Achingly, Beautifully Hard

Sometimes even when life seems easy, it still feels hard.

Achingly, beautifully hard. 

And I used to think that during these times, I was supposed to fight the feelings and pretend that it didn't feel hard.

I now know that that is not the case---I am allowed to feel like life is hard, like it is a never-ending case of bad news and failure.
I am allowed to see the darkness and acknowledge that there are some pretty rotten things in our world.

It is ok to recognize the bad and label it as such.

But recognizing the bad doesn't mean we forget about the good. It doesn't mean that hope is nonexistent.

So today feels bad. It feels like a day I am not strong enough to get through. It feels like a day where everyone is laughing at me behind my back and wondering why I'm making such a fool of myself.

It feels hopeless. 

But somewhere inside of me, there is a glimmer of fragile hope, a reminder that this day isn't the only day of my life.

Twenty-six months of being on my own---stressing about dating---realizing I can't change other people---changing a lot of things about myself.
I couldn't have looked back to twenty-six months ago and seen what I am currently seeing. I couldn't have even guessed the questions and the faith changes and the solidifying peace mixed with sheer terror.

Peace and terror. 

Many people have told me these things can't go hand in hand. They've told me that if I'm questioning my faith and feeling anxious or doubtful, I am not following God. I understand why you would think that but if only in my case alone, I know that isn't the truth.

Truth and fear can co-exist. 

Because quite honestly, either way I go, there are fears. Either path I choose, there will be feelings of anxiety.

I am finding myself and today, that sounds heavy and way too hard.
It surely doesn't sound fun.
It most assuredly isn't something I picked.
But it is something I am doing for me.

I got another year older last week and I have a good feeling about this year. I have a feeling that I am capable of enduring the dark days and basking in the glow of the sunny days.

It isn't a bad life---just a bad day.
And today, that is ok with me. I am grateful for days like today because they remind me that I am a warrior. I am a woman who loves deeply and aches deeply. I am a fighter who is capable of seeing the good even on the worst of days.

I can do hard things---and I will.

Should I Stay?

 Sometimes I look at the views on my blog posts and I'm stunned that 100 of you (and often times more) read my words.

My words. 

I feel blessed that you'd even want to go on this journey with me, through the ups and downs of my chaotic life.
Sometimes it feels weird, blogging openly about my life, but I'd be doing it even if you weren't reading. I'd be sitting at this same chair, typing these same words, even if no one read them.

A part of me feels like they are for you but I know they're really for me, for my healing and sanity in the midst of all the crazy.

I wanted to touch on a subject that I've written about many times---probably more times than most people are comfortable with.

I've had a lot of people over the past two years tell me the bits and pieces of their story and then ask if I think they should stay or go.

Each time this happens, the answer is the same:

I cannot answer that.

Or maybe it is that I will not answer it.
I guess I could very easily tell someone that their marriage sounds like a train wreck and that they should move out and file divorce paperwork.

But that is not my advice to give. In fact, that is nobody's advice to give---except maybe a licensed professional. Maybe.

Maybe I feel so strongly about this because I got opposing advice after my husband left me.
You should file. You should fight for him. You should_______fill in the blank_______. 

And although maybe it should've helped, all it did was confuse me more. Because I wanted to please everyone and take their advice but I couldn't make both opposing decisions.

The truth is that the decision was only mine to make. It wasn't anybody else's---except for my husband's. {duh}
The people who were telling me to fight for him---they weren't there for the nights I cried myself to sleep, wondering what was wrong with me and why I felt the uneasiness that I did.
The people who were telling me to file for divorce---they didn't witness the times my husband supported me and I saw glimpses of a happy future together.

Nobody knew the full story. Nobody knew what I was feeling inside or what answers God had given me.

Nobody felt the pain that I felt or the anxiety that stopped me in my tracks on countless occasions. Nobody saw how truly scared I was that my life was over.

And really, nobody knew how deeply it hurt to feel so abandoned by the person who had promised me eternity. Nobody could see the turmoil that churned inside of me as I put my brave face on each day.

They couldn't have. I never expected them to.

But because they didn't have the knowledge that I had, nobody could make that scary decision for me.

Because of so many personal experiences, I know that I cannot decide whether you should go or stay. I know that I cannot tell you that my story is similar enough to yours that you should mirror my decisions.

No two stories are alike because no two people are alike.

Your heart may want to stay and if it does, you'd have my blessing.
Your heart may want to run away and if it does, you'd have my blessing.

Both choices are brave. 

One does not make you weak while the other makes you strong.

I've been told many times that I'm brave for being a single mom {not that I really had a choice} and I am. I am brave to be raising my kids the majority of the time and going to school and working.
But I've seen women who stay, who fight for their marriage and learn how to trust when they didn't think they could ever trust again and to me, that is equally as brave.

Either one might will most likely cause you to break for a while. 

But as surely as I know that the sun will rise again tomorrow, I know that you won't break forever. I know that you are capable of carrying on with or without a spouse by your side.

If you have children, your decision might be messier but I know that children can be ok. They can heal.
It might take extra late nights or therapy or them spewing their hurt and anger at you daily---and it might even take all of those things. But they can be ok.

For us, it didn't fall into place in a day. In fact, sometimes it still seems out of whack.

I watched as my children became different, less trusting of others and more angry at the world. I watched as the light in their eyes seemed to darken and tears poured out daily. I watched their confusion and pain.

And I've watched it slowly repair. I've watched them show empathy toward others who are hurting. I've watched them love harder and become closer to each other.

It's hard when you're faced with decisions that seem daunting and life-altering. I get it and I'm here for you.
I cannot tell you what decision will be right for you in the end but I do know that you're capable of making that decision---and you're even allowed to change your mind.

Life is a lot more fluid than I used to believe it was. Although it is filled with highs and lows, it is filled with so many second chances.

I remember what it was like to feel like I was in a deep, dark pit where the sun did not exist. I remember how scary it was to separate from my husband and figure out how to live independently.

If you're there, I'm here. 

My biggest advice would be to reach out and let others carry some of the burdens you can give up for a while.
Keep yourself safe. Make your decision based on what will keep you physically and emotionally safe.
Remember to care for yourself. So often, we get caught up in helping others or raising our children that we forget to take care of ourselves too.
Create boundaries with the people in your life. Speak up about what you need and what you don't need. Tell them when they offend you and when they're being helpful. Teach them how to help you---they won't always know what to do.

Marriage is hard. Divorce is hard.
Life is pretty dang hard.

But you are stronger than you think. 

When Reality Sucks

This quote hit me hard tonight as I was scrolling through some old posts and crying my swollen eyes out.
Because crying is apparently my new thing.
Just kidding---kind of. 

My car wouldn't start tonight. Actually, it started acting funky this morning but I prayed that it was just a fluke.

It wasn't. 

I cried the entire drive home {in my mother's car that she so kindly offered to let me borrow} because I was stressed beyond belief. I had an emotionally exhausting day---and then this.

Really?

My kids asked why I was crying so much and I voiced my feelings briefly about money and wanting to be the best mom for them and feeling like every time I try to get ahead, I get punched in the face. They were both so empathetic toward me and reminded me that it would be ok.

Because cars are just cars. It will get fixed and all will be well again. The car breaking down doesn't determine my happiness or my goodness or my worthiness. It is just a car.

But my goodness, if I could just CATCH A BREAK, that'd be super great. Most of the time, I feel like I'm drowning, like I'm stretched so thin that it wouldn't even be possible to fit in one more second of "life". I know that isn't true. Single mom life might be hard but there are so many reasons that it isn't hard. There are so many positives to the life I'm living now.

There has been so much growth. 

But with that growth comes questioning and doubt---it always seems to do that. I question if I'm really a good mother or if I'm just depicting myself that way on the internet. I question whether this is the real me or if the girl who heads straight to the couch after work and sits there for a while doing practically nothing is the real me---which would make me lazy and selfish. Is that really me? Or is there a greater amount of goodness that resides within my bones that once in a while needs a break after a long day of providing/school/homework/bills/parenting?

I think tonight I'll try to see myself in that second girl and not count the minutes I spend on the couch each afternoon while I tell my children to do their homework.

I always envisioned myself to be this super involved mother who sits at the kitchen table with a homemade snack for the kids and reads through every homework assignment with them. I envisioned the amazing talks we would have and the laughter that would accompany the conversation..

And reality is far different than the vision in my head of the mother I am "supposed" to be. Reality is telling the kids to get themselves breakfast in the morning or dinner at night when I am feeling too overwhelmed and tired. Reality is mindlessly scrolling through Facebook and answering random homework questions as they come. Reality is fast food and dirty clothes on the floor and not taking the time to shower for a few days because I'd much rather just sit---just sit and breathe and thank God we are all still alive.

Sometimes reality sucks.

But most of the time, the reason I think it sucks isn't because I am truly unhappy but because I have this vision in my head of what I'm supposed to be doing every second of every day. I have created this vision in my head of what the perfect mother would be doing.

And I have to remind myself that I am not the perfect mother nor will I ever be her. Part of that has to do with my current relationship status but let's get real here---I wasn't an amazing homemaker before my divorce. I struggled with cooking and cleaning and making sure everything was always in order.

But the kids? I didn't used to struggle with that. I didn't used to need so many breaks or accept the fact that independence would be coming much sooner for them than it would for most children their same ages.

I had help almost every day. I could rely on another adult to come home from work and be present in our home. I could go to the damn grocery store by myself!
Obviously these things are small and seem insignificant but they make a difference.

Sometimes I wish this wasn't my life but every time that happens, all I have to think about is the woman I am now versus the woman I used to be and then I remember that I wouldn't trade the person that I am for anything---not even for a husband.
And maybe that's weird. Maybe that seems confusing because had I not gone through all of this, I wouldn't have known any different. But the fact is that I do know different. I have learned things that have enabled me to teach my children things I never would've thought to tell a 5 and 7 year old. I look around at the people in my life who are all struggling uniquely and I can recognize that every single one of them is going through something that is hard for them.

We don't get to decide what is a hard trial and what isn't.

I might feel like a failure a lot of the time but during the small moments where my children are curled up in my arms or I witness them showing kindness toward others, I remember that I am getting some things right.

The next step is remembering those small victories during these exhausting and hard times.

I'll get there eventually...

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.

Divorce Defines Me

 We are back from Washington DC. Actually, we got back four days ago but I have been swamped with homework to try and catch up. 
I will blog about our trip in a few different posts but there has been a post I can't seem to get out of my mind so I decided to try and write it out while it's fresh. 

Haven't we all heard those "uplifting" quotes that say, "My trials don't define me" or "Don't let your past define your future"? I know I have. And each time I hear a quote like that, I feel something stirring inside of me that says, "This does define me! How could it not?"

I don't know why or when it became negative to allow our past to define our future but maybe I'm looking at it differently.

When I think of something defining me, I think of it molding me into a better person. This includes my good experiences and the really horrible ones. I look at who I am now versus who I was two years ago and guess what? My divorce is part of what defines who I am. It is a part of me and because of those experiences, I am a much different---a much stronger---me.

At the beginning of the week, I was awoken at 1:30am to fire alarms blaring throughout our hotel. I jumped out of bed and quickly realized that this could be a legitimate emergency.

I was scared and alone in a hotel room with my two children and my first reaction was to grab them and run to my parents room down the hall.

This wasn't the first time I have had to experienced incredible fear when thinking about caring for my children alone.

In fact, I was pretty much thrown into that world weeks after my husband moved out when an intoxicated man was banging on my door in the middle of the night and yelling profanities.

But for a few moments, I was so panicked---and then I remembered, I can do this. I can get them out of here and snuggle my scared 7 year old while my 5 year old runs around and laughs and plays {Two VERY different personalities}.

It was one of those moments that I was reminded that divorce does define me. It has changed who I am as a mother and as a woman. I have more empathy and compassion for so many trials, most of which I could never begin to understand.

I don't think it's a negative thing. Maybe you do but I really don't. I don't think this is me not moving on from the past. In fact, I have moved on a lot more than I dreamed I'd be able to. I don't think that talking about the past means that I'm ignoring the present or future.

I think sometimes when we break, we have to reshape ourselves and it's ok to look at the person we once were and see how far we've come.

Divorce will always be a part of my life. It isn't something I can hide nor do I feel ashamed and want to hide it. Divorce has brought some of the highest highs and lowest lows into my life.

And I'm ok with that defining who I am today.

Because It's A Mess

Wow, you guys.
Life.
It's hard.

I'm sure this isn't news to you. It shouldn't be news to me either but apparently I keep finding my pair of rose-colored glasses and putting them back on before they're slapped off again.

My life is all sorts of brutiful (brutal+beautiful) right now.
I am loving my new work/school/co-parenting schedule. I am loving the ages of my children and the tight bond we all have.
I am not loving the messy relationships in my life or the anxiety of dating and being alone---which on most days, I've decided is just going to be my fate because dating = harder than I ever thought.

I feel confused a lot---mostly asking God why life is allowed to be so messy when I'm already a divorced mom of 2 young kids Why, after being left by my husband and left to deal with the trauma and anxiety, life isn't just perfect now.
But when I ask Him that, I almost immediately take it back because I don't want to be the victim. I don't want to make our situation look more dire than it is.
It might be hard but it isn't a life sentence.

I know life isn't just going to be perfect. I know trials don't just disqualify me from ever having hard times again (Although that'd be really awesome...).

But I struggle so much with believing I'm a good person and one of the hardest trials for me is when other people tell me, literally tell me, I'm not a good person. Because then my brain gets all confused and I'm back to second guessing and wondering how two different people can believe two totally opposite things about me.

It's a mess, really. It's a drama-filled mess that I'm trying to rise above.

But goshdarnit, rising above the hard stuff is a lot more difficult than it sounds.

Rising above is what warriors do. It is what the strongest of strong people are able to do. And am I there? Am I one of them?
I try. I try so hard to be strong but am I?

I guess the answer is yes. I guess when I write it all down, being alone and providing for two kids while going to school full time is pretty strong. But some days, it doesn't feel strong. Some days, it just feels like something I do because I've been forced to do it.
Because it's either be a single mom or never get out of bed again---and so far {most days}, I've chosen to be a mom and I've even tried to be a good mom---occasionally a great one.

But although I seem to be unbreakable so far, I feel like the messes are wearing me down a little at a time.

And I hate that.

I hate feeling like others have some sort of control over how I feel about myself. I want to be strong and confident every single day.

Because you know what? I'm just as much a daughter of God as every other woman on this earth.
End. Of. Story.

I want to polish off this blog post with some profound words but seriously, I am not there tonight. I feel like I haven't be there at all lately. Maybe someday...

365 Days of Divorce

 I wasn't quite sure what I expected to feel this week because the feelings I had these exact moments a year ago were quite confusing.
When the papers arrived in the mail with the date stamped February 18th, 2014, I knew what they held. In that large manila envelope was a series of paperwork, all signed and dated by a Maricopa County judge.

It was over.

Seven years of the life we had built were over.

Goodbye, commitment.

It all seemed so broken.

But I had been waiting for those papers because I wanted things to move on. I think I figured if those papers came, I could feel a sense of closure and healing.
That didn't happen. 
Instead I panicked. I turned to the comfort of my eating disorder. I started failing classes. I was full of anxiety most days. I cut off my friends and family slowly.
I didn't realize just how badly I was hurting. I didn't realize how much fear was the deciding factor in my daily choices.

This morning, I was on the computer and thinking about a year ago and the 6 months before that where the separation and lawyer meetings and fights and anger and figuring out custody were pretty much running my life. I looked up pictures from that time---I found the pictures I had uploaded 2 days before he left me. None of them had been edited or saved correctly on the computer. I don't think I had looked at them at all since sliding that memory card into the computer that day because two days later, my life was so drastically changed.

My kids seemed so little back then. I wish I could've bottled them up like this and protected them in so many ways. And then I think about it and I'm glad they've gone through it with me because my kids are some of the bravest I know. They have had to learn a lot about themselves throughout the past year and a half.

 The thing about divorce is that you and your ex-spouse are in charge of how things go.
In the beginning, these questions are started with: Who is filing the paperwork? Will you get lawyers? Who stays in the house? How often do the kids go from one house to the other? Who pays the other or is it evenly split? 
Those questions seem kind of obvious with divorce. Everyone has to figure them out.

But then there are the questions such as: What goals do we have after our divorce? Are we working together to keep our kids healthy and loved? Are we fighting in front of them? Are we going to swallow our pride and treat each other with respect? Are we going to allow the kids to be with the both of us in the same room?

 It's confusing sometimes. 
None of those questions were answered in a day. I've thought about all of them multiple times throughout this past year. I've figured out my personal boundaries and then changed them a few times to make sure I feel safe. I've prayed about my childrens' needs and tried my best to make sure they are ok. In fact, that alone has been the cause of a lot of my anxiety.

I want my children to come out of this as emotionally healthy as possible.

 And I believe they will.

Not only because of what I do for them but because of what their dad does for them. I don't need a marriage contract to know that he is a good dad. He has learned to be there for them too.

My anger toward my ex-husband has eased an incredible amount in the past year. I am working on forgiving him and I believe with the help of my Savior and His atonement, I will be able to completely heal and find my heart at peace.

 I really CAN believe it has been this long. In fact, it feels like it's been even longer. I feel like I've been single for years and I'm kind of, sort of, REALLY ready to change that.
But...God's timing is not my timing...and for today, I'm ok with that. Actually, my heart and my brain don't quite agree on what "my timing" should be anyway so I think it's best to just trust that God knows.

In the meantime, we are a year stronger and wiser. I really would never trade these past few years for anything. I know not everyone would say that and it may seem odd. It's not that I WANTED to be divorced---I didn't. But this past year has taught me just how capable I am of being on my own. I have grown up a lot and have become a much better person. I find myself looking at the entire world differently---more lovingly than I did before. I find myself realizing that sometimes the people we think are the meanest and rudest are the people who need us the most. Often times, the people not smiling are hurting inside and are longing for human connection.

Living with empathy is a much better way to live life. I wouldn't change the infertility or the divorce or the many 'disorders' I have on my medical records. Each and every time I am given something, I learn a whole slew of new things and I become a better person than I was before.

It's weird to think that I've only known about The Togetherness Project for a year because those people that I've met have been life-changing for me. It's weird to think that a year ago, I still didn't know why my marriage had ended. That came later. And although I have many days where the effects of my failed marriage haunt me, I know that I am strong enough to live with the memories and even smile when remembering some of them.

It wasn't all bad. In fact, a lot of it was good. 

Most importantly, I am grateful that it all happened. I am grateful for seven years of a marriage. I find myself learning from those experiences every day. I wouldn't change it. That took a while for me to be able to say. For a while, I blamed myself for getting married in the first place. Who does that at 19?!! (just kidding, to all of my teenage married friends) I didn't know if I could forgive myself for making what I had decided was a stupid decision.

But without my marriage, I wouldn't have my children. Without my marriage, I wouldn't have Togetherness or my ward family or the extended in-law family I was able to fall in love with for seven years. And without my divorce, I wouldn't be the person that I currently am. I probably wouldn't be pursuing a bachelors degree in Human Development and a masters degree in Counseling.

It isn't that staying married would've been horrible. It could've been amazing. We had the choice to make it amazing---and we did not both choose for that to happen.

Three hundred and sixty five days of this life---and I have faith that we will all be ok. 

Another Storm

I've endured many storms in my life. Some are big and some are small. Some are ingrained in my memory and others are forgotten.

I can remember quite well the summer I was 10. That was probably the summer I spent the most time having sleepovers with my cousins. There were 3 girl cousins my age growing up. One who lived in California and two that lived here---including a step-cousin I had met when I was 8. We spent a ton of time together that summer. My California cousin came for a visit and I can remember one night in particular during monsoon season, a storm had come into town and our power had gone out.
My cousins and I all huddled around a battery-operated night light that was my baby brother's at the time. My dad had gone outside to check the power and I was so scared. I was scared he would never come back or that our house would catch on fire or flood.

But I had my band. I had my team. My cousins kept me brave that night. I watched the shadows dance off the walls as the thunder cracked louder and louder but I knew I would be ok because I wasn't alone.

Another storm I will never forget was during my days at ANASAZI. Because I was there from June to July, I ended up enduring monsoons in the middle of nowhere---with a 8x8 tarp for protection. The first time I experienced a monsoon on the trail, I started to cry. I begged and pleaded for them to let me go home. I told them I was afraid of storms when I was in my own bed and that I couldn't possibly endure it out in the desert.
We hiked through most of it but when the sun started to go down, we built personal shelters out of our tarps and were sent to bed. This was the very first time I remember feeling completely alone during a monsoon. I sobbed under my tarp and pulled my journal out, aware that the lack of light would prove difficult. But I didn't care. I knew I needed to write. I knew writing would help.
I scribbled out most of my fears almost illegibly but the rain was still pouring and I didn't feel much better.

So I started to pray. I prayed out loud. I pleaded with God to stop the storm because I was scared. I was afraid of dying or getting hurt. I was afraid of the loneliness.

I ended my prayer and laid there for a minute, wishing that God was actually real so that He could answer my prayer.

And just like that, the rain stopped.
I could hardly believe it. I had never received an answer to prayer so bluntly before.
I pulled my journal back out and began to scribble the events of the night. I wrote, "Tonight while it was raining, I said a prayer and asked God to stop the rain because I couldn't take it anymore. And you'll never believe it! THE RAIN STOPPED! There is a God. I know He is there. I know He heard me. I felt Him tonight."

It was during ANASAZI that my testimony of prayer began to grow. I was so afraid of death and I felt like we faced so many dangerous obstacles but each time, we were lead to safety.

The storms I have faced have taught me so much about who I am and who I want to be. Some of them have knocked me off of my feet for a period of time but I've gotten up eventually.

I can see that happening with my current storm. I've been knocked down and I'm not up yet. I'm still figuring this all out and trying to repair the damage. But today something clicked. Today, on another Sunday that we were late for church because I dread sacrament meeting alone with my littles, I was listening in Relief Society about patterns becoming habits and how quickly we can become comfortable and set in our ways and I realized, I don't want to be this. I don't want to struggle to go to church. I don't want my children to get used to this example and think that it's normal that we miss the sacrament 50% of the time, sometimes more.

I may not be where I want to be. I may be struggling with this picture of my life and how it's turned out. I may still question why this has all happened in the particular timing that it has.
I will still struggle to feel like I fit in on Sundays. Some of the lessons will still cause a lot of pain in my heart. I will still feel alone and stressed out most of the time in sacrament meeting.
But it won't be this way forever. 
Because eventually, I'll figure this all out. Eventually I'll be standing taller than I've ever stood. I will face this storm and beat it.

Because I know I am capable of greatness. I know I am strong enough to endure the hard days and enjoy the good days.

Although I don't understand it all, someday I will. Someday I will be able to look back and think, "Wow. I made it through another storm."

Beautiful Heartbreak

When I was diagnosed with infertility in August of 2011, my world seemed to come crashing down. It was on that day, August 17th, that I found fear knocking on my front door.
I spent those first two months crying most of the time and shutting myself off from my friends and family. I didn't know how to be around anyone without feeling so incredibly awkward.

My mom, sisters and I headed off to Time Out for Women after one of my really hard weeks. {I blogged about that here.} I wasn't sure what I would get out of it. I wasn't sure I wanted to be there and have to see people and fake a smile.

It was at that conference, in November of 2011, that I heard Hilary Week's new song, Beautiful Heartbreak. I remember watching the video and sobbing uncontrollably next to my sister. I had already learned about the beauty of infertility. The friendships I made, the empathy and compassion I learned---in only two months, although I was struggling so much and prayed daily for another child, I knew deep down in my heart that my trial was filled with so much beauty.

Beautiful heartbreak.

Those words would genuinely become my mantra for the next 3+ years.

As each trial would hit {oddly enough it was every August for three years straight}, I would go through a period of grieving and pain but almost immediately, I could also pick out the beauty involved.

I would listen to that Hilary Weeks song on repeat, laying in bed, feeling so heartbroken and alone. I would pray that God would show me a glimpse of the beauty ahead and each time, He would. Sometimes there was so much beauty that it confused me.

I thought going through a divorce couldn't involve so much beauty mixed in with the heartache. But it could and it did.

For the past few years, my sisters and I have been trying to find a feasible way to record a cd for my parents. My mom had asked for one in the past but between finances and time, we couldn't make it happen.

This year, we decided to push forward and make it happen. At times, it didn't seem like we would get it done. It took a while to find a studio within our budget and since we have a sister who lives in Virginia, scheduling was a little tricky.

But we did it. We each recorded a solo, a duet with a sister, and 2 songs with all four of us---and a bonus track of a song we sang with my brother.

The day I went in to record all of my songs, I wasn't really that nervous. I felt good about the song I had picked and was excited to sing the other songs I'd be recording.

The first song went well. The second, third, and fourth songs I recorded went well. And then it was time for my solo. I had practiced for weeks and knew I could do it well but the second I got in the booth, my heart started pounding. I don't think it was really nerves---just emotions. I knew this song was perfect for me. I had known that for years. I wanted it to be perfectly sung but instead, it was perfectly felt.

Every time I listen to it, I remember what it felt like to sing it that day. It means so much to me to have this recording forever. It means so much to me to have the entire cd of recordings. They are all beautiful.

But this one contains more than beauty. It represents a huge part of my journey.

And although my journey is far from over, I am grateful for the beauty I have been able to witness in my life up to this point.


Some of my favorite posts about my beautiful heartbreaks:
The Tornado
My Messy Beautiful
No One is Youer than You
Bravery
Fearfully, Faithfully, Beautifully

Authenticity

I am not going to sit here and tell you that it is always going to be ok.

 

Because some days will be really crappy.

 

I don't care who you are or what your life is like, you will have bad days.

 

So it isn't necessarily a matter of making every day amazing---it seems like the heart of the matter is making sure we are strong enough to handle the days where we are punched in the stomach over and over.

 

We can choose our safe places. 

But sometimes our safe places are compromised.

We build them. They seem like they're strong. And then someone finds a way to destroy a piece.

 

We have to learn to rebuild them over and over again.

Because we are going to have to.

 

This is life.

 

Although we can find safety in outside sources, I think safety needs to generate from within.

Because "What can I change about this situation?" seems like a much stronger question than "Will you protect me from this change?"

It shouldn't be about what life gives or takes away--it should be about what we put into life and what we take away from the experiences we are given.

 

I am not going to sit here and tell you that everyone will love you.

 

They won't.

 

You will find that even on your most genuine of days, people will judge you frontward and backward. They might do it behind your back or they might do it to your face but it will happen.

 

Your job is to love you.

Your job is not to judge them.

 

Two wrongs don't make a right. But if you take one wrong and one right, you can feel peace knowing that you made the right decision.

 

People will call you ugly, horrible things. They will think you are someone you are not.

Life will knock you down.

 

Get back up.

You need to get back up.

 

I am not going to sit here and tell you that this rollercoaster ever ends.

I really don't think it does.

What I do think is that when we face the bad days, we get braver. And when we bask in the goodness of the good days, we have more gratitude.

 

Be your authentic you.

Love the you that you already are.

 

People might tell you it isn't good enough. But you're here. You're breathing. You're trying. You are good enough.

"As I began to love myself, I found that anguish and emotional suffering are only warning signs that I was living against my own truth. Today I know this is "AUTHENTICITY". -Charlie Chaplin-

Today this is my favorite quote.

Today I believe that authenticity is what keeps me going.

Sometimes I fight the feelings in my heart that tell me I don't hate people. Sometimes I want to hate people that treat me wrong. But I cannot and will not become a person that I am not because of the actions of someone else. I will not hate others because that is not who I am.

I fight to be authentic. I fight because I do not want to forfeit who I am for who someone believes I am.

We cannot rely on the actions of others to determine our lives.

I am going to get up tomorrow---and the next day, and the next day...---with genuine intentions to be me.
Although this looks different every single day, being authentic to myself is what keeps me able to empathize more openly and sort my feelings more efficiently.

I will not believe the negative things said about me because for every negative lie, there are a thousand positive truths.

Today I believe the truths.

Be The Good

I question my intentions a lot.

A lot. A lot.

This has so many pros and cons. On the one hand, I want to be secure in who I am and the choices I make. On the other hand, I want to make sure my intentions are accurately sincere.

Because what I really strive for is sincerity.

I am not a 1950's housewife who has the table set every night at 5:00pm and a perfectly tidy house. I am perfectly capable of being me without having a companion by my side. My sarcasm is thick, I'm often obnoxious, and I'm also one of the most compassionate people you will ever meet.

These aren't things I was taught. These aren't things that society or my parents have engrained in me from a young age.

My experiences have shaped me but they didn't create me. They molded the already existing me; the me who curses often and loves to dance and is sometimes so awkwardly open that it makes people squirm.

I was me before any of this began.

I may not always be confident but it only takes a small amount of courage for me to become a lion.

A friend and I were discussing this today---sincerity and so many things that encompasses. We started talking about Relief Society, which is a program that was created within the LDS church when Joseph Smith was the prophet. My favorite description of the Relief Society can be found in the church handbook and it states that Relief Society was established for "...the relief of the poor, the destitute, the widow and the orphan...".

The destitute.

Not the perfect. Not the "have it all together".

Relief Society is for those of us who don't have it all together.

Sometimes I just don't understand it. I don't understand why it isn't ok to sit down on Sunday and when the person next to you asks how you are doing, you say, "My husband is dealing with an  addiction right now and it has been really hard on me." and be able to talk about how life is hard and everyone has unique challenges and we are all in this together---no judgment---just unity and a whole lotta love.
Because in the above situation, the response might be, "I have been feeling worthless and I don't always believe the people in my life really love me." Or maybe the response might be, "I can't even imagine what that must feel like. Can I take you out for ice cream tomorrow so you can get some things off your chest?"
I have been LDS my entire life but through some of my most destitute times, I have seen this world in a completely different light.
And it is a light. It isn't a darkness.
I have seen beauty where most people would claim only dark clouds reside.

I used to struggle to have faith in humanity when I would catch glimpses of the news or experience hostility in various situations. I mean, hello...Ferguson? I didn't even have to be a news watcher to see the anger and hatred that can cause people to make horrific decisions. I wondered if maybe my broken-but-still-slightly-intact rose-colored glasses were just my imagination.
I wanted to see the good.

It took me a while to realize that instead of looking for the good, I have the ability to be the good.

I can restore someone else's faith in humanity instead of waiting for someone to come hand me my own dose of faith. And when I pass out smiles to the people I come in contact with, my faith in humanity is equally restored when I experience the majority of them smiling back.

All it takes is a tiny dose of bravery and a whole bunch of love.

I know we are getting there. I can feel it. I have experienced so many real moments in my own church and within my every day relationships. It is possible because we are capable.

Love wins, my friends. It takes love to battle the evil we are exposed to. Hate doesn't conquer hate. Love conquers hate.

I look forward to the day when judging each other holds no weight. I believe it will come. I believe the harder life gets, the more beauty we are able to recognize. Instead of focusing on the wrongs in the world, let's choose to be the rights. Let's choose to create a life we can be proud of individually---not a life we live because we feel pressure to be a certain way or fit a certain mold.

There are no molds. If there were, God would have created us all with the same exact physical features and identical life experiences.

I have realized that I don't have a mold. There is no one I need to be other than the person I already am. When I fall down or make a life decision that most people wouldn't agree with, I remind myself that this is who I am. People don't need to understand it. Honestly, I would never expect people to understand every decision I make.

You don't have to understand someone to love them.

We all have the capability to get acquainted with our own sincerities. Don't hide who you are out of fear.

Be you.

And I'll be me.

What I Wish I Would've Known: Divorce

 I've been thinking lately about my divorce and how the last year {or even two years} played out. I made it through some pretty awful days but there are things I look back on and think, "Wow...I could've handled that a lot better than I did."
Because trauma can cause you to do some pretty crazy things and feel some pretty crazy feelings.

So I wanted to talk about that today; what I wish I would've done differently in my divorce.

I wish I wouldn't have yelled so much.
I wish I wouldn't have yelled at my husband and my parents and my children and myself. I wish I wouldn't have projected my anger at the people I love the most. Maybe my husband could understand why I was yelling because of the pain his choices were causing me. But my family members? No. Even if they understood and were patient, I could have dealt with my anger a little more healthy than I did. I could've smashed plates or thrown rocks at the wall or punched my pillow over and over instead of stuffing my anger until it exploded randomly at whoever was nearest.

I wish I wouldn't have gone numb for so long...and I also wish I could've stayed numb longer. Because right after he left, I went into fight or flight mode and I chose to fly away as far as I could go and pretend like everything was fine. I convinced people I was amazingly strong and that I wasn't lonely but the worst part was that I convinced myself I was amazingly strong and didn't need to grieve like a normal person.
So when the numbing went away, it was horrible. Instead of feeling the pain and heartache in the moment, I was flooded with it all at once, months after the fact.

I wish I wouldn't have doubted myself.
When my husband left, I was firm in my belief that my ability to cook and clean wasn't the reason he left. It didn't matter that he had told me those exact words, I knew it wasn't true. But after the numbing went away, I started to doubt my ability to be a good wife, mother, sister, daughter, and really, I just doubted my ability to be a good human being. I felt like I was worth nothing. My husband had never in our marriage said anything negative about my weight or my looks but because it was an insecurity I already had, I projected that as "the actual reason he left". It was the only thing that made sense to my broken brain. I didn't love my body so I just assumed he didn't love it either.

 I wish I would've asked for more help and felt less guilty when I received help.
Help during divorce is necessary. It just is. There were times I would be crying and a friend would stop by and just take my kids---no questions asked. I had so much help in some of my darkest times. But there were times when I needed help and should've let someone else into my home when I wouldn't. I felt guilty asking for more help but because of this, I had days that were harder than hard but that didn't have to be as hard as they were.

 I wish I would've thought about me more.
I thought about how divorce would affect my kids, how people would judge me, how people would judge my ex-husband, how my family would accept everything, and how unworthy I was. What I didn't think about was how much I was hurting and how much compassion I needed to have for myself. It was so easy having empathy for the hard things my children were going through and I even got to a point where empathy for my ex-husband became possible. But empathy for myself was non-existent. Instead I spent all of my "free time" at the gym or obsessing over my food intake or dreaming about dating and feeling anxious that no one would want to date me and making sure I was still spreading my time among my friends and dishing out time to new friends or numbing my mind with television.
I wasn't thinking about my heart and empathizing with the pain. I was beating myself down for all of the reasons I wasn't good enough. Self-care was non-existent even when it looked existent because I was doing things all for the wrong reasons. I was punishing myself, not loving myself.
I needed my own empathy. I needed to give myself compassion. And I didn't do it.

 I wish I wouldn't have gone off my anti-depressant.
Yup, it's true. I take drugs! I was on anxiety medication the day we separated because I had been getting anxiety for months leading up to the day that huge bomb was dropped on me---I now refer to that as my psycho-good intuition because there wasn't really any proof that things were really wrong. But I was worried that the numbness I was experiencing was as a result of my medication and I was worried that I'd go off the medication a year or two later and all of a sudden, I'd have all these pent up feelings from my divorce. So I went off of them right after our separation started. Weird. And the worst part was, it took me a while to realize how much that affected me during that time. I felt like the same old Suzanne but inside, I was going crazy. I was feeling crazy. I was experiencing anxiety that felt like what PTSD is described to feel like.
In case you're wondering, I no longer feel shame associated with my medication. My goodness, who freaking cares what people think of me swallowing a Zoloft every night? I get to choose what is best for me and I am choosing to help myself have a better life! So I'm sorry if you don't agree with that---actually I'm not really sorry but I do respect your opinion.

The main thing I wish I would've learned a year ago is that people make mistakes and that's ok.
A year ago, I was angry and I wasn't ok with the imperfections of others and my own imperfections. But it's ok that I made mistakes. It's ok that my ex-husband made mistakes. It's ok that my parents made mistakes.
Everyone does it.
We don't have some guide book to help us through our rough times. We figure it out on our own and sometimes, that includes a little trial and error {or a lot of it}.

Although there are things I wish I would've done differently, I've accepted that I can't change the past.

And the greatest part is, we've made it out alive so far! And not only are we surviving, most days we are thriving.

Divorce isn't the end of all happiness and peace.

I am happy. I have found peace.

Fearfully, Faithfully, Beautifully

Once upon a time, there was a scared young woman who didn't like not knowing the future. She knew that the future could bring happiness but it was also full of uncertainty.

She was afraid to look in the mirror because she didn't know if she liked the person staring back at her.
She was afraid to be alone because the horrible stories in the news made her feel vulnerable to the world.
She was afraid to date because she knew what rejection felt like and it didn't feel good.
She was afraid to be herself because what if people didn't accept the real her?

Amidst her fears, friends would randomly say things like, "You are such a strong woman.", "My husband and I were talking about how any man would be lucky to have you as their wife.", "Thank you for helping me through that." and she wondered..."Do they see who I really am? Do they notice my flaws?"

The answer is yes, they do.

And they loved her anyway.

Because somewhere among the loudness and the lack of a filter and the short temper, they saw who she really was. They saw the good.

It was because of them that she continued to fight. It was because of what they saw in her that she began to notice some of the goodness too. She began to realize she isn't worthless or stupid or ugly.

She is loveable and funny and compassionate.

She couldn't have done this by herself. Even brave people need help. Two years of therapy, anti-anxiety medication, prayer, and love have helped her to be as brave as she could be. I don't believe God gave her this life because she was strong enough to live it. I believe He gave her this life because He knew He would help her live it. She isn't stronger than the average person. She is stronger than the girl she used to be.

And it's ok to not do it alone. It's ok to rely on professional help or need medication or some homeopathic remedy or friends and family. It's ok. It doesn't mean we aren't strong. Asking for help is a sign of strength. It takes bravery to know you cannot do this alone.

Some days, she wakes up and just feels so much compassion for herself and other days, she has to rely on the things people tell her. She has a list of compliments people have given her this past year to read on the days she has lost all faith in herself.

Today she is ready to fly.
Today she doesn't fear the future.
Today she trusts God's plan and knows that whatever happens, she is a fighter.
Also, she sees beauty today. In herself. In the world. In her future.

The Power of Letting Go

Remember that overused song, "Let It Go"?

Oh, you do?

 

Yeah, me too.

 

I kind of wish that song wasn't overdone on every Youtube channel and Facebook page and meme on Pinterest because I actually really love it.

 

When I sing it around the house, I belt it as loud as I can.

Because I know.

I know what the power of letting go can do for a person.

I have been the recipient of some pretty painful experiences brought on by the choices of others and although it hasn't been easy, I have seen the power of letting go of anger and turning that into empathy.

And I don't use the word power lightly.

 

When you are able to let go of the anger you have toward another person, you start to see them as a person who has faults, just like you and I. You start to recognize that the hurt they have caused is probably due to a more deep rooted problem and wasn't specifically directed at you.

 

I know for me, the person who has hurt me the most is a person I can relate to now. I understand him. I see the choices he has made and I could've been the one to make those same choices if I had been in his situation. I understand the fear of losing everyone you love. I understand the fear of shame and judgement. I get it.

 

I hate that I get it.

 

I hate that he felt that way.

 

I hate that so many people endure these same fears on a daily basis.

 

The second I let go of my anger, it became clear why this past year played out the way that it did.

I still don't love it. And I still wish I could've done something to change it.

But it wasn't mine to change.

 

The only thing I can do now is try to understand the situation and have empathy for everyone who was involved---and for me, that includes my ex-husband.

It includes the heartache my children have faced.

And it includes having empathy for myself.

 

When I make a wrong choice or I say something really stupid, I am going to try and have empathy for this imperfect person that I am.

She needs my love.

She needs my empathy more than anyone else in the world.

 

The hardest person for me to love is the person typing up this post. It is hard to look past every imperfection and see what other people can see. It is hard to process the thoughts in my head and realize they don't make me a bad person.

 

The power of letting go has allowed me to show empathy to the people around me who have hurt me.

 

When I let go, I am unstoppable---which is ironic since I have an eating disorder and OCD, two places where letting go is ESPECIALLY hard and where I feel like I'm in control. But the reality is that letting go means letting go of the reins and saying, "God, I may not understand all of this but I'm going to trust you anyway."

 

"Let the storm rage on. The cold never bothered me anyway."

 

I have seen the middle of some pretty dark storms but with the help of my Heavenly Father, I have been able to endure them and find empathy for the creators of those storms.

 

{Warriors don't give up.}

Fearfully Brave

I shared this picture on my Facebook last Sunday because I was struggling to figure out how I was going to make it another day.
Last Sunday, I was so defeated. I had been parenting alone for over a week with only one 4 hour break. I hadn't had an overnight break from my kids in a month. My house had been hit by a tornado of messy, sticky children and I just didn't feel like I could keep up. And that Sunday night, I had found out that I was most likely going to be parenting alone for another 7 days.
It doesn't seem like a lot. It's just 7 days, right? But between work and school and meetings and homework and cleaning and parenting...I could barely stand the anxiety I was feeling.
I layed down on my bed and cried.

But after some sleep and snuggles from the children who make my life full of ups and downs, I took life one day at a time.
{And I do have to say that the kids' dad ended up taking off two days of work to help out}

The thing is, I will always be a work in progress. Divorce didn't come with some handbook on how to do everything correctly. I've gotten so darn angry sometimes, I've felt so defeated sometimes, and other times, I've felt immense amounts of relief and happiness. This isn't something I worked into my life and thought, "Well, that looks like it might be fun to try out!" I didn't birth two children with the intentions of raising them 75% of the time on my own.

So there are days I fall so far down that I'm not sure I can crawl my way to the top. There are days I get anxiety about really simple things because I'm afraid that my life could be ripped out from under me once again.

This life I live wasn't some dare. It wasn't about two stubborn people who weren't willing to work on their marriage so they just decided divorce would be easier. On August 23rd, 2013, divorce wasn't something I would've thought we would be facing and yet, a day later I was staring the possibility of divorce right in the face.

I deal with the backlash of divorce every day. My daughter still cries a lot that her dad isn't there to tuck her into bed most nights. Yesterday she told me that she will never be ok from all of this.

I got through this week because my friends and family carried me. I got through this week because I prayed and my Heavenly Father sent me miracles. I don't need these things every week but this week, I did. I needed extra help and it was there for me.

Life is just one challenge after another, mixed with a lot of beauty to make each challenge worth it. This week didn't disappoint. Along with the anger and the anxiety, I was filled with joy throughout each busy day. I was able to smile and laugh and be a mom and work and go to school and be successful. I was able to buy a new pair of shoes and take my kids out for a birthday dinner at Red Robin (Did I mention my little guy turns FIVE this week?!!). I was able to read scriptures with my kids before bed two nights and listen to General Conference with them this weekend.

It isn't all bad even though sometimes the bad tries to consume me and convince me that my life sucks.

Although I'm exhausted and I often feel unable to take another step, I've kept going so far and I plan to keep going from here on out.

I'm going to make it. You're going to make it.

The future I had hoped for has burned to the ground but in it's place, I can choose to rebuild a new future.

I'm going to make it.

It doesn't matter what I face. I have faith that with the help of my family and friends and my God, I will be able to wake up to a new tomorrow each and every day.

When I am consumed with fear, someone always seems to be there to remind me that I am worth it. I am worth every ounce of love another person is capable of giving. Although I was abandoned and heartbroken last year, I am still worthy of love. I am worthy of someone's eternity.

I am worthy because I am a daughter of God and I believe He has a plan for me.

I am brave because I chose to wake up and live today.

I am breathing through my fears and that is brave.

Being brave does not mean never being afraid.

No One is Youer than You

 

I've always loved that Dr. Seuss quote, "Today you are you, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is youer than you."

Truth be told, no one is better at being you than you are. Even on the worst of days and especially on the best of days.

I have to admit, there have been many times in my life I've wished to be someone else---someone skinnier, someone richer, someone smarter, etc. When I let my insecurities run my life, I become unhappy with the woman God intended me to be.

Although I don't believe God intended me to be a divorced mother of two when He created me, I know that He intended for me to be brave and strong. I know that He intended for me to fight my battles and love who I am. He knew I was going to go through these things and He placed building blocks along the way to teach me how to deal with them.

I firmly believed in that through my teenage years, miscarriage, marriage trials, infertility, and divorce.
But recently, I lost it. I lost some of my faith in allowing God to be in charge. I lost some of my faith in seeing the plan He has and knowing He can help me feel better. Because it just kept getting harder instead of better.

And hello? Not fair!

Amiright?

I needed a change.

Anger has been the first phase I allowed. When I first started to feel all of my anger, I fought it off because I just don't want to be that person. I want to be happy all of the time. But I have realized that I need to allow my feelings to come OUT so they don't stay in.

So I have been writing my anger out and working on the things that cause me to feel hurt.

Booyah, right?

And vomiting my feelings onto paper really did help me to see a glimpse of the hope I used to have. It also helped me to realize that I cannot do this on my own right now. And that's ok.

It's ok to need help. Ugh. Even writing that sentence kinda made me feel yucky. I still don't like needing help but my heart does tell me that it's ok. If I was giving advice to someone else, I'd tell them it was ok to need help.

So it must be ok for me too.

And thankfully, when I start to really doubt and lose my hope, God sends me little reminders that He loves me and has my back...always and forever. Last week, it was in the form of a song a friend sent me.

That song has become this week's theme song.


I hope you know you're not alone. I hope you know that there is a God and that He loves you for you, not for the choices you've made or the way you look.

Even though that's hard for me to believe all of the time, I'm grateful I can hold onto the things I write in my journal and on this blog of the good days, the days where I can fully see how much better it is that God is in control and not me.