walls in my family room filled with pictures and memories. I had failed a class and barely passed the others. I had disconnected from my friends and family. I had passed out on multiple occasions. I had stopped my counseling appointments. I was done creating more messes.

So I grabbed my scale and I walked out the back door...

 and I smashed it over and over with a hammer. And when the hammer didn't do the job well enough, I grabbed a shovel and finished it up. I couldn't take it anymore. In that moment, I didn't want to weigh myself ever again in my life! Because at the time, I was weighing myself upwards of 8 times a day. It was ridiculous.

As I said goodbye to the piece of plastic that had given me such a sense of security, all the while entrapping me into believing that my worth equates to a number, I was so afraid of the recovery process. I didn't think I could stop.

It took a while. It wasn't easy at all. I was a mess for a while as I tried to figure out how to eat like a semi-normal person. I made goals and charts and tried to conquer each week, day, hour, or even minute at a time. I wrote positive affirmations on my mirrors and started giving myself personal pep talks in the mirror.

I could do this. I WAS doing this.

It was hard to notice the weight gain. It's still really hard. And I'm actually not in recovery yet. My physical actions have changed immensely but the voice in my head hasn't. My beliefs haven't.
But I'm working on that. I'm working on exchanging what I once believed to be truths and exchanging them for real truths.

The real truth is that I am a worthy human being. I am capable of greatness. Any man in this world would be lucky to have me. I am an incredibly person. I am smart. I am compassionate. I have so many qualities that make me amazing.
And my body is already beautiful. My body has given me two beautiful children. My body has danced and tumbled and can still do some pretty cool stuff. My body gets me where I need to go.

I have worth because I am me. 

***********************************************************************

Did you know?

 We are all fighters. 

Whether this is your personal fight or not, will you join me in wearing purple this next Wednesday to celebrate life and love? To make others aware of the seriousness of eating disorders? To help the ones who are struggling know that they are not alone?

There are so many reasons to join me.

If you do decide to wear purple on Wednesday {or another day this week}, will you send me a picture? My friend, Letice, is making a video collage for NEDA week and is going to use all of the pictures.

 Everybody knows somebody. 

This fight is real and it is scary. Please remember that your worth is not determined by your physical appearance. You will always have worth. No one and nothing can take that away from you.

And with that, I leave you with a beautiful poem I read today that gave me goosebumps.

“eat, baby.
eat.
chew.
please.
I know it hurts. I know it doesn’t feel good.
please.
I know your hunger is different than mine.
I know it doesn’t taste the same as mine.
imagine you could grow up all over again
and pinpoint the millisecond that you started
counting calories like casualties of war,
mourning each one like it had a family.
would you?
sometimes I wonder that.
sometimes I wonder if you would go back
and watch yourself reappear and disappear right in front of your own eyes.
and I love you so much.
I am going to hold your little hand through the night.
just please eat. just a little.
you wrote a poem once,
about a city of walking skeletons.
the teacher called home because you
told her you wished it could be like that
here.
let me tell you something about bones, baby.
they are not warm or soft.
the wind whistles through them like they are
holes in a tree.
and they break, too. they break right in half.
they bruise and splinter like wood.
are you hungry?
I know. I know how much you hate that question.
I will find another way to ask it, someday.
please.
the voices.
I know they are all yelling at you to stretch yourself thinner.
l hear them counting, always counting.
I wish I had been there when the world made you
snap yourself in half.
I would have told you that your body is not a war-zone,
that, sometimes,
it is okay to leave your plate empty.” 
― Caitlyn Siehl

Worthy

 I'm trying.

I'm trying to remember who I was as a carefree little girl who didn't have a clue that I'd someday equate my worthiness to my weight, to my marriage, to my whole outward appearance.

Sometimes I try to dig deep and remember her but often times, I find it impossible.
She seems impossible.
Did she really even exist?

I've thought so much about all of the events in my life and how they've shaped me, good and bad.
There is a lot of bad, friends. 
Because the world told me that unless I was skinny, I wasn't pretty. The world told me that without money, I would never be happy. The world told me that unless I had a boyfriend or a husband, I must not be good enough.
This didn't come from one source. It seemed to come from every corner I would turn. Magazines. Commercials. Movies. Even the Disney shows I watched seemed to be telling me my best plan for happiness was to be skinny and always have a boy to love me.
I believed those things. 
Hell, I still believe those things...

I remember in high school, I liked this boy. We were in marching band together and during football season, we would spend hours on Friday nights together, either on a bus or in the band room. I would think about it all week and hope that this was the week---the week he would cuddle with me or kiss me or something! I just wanted him to show me my worth! I wanted him to prove to me that I was beautiful!

It never happened.
Instead, he dated my best friend and I got to watch from the sidelines, as my heart felt like shattering.

This was my real life in high school. Not very many other things mattered. I didn't really care about my school work---I just wanted to feel loved. I was searching for worthiness. And might I add, I was searching for worthiness in all of the wrong places.

I wasted so much of my high school experience, waiting for someone to love me---never realizing that the most important thing would be loving myself.

I never found my worthiness in high school. I don't even know if I can say I found my worthiness after high school.
In fact, I think I can confidently say that I didn't find my worthiness after high school.
I got married, had two babies, became a stay-at-home-mom, and suddenly, I found myself divorced.

Divorced. Overweight. Worthless.

I think I had convinced myself that I knew my worth when I was married. But the thing is, I was married---I had a man who automatically proved my worthiness---and when that was over, I found myself struggling all over again---and even more-so since the rejection hurt so much worse this time.

I don't think I've ever really taken the time to think about my worth as an individual daughter of God. I've seen glimpses but I don't know if I've ever had the opportunity to really grasp it before.

A part of me finds this concept to be foreign and highly unreachable. But then there is the part of me filled with faith and hope, yearning to feel as loved as my God intended me to be.

I don't quite know where to start, to begin this healing journey of my worth. I feel like I've taken so many different roads and each one of them has taught me something but I still doubt. I'm still so afraid that without marriage and weight loss, I won't be able to reach my full potential as the woman I want to be. I still feel somewhat worthless and abandoned and fearful of the future. I still question whether the people who say they love me really do---or whether they're just in my life because they feel sorry for me.

I'm at a point in my journey where I'm confused and as much as I hate being confused, I think this is where I'm supposed to be. I think I'm going to let myself stay confused until I can learn in my own time what my individual worth is.

I think it's ok that I don't have all the answers right now.

They'll come when I'm ready for them.

In the meantime, I'm going to hold on.

I'm going to try not to freak out over how busy life is and how much time I lose every day with my kids and my friends.
I'm going to continue on in school and get myself one step closer to my end goals.

And I'm going to try to love my life as much as possible. Whatever that looks like to me.
Some days, it might be only five minutes and other days, it'll last hours.
But I'm going to enjoy the moments where I'm not anxious and scared and angry.

I'm going to try to be authentic to myself.

Messy Transitions

Four days in.

This year has been a whirlwind already.

I spent the night before New Years in the hospital with some ovarian cyst problems. The next day, I worked a full day and spent the night at Brian Reagan with my family. On January 1st, I started cleaning and purging things we don't use and organizing the things we have.
These past four days I have organized room after room after room in my house.

Two of our bunnies have passed away. One on Dec. 29th and one on Jan. 1st. Princess Seal is still going strong and spends her nights in the kitchen so she doesn't freeze.

The kids were gone for 5 whole days. I spent most of that time working and cleaning but I was able to squeeze some friend time in there too.

I spent eight hours of my Saturday at traffic school due to a red light ticket. Am I the only one who didn't know that if you get a red light ticket and you pay the ticket, you STILL have to pay for and attend traffic school? So $400 later, here we are. Here. We. Freaking. Are.

I just got my kids back last night and today, our ward made an announcement that the boundaries would be reassigned.

I get it. I'm dramatic. I recognize that. I was immediately worried because I don't live on the same side of the neighborhood as my best friend and geologically, it seemed like we might be split right down the middle.

We weren't.

Instead, our ward was made even bigger and we now have a whole new subdivision of people to love.

That news was very welcome because I just wasn't sure how I was going to reign in my emotions if I was thrown into a new ward right now.

I get that I'm not always going to be here. I'm even ok with that. But right now, as I struggle to belong and find who I am within my Mormon roots, I am grateful for the friends at my side who are patient with me, who call me if I'm not at church and ask about me, who sit by me and have helped me through this year of messy transitions.

Because that's exactly what this is.

It isn't that I don't have a testimony. I do. It isn't that I don't like my ward. I do. It isn't even that other people make me feel secluded. They certainly don't. This is just a part of the grief and trauma I'm working through right now. I haven't decided what I want. I get confused a lot. I worry about what my future should look like and whether I'm doing everything the right way. I struggle without the Priesthood in my home. I find myself avoiding prayer. My safety net is the other 2 people I share my home with, my children. I often feel like we should just never leave our house to go into the world because it feels so uncertain.

But I don't want fear to run my life. I want to find peace. I want to understand the lessons in church. I want to be able to apply them. I want Sundays to be an exciting day for our family.

Right now, they aren't, and I'm trying to be gentle and patient with myself, instead of shaming myself.

Right now, it's ok that Sundays aren't my favorite. Sundays have been hard for over 2 years. Sundays have been a day I used to dread, as I toted my young toddlers to church by myself. At that time, I felt all alone. I remember how scary it was to be by myself and look out at the congregation and not feel like anybody understood.

It's different now. My ward is my second home. It is a place filled with people I love. Sundays aren't easy but they are easier.

I think the reason it's been such a messy transition lately has a lot to do with life calming down. I know---confusing. When life was crazy and I was hyper-focused on just making it through each day, I didn't have time to worry about church. We just went. But now that I'm getting used to being a single mom, life started to shift and in plain view were my fears about church. My fears of being single at church.

It feels like it's been a lifetime since I've had a partner to help wrangle the kids at church. I look around and see the majority of the families around me, a mom and a dad, both working together to keep their kids quiet. I can't remember what that feels like. I don't want to say that it's easy for them because I know it isn't. Kids and church are a hard combination. But it often hurts my heart to feel a loneliness that nobody at church can fill.

I'm tired of being alone.

Loneliness is an exhausting feeling.

It's hard to find my place during this messy transition that I'm in. I know I'll eventually find it. I know I'll eventually push my way to the top of this mountain and see the valley on the other side.

As I knelt down to pray last night, for the first time in a while, I had a long conversation with God about how shaky everything feels right now. It has been such a beautifully messy year and I want to understand it all.

People say there must be something better out there for me. Some days, I believe them and other days, I don't.

I have faith in my Heavenly Father's ability to help me. He has done it many times. Although these busy days have left me confused and sometimes anxious, I have given myself one goal to build my relationship with my Heavenly Father. One simple goal to pray once a day.

I don't care if it seems small or if people don't quite understand my struggle. That's ok. I don't even quite understand my struggle. But I am trying. I am pushing forward through this mess because I am worth fighting for.

I am precious to my God.